Beneath Outback Skies

by Alissa Callen

  About the Book

  A captivating rural romance featuring an indomitable young woman determined to save her family farm, and the city-boy who is not all he seems …

  Paige Quinn will let nothing and no one distract her from caring for her crippled father, Connor, and fighting for her remote, drought-stricken property, Banora Downs. Least of all a surprise farm-stay guest named Tait Cavanaugh, whose smooth words are as lethal as his movie-star smile.

  Except Paige can’t help noticing that, for a city-boy, Tait seems unexpectedly at home on the land. And he does ask a lot of questions …

  It doesn’t matter how much he helps out or how much laughter he brings into her life, she soon suspects he is harbouring a big secret – the real reason he has come to Banora Downs …

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright Notice

  Loved the book?

  To Luke

  Chapter One

  ‘Unless this city boy is on a first-name basis with the rain gods, I’m not showing him around Banora Downs.’

  Paige Quinn’s quiet, measured words fell like much-needed rain into the silence of her father’s study.

  ‘I know how hard you work, how busy you are, but I’ve given my word this man can stay.’ Lines of tension mapped Connor Quinn’s creased features. His strong shoulders were braced beneath the red-checked cotton of his best shirt. ‘Possum … I’m sorry.’

  Her Akubra crumpled beneath her tight grip. She’d been out droving hungry cattle in the long paddock for a fortnight. In such time it looked as though her father had aged a decade.

  ‘It’s okay, Dad. You can’t control fate. Can’t make life fair.’

  Her gentle tone failed to return colour to her father’s hollowed cheeks. They both knew she wasn’t talking about the endless blistering Australian summer.

  ‘We can do this. We can survive.’ Conviction echoed in her words like her footsteps upon the floorboards as she approached her father’s desk. ‘Just as we’ve always done. Just the two of us.’ She placed her hat upon the time-worn mahogany. ‘We don’t need some paying guest’s cash.’

  She may as well have been talking to one of the garden statues that now presided over old tools in the shed, instead of lush lawns and fragrant flower beds. The only movement in her father’s expression was his eyes as they glanced from her face to her hat. She shifted on her feet. The sun-bleached felt would look pristine compared with her torn-around-the-edges appearance. Her faded emerald-green shirt was caked in ochre dust, her jeans so stiff they could walk by themselves to the laundry.

  Her father lowered his hands and the sinews of his forearms flexed as he manoeuvred his wheelchair out from behind the desk.

  ‘Yes, we do. We haven’t had a wheat crop for five years. We’ve few cattle left to sell.’ She steeled herself so the reality of how much they did have left wouldn’t show on her face. ‘This drought has hit us hard. We need money to eat … to live.’

  She swallowed down her hunger. The meagre slice of toast she’d eaten around her dawn campfire was little more than a memory.

  ‘We’ll make do. You know what happened with the last city-slicker. He had three showers a day and drained the tank. Not to mention our phone bill because his mobile didn’t have reception. As for the time he went for a walk and we had to organize a bloody search party …’ She knelt to grasp her father’s hands. ‘This man will be just the same. He’ll be nothing but trouble. We don’t have the diesel to drive him to town. We don’t have the cash for his lobster and caviar.’

  ‘If it helps,’ a deep-timbred voice sounded from the doorway behind her, ‘I’m allergic to seafood.’

  Paige stiffened. Only the firm grasp of her father’s hands prevented her from spinning around. ‘Paige,’ her father murmured as if she were six years old again, ‘play nice.’ A flicker of humour lit his eyes. ‘We want our guest to leave with good memories, not with his arm in a cast. Okay?’

  She kinked a brow. ‘You do remember cousin Charles fell out of the tree all by himself, don’t you?’

  Her father winked and eased his grip on her hands. She straightened and spun on her boot heels to see a tall man stride into the room. She met eyes as blue as the water that haunted her dreams. For a nanosecond she drowned in their cool, clear depths. Then the stranger’s scent hit her. Top-shelf aftershave. Hand-crafted leather. Money. Three things as foreign to her world as dust, dehydration and desperation were to him.

  It didn’t matter if the price tag for keeping his thick, dark hair city-short would feed them for days. It didn’t matter if the muscles beneath the fine weave of his blue chambray shirt were exactly what she needed to fix the broken fence. This paying guest wasn’t welcome. The outback was no place for the inexperienced or the foolhardy. Even more so when rain was non-existent. Everything was thirsty and bad-tempered. Stock. Snakes. Humans. There was no way this man could stay the weekend.

  He stopped in front of her and offered his hand. ‘Tait Cavanaugh.’

  Her arm lifted as though it were anchored by a heavy weight. ‘Paige Quinn.’

  His clean, smooth palm slid against her smaller, work-roughened one. A smile laced his eyes with laughter and light. She pulled her hand away. Unless this man’s charm made it rain, he and his high-wattage grin were as useful as stilettos in a cattle yard.

  She inclined her head towards Connor. ‘I believe you’ve spoken with my father, Connor Quinn?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve already had the pleasure over the phone.’ He extended a hand towards the older man. ‘You were right on the money. The V12 engine did the trip in just under eight hours.’

  The men exchanged a lengthy, vigorous handshake. She ground her teeth. A masculine love-fest of all things automotive wasn’t part of her eviction plan. Not only would Tait deplete their water supply, he’d also soak up her time – time she needed to hide the true state of Banora Downs’ affairs from her father. She’d promised her mother she would take care of him and he had enough to deal with without the added burden of the farm. The trading of his cane for his wheelchair told her just how much his legs troubled him. V12 engine or not, this man, his fancy vehicle and his easy grin had to go. No matter how much money he was paying. Or how much her father’s expression had lightened in the past few minutes. Exhaustion pressed upon her shoulders.

  ‘Mr Cavanaugh, your being allergic to seafood does help. We don’t have insurance. So it’ll be in both our best interests if you stayed elsewhere.’ She pushed her lips into what she hoped qualified as a smile. ‘I personally will arrange accommodation in another farm-stay closer to town.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to cause trouble.’

  ‘Oh, it’s no trouble. Believe me.’ She inclined her head towards the phone on the office bench. Her fingers curled into a fist at the urge to reach for the handset. ‘It just so happens I have the farm-stay’s number on speed-dial.’

  ‘I bet you do.’
His chuckle failed to disguise the determination clipping his words. ‘But you won’t need any insurance. I’m a good boy scout and brought my emergency adrenaline EpiPen.’ The corner of his mouth kicked into a half-grin. ‘I’m sure you’ll have no trouble sticking a needle into me.’

  She compressed her lips to stifle a smile.

  Gorgeous. Witty. Used to getting his own way.

  This city pretty-boy wasn’t even staying a day.

  Tait Cavanaugh had no doubt sticking something sharp into him filled the top spot on Paige Quinn’s ‘to-do’ list. Her gold-flecked, brown gaze shot straight to his left bicep as though lining up a target.

  He’d never seen anyone so dirty or so beautiful. Her coffee-coloured hair might be scraped into an untidy ponytail. Her fine-boned features might be make-up free. Her clothes might hang from her small frame … but her spirit shone as bright as the polish on his luxury car.

  He caught a frown before it settled on his brow. He hadn’t driven all this way to become distracted by a pretty face. He had a job to do. Secrets to protect. He flexed his knotted shoulders. What he needed was a coffee and a hot shower, in that order. Not opposition from someone who’d be flat out to reach his chin.

  He smiled his fail-safe smile. ‘I need a break and I’m prepared to pay. I’m also aware this area is in drought and your resources are stretched. I’m not here for lobster or caviar … just solitude.’

  Paige’s reply was rapid-fire fast. ‘Whatever sum you agreed to with my father … double it.’

  Tait’s jaw set solid. There it was. The universal truth of his world. Even here, in the outback, it held true. Whatever he offered simply wasn’t enough. For a delirious instant he’d thought this unselfconscious woman, with her honest eyes and straight-talking mouth, would prove the exception. He’d thought he could take her at face value and not battle any hidden agenda, but she too wanted more than what was on offer. Just like the other women in his life. His stepmother. His stepsister. Guilt elbowed him. Bronte.

  ‘Have we a deal, Mr Cavanaugh?’ Paige asked, her voice as sharp as a razor.

  ‘Paige,’ Connor interjected, ‘that’s enough.’

  ‘Please call me Tait, Paige, and yes, you do have a deal.’

  She might look like she’d blow away in the hot, dry wind but there wasn’t anything flimsy about her nerve. She’d stand her ground and every second of challenge was another second without caffeine. His head already pounded like a sledgehammer on the construction site beside his Sydney waterfront apartment.

  ‘Connor, the rate you quoted won’t come close to covering the expenses of my stay. Your daughter’s request is fair enough.’

  Tait fished the mobile phone from his shirt pocket, checked for reception and dialled. ‘Hi Cheryl. Yes, I’m here. I’ve survived the drive. What do I think so far? Well … the wildlife has been quite entertaining.’ Beneath the layers of dust, colour scored Paige’s cheeks. ‘The internet transfer you made this morning, can you treble it? Yes, treble it. Thanks. Oh, and Cheryl, can you send another EpiPen? Turns out the outback could be a dangerous place.’

  Paige bit so hard on the inside of her cheek she could taste blood.

  Tait Cavanaugh didn’t need another EpiPen. He needed a bloody bodyguard. He’d waltzed in with his brilliant blue eyes and quick smile, bonded with Connor in a heartbeat and derailed her plan for getting rid of him. And she had to award Tait round one. His money mightn’t mean anything to her but it meant a great deal to Connor. She’d only challenged Tait to double the room rate believing he’d refuse to pay and then leave.

  Her father’s hand found hers and her heart swelled. He was all she had. She was all he had. She’d play nice and steal time from her already overloaded day so this privileged city boy could take a ‘break’.

  What she wouldn’t give for a break.

  Where had that come from? Her father and Banora Downs were her life. She didn’t begrudge them a second of sacrifice but it was getting tougher to cling onto the hope they’d make it through the drought. She had to stay strong even if on some days every muscle pleaded for rest. Like today.

  She released her father’s hand and frowned. Had empathy darkened the blue of Tait’s eyes? Impossible. A man who enjoyed unlimited resources wouldn’t understand what it felt like to fight for even the most basic needs. A man who used charm to navigate his way through life couldn’t also be in possession of a heart. She knew firsthand that glib words weren’t synonymous with emotion, merely empty promises.

  She tilted her chin. ‘A deal is a deal, Mr Cavanaugh. Welcome to Banora Downs.’

  ‘Thank you. Now we’ve got the formalities out of the way, perhaps you could show me to my room?’

  ‘Of course. But I warn you, Banora Downs is a farm-stay, not some serviced flash hotel. You’ll need to make up your own bed.’

  ‘No problem. I’m here for the true outback experience.’ His lips twisted, whether in a smile or a grimace she couldn’t say. ‘But before I tackle anything I’ll need a coffee.’

  ‘I could do with one too,’ her father said. ‘Go grab your bags and Paige will show you around. I’ll make the coffee.’

  She studied her father’s back as he wheeled himself into the hallway. Since when did she wear the tour guide badge? He was the social one. He loved this sprawling, Victorian-era homestead and imbued life into each room with his stories. Their unexpected guest would now be lucky to get a tour of the dust bowl that was the front yard let alone a tour of the house. She’d install him in his room. End of duty.

  Connor Quinn stopped inside the kitchen door and blew out a deep breath. Tension shook his fingers and he grasped the side of his wheelchair to still them. He had never failed to tell Paige the truth. Not when her mother was ill nor when he knew after his tractor accident he’d never be the man he used to be.

  But just now he had.

  Outside, Tait’s car door slammed. Connor gripped the steel on his chair tighter. And it wasn’t only his daughter he needed to conceal the truth from.

  Heart heavy, he rolled towards the large, wooden kitchen hutch that still displayed all his wife’s favourite blue-and-white china and reached for a silver-framed photograph. His forefinger traced his wife’s heart-warming smile.

  ‘I know,’ he croaked into the quiet, ‘I shouldn’t meddle but you were the one who planted the seed all those years ago. I have no choice. I have to interfere. It’s for Paige’s own good.’

  He looked at the other woman whose arm was linked with Molly’s. Blue eyes smiled at him. His sadness dissolved into guilt and then purpose. He pulled open the closest drawer and laid the photo frame face down. He pushed the drawer shut and then headed towards the low bench on which the electric kettle sat. He had coffees to make, a plan to implement and the past to erase.

  Paige quit the office and stepped onto the verandah. A wall of heat slammed against her. The air was so hot even a blowfly would think twice before abandoning the shade. As for Dusty, her faithful red-heeler dog, he’d retreated to his sanctuary beneath the water tank the moment he’d jumped off the back of the ute. She rubbed a weary hand across her brow. It had to cool down. It had to rain. Sometime. She realised Tait watched her from behind his dark sunglasses. She jammed her hat upon her head and walked to the edge of the verandah before stopping. Showing weakness, in any form, wasn’t an option. The outback hadn’t raised her to be needy or spineless.

  Tait resumed hefting two large bags out of a dusty black car. His shirt pulled tight. She glanced away. She wasn’t impressed no matter how much her senses appreciated the interplay of toned muscle and supple sinews. It would be far better for Banora Downs’ water supply had he been as spindly as a teenager. Less surface area equalled less water used.

  Tait walked towards her, carrying his luggage as though it were filled with nothing but warm air. She eyed off the designer bags that looked like they hadn’t ever ventured outside the cabin of a chartered jet. Two bags? Just how much stuff did one city pretty-boy need for a weekend?


  He halted before her, placed his bags on the ground and lifted his sunglasses from his eyes. His smile flashed white. ‘Lead away.’

  Light-headed, she reached for the verandah post. She must be hungrier than she thought. Lack of food didn’t usually affect her this way and her days of being dazzled by a man’s smile were long over. She let go of the post. ‘I’d carry your bags but it looks like you’ve everything under control.’

  He glanced at her arms that she knew would look little thicker than twigs beneath her big shirt. ‘I’m sure you would. But you’re quite right, I do have everything under control.’

  She bit her lip to silence a retort. She too had everything under control but a never-ending drought, and now an unwelcome, infuriating guest, would test anyone’s patience. If she physically could, she’d step off the verandah and carry his ridiculous bags up the stairs. She turned toward the front door. ‘Follow me.’

  She pushed the cedar door open and walked into the welcome coolness of the front hall. She breathed in the familiar scent of wood and aged leather. Her father wasn’t the only person who loved this timeless, historic homestead. She continued past the gallery of black-and-white photos of the house in its colonial heyday towards the sweeping staircase. Close behind, Tait’s footsteps sounded on the tessellated Italian tiles. She quickened her pace up the stairs and then stopped on the landing. The floorboards creaked as Tait stood beside her.

  She frowned as the expensive scent of his aftershave infused her senses. Where was she going to put him? The downstairs was her father’s domain. Upstairs was hers. Her skin prickled beneath its blanket of dust. She wasn’t used to living in close proximity with anyone, let alone someone as vexing as Tait Cavanaugh. Or as attractive … From the corner of her eye she could see the masculine shape of his lips. She couldn’t put him in the attic shoe-box room with no air-conditioning and the bathroom a day’s hike away. He was paying treble. She’d also given her father her word their guest would leave with happy memories.