Mattie and Charlie walked side by side, up the stairs and into the upstairs corridor, talking quietly on their way to prepare for bed. They both had morning shifts the following day, and so left Jean and the doctor alone downstairs earlier than usual.
"Ned showed up before thing got ugly though, so we didn't have to arrest anyone. Maybe we need more cells," Charlie mused, finishing his story of an encounter he'd had earlier that day.
Mattie frowned. "If there were three of them, and only one of you, why didn't they have a go?" she asked.
"There were two of us, like I said: Ned was there. Maybe they realised they were too drunk to have an advantage," he reasoned.
The nurse rolled her eyes. "I meant while you were telling them to move on, before Constable Simmons got there. And drunk people, especially thugs, don't usually grasp how far gone they are, or don't care," she pointed out.
He tilted his head as they stopped outside his closed bedroom door, admitting her point. "They were biggish blokes, one of them especially, but a fair bit older than me. Maybe they were intimidated," he suggested with a shrug. He didn't need to know the motivation for lack of blows exchanged, especially when it would lead to arrests, more paperwork and more prisoners in the abnormally overcrowded cells.
Mattie looked up at him in disbelief. "Intimidated? By you?" she scoffed. Charlie was far too sweet to frighten anyone, in her opinion. He looked vaguely offended by her comment. When on duty, he could be formal and commanding, she supposed, but intimidating seemed to be taking that a little too far. Then again, she'd seen him tackle a few grown men in his time in Ballarat, and she wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that. He could handle himself, and struggling suspects, but still…
He drew himself up to his full height, squaring his shoulders. Standing more formally, chin up, he told her in his policeman voice, "I can be intimidating, O'Brien, if I need to be."
She looked up at him doubtfully, one eyebrow raised, fighting back a grin. He was taller than she, with broad shoulders, which worked in his favour to some extent. He had removed his cap, tie and blazer, however, and rolled his sleeves up, dismantling the respect-demanding uniform. He looked rather too friendly, youthful and handsome to be menacing, or anything much further afield than severe. Even that was dampened by the ghost of a smile threatening his face.
"Are you sure about that?" she asked sceptically.
He stepped forward, so that she was forced to back up to the wall, between a framed painting of a sheep station and Jean's door. He stood close to her and scowled down at her. Mattie was a little shocked; it was a rather more impressive demonstration than she had expected from the man. His lithe, athletic form was less intimidating than it was attractive, though. Her heart raced. She could smell him; soap, fresh laundry, aftershave and a few other scents that worked together to create an alluring combination. Overall, it was warm and clean and welcoming, matching his manner perfectly.
"I think so," he said, sounding a little pleased, probably by the way she pressed against the wall and watched him closely with wide eyes, probably wrongly assuming the reason, though.
Unless he wasn't wrong. Maybe he had come so close, almost pressing up against her, because he wanted to be close to her, and saw she wanted the same, rather than wanting to prove a point. After their bumpy start, the more time they spent together the stronger their friendship became. He was polite and a little withdrawn, shy even – was that why he hadn't asked her out yet? Maybe he didn't want to make her uncomfortable, since they lived together. That seemed just the sort of concern he would have, she thought.
Or maybe it was as it seemed on the surface, and he was making a joke about being intimidating.
These thoughts all sprinted though her mind. The more daring of the two, it was down to her to make a move.
With a coy smile, she brought her arms up to rest around the back of his neck, crossing her wrists over. He stiffened and looked taken aback, and confused.
"Many of your arrests try this tactic?" she inquired innocently, waiting to see whether he would respond to the motives behind the façade of two housemates joking around.
He laughed quietly. "Not many, thankfully. Fortunately, nobody last night," he responded. He took her wrists and freed himself, taking a step back. "Sorry if I overstepped, by the way," he added more seriously. He clearly didn't actually want to bully her.
She smiled. "If you did, I don't mind," she said easily, earning a reassured nod from the sergeant. She took two casual steps forward, though, until there was a hair's breadth between them. He looked apprehensive. "But," she continued, letting her voice drop to a flirtatious murmur she had never employed on the man before, and he leant back slightly, "I might just have to get my own back."
Charlie swallowed. "Haha. Whatever you say, Mattie," he said, his casual remark falling flat as he tried to back away, hitting the doorframe of his room, but she followed until he was trapped. She slid her hands onto his shoulders, and he actually shivered.
"I wonder," she whispered, leaning closer still, their chests flush, rising onto her toes so that her mouth was only an inch from his, "if any of your arrests tried this tactic."
His icy blue eyes bored into hers, flicking down to her lips from the briefest of moments before rising up meet her gaze again. That was all the encouragement she needed. He drew a slightly shaky breath to reply, and she pounced.
She pressed her full lips against his, soft with surprise, and then frozen along with the rest of his lean body, against which her own rested. After a moment, she pulled back, opening her eyes. They stared at each other for a moment. Mattie held her breath, wondering what he would do. He looked impassive for a moment.
His right hand gently rested on her hip, and the other came up to slide along her jaw, his thumb brushing her cheek and long fingers splaying out on the side of her throat. She smiled at him as he lowered his head, agonisingly slowly to kiss her again, more willingly.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and then their lips met. She let him set their pace, as she had clearly startled him before. He moved against her, so slow and gentle, and she felt sure that kissing Charlie Davis was the most luxurious yet frustrating thing in the world. She was desperate to be closer, pushing her body harder against his, and sliding her hands into his styled hair. The hand on her hip slowly slid around, torturously, really, to fan out on the small of her back, holding her to him as though she weren't already clinging onto him like a limpet. The other hand traced a delicate path up into her soft curls. She couldn't take it, and bit his lower lip gently, eliciting a quiet moan from the man, and – not that she would admit to it if anyone were to bring it up later – pushed her hips against his more firmly.
He increased his attentions, but she wanted more – needed really, and so wasn't really responsible. She slid her tongue into his mouth, and they quickly increased their fervour, their breathing loud and coming in gasps. Mattie stood on her tiptoes again, one arm tightly bent around his neck as she enthusiastically moved against him. She made a noise between acute pleasure and frustration as he raked his fingertips over her ribcage.
They were so caught up in the sliding of tongues and lips sliding over each other that they totally failed to hear the warning offered by the sound of footsteps on the wood of the staircase.
They did however, the very loud, "Oh!" from the house keeper when she reached the top and turned into the corridor. Their heads snapped to face her, finding shocked and scandalised Mrs Beazley frozen several feet away. Charlie dropped his hands from her as though she had electrocuted him and then stared at the ceiling in horror, his snowy complexion now tomato red, but trapped by Mattie's grip on him. After another agonising moment of locked eyes with Jean, she let her hands drop and took a big step away from Charlie, staring at the wall as she tried to think of something to say or do.
It had probably been about four seconds since she made the noise, but it felt like an eternity. To make matters instantly and immeasurably worse, Lucien had heard the noise and sprang up the staircase. He drew breath to ask Jean what the matter was, and then seemed to catch sight of his lodgers.
Mattie threw a glance at Charlie. Even if she looked unruffled, looking at him was confirmation enough of the situation at hand. His hair was in disarray, his shirt off kilter and bunched at the shoulders where she had fisted her hands in it, and he had lipstick on his face, concentrated on his own lips, slightly swollen from her extremely amorous attentions.
The silence stretched on for another few horrendous moments, before Lucien actually let out a laugh, looking caught between amusement and surprise. He had the air of someone who had just been told a joke he hadn't expected. "Well, don't let me bother you. Just make sure you let Jean past," he instructed jovially before bouncing down the stairs with a grin on his face.
Jean stared after him, threw them a disapproving look, deliberating, then quickly followed, hissing his name.
The two younger people looked at each other. Charlie looked mortified. Probably because someone who filled a motherly role for him had walked in, but possibly also because he had been in such a position in the first place – he did seem rather proper. She hoped this incident wouldn't preclude the chance of another, similar encounter, though preferably somewhere more private.
"So…" she said uncomfortably. He grimaced, then turned and darted into his room and shut the door behind him. She sighed, and walked to her own room.
About a quarter of an hour later, there was a knock at the door as she was getting into bed. She called out, "Yes?" and Jean swung open the door enough to stick her head into the room.
"Goodnight, Mattie," she said, her features carefully blank but for a polite smile. Mattie echoed the phrase and the housekeeper left. No doubt this was her way of checking that she was in her room, and alone. Jean never came to her room to wish her good night; the household always completed that ritual downstairs before any of them retired.
The next morning, by the time she came out to breakfast, Charlie, along with his police blazer and hat, were nowhere to be seen. She sat herself down at the table, next to Lucien, who was reading the paper and sipping a glass of orange juice, in lieu of his usual tea.
"Charlie seemed in a rush to leave this morning," he observed, not looking up from his paper, but his teasing tone clearing conveying the gleeful expression he no doubt wore behind it. "Maybe there's a pressing case waiting on his desk that he can't wait to sink his teeth into," he continued cheerfully.
Jean pursed her lips and Mattie flushed at her toast. The rest of her rushed meal continued in much the same way, Lucien finding numerous ways to mention the missing policeman's mouth, some more laboured than others.