Down Outback Roads (11 page)

‘I reckon another day of sowing, Whisk, and we’ll be done.’

In the darkness of the garden, Ewan wasn’t sure if the kelpie wagged his tail or even lifted his head to look at him. The walk from the machinery shed to the homestead felt extra long. The day had been hot and they were both running on empty. As predicted, he’d finished the canola two days ago and had since been flat-out putting in the wheat. Between his sowing and Kree’s visitor centre crusade, he’d barely seen the stunning American. If she wasn’t on the phone, or checking the stock at Berridale, she was asleep when he came home.

He ignored the loss that overlaid his exhaustion. There were far more pressing things he should be dwelling on than missing Kree. He had to get the wheat sowed so he could head north for the UltraBlack cattle sale. He also had to find the extra cash to fund the stock purchase now the bank was only onboard for half. If he bought less head, and sold the ute – his feet dragged – he should manage.

No lights shone in the windows. It was close to midnight and the house would be asleep. His stomach rumbled as he
headed into the back garden to the pool. Tish had called him on the UHF to see if he wanted dinner brought to the paddock. He’d only planned on doing one more row so had said not to worry. Then the lights on the tractor had blown and he’d lost valuable time replacing a relay in the wiring.

He rounded the verandah corner and the sensor light switched on. Light danced on the breeze-rippled pool surface. He passed a hand over his gritty face. Dust coated his skin and the smell of diesel clung to his clothes. He’d take a quick swim and then see what Tish had left him for dinner.

Midget barked somewhere to his right and Whiskey bolted towards her. In the gloom, he caught flashes of white as the Jack Russell raced through the garden to the chook pen. A fox had been hanging around Lancelot and his hens. But between Midget’s vigilance and the chicken wire Ewan had buried in the ground when he’d built the pen, Sir Lancelot’s kingdom would remain impenetrable.

Ewan opened the pool gate and hung his hat on the self-locking mechanism. It wouldn’t matter if the gate didn’t close, the boys were in bed. He undid the top two buttons of his work shirt, pulled it over his head and draped it over the pool gate. He crossed the sandstone pavers to the water’s edge before bending to remove his boots and socks. He carefully straightened as his lower back twinged. Braye sure packed a wallop when he tackled. Next time the Wallabies played a test match on television, Braye wouldn’t be staying up late to watch.

A faint goat bleat blended into the jingle of metal as he undid his belt buckle. Ewan searched the garden beyond the glow of the sensor light. What was Fudge doing awake? If Fudge was out and about, was Freckle, too? He rubbed his
collarbone and listened, but all he could hear was the rasp of dirt between his skin and the pads of his fingers. All seemed quiet. If Fudge was still awake when he’d finished his swim, he’d put her to bed on the verandah.

His hand lowered and he slipped his jeans button free. He was about to shuck off the dusty denim when Fudge again bleated. A loud crash sounded and then an unmistakable American accent said, ‘Dammit. There goes Tish’s bird bath.’

Fudge burst into the circle of light, followed by a limping Kree carrying a squirming Freckle. ‘No, you don’t,’ Kree said, her attention on the restless pup. ‘I’m not putting you down or you’ll run off. You’re not big enough to take on whatever garden gremlin is out there. In case you didn’t realise, it’s bed time.’

Ewan froze. It was hard enough concealing the effect Kree had on him when he was wearing clothes and a wide-brimmed hat. Dressed in only jeans and with light shining full on his face, she’d read him like one of the boys’ picture books. He edged away from the water and into the shadows, hoping Kree would think the inflatable ball moving on the water’s surface had tripped the sensor light. With any luck, she wouldn’t realise he was there.

But Lady Luck wasn’t shining on him. Fudge bounced Ewan’s way, bleating. He knew the exact moment Kree saw him. Her steps faltered and her hold on Freckle eased. The pup jumped out of her arms, landed on a patch of thick lawn and took off in the direction Midget and Whiskey had headed.

Kree placed her hands on her hips. ‘I give up.’

She limped towards him. Snug denim hugged her hips and a pink-and-white striped shirt was tucked into her leather-belted waist. The sensor light glinted on her small belt buckle.
Kree might have won the negotiation over belt-buckle size, but going off the twinkle of light surrounding the buckle, Braye had won the bling argument. Tension tightened his stomach. In her new clothes, and with a light tan colouring her winter-pale skin, she almost looked like a local. But no matter how much she appeared at home in his world, she’d soon be gone.

‘He’ll be fine – he can’t get into too much trouble,’ Ewan said, calculating the distance between him and his shirt. ‘The garden gremlin will be a fox or a kangaroo. Whiskey will take care of him.’

Kree stopped at the pool gate beside Fudge. ‘I swear he was sound asleep half-an-hour ago. Midget barked so I came outside to see what the fuss was about and also found Fudgy awake.’

Kree patted the little goat to distract her from nibbling the sleeve of his shirt, which was hanging at perfect head height.

Ewan folded his arms. ‘I’ll make sure he’s back and in his bed before I turn in.’

‘Thanks.’ The strong light illuminated the midnight-blue of her eyes. ‘You’re in late. Tish was getting worried. She’s left a chicken casserole in the fridge.’

‘I did text that I had a machinery breakdown. She worries far too much. The doctor told her the only way she’d stop her tension headaches was to stress less.’

Kree frowned. ‘Does she get headaches often?’

‘Not anymore. She’s determined to not let her worries transfer to Darby, as he tends to worry, too.’

‘She’s such a great mum.’

‘She is.’ A breeze played over his bare chest, reminding him
of his vulnerability, and he again glanced towards where his shirt lay across the pool gate.

Kree half-smiled, her eyes flicking across his dusty face and then over his chest. ‘Obviously the machinery breakdown involved playing in the dirt.’

‘Something like that.’

He knew he shouldn’t keep her talking. The longer they stayed by the pool together, the higher the risk she’d glimpse something she shouldn’t in his eyes. But fatigue must be dulling his senses because as much as he needed her gone, he also needed her to stay. She’d soon be at Berridale and then Colorado. He spoke before his self-preservation flipped the safety switch on his mouth. ‘So, how come you’re still awake?’

‘It’s morning back home and I had some phone calls to make,’ she said as she lifted the shirt sleeve out of Fudge’s determined reach.

‘How’s the coach house plan going?’

‘Good, I’ll tell you about it while you eat. I need a packet of frozen peas for my knee. Tish’s poor bird bath won’t ever be the same again.’

‘Are you okay?’

His gaze dropped to where she rubbed her knee. Her long, brown hair fell over her shoulder and his fingers itched to thread themselves through the heavy, silken weight. He clenched his hands beneath his folded arms.

‘I’m fine.’ She straightened. ‘I’ll add the bruise to the one I got on my thigh from tripping over Braye’s boot, which Freckle had stolen.’

Ewan followed the path of her hand from her knee to the curve of her thigh as she talked. Too late, he realised Fudge had walked through the pool gate and had now stood on her
back legs to reach his shirt. The little goat grabbed the sleeve in her mouth and pulled. The shirt fell, enveloping her in its navy folds.

Bleats muffled, she careered to her left and cannoned into Ewan’s legs. He reached for her but she sprinted in a wild sideways run, straight over the pool edge and into the water.

Without thought, Ewan dived in. The coldness of the pool hit him like a physical blow. He scooped up the flailing blue bundle and swam to the side of the pool where Kree was kneeling. He stood, a thrashing Fudge in his arms, and lifted his chin to avoid being head-butted.

‘Here, I’ll take her,’ Kree said. Her hands slid over his stomach as she encircled Fudge in her arms. The ends of her loose hair clung to his chest like curious fingers. She was so close he could see the dark fan of her lashes. So close, she could have heard the harsh intake of his breath at her touch, had she been listening.

‘Hang on, Fudgy,’ Kree crooned, drawing the goat against her. ‘Stay still so we can get the shirt off.’

Ewan worked the twisted sleeve free from Fudge’s head and nose, and her face finally appeared. Kree’s hand brushed his as she helped him release the rest of the goat’s tiny body from the heavy cotton.

Kree kissed the top of the kid’s little head and hugged her. ‘There you go. Your adventure is over. Everything’s fine now.’

But as Ewan stared at the woman who was holding Fudge safe and secure in her tender arms, he knew everything was far from fine. The tremors in his muscles from her brief touch and the ache in his chest at her sweetness confirmed that without Kree, he’d never be fine again.

Kree took a sip of her milky hot chocolate. After the night’s excitement, she’d needed something to help her sleep. A now warm and dry Fudge lay asleep on the back verandah, Freckle curled by her side. The screen door had opened and closed, telling her Ewan had finished swimming his laps and would soon be in for his dinner. She glanced at the kitchen clock. Well, his one o’clock in the morning snack. She knew he’d woken at dawn and, knowing him, he’d still do the same tomorrow. She stifled a yawn. Knowing herself, she’d be awake and listening for his tread past her bedroom doorway as he headed for the kitchen.

She adjusted the pack of frozen peas on her knee. The speed with which he’d dived in after Fudge and the gentleness with which he’d then held her, warmed Kree’s heart. As for how he’d looked shirtless under the spotlight … Her fingers curled around her mug. Not only did he look good, her hands had irrefutable proof from how they’d slid over the slick ridges of his abs that he felt damn good, too. Fragile butterflies unfurled within her middle. She also finally had proof that their connection wasn’t one-sided. When she’d touched him, she’d heard his swift breath and witnessed the flash of dark hunger in his eyes. His guilt had built an impenetrable wall that kept the world at bay, but were some of the bricks now becoming loose?

Ewan’s boots sounded in the hallway, seconds before he entered the dimly-lit kitchen. Dressed in a charcoal tee and faded jeans, his hair remained damp and tousled.

‘How’s the knee?’ he asked as he moved towards the oven where Kree had placed his chicken casserole.

‘Good, I hope. I’m more concerned about the bird bath.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll take a look before I head out in the morning.’ Ewan placed the oven-proof bowl onto a placemat and a beer onto a coaster before settling himself into the kitchen chair opposite her.

‘Thanks, but you’ve got enough to do. I’m sure the boys can help me.’

‘Actually, I’m betting Braye knows how to put the metal water bowl back on the stand, thanks to an incident with an out-of-control dump truck.’ Ewan picked up a fork and looked at the chicken casserole. ‘Thanks for heating this up.’

‘No worries.’

He grinned and the butterflies in her mid-section fluttered. ‘Did you just say “no worries”?’

‘Yes, I think I did.’

‘We’ll make an Aussie of you yet.’

A companionable silence settled between them while Ewan ate and she sipped her hot chocolate. It was as though they’d reached a mutual decision to avoid the intensity of their previous conversations and keep everything light between them. No more self-disclosure and no more divulging of deep emotions.

‘Fudge doing okay?’ he asked.

‘Yes, she and Freckle are snuggled together, asleep, as though that’s what they’ve been doing all night. Thanks again for rescuing her.’

Ewan shrugged. ‘All in a day’s work.’

Kree laughed. ‘You big hero.’

He glanced across at her, his gaze lingering on her mouth. ‘So, how’s Seth going?’

‘Good. He has full use of his arm again and is helping out a landscape gardening company for the next fortnight.’

‘Will you see him before you fly home?’

Ewan’s question sounded casual, but grooves appeared beside his mouth.

‘He did say he’d come and visit when I’m at Berridale. I think he’s overdosed on the bright city lights and needs a little peace and quiet again.’

‘Well, if he does visit, and he needs something to do, between Trav and myself I’m sure we can keep him out of mischief.’

‘Thanks, I might hold you to that if he starts driving me crazy with machinery talk.’

Kree placed the frozen peas on the table. It was time to go. She didn’t know what affected her more. A wet and half-dressed Ewan, or the conversational Ewan whose clear, grey eyes held hers. He had a way of listening that made her want to talk, really talk – and that scared her. Staying in control meant never giving all of herself over to someone. Ray had never been privy to her hopes, dreams and fears.

Ewan’s glance touched the frozen peas. ‘So, you were going to tell me about your coach house plans?’