by Mandy Magro
‘Anything’s possible on a day like today,’ Nina said with a chuckle. Although Cassie’s query was exactly what she’d been thinking for the past forty-five minutes, she wasn’t about to let that slip, so she shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Who knows? Maybe he’s run into some mates along the way, and gone and gotten himself sidetracked.’
As Cassie nodded in agreement, Nina couldn’t help but wonder if the tart of the town, Kimberley Lovell, had cornered her prey – she clearly wanted to get Logan in the sack. The very thought made Nina’s entire body tense. Was this jealousy she was feeling, or something else? She nipped the sensation in the bud with a long scull of her drink.
‘Well, my glass is empty again …’ Cassie held it up and tipped it upside down to prove the point. ‘And by the looks of it, so is yours. So I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail with a top-up for us both,’ she said over the hubbub of music and voices as she climbed from her stool, her cheeks glowing from both the heat and the amount of bubbly enjoyed.
Nina looked to her glass and back to her effervescent friend. ‘I don’t know whether I should opt for water this round, hun. I’m feeling very tipsy …’
‘That’s the plan, my dear … to drink and be very merry …’ Cassie grinned wickedly. ‘So let’s forget about our woes for just a little while and let our hair down.’
Cassie didn’t know the half of it – Nina hadn’t told her a thing, and she wasn’t planning on offloading all her dramas. ‘I like the sound of that.’ Enjoying the lighthearted vibe, and the alcohol taking the edge off, Nina matched Cassie’s grin. ‘Okay, hun, you twisted my arm. I’ll have another, although I know I’m going to live to regret this tomorrow morning when I’m dying from a hangover.’
‘You’ll be right, Nina.’ Cassie gave Nina a friendly slap on the back. ‘Hair of the dog never hurt anyone.’
Nina rolled her eyes. ‘You’re still a very bad influence.’
‘Why thankya – it’s nice to know I’ve still got it.’ Cassie winked before heading in the general direction of the bar, pausing to chat to a group of rowdy blokes along the way.
Now sitting alone, Nina took the opportunity to drink in her surroundings. Without a cloud in sight and with a gentle easterly breeze, although hot, it was perfect weather for the annual Huntingvale Bushman Races. Trying to ignore the beads of sweat running between her breasts and trickling down her back, she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the midafternoon sunlight stretching into the marquee. As the day had progressed, the fiery sphere had moved higher into the sapphire southern sky, stretching the shadows across the green, making the humidity peak, and sending every man, woman and child in search of some sort of shade. She thanked her lucky stars that Logan had scored them all a ticket to the VIP tent – free drinks was always a massive plus, as well as the luxury of having somewhere to sit and put her aching feet up. Two hours of mingling out by the racetrack beneath the belting sun with an endless flow of drinks in hand had taken its toll.
Perched on the bar stool she’d been ecstatic to score thanks to Logan’s quick thinking, she watched the next round of horses parade past, their owners proud as punch beside them. Eager to make a buck and prove they could ride like the clappers without falling off, the outlying stations had brought their best stockhorses to the race of the year. Brave stockmen, and stockwomen, would give up the mustering and instead give horseracing a good old crack, and the bookies would make a pretty penny with the bets. Lively country music rang out from the speakers, tunes Nina was very familiar with; even after all this time in the city there was always a Garth Brooks or Adam Brand CD floating around in her Jeep.
Nibbling on the strawberry she’d just retrieved from her empty champagne flute, she looked to where bow-legged ringers stood around the bar, cold ones in hand and their laughter loudly addictive, and smiled to herself. Some of them could hardly stay on a stool, let alone on a horse – the main event of the day was going to be an interesting one. Without as much red tape as the bigger city race days, this was real horseracing in its proper rustic setting – the embodiment of the Australian country way of mimicking the grand Melbourne Cup.
Trying to mentally calculate whether her next drink would be her fifth or sixth – she’d honestly lost count – her gaze travelled to yonder, where the usual grey nomads and makeshift campsites were set up. Some had tents and impressive pop-out trailers, others with swags rolled out in the back of dusty sticker-clad utes or beneath a shady tree, all at the ready for weary partygoers to either wander or stagger back to in the dead of night. She knew from experience that being anywhere within the vicinity of the Bull Bar after midnight, she was bound to see some sort of testosterone and alcohol-fuelled fight, one where a well-meaning bare-footed girlfriend would endeavour to try and break it up, only to be accidentally knocked on her butt. Tears would usually follow, along with the boys in blue. Already a little exhausted, she didn’t plan on being here long enough to bear witness to the inevitable chaos.
Watching Cassie’s sky-high feather fascinator weave through the thick of the crowd, Nina ran her gaze over the many faces, searching for only one – the fact that she was doing just that irked her. Logan Steele didn’t have to make any sort of effort to catch her undivided attention, and after resisting the male species for so long, it was a change she couldn’t decide whether she liked or abhorred. As much as she tried, there was nothing she could put a black mark against him for. Absolutely nothing.
Why, oh, why did he have to be so perfect?
Her aching, dusty, stilettoed feet resting on the bottom rung of the stool, she watched a steady stream of people wander back and forth from the bush bookies to the bar, conversation and laughter aplenty. Feeling a little like a fish out of water with Cassie now combating the horde for a drink, she sucked in another deep breath, reminding herself she had this. There was no reason for her to feel out of her depth, or out of her league. As Logan had said, she may call the city home now, but you can’t take the country out of the girl, no matter how long she’d been away. And besides, the atmosphere was contagious; the locals’ enthusiasm made the bush races so much more addictive than the flashy city race days she’d attended with her mates over the years – she had to admit, she was happy to be amongst it all.
With the scent of sizzling sausages, juicy beef patties and caramelised onions drifting on the gentle breeze, her stomach rumbled as she imagined tucking into a burger with all the CWA trimmings – beetroot, mayo and tomato sauce an absolute must. She glanced at her watch and was surprised to see it was almost three in the afternoon – high time for some fodder to soak up all the alcohol. When Cassie, or Logan, returned, she would go in search of some sustenance – she wasn’t about to risk losing their table.
Closing her eyes for a few moments, with the dull throb of a headache lingering, the booming nasally voice of the race caller grabbed her attention and made her smile – he was giving it all that he had, burring the raucous crowd on even more.
‘It’s almost time for the feature event of the day, my friends, the Huntingvale Stockman’s Cup. Bets will be closing in about twenty-five minutes, so get in quick if you wanna be in it to win it,’ he bellowed. ‘This race is open to all local stockmen and their horses. And we don’t discriminate – stockmen also refers to the ladies brave enough to give the blokes a run for their money, and I’m sure we all would love nothing more than to see a tough-as-nails chick prove they’ve got it over the men.’
Cassie suddenly appeared back at the table, two filled-to-the-brim champagne flutes in hand. ‘Thank god for the bevvies, Nina, because all this dust is making me thirsty,’ she said, passing Nina one and then taking a good gulp from the other.
‘Me too, Cass, and I’m bloody starving.’
‘Come to think of it, me too!’ Cassie added. ‘Should we go and get something to eat before we chew our own arms off?’
Nina laughed at her friend’s analogy. ‘I’ll go and grab us something. You stay here and save our spot.’
&nbs
p; ‘Sounds like a plan.’ Cassie settled herself back on her stool and then gestured over Nina’s shoulder. ‘Looks like your knight in shining armour heard of your calamities.’
‘What are you on about?’ Nina said with a chuckle, turning to see Logan right behind her, three wrapped burgers in hand. ‘Hey, you, we thought you’d gone and gotten yourself lost.’
Logan shook his head, his smile charming, and her belly flip-flopped as the butterflies swarmed.
‘Nope, nothing like that. Sorry I took so long.’ Logan passed her one of the beetroot-soaked parcels. ‘I was in line for almost half an hour for these little beauties. Talk about being a much sought-after commodity.’ He unwrapped his burger on the wine barrel and licked his lips. ‘Let’s hope they taste as good as they look, huh.’
‘Wow, thanks, Logan.’ Nina fought the urge to lean over and kiss him fair on the lips. Instead, she brushed one over his cheek. ‘That was very thoughtful of you.’ Her mouth watering, she couldn’t wait to tuck in, and did so with vigour, not caring how she looked.
‘What a man – off hunting and gathering for your damsels in distress,’ Cassie said, following suit and tucking in, a dribble of beetroot rolling down her chin as she smiled.
‘I do my best,’ Logan replied, with a cheeky wink, looking solely in Nina’s direction.
Nina felt her cheeks blush, and she quickly tried to cover it up by looking anywhere but at him, while for the next five or so minutes, the three of them ate in absolute silence.
Logan was the first to finish. ‘That was bloody awesome.’ He screwed up his bag and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin.
Almost finished, Nina nodded. ‘Agreed.’
‘Oh my goodness, I so needed that.’ Wiping the remnants from her mouth, Cassie grabbed the race guide from the middle of the table and ran her red fingernail down the list. ‘I think we better put a bet on the big race, before we miss out. Dad told me of one that was a sure thing.’ She paused and tapped a name. ‘Here it is, and it’s got great odds, eight to one.’
‘Well, in that case …’ Nina dug in her bag. ‘Count me in for a fifty.’
Logan tugged a fifty from his pocket and passed it to Cassie. ‘Double it up.’
‘Okey dokey.’ Cassie grabbed her clutch and almost fell from the wobbly stool. Saved by Logan grabbing hold of her arm, she thanked him, smoothed out her skirt, and tootled off to the bookies.
‘You know, you are the most beautiful woman here, Miss Jones,’ Logan said, his gaze turning from the crowd to her.
Logan’s compliment sent Nina’s heart racing, and as she watched Cassie weave through the crowd to place their bets, she did her best to cover it up before opening her mouth. ‘Is that so, Mr Steele. You sure this isn’t just the alcohol talking?’
His forearm resting on the top of the wine barrel, Logan leant in a little closer. ‘Nope, it’s just given me a bit of Dutch courage to say what’s on my mind, that’s all.’ He shrugged as if it were no big deal to be having such an intimate conversation. ‘And while I’m being open and honest, I’d like it on the record that I would’ve married you in a heartbeat if you’d hung around long enough for me to ask you.’
The shock, the blatancy of his words, the deep longing it evoked inside of her, almost overwhelmed Nina, as giddiness by just being near Logan bubbled up inside. ‘And who says I would have accepted your proposal?’ She fought to remain cool, calm and somewhat collected.
‘I would have taken my chances.’ He offered her a slow, confident smile – one that spoke volumes and sent her already twirling insides somersaulting.
‘Well, now we’ll never know the outcome.’ She stood. ‘Come on then, or we’re going to miss the most important race.’ Desperate to get away from his all-seeing stare, she started making her way through the crowd, heading towards the railings of the racetrack.
Logan quickly sidled up beside her, matching her hurried steps with wide ones of his own. ‘Oh, come on now, Nina, this is me you’re talking to, so let’s just do ourselves a favour and be honest about it all, for once in our lives.’
Reaching the railings, Nina dug into her bag and grabbed her lip gloss. ‘Far out, Logan, talk about being a little cocky.’ She dared a quick sideways glance as she slipped some on. There was a hint of satisfaction in his deep blue eyes, and the slightest curl at the corners of his oh-so-kissable lips. Her breath hitched. Her pulse galloped in her neck. His cocky confidence was both exasperating and irrefutably sexy. The air sizzled and sparked, and she glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed the inferno quickly building between them.
With a gentle, almost knowing sigh, he moved closer so there wasn’t an inch between them. The hand wrapped around his beer brushed against hers when he leant against the rail. ‘So, tell me, why did you run for the hills all those years ago?’ He pulled his sunglasses down from the top of his head as he looked at her.
‘I had my reasons.’ She shifted her gaze back to the racetrack, looking to the line-up of restless mares and geldings – a mixture of bays, chestnuts and greys.
‘And what might they have been, Neens?’
Her racing heart skidded to a stop – he hadn’t called her by that nickname in twenty years. She shifted from foot to foot to avoid her two-inch heels sinking into the earth as she tried to catch the breath he’d just taken from her. ‘Now’s not the time or the place, Logan.’
‘Okay, fair enough, but will it ever be?’
Gathering strength from only god knew where, she turned to him. ‘Maybe.’ It was said through gritted teeth.
He observed her for a few long moments, as if savouring her. ‘Righto, I’ll take that.’
She let out the pent-up air in her lungs with a whoosh. ‘Good, because I’m not giving you much more than that.’
‘For now,’ he said, smiling a little smugly. ‘And just for the record, I’m going to hold you to that, you know.’
‘There’s a lot of stuff going on the record today.’ She grinned, hoping to god he didn’t catch a glimpse of the tremble in her lips or the wobble of her chin.
Wrapping an arm around her, he tugged her even closer and dropped a kiss on her cheek just as Cassie joined them, three shot glasses balanced in her hands. ‘My god, you two, talk about giving me the run around.’ She passed them both a shooter. ‘I didn’t know where you’d gone, and these little babies are too good to go to waste.’ She raised her glass. ‘So bottoms up, mates.’
‘Cheers.’ Nina thanked the powers that be for the distraction before tossing back the sickly sweet concoction. She grimaced as she wiped what was left of it from her lips. ‘What in the hell was that?’
‘A cock-sucking cowboy.’ Cassie smiled wickedly.
‘Jesus, Cassie, couldn’t you have brought me something a little less uncouth?’ Logan’s grin made his dimples all the more tempting.
Their mirth was interrupted as the announcer boomed it was start time. The three of them now jammed together along the rail, a blare rang out, gates flew open, and the horses were off and racing hell for leather. Pounding hoof beats echoed off the track, and the announcer’s resounding voice became even shriller, heightening the exhilaration. Tails extended, manes flying wildly, and gaits wide, the horses took the corner and thundered down the backstretch, clods flying from their hooves and the stockmen and women yelling encouragement to their mounts. Taking the turn, the slower of the horses fell back while the leaders bunched and galloped for gold, the men and women perched in their short stirrups leaning into the wind as they sped towards the finishing line.
With a few lengths to go, their wagered horse was head to head with another, fighting for first place. The crowd on their feet, an enveloping roar of voices screamed for their chosen horses as they rumbled down the home stretch, all eyes following them to the wire. Her heart in her throat, Nina quickly found herself drawn into the hype of the final leg of the race. She punched the air as her bet roared past, the gelding’s eyes wide and his flanks covered in sweat. He took first place by
a breath as the crowd erupted into cheers, some counting their money and others scrunching up their betting slips while heading towards the bar for another bevvy.
‘Holy heck, we’ve each won about four hundred and fifty smackaroos,’ Logan exclaimed, his smile wide. ‘Now we’ve really got something to celebrate.’
‘Woohoo, my shout!’ Cassie said, dancing on the spot.
‘Then it’s mine after that!’ Nina added, as the three of them headed towards the bookie to claim their winnings.
Before Nina knew it, the day had passed in the blink of an eye, and after a dinner of sticky ribs, a charred corncob and the best coleslaw she’d ever tasted in her life, all of it washed down with a couple of beers, she shrugged all her inhibitions aside and allowed Logan to drag her from the bar area and towards the packed dance floor. Cassie was already shaking her tooshy beneath the mirrored disco ball with some bloke she’d told Nina was ‘just a friend’ – but from the way the two were looking at each other, Nina begged to differ.
Logan grabbed her by the hands, twirling her around, and they fell into step easily to the well-known party tune. They called and hollered, singing the words way out of tune to one another, and not caring one little bit. Nina’s spirits on a high, she blocked everything and everybody else out, and instead focused on the man before her, the one who’d been there throughout her childhood and into her teenage years, and evidently still was – making her smile, supporting her, loving her through thick and thin, making himself vulnerable to her, for her. There weren’t many in her life she could say the same about, if any now Bea was gone. Many years ago, something permanent had happened between them, something that was never going to disappear, no matter how much she tried to pretend it would. Maybe, just maybe, if she found the right moment to tell him everything, they might be able to pull off whatever this was between them …
* * *
Nina wore just a touch of make-up and that rosy lip gloss he loved so much – one he’d love to wipe from her lips with his own. The dress she was wearing, hugging her luscious curves in all the right places, was driving Logan wild. But it was almost midnight, and the throng of celebrators was starting to get to the point of no return – drunken fights were imminent. As much as he loved every second he got to spend with her, Logan didn’t want her around when the brawls broke out – it wasn’t a place for a woman, and god help anyone who hurt her in the process of acting like a drunken fool. Offering her his arm, he helped her across the turf so the heels that were emphasising her already gorgeous legs didn’t sink too far in, and led her towards the taxi he’d called – a few drivers had arrived from the neighbouring township, eager to make a buck from the racegoers needing to get home.
