The Outback Cattleman's Hired Wife (3 page)

A short burst of laughter erupted from his broad chest
and his face softened a little with a delightful crooked smile.

A curl of desire stirred in her loins and a small gasp

of shock escaped
from her pursed lips.

His eyes narrowed briefly in puzzlement.
‘
I suppose not,
’
he
conceded in a calmer tone.
‘
Please accept my
apology. This ad has been the last straw in a problem-filled day.
’

Kirra sighed and dropped her arms by her side.
‘
Apology accepted.
’

‘
Would you care for a cup of tea before you leave?
’
he offered with country hospitality.
‘
I think there
’
s still a
few homemade cookies in the jar unless my son has eaten them all.
’

Kirra smiled.
‘
I thought
you
’
d never ask. I
’
ve been
dying for one,
’
she said.
‘
The drive
over the mountains was rather harrowing with all those slippery, winding roads.
’

‘
They can be treacherous if you
’
re not used to it,
’
he said
knowledgeably, setting down her suitcases in the hallway.

His masculine scent tickled her senses once again as
he eased past her. She lost her train of thought.

What was wrong with her? She was a professional
journalist trained to deal with people from all walks of life. It was as if she
had no control over her mind or senses. It was very disconcerting.
All
she could think to do was switch off all her senses, but to do that she
’
d have to be dead!

‘
I don
’
t have much time.
Milking the cows in this weather has been atrocious,
’
he said with a weariness in

his tone that
Kirra hadn
’
t
noticed until now. 
‘
Please, come into the kitchen.
’

Without hesitation, she followed him down the hallway
and into the next room on the right.

When she arrived, to her surprise, Jared was on his
haunches patting an old Kelpie dog by a lit pot-belly stove.

‘
How are you, old girl?
’
he muttered, rubbing her tummy, then he checked her back legs.

Kirra bent down beside him, holding out her hand for
the dog to smell. The dog looked at her and licked her hand.

‘
She
’
s so sweet,
’
Kirra said on a heartfelt sigh.
‘
What
’
s her name?
’

‘
Jesse,
’
he replied, as he
stood.
‘
She has arthritis in her back legs. She
’
s getting old.
’

Kirra patted her.
‘
Hello,
Jesse.
’

Jared strode over and washed his hands at the sink
before filling the kettle.

Kirra stayed with the dog for a few moments, stroking
her head, her heart going out to her.

‘
Can she walk?
’
Kirra
asked, as she stood and washed her hands at the sink.

‘
Yes, but she likes to sleep most of the day now.
’

‘
How long have you had her?
’

‘
Jesse was a twenty-first present from my parents. I
’
m thirty-four so that makes her fifteen,
’
he said after

doing the Math in
his head.
‘
Feel
free to take a seat.
’

The kitchen held a warm country charm to it with its
polished timber walls and copper pots and pans which hung from a rack attached
to the ceiling. Kirra smiled at the feminine touches around the room. The
floral, frilly cushions on the mahogany chairs around the kitchen table were
obviously handmade, along with the matching filigree curtains adorning the
window over the sink.

Kirra made her way to the table and sat down on one of
the chairs, facing him.

‘
Your mother
’
s handiwork
is absolutely beautiful,
’
she couldn
’
t help
sharing her thoughts.

‘
My wife
’
s,
’
Jared corrected as he put the kettle on the gas stove
adjacent to the sink and lit the burner.

Kirra
’
s mind clouded
with confusion.
‘
So do now have a wife?
’

‘
Did.
’
He hesitated a
little before spooning loose tea leaves into a china pot.
‘
She died two years ago.
’

‘
I
’
m sorry,
’
she said with genuine sympathy, though she was
already aware of it from her research, but didn
‘
t let on.
‘
My husband, Zac died a year and a half ago.
’
The words slipped out without so much as a catch of
emotion in her voice. It surprised her.

Jared swung around. Their eyes met with a mutual
flicker of understanding. It had felt like he was the only person in the world
to lose a spouse. The pain had cut through him with a depth and duration that
he thought he
’
d never recover. Knowing someone else had been

through the same
gut-wrenching emotions somehow opened his heart towards her.

‘
I
’
m sorry,
’
he said quietly.
‘
You must
have been through hell and back.
’

The kettle boiled and whistled before Kirra could
answer so she just nodded and lowered her eyes to stare at the sugar bowl.

He turned off the gas, grabbed the kettle off the
stove and poured water into the teapot.

‘
Where
’
s your son?
’
she asked, her mind filled with the many questions of
an investigative journalist.

He placed the lid on the teapot and returned the
kettle to the stove.
‘
With my mother on the Gold Coast. He
’
s on school holidays at the moment and wanted to go to
the beach with her.
’

‘
The weather hasn
’
t been much
better there.
’

‘
No, but this rain will ease off soon. He should see
sunshine later in the week.
’

‘
The ocean will be cold.
’

‘
He has a wetsuit and a boogie board. He loves the
water. He wants to start Little Nippers
’
training.
’

‘
I lived on the Gold Coast a couple of years ago. It
’
s a bit far to travel from here. You have to train
every Sunday morning at the beach.
’

‘
Exactly. I
’
m trying to
put him off until he learns to drive.
’

Kirra laughed.
‘
Ten years
of nagging. He
’
ll wear

you down. Good
luck with that.
’

Jared grimaced as he brought the teapot to the table,
then gathered cups, saucers, spoons and milk from the refrigerator. His stomach
gurgled at the sight of his fresh breakfast ingredients but as tempting as they
were, he’d have to wait now until suppertime to use them.

Kirra noticed the milk was in a jug which surprised
her. ‘Don’t you use cartons?’

‘
No. This is fresh milk from the cows. This is a dairy
farm,
’
he informed her, taking the seat adjacent to her.

‘
It
’
s not pasteurised
or homogenized then?
’
she asked.
‘
Won
’
t it have bacteria?
’

‘
No, if the calves can drink it as is, so can we,
’
he said matter-of-factly.
‘
How do you like your tea?
’

‘
Strong with a lot of milk,
’
she said not put off because the milk wasn
’
t her usual variety from the supermarket.

He gave a grateful smile that melted her heart, then
poured her tea.

‘
Thanks.
’
She took a
sip and smiled into her cup.
‘
It
’
s just the way I like it.
’

Zac had never made her tea - even that time she was
bedridden with the flu for a week. He
’
d brought
in his mother to take care of her while he
’
d carried
on his usual high life.
She
’
d suddenly
remembered with distain.

A telephone rang somewhere in the house and
interrupted the painful memory.

    Jared grabbed a cookie and rose to his feet.
‘
Excuse me. I
’
d better
answer that.
’

Kirra nodded, sipped at her revitalising tea and then
he was gone.

An ethereal warmth filled her body as if it had just
come back to life.

Alert, yet at peace with her inner-self, she stared
into her teacup at the residue leaves as she tried to fathom how it had
happened
.
Did Jared have something to do with it? Or was it just the
change of scenery?

She hadn
’
t realised
until now how many hours she
’
d spent immersed
in work at the office. Mirth touched her lips, as she wondered what her best
friend, Elise would say if she knew her persistence had performed a miracle.

Moments later, Jared
’
s large frame filled the doorway. His hands were held in tight fists by
his side.

‘
Your interview is over, Miss Whitely,
’
he said in a clipped tone of disgust.

‘
Interview?
’
She was
perplexed.
‘
We were just talking.
’

‘
Please kindly return to Brisbane and forgot that you
’
ve ever been here,
’
he ground
out.
‘
I don
’
t appreciate being
the topic of one of your newspaper articles.
’

Kirra
’
s face paled to a
deathly hue.
‘
Who was that on the phone?
’

‘
A Miss Elise Watson.
’

‘
Elise? Why would she ring me here?
’

‘
Something about an article has to be urgently
rewritten by Monday. High-rise -
’

‘
High-rise Property Investments,
’
she supplied with reluctance.

‘
Miss Watson also asked me if the interview was going
as well as she
’
d hoped. Then, she prattled on about how you were
convinced that I would make a good human interest story, if nothing sparked
between us.
’

‘
Oh Elise.
’
She
lowered her golden eyelashes to shield her embarrassment.

He disappeared and returned momentarily with her
suitcases in hand.

Her chair scraped on the tiled floor when she rose to
her feet. She met his steely glare with remorse.

‘
It
’
s not totally
true,
’
she said.

He shifted his weight onto one foot.
‘
Isn
’
t it? Were you
planning to ask mother all about the lonely farm widower, then leave discreetly
without even having to speak with me?
’