by Holly Ford
Cally looked as though she was talking to an old friend, and Luke was— Good God, had somebody finally managed to switch off his auto-flirt?
‘Lizzie!’
Ah, no, there it was. ‘Hello,’ she said, kissing his cheek as he rose to greet her. ‘Sorry it took me so long to get here.’
‘It’s perfect timing,’ he said, raising his eyebrows at Cally as she took his last chip. ‘We’ve just finished lunch.’
‘What time does Ella get in tonight?’
There was a slight pause. ‘She doesn’t,’ Luke said. ‘They decided to stop off in LA. She won’t get here until tomorrow.’
‘Oh,’ Lizzie managed. She wasn’t sure why she should feel guilty, but she did. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Yeah.’ Luke shrugged, but his shoulders were tense. ‘What can you do?’
Quite a lot of things, actually. Very much hoping he wasn’t going to do any of them, Lizzie checked her watch.
‘If you’re ready, we should probably get on the road,’ she told Cally, apologetically. ‘It’ll be easier if we’re home before dark. The power’s still out at the station.’
Cally and Luke exchanged a wry look.
‘Sure,’ Cally said. ‘I’ll just grab my bag out of the car.’
‘So,’ Lizzie ventured, over the rumble of the Land Rover’s chains, as she and Cally juddered back up the main road towards the Glencairn turn off, ‘how was Christchurch? Did you have a good time?’
‘Yeah,’ said Cally, not sounding entirely convinced. ‘It was okay.’
‘How was your mum?’
‘All right. I didn’t see her that much. She was working nights.’
Lizzie glanced across the cab. Cally’s desire for conversation appeared to have headed south with Luke. Was she pleased to be back? She didn’t exactly look it. Lizzie slowed, following the tracks of her own tyres back through the snow and onto the Glencairn Road.
‘Ash and Carr,’ she tried again, ‘have flown over to Blackpeak. I’m not sure if they’ll be back when we get home.’
There was a long, uncomfortable silence. ‘Is everything okay at Blackpeak?’ asked Cally, at last.
Right. So she didn’t want to talk about Ash, then. ‘They’re missing some stock in the snow,’ Lizzie explained. ‘Charlie asked Carr to take a look.’
‘Oh,’ said Cally, after another long pause.
Giving up, Lizzie turned her full attention to the snowy road, leaving Cally wrapped up in her own thoughts, whatever those might be.
Sure enough, they arrived to find the homestead empty. Ankle-deep in the softened snow of the driveway, Lizzie eyed the darkening sky, listening for the chopper. Was that a rumble over the northern ridge? Over the generator’s clatter, it was hard to tell.
‘Come on,’ she said, realising that Cally was waiting for her, also up to her ankles in slush and without the benefit of gumboots. ‘Let’s go and get some lights on.’
Inside, Doug trotted out from wherever he’d been to wind around Cally’s wet feet, his purr almost drowning out the generator as she picked him up.
‘He’s missed you,’ Lizzie said, realising with a flash of guilt that she had forgotten all about the poor cat. She hoped Ash and Carr had fed him.
The kitchen was already dim. Working in what light remained, Lizzie had just succeeding in getting the first oil lamp lit when, much to her relief, the unmistakeable boom of the helicopter’s engines began to reverberate over the valley. As the noise lowered and stopped, Lizzie glanced over at Cally, who was watching the kitchen window like a deer that had just caught wind of danger.
‘I’ll just head up and get changed,’ Cally said, her forehead furrowed.
Wordlessly, Lizzie watched her bolt for the hall, the cat a shadow at her heels. ‘Here,’ Lizzie remembered, just in time, ‘you’d better take a torch.’
Not long afterwards, Carr walked in. This time, it wasn’t difficult to see the exhaustion deepening the lines in his face.
‘Did you find the sheep?’ she asked gently.
He nodded. ‘They’re fine. They got themselves stuck behind a big drift, that’s all.’
More snow-raking? Lizzie’s leg muscles trembled in sympathy. ‘You got them out okay?’
‘Not yet. No point starting tonight. We dropped some feed in.’
She eyed the door behind him expectantly. ‘What have you done with Ash?’
‘Left him at Blackpeak. He’s going to give Charlie a hand to rake the mob out tomorrow.’
Oh … Lizzie wondered how Ash had felt about that. She had a strong suspicion he’d had other plans for his evening. Carr’s gaze shifted. Following it, she saw Cally, torch in hand, hesitating in the hallway. Cally’s eyes, too, were on the darkness behind Carr.
‘Cally. Hello,’ Carr said gently. ‘Welcome back.’
Crossing the kitchen, he bent, a little stiffly, to kiss Lizzie’s cheek. ‘I’ll just go and wash up.’ He rested a fleeting hand on Cally’s shoulder as he passed. ‘It’s good to have you home.’
Upstairs after dinner, Lizzie was already drifting off by the time Carr slid into bed beside her. She settled sleepily into his arms.
‘Lizzie,’ he said. She felt his muscles moving under her forehead as he looked down at her. ‘I need to talk to you about today.’
‘Mmm-huh,’ she managed. He’d better be quick. Every muscle in her own body felt like lead. Especially the ones that worked her eyelids.
‘All the work you did out there,’ Carr went on. ‘In here, too. It isn’t necessary.’
‘It was fun,’ she yawned. In the fireplace, the fire crackled.
‘It won’t always be.’ Through the fog of her own tiredness, she heard him sigh. ‘This is my life. It isn’t yours. I need you to … I need you to stop …’
It wasn’t until she was in the shower the next morning that Lizzie even remembered the conversation. Oh. She frowned at the steamed-up glass, grey in the early morning gloom. Suddenly, with all the harshness of a reality check, the bathroom lights blazed on.
So he needed some space, she told herself, minutes later, walking back into the empty bedroom. That wasn’t so bad. Was it?
Lizzie sat down on the edge of the bed, towelling her hair dry. Carr had left without waking her. She tried not to feel too hurt. Of course he didn’t need her. She’d known perfectly well that she wasn’t really helping much, that he was just humouring her, but with Ash at Blackpeak, Carr was on his own today, and it stung a little to learn that she was worse than no one. Lizzie stared at the fading fire. Actually, it stung quite a lot.
Come on, she told herself, getting up. Stop making this such a big deal. He’s right: it’s not your life. He has his business and you have yours. That’s not unreasonable. It doesn’t mean …
In front of the wardrobe, Lizzie swallowed hard. It didn’t mean anything. Did it? Just that she’d been pushing too hard. Trying to be … to be part of Carr’s life … when that wasn’t what he wanted. Stop, she repeated to herself, looking at the mounting collection of her clothes inside the wardrobe. Just stop.
She should really take all that stuff back to the vineyard. Lizzie checked her watch. It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet. Carr would be flat out all day. With Cally back to keep the home fires burning, there wasn’t much point in her hanging around as well. She wasn’t necessary. Lizzie pulled on a clean pair of jeans. It was high time she went home.
Chapter NINETEEN
Cally woke to a blaze of cold white light. The power must be back on — thank God for that. She sat up, blinking groggily in the glare as the tatty motel room came slowly back into focus. Ow. Her head felt as though it had been run over. Jesus, how much had she had to drink? As the events of the previous night began to reassemble themselves, she turned, with rising shame, to look at the other side of the strange bed. Both Luke and the bottle of scotch were gone.
‘Morning.’ Fully dressed, freshly showered and immaculate, Luke emerged from the kitchenette to hand her a mug of stale-smelling tea.
<
br /> Shuddering to think how she must look herself, Cally sipped the tea gratefully. She had only the vaguest memory of having gone to sleep last night — had Luke been … holding her, or had she imagined that? And no memory at all of getting undressed. Which was no wonder, she saw, sneaking a quick look under the duvet while his back was turned, since she was not only still in her own clothes, but a few of his as well. Warming her hands around her tea, she sank her chin a little further into Luke’s scarf. The fan heater was going, but the room was still pretty cold. She shivered, remembering the bone-freezing chill of the night. No, that had been cold. This was a morning in the tropics.
Luke let the net curtain fall back over the window. ‘You want to get some breakfast?’ he smiled, looking back at her at her.
Not as badly as she wanted the packet of paracetamol in her bag, but, ‘Sure,’ Cally said. ‘How’s it looking out there?’
‘Like we’re not going anywhere in a hurry.’
True to the roadworker’s word, the pass reopened a little before midday. By that time, the combination of a hot shower, coffee, breakfast and Luke’s company had seen off Cally’s champagne-and-single-malt hangover, the sun was out, and she was able to enjoy the more than usually spectacular drive through the snowy hills. It was a difficult day to be down, and, what with all the delays, it wasn’t until Lizzie finally arrived at the café to pick her up that the reality of her situation came back to her and she remembered where she was going.
In another hour, she’d have to face Ash — really face him, with no Luke to sweep her away — for the first time since she’d stolen his horse and run off like some toddler having a tantrum. Blushing, Cally stared down at her grotty bag, so out of place in the boot of Luke’s Aston. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She was doing the wrong thing. She was crazy, thinking she had the guts to go back and work at Glencairn. To sleep across the hall from Ash every night.
Before she could stop it, an image of Ash standing shirtless in his bedroom doorway filled her mind, his hair tousled, those spectacular muscles flexing as he buttoned his jeans … And with it, the memory of his mouth on hers, the power of his body under her hands as he … he … Cally blinked in time to clear the tears that were suddenly threatening her eyes, but not in time to dislodge the image of Valentina, equally tousled, equally gorgeous, more than equally naked under that little silk robe, poised in front of Ash like some visitation from a Victoria’s Secret catalogue. No wonder, she told herself, feeling the all-too-familiar pain flare again. No wonder he didn’t want you. No wonder he walked out.
As Cally continued to stare, Luke unjammed her bag from the boot. ‘Here,’ he said, gently.
Not quite trusting her voice, she reached for the strap. Luke didn’t let go.
‘Remember,’ he said, ‘what you promised me.’
Cally looked up at him in surprise.
‘Don’t take any shit from anyone.’ Luke held her eyes. ‘Okay?’
She nodded. It was hard to believe, looking at him now, that she’d once found him so disconcerting.
‘Even gods,’ he added, grinning. ‘Greek, Roman or otherwise.’
Cally winced. She’d been rather hoping he’d forgotten all that rubbish she’d spouted last night.
‘The Callista I know,’ Luke said, the glint in his eye suggesting he’d read her thoughts, ‘wasn’t made to revolve around anybody.’ Resisting the urge to throw her arms around him — his
girlfriend’s mother was right over there, after all — she put her hand over his. ‘Thank you.’ Cally bit her lip. ‘For … for everything.’
‘I meant what I said last night. Don’t forget it.’
She sniffed.
‘Hey.’ For a second, she found herself swept up in the elegant folds of his coat. ‘We have slept together, you know,’ he told her, letting go. ‘A hug isn’t going to kill us.’
‘I still have to buy you dinner,’ Cally smiled, as he carried her bag to the Land Rover. Actually, she now owed him breakfast and lunch as well, not to mention the motel bill he’d sneaked out and paid while she was in the shower.
‘I’d like that sometime.’ To her surprise, Luke sounded serious. ‘I don’t have that many …’ He hesitated, looking uncharacteristically awkward. ‘You know. People I can talk to.’
Cally looked across the car park at the deserted road south. The long shadows of the hills were already spreading across it, turning the slush a sombre grit-grey. ‘She’ll be back soon,’ she told him. ‘It’s only another twenty-four hours.’
‘I know.’
‘Sorry,’ Lizzie said breezily, hopping out of the Land Rover. ‘Just checking my phone.’ She opened the back door for Cally’s bag. ‘Drive safely,’ she told Luke, enveloping him in a far larger hug than Cally would have dared contemplate. ‘Come and see us as soon as you can.’
Through the rear window, Cally watched the Aston sweep away, brake lights flashing as it disappeared around the bend. With a sinking feeling, she turned her attention to the road ahead. Time to go back to feeling sorry for herself, then.
The sign for the Glencairn Road loomed out of a wall of gritty, churned-up snow. Slowing, Lizzie turned in confidently.
‘Ash and Carr have flown over to Blackpeak,’ she told Cally, as the road headed towards the hills. ‘I’m not sure if they’ll be back when we get home.’
Another reprieve? Cally wasn’t sure if she felt better or worse. Now she was this close, there was something to be said for getting it over with. Like facing a firing squad.
God, hang on: Blackpeak? Ash and Carr were at Blackpeak Station, with Hannah and Jen? What if Ash told them about her taking Windy? What if Carr said he’d had to send her home because she couldn’t stop mooning around over his son? They wouldn’t, would they? She’d die of embarrassment if her cousin found out what a fool she’d made of herself. She hadn’t even told her mother.
‘Is everything okay at Blackpeak?’ she remembered to ask.
‘They’re missing some stock in the snow,’ Lizzie explained. ‘Charlie asked Carr to take a look.’
‘Oh.’ Of course they wouldn’t be talking about her, she was being ridiculous. Ash probably hadn’t given her a second thought since she’d walked out the door. Unless it was to be glad she had gone so he didn’t have to look at her every day and feel guilty about nearly cheating on Valentina. Let’s face it, he was probably more embarrassed about the whole mess than anyone was. He’d be even keener than she was that no one else know.
The closer the Land Rover got to the homestead, the sicker Cally began to feel. Did she want Ash to be there or not? Oh God, there was his truck. But no, he’d gone with Carr, wasn’t that what Lizzie had said? And Carr wasn’t there, and there were no lights on inside. Of course there weren’t, she reminded herself: there was no electricity. Getting out of the Land Rover, she stood, slush seeping into her boots, staring at Carr’s outrageously beautiful house as if demons were about to hatch from its porch door.
Jesus. She had to stop this. The only demons were the ones running loose in her brain. Ash was nothing more than a guy who’d slipped up, and Luke was right: her world should not revolve around him and what he thought of her and whether he was waiting there in the kitchen. She would get over him just like she’d gotten over Taine Solomon and — and all those guys who hadn’t quite been able to make up their minds whether they wanted her or not, until … Until, invariably, they didn’t.
‘Come on,’ Lizzie said. ‘Let’s go and get some lights on.’
She should be thanking Ash, really, Cally thought bitterly, following Lizzie inside. At least he’d made a quick decision.
In the kitchen, Doug came running to greet her. Cally picked him up, her spirits lifting despite herself as the cat began his big-hearted purr. Some backbone, she thought, stroking Doug’s as she watched Lizzie start to light the lovely old brass lamps, that was what she needed. There was a lot to be happy about. She was back in the place she was rapidly coming to love more than anywhere in the world, with
people she— Okay, maybe best not to go there. But hey, in spite of her misgivings about spending another night without power, the homestead was literally glowing with warmth, and Lizzie was there to show her how to cook on the range, and tomorrow she could get up and go see Windy and the other horses. Life was good.
Oh God, that was the helicopter now. Ash and Carr were back. Maybe she’d just head upstairs and … and breathe … and unpack. Let Ash get in the door, at least.
‘I’ll just head up and get changed,’ she told Lizzie, making a dash for the hall.
‘Here,’ Lizzie called after her, ‘you’d better take a torch.’
Upstairs, she stopped short at the sight of Ash’s bedroom door. It was standing slightly open, offering a glimpse of his bed and the turret window beyond, the room neat as usual. Catching herself wondering if Valentina had got her underwear back, Cally hurried on across the hall.
Opening the door to her own room, she shivered. The heater hadn’t been switched on for a week, and the temperature was icy. Someone, she saw, had removed the dusty cones and laid a proper fire in the old Victorian grate. The china shepherdesses on the mantelpiece had sprouted candles, and one of them was sporting a box of matches tucked into the folds of her skirt. Did she have Lizzie to thank for that?
Feeling braver again, she put her bag down and walked over to the window. Above the deep shadow of the valley, the snow on top of the ridge was still glowing gold in the last of the sun, the sky behind it blue as midday. God, she was lucky to be here, looking at this. Even if it was just for a little while.
As she watched, the band of sunlight narrowed and fled, turning the ridge to a smoky grey silhouette on the sky. With a deep breath, Cally tore herself away. It was time to face the music. Quickly, before she changed her mind. By the time she had changed out of her slush-wet boots, the stairs were dark enough to require Lizzie’s torch. Cally picked her way down. She could do this. She could.
