Picturing Perfect (Meet the McIntyres Book 2) Page 5

  Then there it was.

  I thought it had been tossed away years ago.

  I couldn’t imagine why someone would have kept it all this time. After all, it was possibly the ugliest Christmas decoration you could imagine. A noodle angel. Pieces of dried pasta, glued together and spray painted gold.

  “’Bout time you got here, asshole!” I got thumped so hard on my shoulder it almost knocked me face first into the damn tree.

  “Geez, Connor…ease up, will you?”

  “What’s wrong, baby brother? Getting soft in your old age?”

  “Not at all, shit head. I just know how to act around people, that’s all. You should try it sometime. Maybe talk and interact with another human being instead of spending your time fondling your cows.”

  “Nah. Cows don’t talk back.”

  That bloody stung but I wouldn’t let Conner see how much. I headed for the kitchen, trying to rub my shoulder without appearing to do so. “I guess that makes sense. You never could handle being told you’re wrong.”

  “Gage!” Beau’s stern warning was received loud and clear as I rounded the corner and fell in love.

  If Beau hadn’t already called dibs, I’d be after Payton in a heartbeat. The moment she spotted me her face broke out in a wide smile. Everyone else silently sat down, leaving Payton scurrying back and forth in her pink, frilly cupcake apron. She was adorable. She already looked overheated and flustered, but she was still smiling. A huge beaming smile. She was obviously in her happy place and I wasn’t about to be the asshole that ruined it, no matter what I had to fake. Besides, it wasn’t worth having Beau out for my head on a stick if I was the one who stole her happiness.

  “Shit, Payton! Have you even slept? Look at all this food?” Connor exclaimed less than eloquently. But that was Connor. What you see is what you get. I fucking loved that about him. He had this uncanny ability, one I was incredibly jealous of, to say whatever came to mind with little regard for the consequences. The bastard.

  “Wh-what’s wrong with it?”

  The light in Payton’s wide eyes dimmed and I felt myself get smaller in my chair. That look, the one right there, the one consuming her face, that is exactly the look I didn’t want to be responsible for. Ever. That’s why I was better off alone.

  “Come on, Cupcake. You know me better than that! Nothing is wrong with it. Nothing at all. But look how much there is! Have you been up all night getting this ready for us?”

  “N-no.”

  “Payton. Put the tea-towel down, sweetheart, and come here.”

  I’d seen Beau and Payton together a bunch of times over the last couple of weeks, and I’d seen a lot more of them than I ever wanted to, but watching Payton cross the kitchen, slipping the apron over her head and setting down her wooden spoon before shuffling to Beau’s side made everything else melt away. Without waiting for Payton to say a word, Beau yanked her off her feet and into his lap.

  Payton wasn’t a little girl, and I don’t mean she was a fat chick. She had delicious curves in all the right places and was a real woman. I’d be fucking blind if I didn’t notice. Not that I’d ever mention that to Beau. I liked my balls exactly where they were, thank you very much. Yet Beau didn’t blink. He shifted Payton so she was perched on his lap and started feeding her forkfuls of the fluffiest scrambled eggs I’d ever had.

  For a while there was no chatter. Just the clicking of cutlery colliding with plates as we all sat and stuffed ourselves silly on the piles of eggs, pancakes, ham, bacon, and toast Payton had prepared. The best part was the orange juice, though. The woman had freshly squeezed orange juice. And I’m guessing, ’cause I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen a juicer in the house, she’d squeezed them by hand. I’d never felt so spoilt in my life.

  All it took was three hours. Three hours and I’d gorged myself so badly I didn’t know if I wanted a nap or to throw up. After the dishes were done and breakfast put away, Payton didn’t slow down. If possible, she cranked it up a gear. She shooed the boys out the back door with clear, unmistakable instructions to get the chores done and to stay the hell out of the house for at least two hours. Although I wasn’t really too keen on helping with the chores, it wasn’t worth complaining. It was Christmas. I got to spend time with my brothers, so in the end it didn’t really matter what we were doing.

  The issue was, with four of us doing the morning chores, even with Connor’s OCD and anal ways, we were done in forty-five minutes and bored after another five. I wish I could blame Ryan for the stupidity, but it was my suggestion. All right, it was an off the cuff, sarcastic suggestion, and one I didn’t think anyone would ever take seriously, yet they did. Idiots. All of us. Grabbing the motorbikes from the shed, we fired them up and took off through the paddocks, tearing up the ground as we went. With the wind whipping against my cheeks, and my lips chapped , we’d had fun. When we stomped back to the house we made it up the steps before Beau stopped us all.

  “You know we go in there looking like this we’re bound to get our asses kicked.”

  “Shit!” Connor conceded quickly before turning back and heading for his apartment in the back of the shed.

  “They don’t scare me!” Ryan declared. Young arrogant shit. I watched on quietly as Beau tensed before sucking in a deep breath and letting it go. I could hear him muttering under his breath as he counted to ten. Ryan was more than likely telling the truth. Payton and Holly weren’t scary. God, I don’t think they could be scary even if they tried. That wasn’t the point. Today wasn’t the day to go running through Dad’s house, covered head to toe in mud and manure. Not after Payton had obviously spent hours scrubbing it from top to bottom.

  “Ryan…” I tried warning him.

  He didn’t want to listen.

  Whatever happened next was his own problem. He had no one to blame but himself.

  Silently, Beau shifted off the veranda and headed around the side of the house. I toed off my boots, yanked my shirt over my head, and dropped my jeans. Thank fuck it was a warm day, ’cause here I was, standing out the front in nothing but a pair of bright red boxers, socks, and a smirk. I couldn’t have pried the smirk off with a crowbar if I tried. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew what was about to happen. I’d seen it happen more than once before. Hell, I’d been on the receiving end of it more than once.

  Slipping inside the screen door out of harm’s way, I watched it happen.

  “What the fuck!” Ryan’s voice went so high pitched anyone would have thought he was a girl.

  Suddenly I was elbowed out of the doorway as Holly and Payton squished in, trying to get a look at what was going on. I couldn’t blame them. Ryan was drenched. Beau had stuck the hose on him to, I guess, clean him up and now he was sopping wet.

  “Bloody idiot deserved it. Think he’s coming in here covered in all that crap!” The gruff voice shocked the shit out of me.

  When I turned around, there was Dad, looking like someone I hadn’t seen in a long time. For one, he was sober. He stood, leering out the window wearing a pair of ironed khaki pants, blue shirt, a tie, and his hair was combed—or what little hair he had left.

  “He-he wasn’t going to come in with all that mud, was he?”

  Payton turned and looked straight through me. I wanted to tell her no. I wanted to tell her Ryan would never dream of ever doing anything so stupid. I couldn’t lie to her, though. She was, at some point, sooner rather than later I suspect, going to be part of this family. For that reason alone, she deserved the truth.

  “Umm…”

  “Gage!” Dad’s voice boomed shocking the shit out of me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing standing around in your underwear? Get upstairs and put some clothes on. We’ve got ladies present!”

  Holy shit! Dad was still in there. I would have sworn that guy, the one I recognised from when I was a kid, had long ago vanished, leaving behind an aging shell. I was wrong. Really fucking wrong.

  “Come on, Dad, they’re not ladies. It’s just Holly and Pay—”<
br />
  I didn’t manage to get the rest of the words out. Instead I got a boot, fair up my ass. Dad was back, all right. And as much as my ass was stinging and my mind reeling from the shock, I was fucking overjoyed. Dad was really there.

  “Upstairs and get scrubbed up. Then get back down here and help get lunch on the table.”

  “Yes sir!” I saluted daringly before skipping up the stairs, trying to avoid my second ass kicking of the day.

  After the quickest, coldest—thanks to the serious lack of hot water remaining for which I blamed hot water hog Holly—I realised I hadn’t brought any clean, dry clothes in with me. Usually I’d wrap the towel around my waist and make a run for it, but with Payton here, I thought better of it. Slipping my boxers back on, I dashed down the stairs and out the front door to my truck. Thank god I kept a bag of spare clothes behind my seat. It was an ingrained habit carting around a fresh change of clothes. In my line of work you never knew when you were going to get covered in blood, guts, and shit. Unfortunately it happened more often than not.

  Slipping on a pair of old, faded jeans and a checked shirt which had seen better days, I stepped into my thongs and headed back inside. The moment the front door cracked open, I was glad to be home. Someone—my money was on Payton—had been baking, and the whole house smelt of her genius. Rounding the corner into the kitchen, the sight nearly knocked me on my ass. Holly and Payton were both giggling and dancing and singing into wooden spoons, while the benches were filled with deliciousness. Gingerbread, shortbread, dark chocolate rocky road, and the world’s biggest, most amazing looking pavlova I’d ever seen.

  “Stop drooling, Gage!” Holly laughed, spying me as she spun around, her arms wildly flailing above her head.

  Too many platefuls later, and I was ready to burst. Even before lunch had started I stuffed myself stupid on cashews and glacé fruit, and those disgusting lollies you can only buy this time of year. After then adding a rather over-indulgent serving of roast dinner with the crispiest roast potatoes I’d ever had, I was done. Or at least I thought I was.

  “Hope you all liked lunch?” Payton asked, her voice trembling slightly.

  It was obvious to anyone paying attention, so basically anyone not currently in a food coma, she was nervous. She was trying so damn hard to make this the best Christmas ever she was actually worried we weren’t enjoying it.

  Groans murmured their thanks from around the table. I had to say something. Something to put her out of her misery. Those damn puppy dog eyes were dangerous.

  “Payton, that was the best damn meal I’ve had in a long time. Anytime you feel like you want to cook for someone who appreciates it,” I added smugly, digging my elbow into Beau’s ribs to make sure he was listening, “you feel free to swing that sexy ass past my place. Door’s always open for you, sweetheart.”

  I didn’t have to look at my bone-headed brother to know he was silently seething. I heard the sharp hiss of breath as he bit his tongue.

  “Thanks, Gage. I’ll keep that in mind,” Payton replied, adding a wink to let me know she was playing along. At least we were all having fun.

  When Payton grabbed the now demolished platter from the table and headed back to the kitchen, Beau leant over and whispered his threats straight into my ear. There was no way I didn’t get the message. “Don’t fucking even think about going near her!” Caveman Beau was hilarious.

  Instead of continuing to rile him up, I leant back in my chair and popped the button on my jeans. In all fairness, I only popped the button myself before I wasn’t given the option and the metal button was sent flying across the room, smashing someone in the face.

  “So, who wants dessert?” Payton’s sickeningly sweet sing-song voice drifted from the kitchen, and my stomach protested instantly. There was no way in the world I could actually stomach one more mouthful right now. Maybe after a nap…

  “Well, isn’t this cosy?”

  I’d been back in Sydney a little under twenty-four hours and I was already prepared to throw myself out the window of my dingy, third floor hotel room. I didn’t want to be here. In fact, I wanted to be anywhere but here right now. I’d had no intentions of coming to Sydney for Christmas. I couldn’t think of anything worse. Yet here I was. Thanks to my mother’s incredible ability to guilt trip anything with a heartbeat, I’d spent a fortune on a last-minute flight. Even though it cost an arm and a leg to fly from the middle of nowhere, Mum though, didn’t seem to care. All I knew was the cost of the flight was worth the forty minutes’ peace I’d earned when I arrived in time for dinner last night.

  Forty-eight Hours Earlier

  Lying on Payton’s couch, I was surfing the internet looking for somewhere to live. After Beau’s overly enthusiastic bonking last night, I couldn’t wait any longer. I hadn’t been in a rush until I tried to sleep while Payton screamed for divine intervention and Beau grunted his way to climax.

  Truthfully, there wasn’t much around. It was either huge and could easily fit a family of eight as well as two dogs, a cat, and a goat…or so old and run down from the photos alone, I wasn’t convinced the place wouldn’t crumble on my head while I slept. It wasn’t hopeless, but it wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, either. I was grateful Payton wasn’t kicking me to the kerb. I’d slept in my car once or twice and it wasn’t exactly conducive to a good night’s sleep.

  Clicking onto yet another listing, from the photos this one looked at least half decent. It was not in my price range, but for the right place I could make it work. It had two bedrooms, a small, seemingly clean bathroom, and one big main room. It wasn’t exactly big, but it was big enough to have room for a sofa, a work table, and the kitchen.

  “Hey!” Beau boomed as he waltzed through the door.

  Yet another thing I wasn’t going to miss. Here I was sitting on effectively what was my bed, wearing indecently short shorts, a tank top with no bra, and he walks in like he owns the place. Suddenly I was craving a bit of privacy.

  Slamming shut my laptop, I tugged my top down, checking to make sure as much of my boobs were covered as possible, before turning to face him. “Hey Beau. If you’re looking for Payton, she’s not in.”

  His face fell. He looked like I’d just kicked his puppy. Damn, that boy had it bad. As horrible as it was to witness first hand, and as much as it ignited the green-eyed monster within me to see the way Beau doted on Payton’s every move, I had never been happier for my best friend. She deserved it after what my douche bag of a brother put her through.

  “Oh. Any idea where she is?”

  “Yeah. She headed into town. Something about picking up new moulds or something. You know how she gets when she starts talking kitchen crap.”

  “That’s right. She did tell me about that. I thought she’d be back by now though.”

  “She’s probably not too far away.” I knew social convention dictated that I suggest he wait here until she returned, but fuck social convention. I hated all that crap. Probably one of the reasons my mother and I fought so much. She was all about the proper thing to do and say. Me, I stopped giving a toss years ago. I am who I am, and if you don’t like me for it, your loss.

  “Whatcha doing?”

  Beau leapt over the back of the couch in that dramatic, look-at-me way only a guy could, and flopped down beside me. Without asking, which really pissed me off, he grabbed my laptop and opened it.

  “Please don’t…” Unsurprisingly, my plea went unheard.

  “You moving?”

  Good work, Captain Obvious. “Yeah. I need to find my own place. You know, someplace where it’s quiet and I have an actual bedroom, opposed to sleeping in the kitchen.”

  The words came out before I could stop them. I didn’t mean to be a sarcastic bitch, but that’s what happened after I spoke to my mother. She had this amazing ability to make me feel tiny and insignificant with just a few simple words.

  “Makes sense, I guess. Looking for anything in particular?”

  “I’m pretty easy, really. Nothi
ng spectacular. Just somewhere quiet with hot water, electricity, internet, and no rats.”

  “No rats, hey?”

  “Nah, not a big fan.” It felt kinda weird to be having such a normal conversation with Beau. It wasn’t that we hadn’t had a conversation before, it was just usually we were supervised. It felt incredibly odd. Needing to do something with my hands, I jumped up and snagged a couple of beers from the fridge.

  “I might know of a place.”

  “Really?” Now he’d piqued my interest. Handing him a beer, I sat back down, and clinked our bottles together.

  “What about my place?”

  “What?”

  “My place. It’s clean and quiet. I mean, it’s nothing special. It’s not huge, but I think it could work.”

  “Running water?”

  “Yep.”

  “Room to edit?”

  “Plenty.”

  “It’s quiet?”

  “You’re about a kilometre from the main house. Only noise is cows and birds.”

  “Sounds like heaven. What’s the catch?”

  “The catch?”

  “Yeah. What’s the catch? Full of rats? Bugs? Spiders?”

  “Nah. Only thing wrong with it is…”

  “Only thing wrong with what?” Payton asked as she clattered through the doorway. It was a miracle we hadn’t heard her falling out of the car. Her arms were filled with metal trays and pans. Wire racks dangled from her fingers. Before I had a chance to react, Beau’s beer was in my hand and he was unloading the pack horse previously known as Payton.

  “Sweetie, why’d you bring all this stuff up here? Why not just leave it downstairs in the kitchen?”

  If looks could kill, Beau would be a pile of ash at Payton’s feet. “B-because…”