Country At Heart

by Mandy Magro

  Dropping her voice to a whisper, Summer leant into Marcus’s personal space, finding it near impossible to keep her tone even. ‘Oh, is that so, Marcus? I didn’t think you’d care where I was?’

  Marcus looked like he’d been slapped in the face. ‘Summer, what’s wrong with you? Lighten up, would you? After having so much fun last night I thought you’d be happy to see me this morning.’

  Summer’s skin crawled as her guts turned. ‘I know you spiked my drink.’ She crossed her arms defiantly, silently reminding herself to remain composed, even though part of her wanted to gouge his perverted eyeballs out. ‘Seeing as you’re a lawyer, Marcus, if you did take advantage of me while I was spaced-out on drugs you do know that would be considered rape in a court of law, don’t you? And I’m positive an allegation like that would ruin your career before it even begins.’ Summer wasn’t so sure she’d run to the police and risk damaging her father’s faultless image, especially when she wasn’t even sure if she’d been a willing participant in what had happened with Marcus – if anything had happened – but it didn’t mean she couldn’t use scare tactics to pay Marcus back for what he’d so stupidly done.

  In an instant Marcus’s disposition changed, his usually bright eyes filling with sadness. ‘What a bloody idiot I am … I thought you wanted to, you know …’ He looked down at the floor, slowly shaking his head. ‘I’m so sorry, Summer. I shouldn’t have put anything in your drink. I just thought it would help you to relax and enjoy yourself. Please, you can’t tell anyone, it was a mistake I won’t make again.’ Tears welled in his eyes. ‘And just for the record, you basically threw yourself at me last night.’

  Summer’s head whirled. She found that almost impossible to believe. But how could she know for sure when she couldn’t remember a thing? Instantly regretting her harsh words, Summer reached out and touched his shoulder. ‘You were an idiot putting drugs in my drink, but I s’pose we all make mistakes …’

  Marcus took her by the hands, giving her an imploring look. ‘I adore you, Summer, always have and always will. I just wish you could love me in the same way I love you. And I’ve wrongly assumed after last night we could give it another go, you know, as boyfriend and girlfriend. But, with how you’re reacting, I was a fucking dickhead for thinking that.’ He exhaled heavily.

  ‘I’m sorry you thought we could get back together. I’m just not interested in a relationship right now.’ Summer knew the last sentence was a lie, but she didn’t want to break his heart even more by telling him she didn’t find him boyfriend material. This whole damn thing was a mess. She really wanted to believe what he was saying, believe he hadn’t taken advantage of the fact she was high on drugs, but her instincts were telling her he was lying about something. Something stormy flashed across his eyes, but it was too fast to make sense of. She took a step back, weighing up what to do. She had a hunch there were skeletons hidden in Marcus’s closet, something deep inside of him that nobody knew of, and that in itself sent out warning signals. But this was her childhood friend, the boy she’d spent countless hours with growing up. The boy she thought she could trust. And their families had been close for years. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

  As if sensing her hesitation, Marcus gently squeezed her hands. ‘Please, Summer, promise me you won’t tell anyone … please. It’ll ruin me – and my father – if this gets out.’

  Summer smiled sadly. If she was to be completely honest with herself, a small seed of doubt was planted within her after talking with him. What if he was telling the truth, that she had been an eager participant? His allegations didn’t ring true to her, but maybe under the influence of drugs anything was possible. ‘Okay, I promise I won’t tell anyone. We’ll just try to forget it even happened. But I can’t promise I won’t be a bit weird around you for a while … This has shaken me. I hate drugs, Marcus, and I’m hurt you’d go and sneak some in my drink.’

  Marcus pulled her into a tight hug. ‘I’m so sorry, babes. I should never have done it. And just for the record, when you are ready for a relationship, I’ll be waiting for you …’

  Feeling extremely uncomfortable with that comment, Summer tugged herself out of his arms, wanting to be away from him. Would he ever accept they were never getting back together? He stared at her; obviously hurt she’d pulled away, a spark of anger in his eyes.

  ‘What is it? Am I not good enough for you, Summer Milton?’

  She gave him a half-hearted smile before running from the kitchen.

  Her jaw dropped as she bumped into Fiona in the hallway. Summer stared at her frowning mate, panic washing over her. Had Fiona heard everything? She went to ask but Fiona shushed her, and then dragged her into the nearby walk-in linen cupboard, shutting the door behind them.

  Clutching Summer’s arms at the elbows, Fiona gently shook her. ‘Are you okay, Sums? From what I just heard it doesn’t sound good between you and Marcus.’ Tenderly, she swept wayward hair from Summer’s face, her deep-set eyes full of concern. ‘And what the fuck is all this about him drugging you and then taking advantage of you? I’ll personally shove his balls down his throat if he did.’

  Summer shook her head, not knowing how to answer. She didn’t want to lie to Fiona, but she couldn’t tell the entire truth either, she was too ashamed that she didn’t know what had happened. ‘No, um, I don’t think he intentionally took advantage of me … The stupid idiot just thought it’d be fun to slip something into my drink.’ She took Fiona’s hands, squeezing them. ‘It’s not what you think, Fi. I just had a little too much to drink last night and might have done something with Marcus that I shouldn’t have.’ Admitting out loud that she might have slept with Marcus sent Summer crumbling to the floor. ‘Oh, Fi, I wish you hadn’t heard anything. I can’t let anyone know of this, ever.’ She looked up at Fiona, her friend’s face contorted in confusion as she placed her hands on her hips.

  ‘But why, Sums? I don’t understand. If he has done something immoral, nobody is going to judge you for it, especially me.’

  Summer shook her head sadly. ‘I never would have slept with Marcus sober. I don’t like him in that way, and I’m mortified to admit that I have. I just don’t want anyone knowing about it, especially Mum and Dad. Okay? Promise me this will be our secret.’

  Fiona knelt down, taking Summer’s hands within hers. ‘I’m really angry at him for drugging you, and I think you’ve let him off very lightly for such a low act. But you’re my best mate, and whatever you ask me to do, I will. I promise I’ll respect your privacy, and never speak a word of this, even to Bailey – otherwise he’ll probably want to throttle Marcus for being such an arsehole.’ Fiona mumbled a few swear words and then closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, as if silently talking to God. When she opened them she cupped Summer’s cheeks. ‘Just know I am here to talk to if you need to, about anything, okay, mate?’

  Pulling Fiona into a hug, Summer breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I know you’re always there for me. This must remain between us, forever, okay? I just want to forget it ever happened, if I can.’

  ‘Okay, Sums, my lips are sealed.’ Fiona returned the embrace before pulling back and smiling softly. ‘Come on, then, we can’t stay in the closet all day. Come and eat some breakfast. You’re looking really pale and it might help you feel a little better.’

  Allowing Fiona to pull her to her feet, Summer wearily followed her to the dining room, relieved to see the large sun-drenched room was empty of Marcus. She wished she could click her fingers and make him vanish into thin air, along with all the hurt he’d caused her. But life was never that simple.

  On the dining table was a fresh fruit platter, croissants, a pot of tea and Astrid’s homemade lemon-passionfruit butter, Summer’s favourite. Usually she would be overjoyed to see such mouth-watering fresh produce, but after her chat with Marcus, her appetite had upped and left. She sat down and Fiona pulled a chair out beside her, dishing up a plate for Summer before grabbing herself some food. They sat quietly in one
another’s company, words pointless right now. Summer was dying to tell Fiona about the most amazing man she’d just met on the beach, but she didn’t think it was the right time.

  Slumping from the weight on her shoulders, Summer forked a piece of papaya and took a bite, chewing absentmindedly as she stared out through the floor-to-ceiling windows and towards the stunning sea views. Instantly, her eyes were drawn to a particular spot of glistening sand. Down on that little piece of heavenly beach, she’d crossed paths with a wonderful man and the immediate connection she felt with him was so powerful, so intense, it shook the world beneath her feet. With her strong mystical beliefs she knew it had to be fate – there was no other way to describe feeling so strongly for a complete stranger. But that was another weird thing about this morning’s encounter, because she felt like she had already known Dean Lockwood for a lifetime.

  Allowing her mind’s eye to take her away from her troubles, she imagined what it would be like to spend a day with the charismatic soldier. He was like an angel sent from heaven, and within his arms, she’d felt the safest she ever had in her entire life. She just had to see him again, to get away from this house and Marcus, and the sooner the better. She whispered Dean’s name, loving the way it rolled off her tongue. He had come into her life for a reason, and she was determined to find out what it was.

  CHAPTER

  8

  The pitter-patter of shoes ascending the front steps followed by the bright sensor light on the front verandah coming to life pulled Dean’s gaze from the sud-filled sink to the front door.

  ‘Are you expecting anyone, Dad?’

  Tony shook his head while scratching at his cheek with paint-stained fingers. ‘Nope, not that I recall. Maybe it’s your sister? Checking in to make sure us two blokes aren’t starving to death. Our Kimmy’s just like your moth—’ Tony stopped, as if saying the word out loud was a mortal sin. An uncomfortable silence descended as Dean watched his father slump forward. God, how he wished he could take his father’s crippling grief away.

  Placing the last dinner plate in the draining rack, Dean quickly wiped his hands on a tea towel. He wandered over to the screen door with Matilda right behind him, half expecting to see his sister and Max, only to be met by familiar sapphire eyes so dazzlingly beautiful he was momentarily lost for words. Standing before him was the gorgeous woman from this morning, although unlike earlier, she now looked bright-eyed, rejuvenated, and smelt like an intoxicating field of wildflowers. The invitation to visit him any time had obviously been taken seriously – not that he minded one bit.

  She smiled through the flyscreen door and for the briefest of moments it felt as if his heart had stopped beating, only to return to the rhythm of a racehorse’s at the Melbourne Cup. Part of him longed to reach out and take her into his arms, so he could linger a warm, sensuous kiss on her full glossy lips in greeting, but seeing they barely knew each other that would be way out of line. The impulsive urge shocked him. This was the second time Summer had been near him and stolen his steadfast self-control with the simplest of smiles. He had to admit he’d never seen a woman so effortlessly beautiful in all his life but that wasn’t all of it, there was just something about this entrancing woman that overwhelmed all of his senses, in a very, very good way.

  Summer grinned nervously, the cool summer’s night suddenly airless and muggy. ‘Um, hi, Dean, if this is a bad time I can come back another day.’ She started to back up, ready to make a quick exit into the moonlit night.

  With a deep inhalation Dean quickly gathered himself and opened the flyscreen door, so eagerly that it slammed up against the weatherboards of the house, making one hell of a ruckus. ‘Of course not, Summer, come on in.’ He smiled easily as she stepped through the door, her casual outfit of jeans and body-hugging red singlet extremely sexy. Stepping aside while she removed her boots, he could feel his dad’s inquisitive gaze burning a hole in his back. Not having brought a woman home since Kate, Dean couldn’t help but wonder what his dad would think of Summer. What was bloody wrong with him? He was normally undaunted by attractive women, more interested in what was within, not outward appearances. Although his instincts were telling him Summer Milton wasn’t just a beautiful face. He sensed a depth to her that he wished he had the courage to dive head first into, but past hurt had taught him to tread carefully. Could he find it within himself to get over his fear of being hurt again? Was Summer Milton the one who would teach him he could safely fall in love, or would she just play with his heart for while before crushing it, like Kate did? He wished he had the luxury of time, to get to know her, to discover if she was out of his league, but being a soldier home from an ongoing war meant time wasn’t on his side, so he’d damn well better make sure he used whatever time he got with her wisely.

  He turned to introduce Summer to his father, the screen door squeaking closed with a soft thump.

  Summer was already crouched on the floor and smothering a tail-wagging Matilda in love as Dean gestured from Summer to his gobsmacked father. ‘Summer, this is my dad, Tony, and Dad, this is Summer … Milton … she lives down the road.’

  Summer smiled warmly as she stood and then held out her hand to Tony. ‘Hi, Mr Lockwood, it’s very nice to meet you.’

  Tony clasped her hand, smiling more than he had the entire day, a hint of something unfathomable fleeting in his gaze. ‘Ah, call me Tony, love, please. And it’s very nice to meet you, too, Summer.’ He turned to Dean, still holding her hand, his eyes twinkling. ‘Well, offer the girl a drink, Sage.’

  Dean grinned at his dad and then turned his undivided attention to Summer. ‘Coffee, tea, or something stronger?’

  Once again, Dean made Summer’s legs feel like jelly with his mesmerising smile and charming dimples. Afraid she might fall over, she subtly gripped the edge of the dining table. ‘A tea would be lovely, thanks. White, no sugar.’

  ‘One tea coming up.’ Smiling broadly, Dean turned and busied himself gathering cups.

  The room fell silent, the ticking of the cuckoo clock above the sink the only distraction. Pulling up a chair, Summer joined Tony at the table, at the same time admiring how relaxed and welcoming the cottage felt. Nothing was overdone and everything seemed to have a purpose, whether practical or sentimental, very unlike her parents’ overstated homes. Family photos were peppered about the walls, the closeness of the people within the images something Summer found herself feeling a little envious of. How she wished she had grown up in a house like this, where love and security emanated from every corner.

  Glancing back in Tony’s direction, she noticed his nostalgic gaze, and then his wheelchair, thanks to the overhead light Dean switched on, allowing her a better view beneath the table. Her heart ached for Tony but she hid it well by smiling broadly. He was looking at her as if he knew her from somewhere. Had she met him before? She didn’t think so. ‘So, what have you been up to today, Tony?’

  Tony looked over at Dean, one eyebrow raised. ‘Well, my son here has been working me to the bone all day long. We’ve been busy painting his cottage next door. Talk about being a slave driver.’

  ‘Oi, fair go, Dad, you enjoyed every second of it, I know you did. I reckon I even seen you crack a smile a few times.’

  Dean placed the two steaming cups down, one in front of her and another in front of Tony. Stepping back to grab a plate of butternut biscuits, his hand brushed against hers and a bolt of something indescribable shot through her. Dean caught her eye and smiled shyly, his gaze filled with longing. Her entire body responded, her skin still electrified by his touch. Whatever this was, she liked it, immensely. And so did he, if the soft colour flooding his cheeks was anything to go by.

  Tony grunted and gave a terse nod, bursting Dean and Summer’s little bubble, although his cheeky eyes spoke an entirely different story. ‘If you call bolting kitchen doors on and painting enjoyable, then yes, I enjoyed myself completely today, Sage.’

  Dean winked at Summer and then wandered back over to the sink to grab th
e biscuits and his mug of Milo. ‘That’s good to hear, Dad, ’cause tomorrow, after I’ve finished shoeing the horses, we’re doing it all over again. And anyways, like you always say, a bit of hard work never hurt anybody.’

  Tony chortled. ‘As long as you take your old man out for a meal at the pub this week, it’s a deal, Sage. I’m craving a good reef and beef.’

  ‘I’ll hold you to that, Dad.’

  Summer thoroughly enjoyed watching the banter, the love between Dean and his father obvious. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if she and her dad could be like this? Ah, she could only dream. She jumped into the conversation, wanting to be a part of their beautiful little world, if only for a few minutes. ‘I can come and help out tomorrow, too …’ Both men stared wide-eyed in her direction. ‘… Ah, only if I’m not intruding on important man time, that is. I would hate to interrupt.’

  Dean leant back on the sink, Milo half raised to his lips. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to spend Christmas Eve helping me renovate my beach shack, Summer, I’m sure you have much better things to be doing then hanging out with us boring blokes.’

  Tony pointed his cup towards Dean, sloshing a little coffee onto the floor. ‘Hey, speak for yourself.’ He turned to Summer. ‘I reckon it’d be great if you could come give us a hand.’

  Summer swiped the air in a nonchalant fashion. Her mum and dad were arriving tomorrow, and the less time she spent with them all, having to pretend everything was okay between her and Marcus, the better. The fact Marcus had slipped drugs into her drink was bad enough, but to then think he still had a chance with her in the future, especially after pulling such a stupid stunt, and making her feel bad for not wanting to be with him, made her blood boil. Painting with these two wonderful men would be a Godsend. ‘Thanks, Tony, and don’t be silly, Dean – I love doing stuff like that. It lets me release my creative side.’

  With Fiona and Bailey having left just after lunch to go to their own families for Christmas, Summer was feeling like a fish out of water in the oversized holiday home. She’d spent the entire day locked in her room, avoiding Marcus at all costs. After scrubbing every inch of her skin in the shower and changing the affronting sheets through more unwelcome tears, she had climbed into her bed. But though her body had finally given into exhaustion, she endured a fitful slumber and mind-torturing questions when she’d woken.