He took his hands out of his pockets and waited for her to continue talking.
‘When I was a child my mother would read me a story about a French girl called Madeleine. We used to talk about spending a summer in France.’ As they reached the ute, Paige stopped and stared at the dented vehicle as though lost in memories. ‘We never did.’
Finally Tait had caught a glimpse into Paige’s inner world, but it was as though he’d peered into his own dark soul. He knew all about the anguish of losing a mother and not having a chance to do the things they’d talked about. ‘I’m sorry your mother isn’t here to share your dream. But such a dream doesn’t have to end for you. You could go anywhere for a summer … or longer. You don’t have to spend the rest of your life here.’
‘Desert my father, my home, for a childhood whim? Who would run Banora Downs?’
He chose his words carefully, knowing that what he was about to say could unleash a storm. ‘No one. Sell.’
Her gaze narrowed. ‘What?’
‘You could sell Banora Downs. Make a life for yourself elsewhere. A historic property like this, even in the current dry conditions, remains marketable.’
For an emotion-charged moment she didn’t respond. Then gold fired in her eyes.
‘So
that’s
why you’re really here.’ She spat out the words as though they were poison on her tongue. ‘You’ve come to see if Banora Downs is on the market? My grandparents, my mother and my brother are buried in the family plot. My
home
will never be for sale.’ She stopped as if unable to continue. Her hands fisted by her sides. ‘A home you are no longer welcome in. No matter how much you damn well pay!’
The jury was in. Paige was the real deal. Tait had to factor her into Banora Downs’ business plan. Her loyalty to the historic property and to her father was genuine. Her emotional investment was stamped into every line of her body as she stood before him, hands on hips, and expression, well, livid. Banora Downs
was
her future.
But he’d no time to celebrate finally getting a handle on who Paige Quinn really was or to process the fact that true unselfishness did indeed exist. He had a situation to defuse. Otherwise he’d be walking his long and very hot way back to the homestead.
‘Paige, I’m not here to buy Banora Downs.’ He placed a hand over his heart. ‘Honestly.’
The fire in her eyes didn’t fade.
‘But you’re right. I haven’t just come simply for … solitude.’
His suspicion that she hadn’t believed his hasty explanation about his PA organizing his visit had been spot on. He owed Paige the truth. Or as much of it as he could tell her. He lowered his hand and he took a brief second to brace himself. He’d take a boardroom brawl over discussing his private life any day.
‘Let me guess. You need a safe place to hide?’ she asked, tone dry.
He frowned. He wasn’t so sure he liked her derision even if it did temper her anger.
‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that. I just need a change of scene.’ He swiped away a persistent fly. ‘And Banora Downs ticks such a box.’
‘So what’s her name?’
He just managed to repress a flinch. Trust Paige to be so straightforward. But it was either talk about why he’d been relieved to leave Sydney or break his agreement with Connor not to reveal the real reason why he was there.
‘Bronte.’
Paige nodded.
He folded his arms. ‘It seems we held differing expectations of our relationship.’
‘I’ll take another wild guess. Bronte wanted commitment and you weren’t quite ready for the white-picket-fence deal.’
Paige’s tone had been strangely raw. Something about why he needed to leave the city had struck a nerve.
‘Yes, that sounds about right. She wanted to settle down. I didn’t.’
Paige swung away but not before he’d seen her chin angle. The way she reefed open the ute door left him in no doubt she’d just added another uncomplimentary adjective to her already colourful list of words for him. He swiped at another fly and opened his own door. Even before he’d slid into his seat, the vehicle’s engine growled into life. Paige floored the accelerator and the ute powered through a deep rut in the dirt road.
He rubbed the top of his head where it connected with the roof. ‘You know, I happen to like speed but only when it comes with suspension.’
‘Sorry.’ Her tone was as remorseful as a child caught with a mouthful of sweets. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve had a passenger.’
‘You don’t say.’
She cast him a dark look. ‘You know, you won’t be able to stay out here forever. You’ll have to go home to Bronte some time.’
‘True. But by then …’ He looked in the side mirror at the red plume of dust behind
them. ‘The dust would have settled.’
Paige’s only answer was a snort.
‘And also by then,’ he continued, ‘Bronte might have realised she should have been honest with me.’
‘I might have known she’d be to blame.’ Paige pushed her foot harder on the accelerator. He caught his hat as it slid off his lap.
‘Paige, I know what I am. A workaholic who has little time for relationships and I made sure Bronte knew that from the beginning. I’d have appreciated it if she’d laid all her cards on the table too.’
Paige glanced at him. ‘Her cards?’
‘A blonde two-year-old card.’
The car’s speed slowed as Paige’s lips rounded in a silent ‘oh’. ‘She had a child she didn’t tell you about?’
‘That’s right. In the six months we were together I’d seen the little girl twice. Both times she introduced her as her niece. Then last week Bronte said she had a special surprise. Needless to say my visions of a quiet night in hadn’t included becoming an instant father.’
The ute’s pace slowed further. ‘I’m sorry. I should have known better than to jump to conclusions. I just assumed you’d been at fault.’
‘No worries. I’ll take one for the team. We men are so misunderstood.’
‘That’s very noble of you.’
‘What can I say? I’m a noble workaholic.’ He paused to watch the corner of her mouth curve. ‘I can’t have you believing in the bad reputation males get for being commitment-phobic.’
‘It’s a little too late for that.’ Her lips pressed together. Subject closed and her private life off limits.
He too should slam the lid on the conversation but for some reason he wasn’t done talking yet. It suddenly seemed important that she didn’t lump him in with the other men she knew who shied away from commitment.
‘We’re not all the same, you know. It’s not that I can’t see myself settling down, it’s just that a wife, and a stepchild, need more than I can give them right now.’ He paused to look at Paige. ‘Not everyone is as lucky as you to have a father who plays an active role in your life.’
Paige’s gaze touched his. ‘I take it you speak from experience.’
‘Something like that.’ He grinned, knowing his smile wouldn’t quite reach his eyes, and stared out the window at the dehydrated paddocks. He’d said far more than he should have.
Now
the conversation was over.
Tyre wheels crunched on gravel. Connor Quinn looked up from the papers he’d spread on the kitchen table. He’d chosen to work in the kitchen, not because the open-plan room was cooler than his office, but the huge window gave him the best vantage point to see when Paige and Tait returned. Connor shuffled all the bills and cash flow spreadsheets into their respective folders and hid them in the end drawer of the kitchen hutch. Tait would be requesting to look at the farm’s business records and Connor wanted everything to be in order.
Despite Paige appearing to accept Tait’s presence as a paying guest, Connor’s decision to conceal Tait’s identity continued to corrode his conscience. Had he done the right thing protecting Paige? As if in answer, an almost eerie silence pressed in around him. Once the hub of the homestead, without Molly’s laughter the kitchen now pulsed with loneliness. He grasped the wheels of his chair and swung to face the door. The same bitter loneliness he’d endured as a child and a loneliness he’d do anything to ensure Paige never experienced. He
squared his shoulders. He had to make sure it wasn’t only her financial needs that were catered for when he was gone. She had to have someone to share the seasons of her life with.
Two pairs of boots clattered on the back verandah before the kitchen door swung open. He knew as soon as Paige’s troubled eyes sought his all was not well. His fingers twitched on the cold steel of his wheels. Over Paige’s shoulder he caught Tait’s brief nod. His hands relaxed. Everything was okay. Paige didn’t know about the business plan. If she hadn’t discovered the truth, it could only be Tait who’d rattled her.
‘How’d you go?’ Connor asked as Paige took off her hat and dropped a kiss on his cheek.
‘Fine,’ she said, but her voice told him otherwise. He glanced at Tait who’d made a beeline for the electric kettle, his back unusually rigid.
Something had happened out in the paddocks this morning, something far more than the sun coming up and cattle being fed.
‘Coffee anyone?’ Tait asked, as he flicked on the kettle.
‘Count me in,’ Connor looked at Paige. ‘Tea, Possum?’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t. I’ve only come to get Gidget’s brushes from the tack shed before feeding her.’
If he was a betting man he’d have wagered Paige’s impromptu appearance had little to do with her childhood pony needing a brush and everything to do with getting rid of her companion.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘It’s heating up outside. Tait, would you like to take a look at my old cars?’
Tait spooned coffee into two mugs. ‘Sounds like a plan.’
‘A
good
plan.’ Relief washed across Paige’s face. ‘But be careful, Tait, Dad’s shed is a bit like the Bermuda Triangle. Some things don’t ever come out.’
‘Don’t worry, you can’t get rid of me that easily. If I can survive Miss Princess Polly, I can survive a little ol’ man cave.’
For a moment Connor thought his daughter would grin but instead she dipped her head and put her hat on. She squeezed his hand. ‘I’ll be late.’
He nodded toward two blue eskies beside the door, one in which he’d packed her staple diet of Vegemite sandwiches, water bottle and an apple. ‘The esky on the right is for you. Be safe and remember to eat.’
She smiled her beautiful, Molly-like smile. ‘Yes, Dad, and I won’t forget to let you know when I’m home.’
Early the next morning, Paige scooped water from a bucket into the pot of herbs at the kitchen back door. With two scoops of the recycled shower water she could have sworn the limp strands of chives and parsley stood taller. She sighed. If only water had the same effect on her. After her shower late last night she still felt drained. She trickled another cup of liquid into the parched pot.
Her neck and shoulder muscles ached. It was as though yesterday she’d been hit by a rogue scrub bull. She’d never experienced so many emotions in such quick succession. Grief. Fury. Empathy.
First, Tait had awoken memories of her mother. Next, he’d suggested she sell her home. Then the smile had drained from his eyes at the mention of his father. And, just like when she’d witnessed his exhaustion on the day he’d arrived, his pain had acted like a conduit between them. But she didn’t want such a connection to exist. She couldn’t become side-tracked by the shadows in a city boy’s gaze. No matter if his childhood had been far from idyllic or if he had a girlfriend who’d deceived him. She had a home to save and a father
to take care of. She tipped the last of the bucket into the potted herbs. And, right now, she had an escape to make before Tait appeared for breakfast.
She set the bucket on the verandah as Dusty left his favourite spot beneath the rainwater tank to join her, his stiff legs taking their time to climb the steps. Sadness slid through her. She knew the faithful red heeler waited for her to whistle him to the ute but she’d worked him hard when they’d been out droving. She should be training up a younger dog but that would just mean another mouth to feed and more expense. She still owed their veterinarian for Dusty’s last round of vaccination shots.
‘Not today, mate.’ She rubbed the thick coat at his neck. ‘You rest up and look after Dad for me.’
Dusty’s ears flickered as he gazed behind her and then wagged his tail.
Shit
. She had company. She’d left making her escape too late. The kitchen screen door banged shut even as she turned and saw Tait striding toward her carrying a bucket of water. Dusty denim hugged his hips and a crumpled navy work shirt stretched across his chest. His tousled, shower-damp hair kicked up at the ends as if revelling in its new-found freedom. Paige collected the bucket at her feet and pulled it close to her. Tait was looking rough around his city edges and more and more at home in her world.
His smile flashed white. ‘I saw you from my room and thought you could do with this bucket as well.’ He sat the blue bucket down beside the pot of herbs.
‘Thanks.’ She stared at the water rippling in the bucket. Gratitude unfurled inside. He’d understood every droplet was like liquid gold and was making good on his promise to conserve water.
‘I didn’t realize how much water went down the drain while the hot tap warmed,’ he said, also looking down at the bucket.
‘And that’s with a water-efficient showerhead.’
‘Water-efficient?’ He smiled again. ‘Is that another word for showering under a fine mist?’
‘Are you complaining, city boy?’ She matched his smile. ‘I find it works fine.’
‘Complain? Me? Never.’ He glanced at her loose hair that she’d washed the previous night and hadn’t yet pulled into her usual ponytail. ‘But I am glad I’m not a chick on hair-washing days.’
‘It really is fine on those days too.’
Their gazes caught and held before he looked away. ‘Now where do you want this extra water?’
She shook her head, strangely breathless. What was it about Tait that flustered her so much? Surely she could have a simple conversation without imagining him naked in the shower?
‘Around the side of the house would be great. There’s an old orange tree I’m trying to keep alive.’
She headed down the verandah steps but Dusty was the only one to follow. She stopped and looked over her shoulder. Tait was staring at the empty pot that stood beside the one she’d watered. But why would bare dirt cause a muscle to work in his jaw?
‘How come you don’t put some different herbs in this one?’ he asked without looking up. ‘Connor seems to enjoy using them when he cooks.’
‘I had some in there but they died and I haven’t replaced them.’
‘We could get some today.’
‘Today?’
Tait nodded as he collected his bucket and finally followed her down the steps. If she didn’t know better she was sure he remained reluctant to meet her gaze. ‘Yes, I’m heading into town. Why don’t you come?’
She led the way around the side of the house to where the last remnants of her mother’s orchard eked out an existence. ‘Thanks but I’ve got a full day planned.’
‘Are you sure? I could do with a tour guide.’
‘If I went to town twice in a week, let alone be seen with you again, I’d cause a scandal.’ She opened a black wrought-iron gate and nodded towards a knotted tree. ‘If you could tip the water over there the orange tree would appreciate it.’
Tait did as he was instructed. He straightened. ‘I’m sure the locals will recover from the shock of seeing you in town. Come on. It’s my petrol and I bet there are things you could do. I need to get a part for one of Connor’s cars. Plus a lady called Anne phoned and said she had some papers and books for your father.’
Paige shook her head. Not so much at Tait’s words but at the coercive whispers that grew inside her head. She could go to town again. There were plenty of things she needed to do there. Like pay the vet bill with the money Tait had put into their account.