Christmas at Candlebark Farm (6 page)

‘Weekends
are
their busiest times.'

‘I know, but when the agent took me through the house today he rushed me through it, barely giving me a chance to get a good look at anything.'

He frowned. ‘Which agency?'

‘The same one your room is listed with. They booked the room for me.'

‘And why would they send you nearly twenty minutes out of town if all your business is
in
town?'

‘Exactly. Now, admittedly I was feeling a bit queasy when I was viewing the house, so I didn't put up much of a fight, but… Have you heard any complaints about the agency?'

No—but that didn't mean anything. The few occasions when he couldn't avoid going into town he didn't speak to anyone. And no one spoke to him. He'd chosen that particular agency because, unlike the others in town, he didn't know anyone who worked there—no one who knew his parents, no one he'd gone to school with. That had been the main factor in their favour. But…

Were these low-lifes trying to rip her off? A pregnant woman? A
lone
pregnant woman? His hands clenched. All the tension that had eased out of him from her simple exercise shot back now.

He glanced down at the written quote. He didn't know the builder responsible for this either. He shoved his chair back and shot to his feet. ‘C'mon.'

She blinked. ‘C'mon, what?'

‘We're going to see an old friend of mine—I went to school with him—he's a builder.' John might despise Luke now, but he wouldn't rip him off. Of that, Luke was certain. ‘And we're going to drop by the agency and collect the key to
your
house.'

She didn't rise from her chair. She folded her arms and
glared. ‘I'm more than capable of speaking to a builder and collecting the key to the house myself.' Her glare lost its force. ‘I would appreciate the name of a builder you'd recommend, though.'

For a moment he considered leaving her to it. This wasn't his problem. No skin off his nose. He didn't
want
to get involved. But her face that night at the bathroom door rose up in his mind, and he couldn't shake the thought of what would have happened to Tammy if she'd had to face her pregnancy alone.

He planted his feet. ‘It'll be easier if I come along.'

‘You have a farm to run.'

‘It'll survive without me for an afternoon.'

‘No way! You told me you're coming up to harvest.'

He'd forgotten that darn independence of hers. He could add stubborn to the mix now too. He set his jaw. ‘Keira, you're only here for what—five more days?' Five days! He could count that off on the fingers of one hand. ‘Local knowledge is going to be necessary in this situation.'

She bit her lip.

He pressed his advantage. ‘And what if you start feeling queasy again?'

She stood too, hands on hips. Her linen trousers were all creased and wrinkled from sitting, but she still looked fresh and cool. ‘If I'm to accept your help, and that help takes you away from the farm, then…then we need to come to some arrangement. Either I pay you for your time to act on my behalf—'

‘No!' He wasn't taking her money. At least not for something like this. He wasn't accepting anything more from her than her rent money.

‘Or I pay you in kind.'

He folded his arms. He could see she wouldn't be easy to budge. ‘What did you have in mind?'

She eyed him up and down. ‘It doesn't look as if you've any kind of sports injuries I can work on.'

The thought of her fingers moving over his flesh was far too tempting. And disturbing. ‘Nope.' He said it quickly, before he could change his mind.

‘Well…' She glanced around. ‘From now until I leave I'll cook dinner every night and do some light cleaning. I know it won't make up for losing a whole afternoon's work on the farm.' She folded her arms too and lifted her chin. ‘But it's something.'

To come home every evening and find her in his kitchen, cooking their meals, for the next five nights… He swallowed. Could he deal with that? If he were ready for it, expecting it, then he wouldn't lose it like he had last night, right?

‘Well?'

He hated cooking. He held out his hand. ‘Deal.'

She placed hers in it, and sent him the kind of smile that could blindside a man if he wasn't forewarned. Just as well he was forewarned.

He scowled and let go of her hand. Her skin was warm and soft—and so fair!

‘Do you have a hat?' he barked at her. ‘You shouldn't be walking around outside at this time of year without a hat.'

She blinked. ‘I forgot to pack one. I'll…um…get one next time I go shopping.'

‘Good. Now, let's make tracks.'

He turned and strode out of the house, not checking to see if she followed. He knew she did—he could smell her, sense her. His hands clenched. It suddenly occurred to him that forewarned didn't necessarily mean forearmed.

 

Keira couldn't believe how easy it was to get the key from the agency. To her utter shame, it hadn't occurred to her to request it earlier. Although she knew she had every right to the key,
some inner instinct had warned her the agent would do his best to block her, find excuses for why she couldn't have it.

Nothing doing—it was a piece of cake! The receptionist took one look at Luke, and Keira swore the poor woman literally started to shake. She'd handed the key over without a murmur.

It had taken a considerable effort not to burst out laughing. So Luke obviously had a reputation for being difficult, huh? If the agency hadn't worked out yet that his bark was worse then his bite then far be it from her to set them straight. And while she was more than capable of standing up for herself—an independent woman, a strong woman following in the tradition of her mother and grandmother—she had to admit that Luke's reassuring bulk was a decided comfort.

Luke's face grew grimmer, however, when they pulled to a halt outside a long metal building. ‘This is John's workshop.'

She unclipped her seatbelt. ‘You said you went to school with him?'

‘Yeah—John Peterson. He's a good guy. Whatever he tells us, we can take it as gospel.'

‘Good.' She paused in the act of opening her door. Luke hadn't moved. ‘So what are we waiting for?'

He shook himself. ‘Nothing.'

She followed him into the small office at the front of the building. The whirr and buzz of machinery, hammering and sawing, sounded from beyond the partitioned wall, but the office itself was empty.

Keira reached around Luke, who stood frozen, to ring the bell. Almost immediately a barrel-chested bear of a man strode in. He stopped short when he saw Luke.

Oh, dear. Keira bit her lip. Obviously someone else who considered Luke difficult.

But then the tanned face broke into a broad grin and he
moved forward with hand outstretched. ‘Luke, it's good to see you! Haven't seen your ugly mug around for a while.'

Luke looked as if he wanted to run, but he held his ground and shook the man's hand. ‘Notice you haven't got any prettier since the last time I saw you, Peterson.'

The riposte looked as if it had taken John as off guard as it had her. The other man, though, just threw his head back and laughed. He clapped Luke on the back. ‘What can I do for you?'

‘This is Keira.' Luke ushered her forward. ‘She's my…guest at the moment.'

Keira took pity on him. ‘Lodger,' she explained, shaking John's hand too.

‘Keira's inherited a house in town. She's been given a quote for some work that needs doing, but she'd like a second opinion.'

Luke pulled out her quote from his shirt pocket and handed it across to John. She saw the way John's lips tightened when he glanced at the letterhead. She also noted the look the two men exchanged.

‘I thought you might be able to help.'

‘I'd be glad to.' John glanced at his watch. ‘If you aren't busy, I've half an hour to spare now…'

‘That's what I was hoping you'd say.' Luke smiled. That same smile that had almost knocked her sideways off the kitchen chair earlier.

He should do that more often—smile—it made him look younger. Like thirty-three rather than close to forty, where she'd fixed him.

‘Will that work for you?'

She blinked and realised he was addressing her. ‘Oh, yes! That's perfect.'

She gave John the address, and they arranged to meet there in five minutes.

 

John crouched down to peer under the house, the beam of his flashlight stretching to the furthest reaches. He snorted. ‘Who is this joker trying to kid?'

Keira knelt down beside him. ‘What?'

Luke crouched down on her other side. She was too aware of him—of his heat, of the strength that rippled beneath the denim of his jeans, informing her of the powerful thigh muscles concealed beneath. Jeans that looked worn…thin…as if they might rip at any moment and give her a tantalising glimpse of flesh. She watched, holding her breath, mesmerised by his latent power, by—

‘He claims that the whole house needs to be re-piered.'

She snapped to at John's words. She glanced up to find Luke watching her. His eyes darkened. Heat flooded her face, her neck. His gaze dropped to her lips. She started to sway towards him…

She snatched herself back.
Yikes!

Luke shot to his feet.

Piers! They were talking about piers. ‘So…um…they
don't
need replacing?'

‘These four here—' John pointed to them with his flashlight ‘—could do with jacking up, but it's not urgent.'

‘Well, that's good news,' she said, rising and risking another glance at Luke. His face had shuttered closed.

‘Okay, let's head on inside.'

She handed John the key, and tried not to mind if Luke followed them or not.

Her great-aunt's house was an old colonial-style weather-board. It had three generous bedrooms, high ceilings and moulded cornices, picture rails and an eat-in kitchen. Keira loved its lack of pretension and its sense of calm.

She didn't say anything, just followed John as he made his way through the house. He spent a long time surveying the kitchen.

‘Okay,' he said finally, ‘the kitchen and bathroom could
do with modernising, but again that's not urgent. Currently they're both serviceable.'

She digested the news silently.

Beside her, Luke stiffened. He hadn't said much of anything since John had started his inspection. After that moment outside he'd kept an ocean of distance between himself and Keira—always a room behind or a room in front. Now he opened the back door and stalked out into the yard, pacing its length. She watched him from the window above the kitchen sink and tried to pinpoint exactly what it was about the man that sang such a siren's song to her.

She snorted. Well, how about that magnificent physique for a start?

Deep down, though, she sensed it was something more than that. There was something about the way he held his head—a certain look sometimes in those dark eyes of his. And something about the way he'd mopped her face after she'd been sick, in the way he'd thrust that packet of biscuits at her before he'd stormed off to bed. He might be a tad cantankerous—or a lot, she admitted—but beneath all that gruffness he hid a kind heart.

‘I don't know what you did,' John said, joining her at the window, ‘but I want to thank you. It's good to see Luke out and about again.'

‘What do you mean?' She forced her gaze from the man pacing the backyard. ‘I haven't done anything. Except be a nuisance.'

‘You've taken his mind off his own misery—for a bit at least. These last few years he's buried himself away at Candlebark and hardly ever emerges.'

Really? Luke was a hermit? She frowned. ‘That's…um…taking the workaholic thing a bit far.'

John nodded out of the window. ‘He's been through a rough time, whatever anyone says. Don't you go paying at
tention to small town gossip, you hear? People can be vicious. Luke—he's a good guy.'

‘Yeah, I know.'

She frowned again. What small-town gossip? What were people saying about Luke? And why?

 

She turned from locking the front door to her great-aunt's house, and the three of moved towards their cars. ‘So,' Keira said, ‘everything this builder Mr Selway has recommended is nonsense?'

John nodded.

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. ‘Is that legal?'

‘It'd be hard to prove,' he said carefully, coming to a halt beside his truck. ‘There's little doubt that if he did everything he says on your quote it would add value to the house. I'd say it was overcapitalising, but if you tried to challenge him about misleading you he could simply claim that you misunderstood—that he wasn't saying it
had
to be done, only that it would improve the property.'

Right. ‘But…you're not convinced he
would
do everything listed on my quote, are you?' she said slowly. ‘You think he means to charge me the earth for doing next to nothing?'

‘That's my guess. But I can't prove it.'

Beside her, she was aware of Luke opening and closing his fists, as if readying himself to punch something. ‘And both of you also think this Mr Selway and Mr Connors, my estate agent, are in this together—don't you?'

John nodded. ‘What's more, I'll make an educated guess that your solicitor is Graeme Aldershot.'

Her jaw dropped.

‘He and Selway went to school together. When Connors arrived from the city they all became very buddy-buddy.'

The grooves either side of Luke's mouth deepened. ‘I'll be having a word with Connors first thing.'

John flexed an arm. ‘
I'll
be having a word with Selway first thing.'