Snowy Mountains Cattleman, page 5
‘Thank you.’
He smiled at Beck as she delivered his coffee and brownie.
Once he and Grace were alone he slid the plate into the centre of the table. He didn’t classify the action as impulsive; he was used to sharing his food with Clancy and her best friend Brenna. For some reason they always thought what he ordered looked better than what they’d chosen. ‘You’re welcome to have some.’
‘Thanks.’ Instead of looking at the brownie, she straightened her already tidy stack of books. ‘It’s yours.’
‘I’m happy to share.’ He studied her, trying to work out what line he’d crossed to again make her feel wary. ‘My sister thinks that as part of her sibling entitlements what is mine is always hers.’
As he’d hoped, the corners of Grace’s mouth tilted. ‘I’m an only child. You eat your brownie.’
He slid the plate back over to his side of the table. ‘Any food-hogging cousins?’
‘No.’
‘So every Easter, Christmas and birthday you didn’t have to hand over half of your chocolate?’
‘Not at all.’ The smile in her eyes made her irises appear more green than brown, but then the light ebbed. ‘My father liked anything with mint while my mother preferred dark chocolate.’
Rowan noted the use of the past tense. His own grief surfaced and he worked hard to keep his expression from changing. ‘My father was a chocolate and nut fan while my mum only ate white chocolate.’
When Grace didn’t immediately reply, he knew she’d also noted his word choice. Her gaze searched his. Whatever she was looking for, she found, as the tense line of her shoulders lowered. ‘Was there anything you didn’t have to share?’
‘Salty liquorice.’
She grimaced. ‘No wonder you had that all to yourself.’
Rowan started on his brownie. While Grace had appeared to have relaxed, he was under no illusion she was truly at ease. Her wary stillness from yesterday remained.
‘So,’ he said, keeping his tone casual, ‘anything I can help you with besides the ladder?’
‘Actually, there might be.’ She spoke slowly as if carefully choosing her words. ‘I need a chest of drawers.’
‘Tumut would be your best bet. I could pick you up one next time I’m there?’
‘Thank you but I was hoping for one sooner rather than later.’ She paused. ‘The cottage won’t really feel like home while I’m living out of a suitcase.’
He reached for his mobile in his front shirt pocket. There was something about the way she said home that reminded him about how displaced he’d felt when overseas away from Clancy and the high country. ‘Maybe there’s something on the online marketplace?’
He placed his phone on the table and angled it so Grace could see the screen filled with local items for sale. Before he could enter ‘drawer’ into the search bar, she leaned forwards and lifted her hand as if to stop him.
Pink washed across her cheekbones before she sat back and took her mobile from out of her bag. She typed on the screen and after a moment held it up to reveal the identical marketplace page.
She swiped at the picture of a large green and cream floral floor rug. ‘This can’t be genuine.’
Rowan could only stare. A tired and travel-weary Grace had made his blood rush; an animated Grace with colour in her face and her gaze bright left him dumbstruck. This was the woman Grace had been before life had thrown whatever curve ball it had at her.
Realising he hadn’t replied, he scooped up his phone to examine the rug listing. From the glossy magazines Clancy had made him read when they’d renovated the coach house, he guessed Grace was asking if the item was an authentic Aubusson rug. ‘It would be. It’s a post from Millicent and Beatrice and they only buy the best.’
Grace’s eyes widened, her smile so beautiful Rowan was thankful it wasn’t directed at him. Curious glances were being aimed in their direction and he didn’t now need whispers to circulate that he was seen looking dazed when with her. The news that he’d be working at Crookwell Park would have already spread around town with the speed of a summer grassfire.
‘This is ridiculous.’ Grace continued to stare at her phone screen. ‘This rug is an antique. It’s worth four times what it’s listed for.’
‘Millicent and Beatrice only live across town. I could go and get it after the ladder.’
Even before he’d finished, Grace was rummaging in her bag to take out her wallet. While she did so Rowan messaged Millicent. Her reply saying that it suited to collect the rug today was almost instant.
He arched a brow at the wad of cash Grace placed on the table. ‘You have zero chance of the sisters accepting that much money. They are sticklers for the rules and that’s not what the rug was listed for.’
Grace smiled again, and this time it was as sweet as it was determined. He made a mental note. His new boss not only didn’t like needing help, she had a spine of steel. ‘I also play by the rules. That’s what it’s worth. Isn’t there a hospital fundraiser for a physio touch machine?’
She was also clever and far too observant. The only reason why the sisters might accept more than the asking price was if the extra amount was donated to charity. ‘There is. The flyer’s on the community noticeboard at the grocery store.’
Without breaking eye contact she pushed the money towards him.
He didn’t move. ‘I take it my ute’s going to be well used this summer.’
‘When it comes to possums and Aubusson rugs it will be.’
Her wry tone made him grin. But as he tucked the pile of notes into his wallet, the last thing he felt was amusement.
The longer he spent in Grace’s company the more it became obvious that it wasn’t only his attraction he had to worry about. Grace possessed an integrity and a dignity that on their own were enough to draw him to her. He didn’t know if it was because they were qualities he’d never seen in Eloise or if it was relief that perhaps Heath was right and not all women were like her. But, whatever the reason, he’d be a fool to spend any more time than necessary with the beautiful woman across from him.
He flicked through more marketplace listings and held up his phone to show her a white tallboy with what looked like an oak top. He wasn’t sure why he’d thought the style would be to her taste but her reaction to the classic rug said he might be in the ballpark.
Grace looked between him and the picture before her lips curved. ‘That’s perfect. I don’t suppose …’
He nodded as he lowered his phone to message the seller. It shouldn’t make him feel so light inside that she’d appeared to have relaxed around him.
While he waited for a reply, he polished off his brownie. More and more heads were turning in their direction. Elderly Mrs Hudson sat over in the far corner and he was pretty sure Clancy had mentioned her name after a quilting meeting. While Vernette was hard of hearing, there was nothing wrong with her eyesight or her lip-reading skills.
He’d just finished his coffee when a reply came through from the tallboy owner saying that the item too could be collected now.
‘We’re all good to go,’ he said in answer to Grace’s unspoken question.
‘I really appreciate your help.’
She reached for her wallet again.
He accepted the money, careful to make sure their fingers didn’t brush. He didn’t need a reminder of how when he’d clasped her hand yesterday the feel of her smooth skin had shot through him. He still wasn’t sure why he’d kept hold of her hand other than an instinctive need to provide reassurance and to erase the caution in her eyes.
‘I shouldn’t be more than an hour,’ he said, coming to his feet.
The rumour mill had already enough fuel for gossip and would only go into overdrive should they be seen leaving together.
She picked up her pile of books but didn’t stand. ‘I’ll see you then.’
It wasn’t his imagination that conversations paused as he strode to the door.
Once outside, he took his sunglasses from out of his shirt pocket and slipped them on. He had less than an hour to get himself under control. It was going to be a long summer if he couldn’t spend ten minutes in Grace’s company without his heart pounding as though he’d run up Overflow Road with Taite.
A little over an hour later, Rowan drove through the front gate of Crookwell Park, feeling no more composed than he had when he’d left the café. The reality was he was as restless and wired as if he was about to leap out of a helicopter to ski down a Canadian mountain. He stopped tapping his thumb on the steering wheel to roll his tight shoulders.
Bundy bounded over to greet him and while there was no sign of Grace, beside her car sat possum nesting boxes and a toolbox. When he’d collected the ladder he’d also picked up chicken wire and wood to block any gaps in the roof eaves. It wasn’t enough to put up new homes; the possums had to be prevented from returning to the cottage. In case they did he’d bought a portable light for the roof cavity that could be left on overnight. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long until Grace’s possums were happily settled in their new dens.
When Bundy barked and dashed past his ute, Rowan realised he wasn’t Grace’s only visitor. He checked the rear-view mirror and saw a familiar dual cab making its way along the driveway. Clancy hadn’t mentioned she’d be coming to town today. The pale gleam of blonde hair in the passenger seat confirmed Clancy’s best friend and Taite’s twin, Brenna, was with her. She must be back from running her weeklong trek into the high country.
‘Just great,’ he muttered.
As much as he loved Clancy and knew Brenna had a heart of gold beneath her straight-talking, no-nonsense attitude, he did not need to be a psychic to know they were up to something. Their grins were a little too delighted as they parked alongside him.
An impression confirmed when he left his ute and Clancy came over to brush dirt from his shoulder. ‘What have you been doing? Wrestling a wombat?’
He narrowed his eyes at her. It wasn’t anything unusual for his work shirts to be covered in dust from the cattle yards or grease from the farm workshop.
Brenna smiled as she walked over carrying a container filled with a passionfruit sponge cake. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’
‘I could say the same thing about you.’
Brenna laughed and whatever she was going to say remained unsaid as footsteps sounded on the path to their left. Both girls whirled around as Grace approached. When Bundy ran over, Grace slowed to tickle behind his ears.
From where Clancy stood close beside him, he had no trouble hearing her murmur, ‘Bundy adores her. I like Grace already.’
‘The reason behind your sudden trip to town is …?’
Clancy’s reply was a quick jab of her elbow into his ribs.
He wasn’t sure what he expected when Grace stopped in front of them. Yesterday when they’d met she’d been frosty and cool but today her expression was a little more open and friendly. Except when her gaze flicked between him and Clancy her face became unreadable.
‘Grace,’ he said, wanting to put her at ease. ‘This is Clancy.’ He waved over to Brenna. ‘And Brenna.’
‘Hi. Nice to meet you both.’
Clancy went to clasp Grace’s hand. ‘It’s so lovely to meet you too. I was worried you might have had a bad night. There’s a reason why your place is known as Possum Cottage.’
‘In case you did,’ Brenna said, offering Grace the cake container, ‘we thought you might like a little housewarming gift. Nothing makes things better like cake and a cuppa.’
A small smile broke through Grace’s reserve as she accepted the passionfruit sponge. ‘Thank you both so much.’ Her hesitation was only brief. ‘Would you like to come inside? I’ve just put the kettle on.’
Brenna and Grace nodded in unison.
Rowan made the most of his sister’s distraction to move away to untie the straps on the back of his ute. There was no way he’d be joining their tea party. He needed to get out of there before Clancy and Brenna hatched any matchmaking ideas and especially before Clancy saw how much Grace affected him. He’d unload the rug and tallboy and install the nesting boxes before making himself scarce.
He glanced up to find Grace standing nearby. Clancy, Brenna and Bundy were already halfway along the overgrown path.
‘Would you like coffee and some cake too?’ Grace asked, her words too polite.
It was as though he’d imagined her warmth when they’d spoken in the café.
‘Thanks but I’m still recovering from my death-by-chocolate experience.’ When she didn’t smile, he grinned to ease the strange tension between them. ‘Can you see why I said I’d be in trouble with my sister if I hadn’t made sure your cottage was liveable?’
Grace’s forehead furrowed before she turned to look over to where Clancy and Brenna watched them from the cottage front door. ‘Brenna’s your sister?’
He was so used to small-town life and people knowing that he and Clancy were related he hadn’t thought to introduce her as family.
He slowly shook his head. ‘Clancy is.’
CHAPTER
4
For the first time in what felt like forever Grace slept through the night. She awoke to silence and an unfamiliar feeling of peace.
Eyes closed, she allowed her senses to slowly come awake. The warm weight against her foot was Bundy. Somehow the kelpie had known that by sleeping on the end of her bed he’d stop her tossing and turning through the dismal hours until dawn.
The croak of a frog outside in the water tank let her know that there’d be more rain today. It was no wonder the grass that the kangaroos and wallabies kept mown around the mansion was green and that the garden weeds were running rampant. At least her possums would be snug and dry in their nesting boxes. Last night at dusk she’d caught a flash of grey as one had vacated its custom-made living quarters.
Eyes still shut, she relished the quiet. There were no car engines, sirens or the clamour of city life beyond her dusty window. She hadn’t been in Bundilla a week but she already felt something shifting within her.
She didn’t know if it was Bundy’s company, the serenity of the mountain scenery or having things like possums to distract her, but inside where there’d only been darkness there was now a flicker of light. The rich colours of the antique Aubusson rug had also given her creativity a gentle nudge. Although for months her mind had been nothing but a blank canvas, she now found herself running through interior design concepts on how to best use the rug once the mansion was restored.
Her eyes snapped open and her sense of calm fled. Today was the start of the restoration. She rolled over to check her phone on the bedside table and froze when she saw how late it was. Rowan would already be here. The knowledge didn’t galvanise her into action; if anything it made her want to pull the covers over her head.
Yet again she’d been wrong. She hadn’t realised she groaned until Bundy looked at her. Not only had she mistakenly thought Rowan was going out with Clancy but also that Brenna was his sister. She couldn’t have gotten things more jumbled if she tried.
She slipped out of bed. Her bare feet made no sound on the smooth floorboards as she went to make a coffee. One thing she hoped she hadn’t been completely wrong about was Rowan being in a relationship with someone. She needed him to be attached and unavailable. It didn’t matter that she’d been around him several times now, he continued to throw her off balance. When he’d slid his brownie across the café table two days ago, she’d experienced a deep pang of longing at the familiarity of the gesture.
She took down a mug from the shelf and then reached for another. Day one of Rowan working at Crookwell Park was the perfect chance to set some ground rules between them. They had to stick to talking about the restoration; there could be no more personal disclosures like what had happened at the café.
While she hadn’t said outright that her parents were no longer with her, she’d shared way too much information. Empathy had turned Rowan’s eyes a soft and smoky grey that had made it impossible for her to look away. When he’d also spoken about his parents in the past tense, she’d felt a connection so strong she’d forgotten how uncomfortable she was with making small talk.
She dropped a slice of bread into the toaster. But while their shared grief had given them something in common, it had been foolish to lower her guard. She hadn’t come to the mountains to burden anyone with her anguish or to trigger their own grief. The other afternoon, once Clancy and Brenna had left, she’d gone to help Rowan with the final nesting box. He’d been at the top of the ladder and hadn’t noticed her. Even with the distance between them she’d recognised the grim bleakness of his expression. Rowan had his own demons to deal with.
After a quick breakfast and a shower, she left the cottage, two mugs of steaming coffee in her hands. Bundy walked alongside her. When a raindrop wet her cheek, she increased her pace. The sky had turned from a serene blue to a moody grey and heavy clouds shrouded the mountain peaks. She rounded the house corner to where the worst of the structural damage could be found. Rowan had been busy. Tall scaffolding ran parallel to the side wall and the fallen stones that had littered the ground were now sorted into neat groups.
He looked up from where he was placing a rock on the closest pile and with a smile tugged off his leather gloves. When coffee spilled to scald her left hand, she told herself her unsteady grip was a result of walking too fast and not because Rowan appeared happy to see her.
Thunder rumbled as he approached. The dark splashes on the blue cotton of his work shirt multiplied as the raindrops intensified.
‘Perfect timing,’ he said as he accepted the coffee she passed him before leading the way over to the side veranda.
Seconds after their boots clattered on the worn floorboards, the rain became an urgent drum on the tin overhead. Bundy raced up the steps and gave a vigorous shake, covering them in cold water.
Rowan’s chuckle had her take a quick sip of coffee. Even though she’d heard him laugh several times now, the deep and easy sound touched a place inside her that she’d always ignored. In her workaholic world there had been little room for her own laughter.
