The day of Bella's folk's Christmas party is an absolute stinker. Forty-two degrees in the shade and a gusty westerly wind, it's the kind of day that has you constantly sniffing the air for the scent of bushfire smoke. When I get to their place, Bella's old man, Charlie, is in the kitchen, sweat dripping from his eyebrows as he scowls at a massive pork loin through the oven door.

'He was going to spit roast it over his Weber,' Bella tells me. She's almost whispering, like she doesn't want to remind her dad about why he's so pissed off. 'He's been talking about it for weeks.'

'Bugger.' There's a total fire ban in place for the next forty-eight hours, which means he can't use a barbeque that burns solid fuel. I take a look at the meat sizzling away in the oven. 'Crackling's coming up nice, Charlie,' I offer.

Bella's dad looks at me, moustache twitching, before he nods. 'It's looking okay,' he concedes. 'Be better on the Weber but what can you do?'

Bella rolls her eyes and tugs my elbow. 'Come on.'

I expect her to lead me outside to help with setting up, but instead she shoves me into her bedroom and locks the door. It's about ten degrees cooler than the kitchen—ducted air conditioning is the bomb.

'Hi,' Bella says, and the look in her eye is one I know all too well. It's the biggest ego boost, the way she never hesitates to let me know she wants me.

'Hey.'

She pulls me towards her bed and shoves me gently. I do what she wants and sit down, and she moves to straddle me.

'Bella,' I mumble, but then her lips are on mine and I can't remember why I thought I should stop her. Even though she stayed at my place last night and we fucked then and again early this morning, she's grinding all over my dick and trying to get her hands under my shirt. I bloody love how much Bella likes sex and isn't afraid to ask for it.

But right now, when dozens of her parents' friends are about to descend upon us, it probably isn't the best time. That doesn't stop me, though, from shoving my hands up her top and groaning when I realise she hasn't bothered with a bra. I thumb her nipples, loving the way she jerks and pushes her chest forward. I give her what she wants and pinch her nipples, which makes her groan into my mouth.

'You're so fucking sexy,' I tell her, my voice gritty. 'I want you so bad.'

I pinch again and Bella makes that 'ungh' noise that just kills me.

'I want you, too,' she says. She pulls back and shoves her hands into my shorts. 'Can you—can we fuck? Do we have time?'

We probably could—the question is whether or not we should. I glance at the clock. The party is supposed to start in ten minutes. No one will be on time, and I know Bella's parents don't expect her to meet-and-greet. But time isn't the problem. It's more that Bella doesn't have her own bathroom, so we'd have to emerge dishevelled and flushed, and basically broadcasting what we'd just been up to.

I grab Bella's wrists and tug them away from my crotch. 'I really want to,' I tell her. 'But I don't really want to meet all your mum's friends looking like I've just fucked their pseudo-niece.'

Bella pouts and I kiss her lips. 'Stay at mine tonight. I'll make it up to you.'

She sighs as she stands up and smooths down her skirt. She checks her reflection in the mirror hanging on the back of her closet door before she leans down to kiss my cheek—and give me a peek down her shirt. 'Deal,' she says. 'I know you'll make it worth the wait.'

By the time Bella leads me into the backyard, there are already about thirty people clustered on the Swan's entertaining deck. Bella told me Charlie had it roofed and the outdoor ceiling fan installed last summer. The thing has a two and half metre sweep and looks like it's been scrounged from the top of a helicopter. It's awesome and I'm totally going to install one on my deck once I rebuild the pergola.

'Ready for this?' Bella asks.

'Sure.'

As soon as we step up onto the deck, three women about Bella's mum's age pounce on us. They're all looking at me in a way that makes me feel a bit like Charlie's pork. They seriously look like they're sizing me up for the spit.

'Renée wasn't exaggerating, was she?' one of them says. She's wearing peacock blue eyeshadow, which matches her sari perfectly. 'How are you, Bella, darling?'

'I'm great,' Bella says. She kisses the woman on the cheek. 'Jaya, this is Edward. Edward, Jaya.'

With that, I'm dragged into a whirlwind of introductions and explanations of who knows who and how that has my head spinning. It's highly unlikely I'm going to remember too many of these people's names. As soon as that thought forms in my mind, I realise, again, just how incredible Bella is. If a situation like this is borderline overwhelming for me, and I've always been pretty good with names and faces, then the way Bella manages to navigate social gatherings is nothing short of extraordinary.

This gathering, though, is a bit easier for her, because she knew most of these people well before her accident. Some of them she's known her entire life, which means there are more than a few people who want to tell me cute anecdotes about Bella as a baby or little kid. She rolls her eyes and groans each time someone starts to reminisce but I'm captivated. Bella's openness has made it easy to get to know her, and truly know her—the person she is now. But she is still such a recent arrival in my life and I'm curious about what she was like as a kid, as a teen. And each story gives me some tiny insight into how Bella became the woman I'm completely smitten with today.

Charlie's brother, Phil, is telling me about the time Bella smuggled home a shoebox full of soldier crabs and hid them under her bed when I notice the Whitlocks have arrived. I spot Maria and her husband laughing with a couple I was introduced to about fifteen minutes ago, Tia and Benji. I don't see Jasper, though. Maybe he decided not to show his face.

'Ren was absolutely ropable,' Phil says, cackling. 'She had to hire a steam cleaner because she couldn't get the smell out of the carpet.'

Bella makes a face. 'I felt awful about that for months,' she says.

'For the smell?' I ask, smiling at her. 'Was it that bad?'

She wrinkles her nose. 'The smell was horrific. But I meant for the poor crabs. I left them in a box under my bed on a day like today. And we didn't have air con in that house. Not one of them survived.' She shakes her head. 'Poor things. I told my parents they should never let me get a pet because of that. I didn't think I could be trusted with another creature's life.'

'How old were you?'

She shrugs. 'Maybe seven or eight?' She looks at her uncle for confirmation.

He thinks about it for a second and then nods. 'Yeah, 'bout that. She's always been a bit of a tender heart, this one.'

That's been a common thread in the stories people have told me. Bella cares, and it sticks in people's minds. That, and that she spent a lot of time running around nude as a toddler.

'Yeah, well,' Bella says. 'This tender heart is also completely parched.' She squeezes Phil's forearm before she catches my eye and jerks her head towards the makeshift bar her mum is tending. 'Buy me a drink?'

42ºC = 108ºF. (It hit 47ºC/117ºF here the other day. That was fun... NOT.)