Beneath Outback Skies (2 page)

Light-headed, she reached for the verandah post. She must be hungrier than she thought. Lack of food didn’t usually affect her this way and her days of being dazzled by a man’s smile were long over. She let go of the post. ‘I’d carry your bags but it looks like you’ve everything under control.’

He glanced at her arms that she knew would look little thicker than twigs beneath her big shirt. ‘I’m sure you would. But you’re quite right, I do have everything under control.’

She bit her lip to silence a retort. She too had everything under control but a never-ending drought, and now an unwelcome, infuriating guest, would test anyone’s patience. If she physically could, she’d step off the verandah and carry his ridiculous bags up the stairs. She turned toward the front door. ‘Follow me.’

She pushed the cedar door open and walked into the welcome coolness of the front hall. She breathed in the familiar scent of wood and aged leather. Her father wasn’t the only person who loved this timeless, historic homestead. She continued past the gallery of black-and-white photos of the house in its colonial heyday towards the sweeping staircase. Close behind, Tait’s footsteps sounded on the tessellated Italian tiles. She quickened her pace up the stairs and then stopped on the landing. The floorboards creaked as Tait stood beside her.

She frowned as the expensive scent of his aftershave infused her senses. Where was she going to put him? The downstairs was her father’s domain. Upstairs was hers. Her skin
prickled beneath its blanket of dust. She wasn’t used to living in close proximity with anyone, let alone someone as vexing as Tait Cavanaugh. Or as attractive … From the corner of her eye she could see the masculine shape of his lips. She couldn’t put him in the attic shoe-box room with no air-conditioning and the bathroom a day’s hike away. He was paying treble. She’d also given her father her word their guest would leave with happy memories.

She sighed. ‘This way. Your suite is the final door at the end of the hallway but it has the best sunset views.’ He’d be invading her sanctuary for only two nights. She’d give him his own wing. Their paths wouldn’t cross.

When he didn’t answer, or follow, she looked behind her.

He nodded. Or was it a wince? His easy charm and laughter had given way to a grim hardness. Hope slid through her. Perhaps he was having second thoughts about staying this far from civilization. The homestead, while luxurious for its time, couldn’t compete with modern-day city luxury. She’d be rid of him yet. She walked faster.

At the end of the hallway, she twisted the brass doorknob and pushed open the heavy wooden door. Her hand sliced through the air as if displaying a prize on a game show. ‘Here you go. Your room. Enjoy the view.’

He’d walk in and stay. Or turn on his heel and leave. Either way, she’d completed her duty. In five minutes she’d be washing the dirt from her hair and the image of smiling blue eyes from her mind.

He remained in the hallway. ‘Thanks … but …’ He paused to look in at the spacious room.

Anticipation nudged aside her weariness. He wasn’t staying.

‘But having a room with a view isn’t exactly a priority. The only things I usually look at are my laptop and my phone.’

Surprise held her immobile. An unmistakable bitterness scored his words and a deep weariness etched his face into sharp, strained lines. It was as though she were looking at her reflection in the dwindling water of the cattle trough.

Tait Cavanaugh may be exasperating but she knew emotional exhaustion when she saw it. An exhaustion that bit deeper than physical fatigue. He hadn’t been lying when he said he needed a break. And she’d bet her last piece of emergency chocolate the reason had to do with a woman. Otherwise why would a man like him leave the bright lights of the Big Smoke?

Without thought, she stepped into the bedroom to flick on the air-conditioner. The wall-mounted unit groaned to life. She knew how it felt to need a haven far removed from both memories and pain. It didn’t matter that Tait would be nothing but trouble; for a brief instant they shared a common bond. They were both running on empty.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘here you’ll have a chance to not only enjoy the sunset but also the sunrise. You’ve come to the quietest place this side of the mountains.’

He followed her into the suite. ‘Considering I only passed two cars between here and the last town, Glenalla, I believe you.’ His husky chuckle washed over her, doing strange things to the pace of her pulse. He stopped in the middle of the room and looked around.

‘Very nice.’

‘Thank you. This is where my grandmother slept after my grandfather died.’

Paige looked around the feminine suite as if seeing it through a newcomer’s eyes. The mahogany four-poster bed, the floral wall frieze, the delicate crystal chandelier, the marble fireplace … The peeling paint, the faded green brocade bedspread …

Sorrow flooded her. Once the room had been regal and filled with life and laughter. One day it would be again.

‘Your grandmother liked flowers?’

Paige’s sadness evaporated as precious memories warmed her. ‘Yes, she did.’ She smiled at the painting of pink roses hung above the fireplace. ‘Roses were her favourite.’

She glanced at Tait, who looked at her instead of the picture. ‘Now the room is clean but it hasn’t been used for a while so put any cobwebs down to being part of your true outback experience.’

His mouth curved into a smile that chased away the shadows in his eyes. ‘As long as the coffee’s hot and strong, I can room with a few uninvited guests.’

She nodded, stifling her own smile. No amount of smooth words would win her over. She’d already allowed charm to blind her once, and she never would again.

‘We haven’t taken in visitors for a long while,’ she said. ‘How did you find us? I thought we’d removed all advertisements from the web.’

‘My personal assistant found your details. I’ve no idea where.’ He placed his luggage on the floor. ‘So, let’s see this famous view.’

He headed to the curtain-drawn window before she could gauge his expression. Evasion had edged his voice. The exact same note that altered her father’s tone when he reassured her he wasn’t in pain. She too crossed to the window. She knew a change of subject when she heard it. Next visit to Glenalla she’d use the library internet to verify whether they did indeed still have a web presence.

She wiped her hands on her jeans before tugging on the curtain cord. The heavy gold velvet rolled open. She stared at the view and lost herself in the desolation that stretched before her.

A lifetime ago she’d opened the window for her grandmother to allow the perfume from the rose garden below to waft into the room. No rose garden existed now. The only oasis of green in the sea of burnt brown was a pot of wilted herbs on the verandah at the kitchen’s back door. Wrought-iron arches, once smothered by white climbing roses, now
stood bare, skeletal. Weathered benches sat resolute, waiting, hoping that a living garden would again surround them.

What was she doing wasting time with a stranger whose strong will guaranteed he’d be trouble? She had a ute to unpack and clothes to wash.

She swung away from the window. ‘It doesn’t look much in the day but at dusk the whole sky lights up. Now in here …’ she touched an antique dresser, ‘you’ll find linen, towels. Through the door over there is the bathroom and over there a dressing room.’ She paused. ‘You said you knew we’re in drought so please be careful how much water you use.’

‘Don’t worry. I won’t abuse your hospitality.’ The corners of his eyes crinkled. ‘Or take three showers a day.’

She blinked to dilute the potency of his smile as well to erase the image of water sluicing over his torso. ‘Thanks.’ She made a bee-line for the door. ‘Dad should have the coffee ready. Unpack. Relax. Before you know it, it’ll be time to head home.’

‘As comfortable as my car is, after an eight-hour drive I’m in no rush to leave.’

She turned in the doorway. ‘Just as well you’ve tomorrow to rest before driving home on Sunday.’

He placed his bags on the bed, his grin widening.

She folded her arms. She was hungry, tired and in need of a shower. What did he find so funny? What was she missing?

‘I can guarantee I’ll be fully rested when I leave on Sunday.’ His gaze caught hers. ‘In two weeks.’

Tait scowled at the straight road that disappeared before him into a shimmering mirage on the horizon. He’d barely time to deal with the messages stockpiling on his voicemail let alone to drive an hour and a half to Glenalla to buy groceries. Despite booking into Banora Downs for the fortnight the reality was he wasn’t aiming to stay longer than a week.

He looked sideways to where Paige lay curled up asleep in the passenger seat of his car. Not that he’d be breaking the news he’d be leaving early to his prickly hostess just yet. The shock on her face yesterday afternoon when she realised he was staying longer than a weekend had been priceless. He guessed it wasn’t often she was lost for words. But she had been. For a whole ten seconds.

He could only imagine her reaction should she discover that he hadn’t come out west just for solitude. Connor had also contracted him to create a farm business plan. As CEO of a consultancy firm, AgriViz, Tait didn’t usually go out on farm, but the timing of Connor’s request had been perfect. Banora Downs was as far removed from the city and its complications as Tait could get. So he’d arranged to oversee the plan and when Connor had invited him to stay he had accepted his offer but only if he could stay as a paying guest. He’d then also agreed to Connor’s wish that his daughter not know why he was there. Now that he’d met self-sufficient Paige, he’d no doubt she’d scuttle any attempt, even by her own father, to lighten her load. Tait flexed his shoulders against a weight he could never seem to shift. But concealing the business plan from Paige wasn’t the only secret he needed to hide. There was a far deeper, far more personal reason that drew him to Banora Downs.

His vice-like grip on the car’s steering wheel tightened. The trouble was, without Paige being privy to his reason for being there he was going to have to gather the necessary
information for the business plan in a more creative way. And the first piece of information he needed was whether or not Connor’s description of Paige as being wedded to Banora Downs was true. Was she as committed to being a part of the farm’s future as her father said she was? He scanned the landscape surrounding them and saw little but red dirt, bleached grass and stubborn trees. Call him a realist or call him a cynic, her intense loyalty to her home couldn’t be genuine. Did she really see her future
here
? What beautiful, single, twenty-something-year-old willingly buried herself out in the middle of nowhere? She had to have an agenda, or be working an angle. She’d been very quick to double his room rate. And yet …

His head turned towards her again. The bare contours of her lips were strangely vulnerable without the usual city coating of lipstick. Soft curls escaped her simple ponytail. At times like now, beneath all the dust, he glimpsed a rare decency, an unfamiliar honesty, and such qualities threw him. He wasn’t used to dealing with women who meant what they said.

His foot eased on the accelerator as the car passed the sign indicating they’d entered Glenalla. The road crested a flood levee that surrounded the town like a medieval fortress. It was hard to imagine this arid landscape ever having too much water. He stopped outside what he assumed to be a grocery store and let his engine idle before shutting it down.

Silence enveloped the car. He turned to his still-sleeping passenger.

‘Paige?’

She didn’t stir.

‘Paige. We’re here.’

He withheld a sigh. He may as well have been talking to himself. His gaze lingered. Apart from a slight dusting of freckles across her nose, her skin was flawless. How could she appear so fresh while working beneath a sun that had the power to fry eggs sunny-side-up?
Her seen-better-days Akubra that looked out of place on the glossy leather of his back seat wasn’t just a fashion statement after all. She really needed a new one.

‘Paige. Rise and shine.’

No response.

He grasped her slender shoulder and gently shook her.

‘No. Let me sleep.’ Her head thrashed from side to side. ‘It can’t be morning …’

‘It is. You’ve been giving Sleeping Beauty a run for her money. It’s almost lunch.’

Paige’s thick lashes lifted. Horror dilated her pupils.

‘Lunch … but I haven’t taken Dad his breakfast.’ She pushed herself upright, straining against Tait’s hold. She twisted towards him. ‘Where is Dad? What’s happened?’

Tait’s free hand settled on her other shoulder to steady her. ‘We’re in Glenalla to buy groceries.’ Without thought, his thumbs brushed across her fragile collarbones. ‘Connor’s at home. He’s okay.’

For a moment he thought she hadn’t heard him. Then the terror ebbed from her face and the stress leached from her body. ‘That’s right, we were going to buy food.’

Again she stiffened, before pulling away from his grasp and reaching for the door handle. His hands fell to his thighs, feeling strangely empty without her warmth.

‘We’d best get going,’ she said over her shoulder, already half out of the car. She opened the back door and leaned in to swipe her hat from the seat. He turned in his seat to look at her. ‘Chop, chop,’ she said, tone crisp. ‘We haven’t got all day. The grocery store looks busy.’

He climbed out of his car and followed her into the car park. Through the safety of his polarized lenses, he saw three vehicles parked on the concrete outside the store. Busy? If this was Glenalla in rush hour he’d hate to see the town on a quiet day.

She was every kind of a fool. Paige marched into the air-conditioned grocery store. A cool breeze played over her face but failed to strip the heat of self-disgust from her cheeks. Mistake number one had been falling asleep in Tait’s car. She was supposed to have spent the journey making sure he knew exactly how his cappuccino-free fortnight would play out. It would only be a matter of time before he missed his city comforts and no amount of outback solitude would keep him here.

Mistake number two had been forgetting where she was and who she was with. For an unforgivable second she’d allowed the strength and gentleness of the hands upon her shoulders to trick her into believing everything was okay. That Connor was no longer in physical pain and that Banora Downs would survive the drought. Then she realised that the masculine hands holding her weren’t part of any dream. They were attached to her city pretty-boy nightmare.

She quickened her pace towards a shopping trolley. She mightn’t know when it would rain but she did know she wouldn’t be lowering her guard around Tait again.

She reached for a trolley at the same time as Tait. Their hands locked onto the handle. ‘Thanks,’ she said, ‘I’ve got it.’

‘I’ll push the trolley,’ he said as he slid his designer sunglasses on top of his head.

‘No. I’ve got it.’

Tait’s hand didn’t move. ‘I insist.’

Curious shoppers looked in their direction. The last thing she needed was a power struggle with Tait over a shopping trolley. The idea had been to slip in and out of town as quickly as possible. Tait and his movie-star looks, along with his fancy ride, would be lucky not to make the front page of the
Glenalla Advocate
tomorrow.

She lifted her hand from the trolley handle. ‘It’s all yours.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t mention it.’ She reached for another trolley and smiled sweetly. ‘I’ll push this one.’

Without waiting for his reaction she set off down the closest aisle. Every so often she’d stop to toss items into her shopping cart. In her peripheral vision she could see Tait adding things to his. From his constant smile it almost looked like he was enjoying himself. He selected a packet of Tim Tam biscuits and then added two more to his trolley. No doubt he’d have a housekeeper, or a girlfriend, who usually shopped for him.

She headed into the confectionary aisle and her steps slowed past the rows of chocolate. She blanked out the tantrums of her taste buds. Even with the amount of money Tait paid to stay, there was no room for luxuries.

She rounded the corner to the cleaning products. Her feet dawdled as she passed rows of perfumed soaps. The pink-wrapped bars at eye level would slide like silk over her skin unlike the cheap, coarse soap she could afford. She stopped, heaved a box of washing powder into her trolley and then made for the checkout. She smiled at the teenage girl and placed her items on the counter.

‘Hi, Sarah. I haven’t seen you since the clearing sale. How’re things now you’re in town?’

‘Good thanks. Mum said to tell you Dad is doing much better. He’s still angry at the bank’s foreclosure, but he leaves the house now. You were right. Anne did need someone to fix the library shelves. I think he starts building her a garden shed next week.’

‘That’s great. I know Anne would really appreciate his help.’ She searched Sarah’s shy face. ‘What about you and your new school? How’s that working out?’

Sarah grinned as she scanned Paige’s items. ‘It felt weird at first. I wasn’t used to having real kids to talk to or seeing a teacher in person. In Distance Education I usually only
ever saw anyone via satellite! But now I’m used to being in a classroom and really like it.’

Paige smiled. ‘Those Lewisham boys don’t have anything to do with school being good, do they?’

‘Maybe.’ Sarah blushed. ‘Well, only the older one.’

Tait’s aftershave warned Paige of his approach even before the rattle of his trolley wheels. Her fingers tightened around the jar she held until the metal lid bit into her skin. He flashed a killer grin at Sarah. The poor girl was so dazzled she stopped scanning the bag of sugar she held.

Paige placed the last of her groceries onto the counter. Just as well her head wasn’t turned by a fast car or a practised smile. Chris and her brief city life had shown her the unimpressive reality that could lie beneath a glossy veneer. She separated her items from Tait’s with a plastic divider.

He removed the divider. ‘My shout.’

‘Thanks. But no thanks.’ She replaced the divider.

He again collected the divider and handed it to Sarah. ‘Make sure these all go on the same bill. I’m paying.’

Sarah dimpled in agreement, her eyes luminous.

Paige silenced a groan. Just. Bloody. Great. Those Lewisham boys had better watch out. Within twenty minutes the news a hot new hunk was in town would go viral on every Glenalla teenager’s phone and computer.

‘No you’re
not
.’ Paige’s gaze fastened on Tait as Sarah again began scanning.

‘Yes I am. It’s the least I can do seeing as it’s all for me.’

She picked up an oversized box of chocolates that would defeat even the most devoted chocoholic. ‘This is all for you?’

He shrugged. ‘What can I say? I have a sweet tooth.’

She replaced the chocolates and picked up a distinctive pack of pink-wrapped soap. ‘This is yours too?’

‘Of course. There’s nothing wrong with a man wanting …’ He read the soap packaging’s slogan, ‘“Skin as soft as a rose.”’

Sarah giggled. Even Paige struggled to suppress a smile. But she wasn’t going to succumb to his ready charm. She wasn’t some starry-eyed teenager. She also wasn’t going to allow him to pay. He’d already paid triple to stay. But before she could speak, Tait leaned toward her. Warmth that had little to do with the summer heat stole into her cheeks. He was too close and smelt too clean, too good.

‘I’m paying,’ he said into her ear. His breath fanned over her skin like a physical touch. ‘Any more argument from you and, see the lady who hasn’t taken her eyes off us since she entered …?’

Paige looked up and died a thousand deaths. It was Mrs Jessop, the queen bee of Glenalla’s social hive. She didn’t need to text or blog to spread gossip. Her weapon of choice was the good old-fashioned landline. The last time she’d seen Paige getting out of a neighbour’s ute, she’d had them married and expecting twins before Christmas.

Paige swallowed. Mrs Jessop couldn’t know they were accepting paying guests. Paige had worked so hard to maintain appearances, to pretend she and her father were surviving the drought and that it was business as usual on Banora Downs.

Tait’s voice rumbled again in her ear. ‘She looks very interested in you … and me.’ Even as he spoke, Mrs Jessop pushed her empty trolley towards them, her plum-coloured mouth sporting a curious smile at seeing Paige standing hip-to-hip with a sexy stranger.

Paige stepped away from Tait. She needed to pick her fights and right now she needed to make a strategic retreat.

‘Okay, you can buy the groceries this time. But if there is anything you haven’t
personally used by the time you leave,’ she looked at the pink soap as Sarah placed it in the bag, ‘I’ll reimburse you.’

‘Deal.’

Paige barely heard Tait’s reply as she busied herself collecting grocery bags. ‘Take care, Sarah, and give my love to your parents. When this drought breaks tell your dad I won’t forget to call and ask him to lend me a hand.’

Arms laden, she headed for the automatic doors. Paige pasted a polite smile on her lips as she passed Mrs Jessop. ‘Sorry, Myra, can’t stop. Dad needs me at home.’ Then not even giving Mrs Jessop a chance to protest, she powered through the automatic doors. Heat engulfed her. Cicadas in the nearby trees deafened her. The weight of the bags pulled on her hands but she didn’t slow her pace. So what if Mrs Jessop believed Paige had climbed down from her tower of spinsterhood? Let people think what they wanted. Any rumour about her love life was preferable to people knowing she and Connor were doing it tough and having to accept paying guests.

Her mother’s family, the Reillys, and once the Sinclairs, were the district’s oldest and most respected families. Over the generations they’d battled droughts, floods, locust plagues and volatile commodity markets, and still they survived. They were living proof of the resilience of the outback spirit. Should it become common knowledge they were struggling, the belief that other farmers clung onto that they too could survive would fade. Paige glanced in the direction of the town cemetery that lay a five-minute drive from the grocery store. She and Connor had already attended far too many funerals of farmers and farmers’ sons whose hands had held guns and their hearts no hope.

Tait’s tread sounded on the car park concrete. He matched his stride to hers, transferred his bags to his left hand and thrust out his right one. ‘Here, pass me the heavy items.’