Man Drought (3 page)

‘Oh yes, Karen. I’m looking forward to meeting her. I’m hoping she might be interested in some extra shifts.’ She wanted to talk to her about taking on the pub cleaning as well as the rooms. The poor old building didn’t look like it’d had so much as a dusting in the last decade.

He nodded, pleased. ‘Anything we can do to help you get settled in, just holler. It’s nice to have a new face in town.’

‘It’s good to be here.’

Before they could get further into conversation, the lights went off and the music stopped dead. Was this a power cut? She’d heard the electricity could be dodgy at best out here in the sticks. And dammit, Trevor hadn’t shown her how to work the generator yet. She didn’t want the locals to think her incompetent.

The lights flashed back on seconds later and Imogen let out the breath she’d been holding. She blinked as she noticed everyone staring at her. Trevor and Cathy were making their way over with a massive cake laden with sparklers.

Warmth rushed to her cheeks, no doubt turning them as red as the ghastly vintage carpet upstairs. She’d never liked being the centre of attention.

The previous pub owners arrived beside her. Someone swiped her tray from the table and Cathy put the cake there instead.

‘I thought you had book club,’ Imogen hissed as she gazed at the cake and read the pink scrawl. GIBSON’S FIND WELCOMES IMOGEN
.

Her heart swelled and tears prickled at her eyes. She’d never anticipated such a welcome. Smiling faces focused on her from every corner of the pub and, gazing back, she felt completely at
a loss for words. This was so much more than she’d expected. Just when she thought she might combust from the emotion, someone up near the bar cried, ‘Speech!’

Gibson should have downed his juice and walked out the door the moment Imogen started talking. Better still, before the lights went off and the cake came out and her eyes lit up in delighted surprise. Those deep-green eyes – the colour of grass you hardly ever saw in this part of the country – had sparkled and her lips had curled, proving the smile she’d given him earlier, had been one hundred percent fake.

He should have walked out long before she started talking and definitely before she’d taken a bite of Trevor’s deadly moist chocolate cake. But Charlie had reached across the bar and placed his palm against Gibson’s arm. ‘Stay,’ he’d pleaded. ‘Just a bit.’

Gibson had never been able to say no to Charlie. So he’d listened as she gushed over her surprise cake and thanked Trevor and Cathy for making her feel so welcome. ‘Look around,’ he’d wanted to shout. ‘You’re the one doing them a favour.’ But he’d held his tongue. He’d watched as the other men in the pub – his neighbours, his old primary school mates, blokes who’d worked for him at one stage or another, even bloody Charlie for goodness sakes – stared open-mouthed and goggle-eyed as she spoke about her desire for a tree change. There were plenty of dry plains, salt lakes and the odd bush out here, but a tree change? He’d felt the orange juice churning in his stomach.

And they’d all been falling all over each other to ask her questions. He supposed he could sort of understand, because she was undoubtedly pretty and did have a sweet kind of voice, but what she said only got his shackles up more.

How she’d been bored and disillusioned with life in Perth. How her job in a city wine bar had been demanding but not rewarding. How she’d come into some money and wanted to do something meaningful and worthwhile with it. Apparently she had a ‘vision’ for the old place. If she hadn’t already won everyone’s hearts, she stole the last few when she mentioned wanting to become a part of the community. ‘To get involved and give back.’ He’d actually rolled his eyes then and earned a disapproving look from Charlie. But he’d heard it all before.

His mum – who’d spent over twenty resentful years in Gibson’s Find before leaving for the coast – loved reading rural romance novels. Women writers who had no clue about outback life made out it was all homesteads the size of castles and farmers with time enough on their hands to be Prince Charming. He’d bet Imogen had read one of these books and decided it was the perfect way to catch a man. These so-called authors had a lot to answer for.

‘I could watch that all night.’

Gibson didn’t need to turn to the voice beside him to know where his mate Guy was looking. Imogen had stopped talking for five seconds and was finally digging into the cake. Cathy had cut her a ridiculously huge slice and she had to hold it in two hands while she nipped off tiny bites and licked her lips every few seconds to get rid of the icing smudges. You’d think she was eating in the nude the way everyone was carrying on.

He turned to Guy. ‘Not much on the box tonight then, is there?’

Guy shook his head derisively. ‘You’re kidding me, right? Still intent on playing Oscar the Grouch?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

Guy snorted. Gibson knew his friend thought his bitterness about happily-ever-afters was all down to Serena. Guy, head of the local State Emergency Service team and a keen footballer, also managed the farm next to Gibson’s, and they often helped each
other with tasks that were easier with more than one person. He’d said on more than one occasion that it was time for Gibson to move on and look to the future. But Guy didn’t know the half of it. No one did.

Their friend Wazza sidled up, wearing a goofy grin identical to all the other men in the pub. Just because an apparently single woman had bought the local watering hole, they’d all gone soft in the head and hard in the pants. Half of the men he hadn’t seen in the pub for years, yet they’d all flocked in tonight to check out the new publican.

‘So, are we taking bets on who can bed her first?’

Gibson groaned at the predictability. He’d gotten marriage out of his system after Serena, but most of his mates were still bachelors, pining for their chance at the Aussie dream. If it were just sex he could understand it, but he’d bet every available man in this room had his sights set on Imogen for more than just a quick tumble on the back of his WB ute. If it weren’t so sad, it’d be funny.

One new woman and fifty single men in their twenties and thirties – it just didn’t add up. And just because that one woman was talking the talk didn’t mean she’d last the distance.

Wazza dug his wallet out of his back pocket and opened it up to reveal a wad of cash. He slapped a note on the table; this was the last time Gibson would listen to him complain that the crop spraying business paid badly.

‘Ten bucks says I get closer than you do, Guy,’ Wazza wagered.

‘I’m in.’ Guy fished a note out of his pocket and laid it on the bar. ‘Fifty says she’s mine within a month.’

Gibson loved Guy like a brother, but he’d always been a cocky sod, not to mention a Casanova whenever they took a trip into the city. And this kind of thing felt so high school.

‘A month?’ Wazza guffawed and theatrically pressed his hand against his heart. ‘You must be losing your touch.’

Guy glowered and leaned over the bar. ‘Can I get another one of these, please, Charlie old boy?’

Charlie refilled Wazza and Guy’s glasses, and as the boys turned back to their gutter-level banter, Gibson tried to get Charlie’s attention. They’d barely spoken since he’d arrived and Charlie was the only reason he’d ventured in here today.

Unfortunately, his granddad had already headed to the other end to serve someone else. ‘Charlie,’ he called.

Either Charlie was getting deaf in his old age or he was ignoring him. Gibson glanced at his watch and couldn’t believe it was almost nine o’clock. How the hell had that happened? It appeared time could fly whether you were having fun or not.

Cathy approached him with the biggest smile he’d ever seen on her face. Obviously, selling the pub and the prospect of freedom agreed with her. ‘Didn’t your mother ever read you the story about the wind changing, Gibson Black?’

‘You mean the one where the little boy grumped and his face stayed like that?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘My mum didn’t read many picture books, but I think I saw it on
Play School
.’

She laughed. ‘Would a free drink encourage a smile?’

He shrugged. ‘Couldn’t hurt.’ Not that he’d been planning on drinking tonight – he had an early start in the morning. Hell, he hadn’t intended to stay more than a few minutes, but somehow his plans had changed.

Cathy gave him a bottle of beer then went back to her celebrations. He took a long sip. About to take a second one, he froze as a shadow fell over him. Even before he looked sideways, he knew the perky, pint-sized new publican had taken the stool beside him. He glanced at her as she pushed a plate with a piece of Trevor’s chocolate cake on it towards him.

She smiled, and this time he thought it a real, slightly amused one. ‘I think you’re the only person who hasn’t tasted this yet, and it’s a sin not to. Trust me on that.’

She rested one elbow on the bar and held her head against her palm as she looked intently at him. A few strands of crimson hair fell across her pale cheek and he had an almost uncontrollable desire to reach out and tuck them behind her ear.

‘I have tasted it. Just not tonight.’ The tantalising aroma of freshly cooked cocoa wafted up to him but he resisted the urge to taste it.

‘Okay, that’s it.’ Instead of the pout he’d expected, she folded her arms under her breasts and straightened on the stool. ‘Have I done something to offend you?’

Where to start? But he knew how stupid he’d sound if he started listing the reasons. In his head, the fact he didn’t want new women in Gibson’s Find made sense. The fewer women around, the less likely one of his good friends would hook up with someone, get married and live the life he never would. Not that he didn’t want his mates to be happy, but it was easy living here, where new relationships were even less frequent than heavy downpours, and where happily married couples weren’t dancing smugly under his nose.

But if he couldn’t admit this to Charlie or even to his closest friends, he could hardly admit it to a newcomer. He’d sound loony at best, downright nasty at worst.

‘It’s not you personally. It’s more that I’m looking out for this town.’

‘Oh yeah?’ She rolled her eyes, her incredibly long and thick eyelashes dancing as she did so. ‘Because I’m such a terrible threat. I’m a pyromaniac in my spare time, I’ve been known to shoplift, and I stalk old ladies in the street. Yeah, this town is seriously endangered by my arrival.’

He stifled a laugh, secretly amused by her wry comeback. ‘Now you’re just being ridiculous.’

‘Am I?’ She looked narky. It kind of suited her. ‘From where I’m sitting, you’re the one being ridiculous, and I have no idea why.’

He groaned, louder than he meant to. He knew he should have left hours ago.

She seemed to take the groan as an invitation. ‘Listen. You may have lived here for who knows how long – all your life, for all I care – but if you want to make a habit of hanging out in
my
pub, you’re going to have to get over yourself, because I’m here to stay. I like to talk and I plan to feel comfortable when I serve someone.’

‘You say that now but you’ve only just arrived. Life’s no picnic in the bush, and this is a tough business to take on all on your own.’

She opened her mouth to reply but Charlie interrupted them, coming to rest at the other side of the bar.

‘I see you’ve met my grandson.’

‘Your grandson?’ Imogen looked at Charlie, her expression incredulous and almost pitying.

‘Yep, that he is. My son’s boy, Gibson Black.’

‘He hasn’t exactly introduced himself.’ Imogen spoke as if he weren’t even there.

Charlie reached out and cuffed Gibson round the ear. ‘I’ve told you to be more sociable. You could at least make an effort to be polite to my new boss.’

‘Don’t worry, Charlie. I won’t judge you on him. You can’t choose your family.’

‘Hey Charlie,’ called one of the blokes from the other end of the bar. ‘Got any peanuts? I’ve got the munchies.’

Charlie tottered off and Imogen returned her focus to Gibson.

‘Gibson, hey? As in Gibson’s Find?’

‘Not in the way you’re thinking.’ He took another sip of his beer.

‘I was thinking maybe your mum was a Gibson.’

‘You were thinking wrong. Those Gibsons left town yonks ago, after selling their discovery to the bigwigs.’

‘So …?’ She eyed his chocolate cake as if she’d start digging in if he didn’t.

He pushed it towards her. ‘My mum had this thing about naming her kids after the place where they were conceived. I have an older sister called Paris. My parents honeymooned there.’

‘Romantic.’ She picked up his dessert fork and cut off a chunk. He had to make an effort not to stare as she opened her lips and popped the piece inside.

‘Loopy if you ask me.’

She shrugged. ‘This cake really is divine. You sure you don’t want any?’

He had a stupid urge to lick the icing off her lips. ‘I’m sure. I’ll just go say goodbye to Charlie.’ He stood up. ‘Nice meeting you.’

She placed the fork next to the unfinished cake and glared at him, bemusement sparkling in her eyes. ‘No need to pretend, Gibson.’ She stood as well and he swallowed as he raked his gaze down her peachy-perfect figure. ‘I need to go do some work anyway, but you should know, you couldn’t be more wrong about me. I know what I’m doing and I can look after myself.’

With those words she stormed off in the direction of the tables and started gathering empty glasses. He watched her for longer than he intended, unable to resist properly checking her out. She got full marks in his head-to-toe assessment, but it wasn’t only her physical attributes that grabbed him. There was something else. Something alluring. Something intriguing.

Something he didn’t want to think about.

Despite exhaustion cramping her limbs, when Imogen climbed into bed she rolled onto her side and smiled at the photo of Jamie next to her. When she’d arrived she’d unpacked her favourite photos first, ensuring Jamie’s had pride of place in all the rooms.

‘Evening gorgeous.’

Some may have found it disturbing that she still talked to him every night, but it was a ritual that calmed her and helped her sleep.