Page 13 of King of Jokers

She glanced over at me for the first time and if I wasn’t watching her, I might have missed the way her eyes raked over my bare chest. Was this a new thing too or was I now just more aware of her after last night?

“When did you get that?” She asked, pointing to the tattooed compass I had on the right-hand side of my chest.

Taking a seat at the table I reached for the salt and pepper.

“Last season, I think. Haven’t you seen it before?” I asked already knowing she hadn’t.

“Jack-a-doodle, this is the first time you’ve been home in two years and the last time I came to Sydney it was friggin’ freezing. We definitely weren’t swimming.” She bit into her toast, humming her enjoyment.

I nodded. It had been a rough couple of years and after the media shitstorm surrounding us after Andy’s brother and I were seen taking drugs, I’d kept a very low profile. Including avoiding coming back to Willow Bay to the faces of my parents who had likely fielded questions from the entire town.

But never because of Winter. She’d been in her car and at my doorstep the next day. A warm shoulder of comfort and the first to offer me a verbal berating with the unembellished delivery only she could bring.

Well here come the consequences of your actions, Jumping Jack – and through a tornado of feelings swirling between responsibility and regret, she made me smile and I knew it would be okay.

“I got it just after you left last time actually. Thought I’d shown you.” I swallowed my lie with a mouthful of toast. I’d never been intentionally evasive with Win and despite the revelations of last night this secret had to stay. The ramifications of the truth too much at any time, let alone over breakfast on my very first day here.

She eyed me suspiciously, ripping a piece of her bacon and stared at me, likely until I cracked. She had a habit of opening me up like a long-awaited birthday gift but this time there was no cracking. Buried it must stay.

“What?”

“We need to finish our conversation from last night.” You’d think I would be used to her pragmatic manner, but the juice I was sipping lodged in my throat and I choked like an absolute buffoon.

I reached for a serviette and wiped my mouth, doing my best to organise my thoughts. Although I was glad she didn’t press me on the tattoo, I was unbelievably torn. Torn between what I wanted, what I thought was best and what certain parts of mereallywanted.

“What do you mean?” I asked before my laughter quickly followed at the narrowing of her eyes. “Okay. Okay, I know what you meant. I didn’t answer because I need more details.”

Her thumb moved to her ring – the twirling a sure sign she was anxious about the things she was about to say. I was keen to hear whatever theseruleswere because heck if I knew the right way to do this without fracturing our current unshakable bond. And if I knew anything about the woman sitting across from me, it was that she loved nothing more than a good set of rules.

“I have a lot of thoughts and rules, obviously.”

“Obviously.” I grinned at what was becoming a new little taunt between us. Something else which was ours alone.

“Last night I wrote more than I’ve written in weeks.Weeks,” she emphasised. “Which tells me you are the cure for my writer’s block. I don’t ask lightly, Jack. I know this could get weird – I mean, I’m asking you to cross every line we have in our friendship and I may sound confident but really, I’m terrified.” She paused, visibly swallowing and I couldn’t have spoken if I wanted to, because she was nervous. The flickering of her uncertain eyes and chewing the inside of her cheek was evidence of this and I felt everything she said.

“But this book is really important to me and I’m trying to write about relentless fervour and an intense, unstoppable heat between these characters and I’ve never even come close to feeling that.” She ran her hands through her hair, tucking both sides behind her ears. “Maybe I can’t feel those things. Maybe I’m defective. Who knows. But if I am going to be comfortable enough to try with anyone, it will be you. So, I’m thinking. You’re here for eight weeks. And in that time, I’mproposing,”she said with purposeful articulation, “That we come to some kind of an arrangement.”

She stood flicking her hands up and down her body. “You can use me for anything you like –” she stopped, cupping a hand around her mouth she lowered her voice, “S-E-X-ually. But in return, I want you to give me all of the moves Jack Grant has to offer. I need the angst. I need to see what it takes to make my toes curl, if it’s possible. Show me what all of these women feel in the movies and the books I read. Show me what it’s like to enjoy my body with someone else. So I can maybe bring it to life for Summer and Jackson.” She paused, finally looking at me, and I was frozen. Well every part of me other than my dick which couldn’t have remained still even if it tried after hearingthat.

“Then, after the eight weeks, I will hopefully have a successful romance novel and you will have had a fun holiday…with benefits.” She finished with a shrug as if the offer she just put down on the table was the simplest thing in the world and the most normal conversation for us to have over breakfast on my first morning back in the Bay.

Winter

Chapter Seven

Hisassessinggazewaspenetrating as I stood awkwardly waiting for him to say something.Anything.

“You better respond right now because I don’t know much about desire and love but I do know you don’t leave someone hanging after they’ve practically begged you to use them. And not just to drive you to the shops or something but-but inthosekind of ways.”

“You’ve made it sound so romantic. How could I refuse?” When my mouth fell open at the unexpected retort, his resulting grin could have melted the panties off a nun.

His obvious ploy to tip the scales in his favour with sarcasm worked and I sighed openly in irritation.

“Okay, let’s say I agreed,” he said before hastily adding, “I too would have rules.”

“God, you saying rules is a turn on,” I joked, “Name them.” I tacked on with false bravado. If I wasn’t holding my toast I would be finger fidgeting like nobody’s business and as it was, he knew all my calling cards which meant I needed to play it cool.

“I guess I can be your sexual inspiration,” he said with air quotations around his final words, “The real-life sex-god behind your fictional male character.” He laughed and I couldn’t help but smirk. If you didn’t know him as well as I did, you would fall for the suave exterior he portrayed to the world. It was the same cool front he was serving right now, but he wasn’t as calm as he was trying to be. Like me, there was a tense undercurrent to the intentional movements of his body. He was off-kilter and I felt giddy at the thought thatIcould do this to him.

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