by Mandy Magro
Upon closer inspection her beautiful face looked a little red and puffy. Had she been crying? Shit! Should he go over and ask if she was all right or just leave her be? His innate protective side wanted to step in, but he was hesitant. If she was the mayor’s daughter she wouldn’t want someone like him bothering her. Miss Hoity Toity being saved by the middle-class man from down the road? Yeah, right! But she was so gorgeous, he had to at least try to introduce himself.
Darting his gaze to the sand, he began tipping it from one hand to the other as if it were of great scientific interest while he weighed up what to do. His indecision was swiftly solved, though, when her dog came tearing down the beach towards him, yapping like a lunatic. He could hear the woman bellowing her dog’s name. Was that … Fonzie? Like the leather-wearing guy out of Happy Days? And was this mini hot dog about to try to rip him to shreds? If so, the pint-sized pooch definitely had a bad case of little man’s syndrome. Dean stifled a chuckle as Fonzie leapt through the air and dived into his lap, and then, instead of attempting to bite a limb off, proceeded to cover his face in slobber.
Even though the stunning beauty of his palomino horse amazed her – the similarity to her recently departed Waylon was uncanny – Summer found it hard to pull her eyes from this six-foot hunk of a man. With his muscular physique, chiselled jawline, short-cropped dark brown hair and mysterious sea-green eyes, he was almost the spitting image of her dream guy. Swoon. That sexy tattoo, stretching down his burly arm like a graceful serpent, didn’t help either. Her heart took off in a gallop … Why oh why, after what had happened, did she have to spot a man who made her heart flutter? What was the universe trying to do to her? And why did Fonzie have to pick today of all days to declare his fondness for a complete and utter stranger? The fact that Fonzie liked this bloke made him even more appealing, because Fonzie was generally a very good judge of character, especially considering he’d never really taken a shine to Marcus, the clever cookie. She should start to take heed of her little pocket rocket’s opinions from now on.
Begrudgingly standing, she tried to call Fonzie back, her voice sounding squeaky and strained. And although she felt shattered, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight before her – the genuine amusement on the guy’s face was endearing as he tried to stop an over-friendly Fonzie from licking him to death. Then he tried to shove Fonzie back in her direction, unsuccessfully.
With her emotions frayed and her nerves on tenterhooks, not to mention the state of her crumpled clothes, unruly hair and tear-stained face, Summer knew she probably looked a sight, but she had to do something other than just stand here shouting. With Fonzie bluntly refusing to return to her, she resigned herself to peeling him off the poor bloke, like it or not. Huffing, she jogged to them, her broken heart taking off once again in a canter; her emotions had never felt so unravelled in all her life.
Not wanting to look the handsome guy in the eyes now she was so close, she pointed at his horse. ‘He’s absolutely divine. I love palominos. I used to have one myself.’
The bloke’s firm lips broke into a smile warm enough to melt her insides, as a set of charming dimples danced on his cheeks. ‘I wouldn’t let him hear you say that. He’s got a big enough ego already!’ He turned to the horse. ‘Haven’t you, buddy?’
Rising out of the ocean like a proud warhorse and then plodding towards them, the horse snorted, as if understanding every word. Summer smiled, her life-changing dramas temporarily forgotten. How could she not let this gorgeous man and his equally dazzling horse sweep her away from her problematic life for the briefest of moments? It was as if the universe had blessed her with a small reprieve, and she wasn’t going to discard the blessing. No freaking way.
Still smiling, the man handed a squirming Fonzie back, his eyes lingering on hers as if he was trying to reach into her soul. ‘I’m Dean, Dean Lockwood … and, um … you are …?’
Summer smiled softly at him. She felt like she was floating on a cloud, a sensation she shouldn’t be having right now given the circumstances of last night. But around this handsome man, she just couldn’t help herself. His voice was so deep, so sexy, and so comforting. She juggled Fonzie as she found her own voice and held out her hand. ‘Oh, sorry, I’m Summer, Summer Milton. I’m so sorry about my dog, it’s not like him to be so, well … so friendly.’
Dean stood, brushing the sand from his knees. ‘Ah, no worries at all, I love dogs.’
Summer forced a smile and then turned away, tears welling up once again. Oh boy, keep it together. Just for another minute … please! ‘Yeah, well, I think Fonzie gathered that! Anyways, nice meeting you, I better run.’ She sniffed, unable to stop her tears rolling down her cheeks. Gently placing Fonzie on the ground, she walked away. But Fonzie had different ideas, as he grabbed the opportunity to run into the ocean for a swim as the horse followed him in. Summer watched them, wanting to run off too, feeling incredibly embarrassed for breaking down like this in front of a stranger, and a sexy one at that.
Dean gently touched her arm. ‘I don’t mean to pry, and please, feel free to tell me to piss off if I am, but are you okay?’
Summer bit her bottom lip in a bid to stop it quivering. She wanted to scream out that no, she wasn’t okay, she was an absolute pitiful mess, and then fall into this man’s big, strong arms. Her instincts told her that, within them, she’d feel safe. Instead, she nodded, smiling through her tears, sensing that this bloke was seeing straight through her tough facade. ‘Mmm hmm,’ was all she could manage, the lump in her throat constricting her airways, and making it impossible to talk.
Dean rested both hands on her shoulders as he faced her. ‘If there is anything I can do to help, I’m right here. I’ve got great ears that love to listen, big shoulders you can cry on for as long as you like, and a bit of brawn I can use if need be.’
Summer looked into Dean’s emerald eyes as she assessed if he was being genuine and felt him try to reassure her by giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. A wisp of a smile tugged her lips and she fell into his arms, sobbing. All he could do was embrace her, so he did. Summer cried until his blue Bonds singlet was wet beneath her cheek then gently pulled back and somehow found the courage to look up at Dean’s compassionate face. ‘I can’t tell you what’s wrong but just holding me has helped me immensely.’ She placed her hand on her rapidly rising and falling chest. ‘So thank you, from the bottom of my heart.’
‘No worries at all, it was my pleasure.’ Dean’s lips curled softly, his eyes seizing hers. ‘I’ll tell you something my mum used to say whenever I was having a rough time: Life always offers you a second chance, and it’s called tomorrow.’
Summer’s hands fluttered to her heart, her spirit rising. ‘Oh, Dean. That’s lovely. Your mum must be one beautiful lady.’
‘Um, yep, she is – I mean, was – a beautiful lady.’
Summer gasped, throwing her hands over her mouth. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry. Your mum passed away?’
Blinking fast, Dean nodded. Now it was his turn to remain silent.
Wrapping her arms around him, Summer gave Dean a friendly squeeze, feathering a kiss on his cheek as she pulled away. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that. I really am.’
Dean felt a blush rise to his cheeks, the sheer depth of compassion in Summer’s eyes overwhelming him, making him feel as though he was about to topple over the edge. The surge of emotions startled him and suddenly he felt like he was back at high school again, talking to that pretty girl he’d had a crush on in maths class, the one who thought he was a loser because he was a poor boy and she was a rich chick. The embarrassment that day, when she’d laughed in his face, had shattered him and made him not want to go back to school for days. That was, until his dad had basically dragged him back kicking and screaming. He quickly looked away. He couldn’t do this, not here, not now, and definitely not with someone he barely knew. Hell, he had a hard enough time talking about his mum’s death with his own flesh and blood, let alone to Summer.
Remaining quiet,
Dean gazed off into the water, watching Harley and Fonzie. After a bit of ritual sniffing, they frolicked in the water, giant and midget unperturbed by their massive size difference. Harley was used to being around the farm dogs so Dean wasn’t worried, he knew Harley would tread carefully. And Fonzie seemed to be having a whale of a time. Standing at the edge of the water, Dean took pleasure in observing their animal companions. His thoughts of high school embarrassment melted away and it felt as though standing here with Summer was the most natural thing in the world to be doing right now. She was a complete stranger, yet oddly he felt like he’d known her for a lifetime.
To extinguish the emotionally charged atmosphere he forced a smile and then pointed down the beach. ‘I only live down thataway, at Whispering Meadows, so any time you feel you need another one of those hugs, or just someone to hang out with, you’re welcome to visit … And honestly, Summer, I mean that.’
‘I think I might just hold you to that invitation, Mr Lockwood.’
Dean smiled from ear to ear, his tumbling emotions now in check. ‘Great stuff!’ He looked past her, motioning towards the steps with a nod. ‘Do you live up … there?’
Summer followed his gaze. ‘Oh, yeah, sorry … um … yes, that’s my parents’ holiday house. I’m staying here for a couple of weeks over the summer holidays, just until I move in with my best mate in town and start my new job.’ She turned back to face him. ‘Do you live here permanently, or are you on holidays too?’
Dean tried hard to hide his disappointment. He’d been right. She was extremely well off. If she saw how modestly he lived there was no way this woman would want to have anything to do with him. And why would she, considering the lavish lifestyle she was used to? Just like Kate, he could never provide her with what she was accustomed to. ‘Ah, yes and no – I’m on two weeks’ leave. I’m a bomb dog handler in the army. I’ll be heading back to Afghanistan the week after New Year’s.’
‘Wow, you’re a real-life soldier? I’ve never met one before – how exciting!’
Dean saluted while smirking at her innocence. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
Summer chuckled at his awful attempt at an American accent. ‘What do you do there, I mean, in Afghanistan?’
‘Well, to put it simply, it’s mine and my dog’s job to find buried explosives.’
Summer’s smile instantly faded. ‘Shit, that’s a dangerous job, Dean. It must be really hard, living in Afghanistan, and away from everyone you love.’
Dean’s mind flashed back to the day of the explosion, the day he almost lost Tommy. ‘Yeah, it can be tough at times, but you push through it. You have to.’ Spotting a patch of bright yellow dandelions, Dean excused himself and went to pick one, desperately wanting to take the focus off himself. He didn’t like talking about his life in Afghanistan; it was depressing and there was also a lot he couldn’t talk about as it was top secret. Returning, he handed a flower to Summer. ‘Here you go, something to brighten your day.’
Summer clutched the stem tightly as she gently inhaled the flower’s citrusy scent, smiling, speechless.
Chuffed he’d cheered her up, Dean cleared his throat a little too loudly. Time was ticking and he had to get home to check in on his dad. ‘Anyways, I better be off. I got heaps of jobs to do back at the farm. Catch you again soon, hey?’ He whistled to Harley and his sodden horse obeyed, trotting to his side, followed closely by an equally drenched Fonzie.
‘Yeah, you sure will. It was really nice meeting you, Dean.’ Summer gathered Fonzie up and into her arms, completely to oblivious to the fact her shirt was instantaneously soaked through.
Dean smiled as he turned on his heel, wondering at the same time whether she was being genuine, or just humouring him.
Summer dreamily watched Dean’s well-built body as he jogged away, feeling as though her heart was fluttering away with him. Who was this man, and just where had he been hiding all these years? Edens Edge was a small place, and yet she had never laid eyes on him before now. Dean spun, gracing her with one more breathtaking smile before he vanished around the bend.
Turning, Summer frowned as she looked up towards the house, her stomach in tight knots. She knew she had to face Marcus at some point, and now was as good a time as any, but at the same time she wished she could take off down the beach after her knight in shining armour and his magnificent white horse.
CHAPTER
7
Matilda, the family’s border collie, was there to meet Dean on the front porch when he returned from his jog, her grey-speckled snout showing her twelve years. Her claws tap-danced along the timber floorboards as she padded towards him, her chocolate and white coat lush and shiny thanks to the eggs she stole from the chook pen when no one was looking. She sat on her rump, patiently looking up at Dean as he removed his joggers and socks and then shook out the sand, her bright blue eyes keen and intelligent. A tenacious employee, Matilda had been a magnificent working dog in her day; Dean’s granddad raised her from a pup to round up sheep on his property in New South Wales. When Granddad had passed away four years ago, Dean had offered to take her in and they’d been best mates ever since.
‘Hey, girl.’ Dean crouched down and gave her a squeeze. Matilda’s bum wiggled out of control as she snuck in a mushy lick to his face. Evading another lick, Dean chuckled and ruffled her head, the scent of bacon luring him to the flyscreen door. ‘Want to come inside and have some breakfast, Matty? It smells like something good’s cooking.’
Matilda gave a short bark, panting excitedly, knowing exactly what Dean was offering. She was always spoilt when he was home. Her tongue lolled out the side of her mouth as she waited for the all clear to head inside.
‘Come on then, in you come.’ Matilda didn’t need any more of an invitation as she politely followed Dean in.
Walking out of the brilliant sunlight and into the dimness of the cottage, Dean’s eyes took a moment to readjust, and then his heart stopped. Lying on the floor with the wheelchair upended on top of him was his father. Dean ran to his side. Quickly moving the wheelchair, he cradled his father’s bleeding head in his hands, assessing the damage. It didn’t look like a deep gash, just a cut – nothing a bandage wouldn’t fix. Matilda sat to the side, whining softly.
Carefully, Dean helped his father sit. ‘What were you trying to do, Dad?’
Tony pointed to the stove, where a frypan had overturned, spilling the fried eggs, tomato and bacon onto the floor. ‘I was trying to make you breakfast, Sage, but the can of baked beans was just out of my reach, or so I discovered too late. Bloody useless bugger that I am, I can’t even cook you a meal! You should just take me out to the paddock and shoot me. Put me and you and your sister out of our bloody misery. I deserve nothing less after—’
‘Don’t you dare say those words, Dad,’ Dean cut him off, his voice stern. ‘What happened to Mum was an accident and the sooner you acknowledge it the better, for all of us. And while we’re on the subject, I reckon you and I need to have a chat about you wearing your prosthetic leg … it’ll help you get around better.’
Tony’s brows furrowed, his breathing jagged. ‘Darned if I’m using that bloody thing, so don’t start on me, Dean. I’ve had your sister constantly on my back about it so I don’t need you harassing me, too. I’m old enough to make my own bloody decisions so just lay off, okay?’
Noting his dad’s reddening face and not wanting to distress him any further Dean straightened the wheelchair and then gently took hold of his father’s arm. ‘Okay, I’ll shut up about it, for now. Let’s get you up off the floor so you, me and Matilda here can have some brekkie, hey?’
Tony reluctantly allowed Dean to lift him up, grumbling the entire time about how pathetic he was. Dean had to bite his tongue hard, not wanting to fuel the fire that was already within his father. He knew it crushed his dad’s independent spirit to need assistance to do simple daily chores. But like it or lump it, he needed help, and for once in his dad’s life he was just going to have to damn well start accepting
it. Later today, he was going to make a start on his beach shack, starting with tidying it up and then giving the entire place a lick of paint. Maybe he could get Tony involved too, make him feel like he was doing something worthwhile? Yes, that might be just the right medicine.
Summer clutched the dandelion for dear life, sucked in a deep breath as if diving underwater, and then gently pushed open the back door. Fonzie scurried in beside her, on a mission to get to his cosy blanket to burrow himself beneath and then sleep off his exhaustion from the eventful morning at the beach. It was not every day he got to play among the waves with a horse. And it wasn’t everyday Summer got to meet a man as mesmerising as Dean Lockwood.
The house seemed quiet so maybe everyone was still asleep. Good, that would buy her a little more time to figure out what she was going to say to Marcus. She was surprisingly ravenous, and some carbohydrate-laden food would give her a bit of sustenance – and a bit of strength – for the inevitable confrontation. Tip-toeing down the hallway, her hope was crushed, though, as she spotted Marcus at the kitchen sink with Astrid.
Marcus turned to face her, all smiles, as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Summer’s heart galloped once again and her hands began to shake, her willingness to defend herself sending adrenaline careening around her body.
‘Babes … I was worried about you when I woke up and you were gone! I was just telling Astrid that I better go look for you.’
Astrid winked as she shuffled past Summer and out to the sunlit dinning room, a plate of freshly cut fruit in her hands, smiling knowingly the entire time. Summer’s blood boiled. What in the hell had Marcus told her?
