“Dinner!” Billy cried, rubbing his hands together. “I could eat the crotch out of a low flying duck.”
“Not before you’ve cleaned up!” Charlie called out from the kitchen.
No burritos today. Instead, we were having roast lamb, and the smells were incredible.
“In a sec.” Billy approached the table, then looked me up and down. “You’re still in one piece, Macca. That’s better than I expected.” He bent his head to peer at me. “No injuries hidden behind those jeans?”
“I…”
His blue eyes were a similar colour to Troy’s, which had my words dying in my throat. Troy’s didn’t crinkle at the corners as he smiled, though. Instead the man had looked like he’d been smacked across the face with a wet fish.
No, something worse.
“Apart from having to fend off the advances of a very friendly spider, I’m fine,” I said.
“Brucey?” Bronson appeared beside Billy. “He won’t hurt you.”
“So people keep telling me.” I put the last fork down. “But I’m not convinced. At the very least he’s going to give me a heart attack if he keeps jump scaring me from behind the door.”
“Soo…” Bronson looked at his brother, the two men looking a little uncomfortable. “That room is his turf. Put him outside and he’s just gonna come back again.”
My hands gripped the edge of the table.
“Then I need to leave him to it. There’s room down in the bunk room where you sleep?”
“Yeah, there is.”
Billy’s smile spread slowly.
“I’ll move my stuff down there after dinner. Don’t want to encroach on a monster spider’s turf.”
“No, you won’t.” That gruff voice, I didn’t need to look up to know who was speaking. “You take one look at the cesspool they call a bathroom and you’ll change your mind. Come running back to the main house real quick.”
My hands went to my hips, and for some reason Troy watched my every move.
“Bleach gets rid of the worst shit stains,” I replied. “Unless you’re going to squash your pet house spider with those big boots of yours, I’ll happily supervise the boys as they clean their bathroom.”
“Now, Macca…” Billy spluttered.
“There’s other rooms—” Charlie started to say.
“I’ll ‘persuade’ Bruce to relocate as many times as you need.” Troy’s eyes bore into mine.
My cheeks flushed as I realised we had an audience. All of the Drysdale family was standing around the table, a strange man having joined them.
“Jock MacDonald,” the man said, offering me his hands. “But they just call me?—”
“Scotty!” Billy said. “Macca, Scotty. Scotty, Macca.”
“Nice to meet you, Macca,” he said.
“It’s Mackenzie.” Charlie set down a platter with a crackling roast at the head of the table. “You two, make yourselves useful and grab the vegetables and bread. Troy?”
She handed him a carving knife and fork and he moved into place, slicing into the meat.
“How come I never get to do the carving?” Billy asked, returning with hot trays filled with vegetables.
“Because a roast isn’t a tree you just hack into,” Troy rumbled, still intent on the job.
