The House at the Bottom of the Hill (4 page)

She spluttered a laugh. Someone with spirit had written this. It lifted her mood, a heartfelt, fun moment she hadn’t expected.

‘Who owns this place?’ she asked.

Daniel was studying her, his smile tinged with surprise.

Charlotte scowled and picked up the sack. Across the road, a blonde got out of a little sports car. Elegant wasn’t the right word for her … perhaps sleek suited. She looked about Charlotte’s age but a lot trendier.

‘There she is now,’ Daniel said. ‘The beauty parlour owner.’

‘Who is she?’

‘Julia Morelly.’

The woman moved to the back of the car. She reminded Charlotte of a gazelle—long neck, slim legs, thin arms and wrists and there was a casualness in the way she moved, as though she were out shopping for silk scarves on Bond Street, not running a beauty parlour in a miniscule alpine town in the Snowy Mountains. She opened the boot of her car and took out a stroller. Slamming the boot closed, she unfolded the stroller, locked it into place, pulled the sunhood down and turned. She pushed the empty stroller along the road, upended its front wheels with seeming care as she wheeled it up the pavement and headed for the stock feeders’.

‘What’s she doing?’ Charlotte asked.

‘Practising.’

‘For what?’

‘Having a baby.’

‘She’s pregnant?’

‘No, she’s practising.’

Charlotte checked his face to see if he was joking.

‘Julia’s got a sperm donor in Canberra. She wants a baby and he said he’ll give her one.’

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. ‘That sounds a little calculated.’

‘Nah. You’ll understand when you get to know her. She’s had a lot of boyfriends. Got fed up with men and came home a year ago. Opened up this place, although she doesn’t get many customers wanting her fancy treatments, so she decided it was the right time to become a mother.’

‘Is this man going to help with the child? Or is it a business arrangement?’

Daniel shrugged. ‘All I know is they don’t do it.’

‘Don’t do what?

‘
It
. They have it … you know …’ He grinned. ‘Medically done.’

Ah.
It
. ‘IVF,’ she said in a serious tone.

‘Yeah.’ His grin and narrowed eyes spoke a dozen silent but explicit words. ‘Boring, huh?’ He stood there, all lean beef and brawn, the dazzling smile and laidback demeanour pronouncing
sex
,
sex
,
sex
. Could he do that on purpose too? Make a woman think about sex?

Okay, so it wasn’t just coffee she was missing.

Charlotte moved off smartish in case the heat on her face showed up as a blush. Titian red and pink wasn’t the best colour match. ‘This is one strange town,’ she muttered.

‘It’s taken you two whole weeks to discover that?’ There was a laugh in his tone as he followed her.

Charlotte walked past the grocer’s—she’d pop out later and get the coffee and milk; couldn’t carry everything now anyway. She walked straight past Morelly’s hardware store too, even though the doors were open and the copious, dusty-smelling shelves would house any number of Phillips head screwdrivers. Young Mr Morelly chatted effusively to a customer.
Young
was obviously a euphemism for
pensioner who wouldn’t retire.
He had to be close to seventy.

‘Didn’t you want a Phillips head for all that screwing you’re going to be doing?’ Daniel asked.

Charlotte ignored him. Not worthy of a sensible woman’s answer.

The door to Kookaburra’s was propped open too—and there was that tantalising smell. Dark cocoa-flavoured roasted coffee beans. She slowed and sniffed the air, drawing the fragrance inside in the hope it would stay all day.

‘Fancy a coffee?’ Daniel asked as he brushed past her, the coffee-bean smell overlaid with a lighter, summery fragrance of aftershave; a hint of sliced melon and sandalwood shavings. He pushed the door to the bar open and looked over his shoulder. ‘You must have noticed we’re the only two sane people in town. Let’s get together and talk about that.’

Unfair. Just unfair. She’d get down on her knees for a real coffee. ‘No thanks.’ It had been fifteen days since she’d had a flat white.

‘Come on in and tell me your plans for the B&B.’

She definitely wouldn’t be doing that. ‘I hope you’re not trying to chat me up.’ It came out snappy but he had no right being so tantalisingly masculine either.

‘I’m not making a pass,’ he said in a surprised tone. ‘You don’t interest me that way.’

‘You don’t interest me that way either.’ All she had to do now was inform her libido of this decision.

‘You think I hadn’t noticed? You’re not exactly Miss Forthcoming.’

He said it with a smile but he made her sound like a fractious beauty pageant contestant, arguing with the judge because she hadn’t got the crown. She was already on the wrong side with the community, and now here she was getting offside with Hotshot. She knew he’d be trouble—just knew it from the start. How dare he make assumptions after such a brief acquaintance?

‘I don’t intend to argue with you, but you did ignore me for two weeks.’

‘Come on, Charlotte. I waved. And I apologised.’

‘And I don’t fall easily for smarm.’

‘Smarm?’ He stepped back. ‘Look, I asked if you’d like a coffee, not to marry me.’

‘What’s going on?’

Charlotte started, turned to the man who had spoken and dropped the sack.

‘Careful.’ Ethan Granger stepped forwards and bent to catch it. ‘You okay?’

The breath drained from her lungs. Ethan was a giant of a man. ‘Yes, I’m fine. Thank—thank you.’ Although she was desperate to look up at him again, she kept her gaze on his chest. She was so close she saw the way it rose and fell with each steady breath he took.
Look up at him
.
Look at his face
.
Who does he look like
?

She looked up, her breathing shallow with worry. Sandycoloured hair, a bit tousled. Piercing blue eyes that held a reflection of the smile on his firm mouth. A handsome giant. O’Donnell hadn’t been this tall, had he? Hard to tell, she’d only been six years old and most men were tall to a child. She pushed anxiety down and concentrated, with an almost greedy need, on every feature of this man’s face so she could evaluate it later— when she wasn’t so close to him.

‘Take it easy there, Charlotte,’ Daniel drawled.

Charlotte jumped back—she’d forgotten he was there. She snapped her head his way, and met his frowning contemplation.

Dan lowered his head and studied her. One minute she was behaving like a debutante fighting to be the first to shake the hand of the queen, and the next she was a bundle of nerves, as though she’d tripped on her dress in front of the crowd, her face drawn with tension, lips parted in surprise—or worry.

When she’d laughed about the signage on the beauty place her face had bloomed with joy, her eyes sparkling with frank and open amusement. Lake-green eyes, the colour of still water at dawn, more vibrant because of her pale skin and hair colouring. A hell of a good-looking woman, and he’d caught her happiness for a second too. Hadn’t lasted long.

‘Nice to meet you at last,’ Ethan was saying. ‘You’ve met my wife, Sammy, but I’ve been a bit busy of late. I apologise for not having visited you sooner.’

‘Please don’t worry. Sammy was—Sammy was very kind.’

Dan’s frown deepened. Charlotte was looking up at Ethan from beneath her lashes, studying him intensely, as though
he
were the newcomer in town.

Ethan didn’t appear to notice. ‘Well, if there’s anything we can help you with, just call.’

She was blinking too fast, as though the sun had blinded her. ‘Thank you.’

Jesus. She was batting her eyelashes at Ethan the way Mrs Tam did at Dan.

Dan stepped forwards, took the sack of dog biscuits from Ethan and held it out to her. She hadn’t batted her auburn lashes at him but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t hold true to his offer of assistance. ‘Hold it in both hands if you won’t let me carry it for you.’

She seemed to sink into herself, the skin on her face paler than a vanilla milkshake. Her eyes narrowed with a muddled look, as though she’d got herself tangled in something bigger than she could cope with. A bolt of tenderness hit him in the chest. The same kind of sensation he got when he looked at Sammy walking along with her baby bump. Or when little Lochie looked up at him with his soulful gaze.

‘You’re going to need a hat, Charlotte,’ he said softly, keeping her perplexed gaze locked in his. ‘You’ll burn in the sun.’ And what could be worse than seeing that beautiful skin marred?

She reached for the sack.

‘Why don’t you let me carry it for you?’

She all but grabbed it from his hands. ‘No, thanks. I’m fine.’

Stubborn, alright. ‘Okay, well hold it flat or you’re going to wrench your arms out of their sockets.’

‘I will. Lucy.’ She looked behind her. ‘
Lucy
.’

‘She’s right there,’ Dan said, pointing at the walkway where the dog sat at Charlotte’s feet.

‘Oh, yes.’ It looked like she could hardly catch her breath. ‘Okay, well. Bye.’ She nodded at Ethan, flicking another look at him as she moved off. She didn’t look at Dan.

‘Watch your step at the end of the walkway,’ Dan said.

‘I will.’

‘So we’ll make a coffee date for another time?’ he called.

She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Yes. Lovely.’

Lovely?
Where’d that come from? She wasn’t thinking straight. She’d called him smarmy, refused his friendly offer of coffee and started bickering with him. And all that had stopped the moment Ethan turned up.

‘What were you pestering her for?’ Ethan asked.

‘I wasn’t pestering. I asked if she wanted a coffee but she wasn’t in the mood.’

‘Yeah, right.’ Ethan laughed. ‘
Let me carry your bag
,’ he mimicked. ‘
Buy a hat, little Charlotte
.
Watch your step, sweetheart
.
Don’t strain your precious arms
.’

Dan frowned. ‘Give me a break. She doesn’t need anyone watching her back, she’s got a two-foot-long copper pipe soldered to her spine.’ Or so Dan had thought. Now he’d met her he got the impression there was a lot more going on inside her head and that perhaps her straightened spine was armour against … something.

Ethan cocked an eyebrow.

Dan sighed. ‘I was just trying to behave a little friendly like, and it didn’t work.’

‘Looked to me like you were planning on becoming her
special
friend.’

‘No chance.’ Whatever Charlotte’s bemusement was about, Dan didn’t want anyone thinking he had some obsession with her just because she’d fluttered her eyelashes at Ethan and not him.

He peered at Charlotte’s retreating back, her hair afloat around her rigid shoulders, billowing like the fringe on a silk shawl.

‘Look at your mother,’ his father used to say when he watched Dan’s mother walk around the house, or the garden. ‘Whips my breath away.’ Dan’s breath had been whipped from him too. He’d had nine years of love from his parents and not a second more. They’d died and he’d lost the chance to grow up sheltered by that love, living in a male-dominated world with his grandfather after that. Life hadn’t allowed for a lot of emotional to-ing and fro-ing, unless his team lost on home turf or the muffler fell off the ute while doing a hundred and twenty down the freeway.

He’d been almost captivated by the sound of Charlotte’s laughter, and when her smile reached her eyes, a pang of pure pleasure had ricocheted in his chest. All eyes, cheekbones and pointy little chin, impish—light and wonder, as though the child she’d been still danced inside her, yet somehow was only allowed out for special occasions.

Too reminiscent of everything in his own childhood. All the love stuff he’d missed out on. He turned to the door. ‘I told you, she’s not my type.’

D
an turned a slow circle on the upper level of Kookaburra’s, taking in the crumbling plaster and hundred-year-old cladding that hung in tatters from the now mostly fallen partitions of the seven original bedrooms. No need for bedrooms in a hotel that didn’t get any customers after the First World War. The rafters above him groaned and the wind whistled through the frames of the seven neat windows looking out onto a balcony running the entire top level of the hotel.

Dan was a qualified draughtsman and knew enough about buying, renovating and selling-on properties to produce his own reality television show. Turning properties around was how he’d made his money, although granted, this renovation would be the biggest of his life. He’d applied for and received an extension to the original development approval licence. One of the reasons he’d bought the place was because the development proposal had already gone through the shire and had been accepted. What he hadn’t counted on was the townspeople’s reservations about the actual build. He’d learned, quickly, that they’d only agreed to the changes because they hadn’t thought for a moment that the previous owner would get the hotel up and running, but he’d been a home-grown and well-liked man, so the committee had humoured him.

Then he’d moved overseas and Dan had turned up. Sparks had flown as everyone fretted about what the new guy was going to do. They didn’t want change. They were scared of it so Dan had decided he didn’t need to do anything fast and had been content to mosey around for a few years, settling in and finding his feet. And anyway, there weren’t as many tourists passing through back then and Dan had learned the virtue of patience in Swallow’s Fall as he waited for the right moment to announce his plans.

As owner-builder he had to abide by certain rules, given the size of the development. Which meant he’d have to hire professionals to undertake the plumbing and wiring and most of the re-build. Which meant he needed somewhere for them to stay.

He wandered to one of the windows and rubbed at the grime. Swallow’s Fall had enough historic attractions to show off. The pioneer cemetery with white bunting along the fence line. The Town Hall, and its noticeboard with renovation updates and a thermometer chart tracking the dollar donations—the jackpot still a decade off by Dan’s reckoning. The stock feeders’ with its oversized neighing plastic horse out the front. Morelly’s hardware store got a look in too, usually by the men, the women trotting their kids inside Cuddly Bear Toy Shop two doors down—when it was open. The craft centre just out of town made some profit, showcasing the skills and wares of the locals.