by Jennie Adams
‘How long have you worked at the plant, Stacie?’ That was the focus of this morning, to get to know as much as possible about this processing plant he’d purchased, make sure it was functioning as solidly as it could—then move on to maintaining an ownership role while he focused most of his time and effort on his orchards.
All a far cry from army special-ops.
The thought slipped in with an edge that was too close to bitterness to be comfortable. He’d done the self-talk about this. He should consider himself lucky.
He should also consider that he didn’t exactly have as much to offer a woman these days. Now why did that thought drop into his head?
‘I’ve only been here four months.’ Stacie’s gaze remained steady on his face.
Had she spotted his limp?
What did it matter? It was just a part of him now.
A part that ended your career and that you despise every day.
Stacie went on. ‘Carl said you visited while the plant was shut down one weekend?’
‘I did, but only after I’d toured a similar plant and studied it in full action.’ His visit here had been thorough enough for him to easily see that this was the better purchase.
Stacie nodded. She drew a breath and launched into the work at hand.
An expanse of utilitarian desk separated them, yet Troy still felt the imprint of her small hand from when he’d briefly clasped it. He flattened his fingers on the desk surface and pushed the thoughts aside as they moved into discussion of various matters that Stacie felt would benefit from attention today, rather than when Carl returned.
Even as they worked together, Troy wondered what had brought her to the plant. Had she moved to Tarrula, or simply changed jobs within the town? In either case, why?
It took an hour to deal with everything. At first she seemed uneasy without Carl’s presence, but she soon came to terms with Troy’s no-nonsense approach to decision-making and relaxed into it. As they finished, she glanced up and smiled. ‘You’ve just made Carl’s absence today very easy for me. It’s the first time he’s been away for a sick day since I started. I was a bit uneasy.’
‘You’ve done just fine.’
She wasn’t a gorgeous girl, Troy supposed, not by the rest of the world’s standards, but her smile lit her whole face. It made him want to reach out and trace her lips with his fingertips.
The whimsical thought was so alien to his soldier’s nature that Troy frowned. Even with Linda, his thoughts had tended towards the practical: shared work-interests and the meeting of physical needs. He’d cared for her, of course he had, but he wasn’t what you’d call a tender man. Linda had been career-driven, and Troy had lost his career…
Troy got to his feet—one that stood as solidly and firmly as ever, the other that didn’t. ‘I’ll leave you now. I want to meet the rest of the crew.’
‘Thanks for your help. I’ll have letters for signature ready soon.’ Stacie busied herself at her desk.
Troy moved towards the door. He did his best not to think about the uneven gait that got him there, but it dogged every step. ‘I’ll check in with you again before I leave, to sign the letters.’
He walked out.
CHAPTER TWO
‘IT’S good to be almost home.’ Stacie spoke aloud as she slowed for a low narrow bridge. Gurudhaany Creek flowed beneath it, a muddy flow just feet deep in the summer months, but now during winter it was almost a smaller version of the large river that flowed around the outskirts of the township of Tarrula. The creek was named after the goannas that had been spotted along its banks, though Stacie had yet to see one of the large lizards for herself.
Instead today she’d met a very attractive specimen of a man, the new company owner, Troy Rushton. His imprint still seemed glued to her retinas, and that was not a fact that pleased her or that even made sense to her. ‘I might need a double dose of nail-polish and some better stick-ons to get my focus off that man.’
Usually by now her thoughts would be centred on getting home, taking care of her dog, Fang, and settling in for an evening of work on her Bow-wow-tique sewing and marketing.
Instead, thoughts of Troy Rushton distracted her. Stacie didn’t want to be distracted. Deep inside where she might not have entirely faced up to a few things, Stacie emotionally couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Stacie parked her grey sedan, got out and stepped through the farmhouse gate. She had faced things. She was building a new life. If that wasn’t dealing with her demons, she didn’t know what would be.
Visiting the family when Gemma and Andrew would be there?
It was the second time the thought had surfaced. Frankly, she didn’t appreciate it.
‘Did you miss me, Fang?’ Stacie called out with determined good cheer. Because she was happy, damn it, and she intended to stay that way, not wallow around in thoughts of the past.
Forget thinking too much about a certain new employer, also, even if the man somehow seemed to have lodged himself firmly in Stacie’s brain from the first moment she met him this morning. He wasn’t that appealing or interesting. If Stacie had worked today with half an eye on the production floor—and specifically on Troy as he’d moved through that floor briefly greeting workers and basically rolling his sleeves up and getting involved—she’d done so to make sure the new owner didn’t need her assistance with anything. Yes. It had been because of that.
‘Wroof!’
Fang leaped about the yard like the happy, muscly, extremely well-dressed dog he was. He wore a pink-sateen padded coat with a matching pink-studded collar. If pets could be fashion conscious, Fang really did wear his clothes with a certain pride. Stacie created them for him with pride. And with her goals for the Bow-wow-tique as firmly fixed as each stitch.
‘Come on, Fang. Let’s get some warmth happening inside.’
It was the start of June and the Australian winter season had hit hard. Even as Stacie headed for the farmhouse rain started to drizzle again. Stacie turned the heaters on, and then stood on the front porch and leaned down to rub the top of Fang’s head and let herself absorb the blind devotion in his doggy gaze.
‘Wroof!’
Fang broke away from her and ran around the little farmlet’s front yard, just because he could.
Stacie laughed and then she looked up as Fang’s woof changed to one of enquiry.
There was a man at the end of the path. A familiar man. Stacie’s heart-rate lifted before she could even register the response. She rushed forward. ‘Troy. I didn’t expect— Is there something? Is production at the plant…?’
She got that far and stopped, because of course this wasn’t about production at the plant. Everything had been fine when she left. Production had been closed down for the night.
Stacie’s glance shifted behind Troy, to the empty farmhouse on the neighbouring property. Except it wasn’t empty any more. There were lights on over there and a black four-wheel-drive jeep parked out the front.
And Troy was here on foot, as though he’d walked from somewhere quite nearby.
You do the maths, Stacie. He must have moved in next door while she’d been away at the weekend!
She’d visited her family for the first time since she’d left. She’d not enjoyed the visit and had arrived home last night and immersed herself in sewing until she forgot it. And that was without her sister’s presence there, because Stacie had known Gemma was going away.
‘Have you purchased Cooper’s Farm? Or leased it?’ She cleared her throat, cleared away those thoughts too. They were the last things Stacie wanted on her mind right now. ‘I don’t mean to pry. I just meant to ask, have you moved there?’
‘I’ve bought the place.’ One side of his mouth kicked up. ‘With the help of the bank, that is. We did a package deal for
this place and the processing plant.’
‘It’s a large orchard.’ The trees needed work. Stacie had noted that fact when she moved in next door. ‘Do you know about running an orchard? Will you be able…?’
‘I can do as much work as anyone.’ For just a moment, frustration seemed to bubble inside him.
‘I was wondering about you finding workers.’ And why he’d taken on an orchard at all.
She hadn’t meant to question his physical abilities. That just really hadn’t occurred to her, because he was so strong and able. Stacie thought about explaining, but it was probably best to say nothing on the topic. ‘Did you grow up in a similar environment?’
‘My late uncle had almond orchards.’ He seemed as though he might stop here, but after a moment he went on. ‘I worked there as a teenager.’
‘That’s good. You’ll know exactly what to do, then. I didn’t see you move in. When we met this morning at the plant, I didn’t know…’ That he would be her new neighbour.
That instead of potentially seeing him here and there when he happened to visit the plant, or if she bumped into him in town, she might see him very often. Daily…
‘I moved in at the weekend. Actually, I thought your place was empty.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Ah, that is…’
‘It seems I’m living in a place that needs a little attention?’ She grinned and found her equilibrium again as she contemplated the hard work ahead. And the fulfilment of achieving her business goals, providing a home for herself, going forward by herself.
‘The house needs a lot of work, but it’s already habitable. It has heating and a working kitchen and bathroom, even if both are old. The foundations and structure are solid. I might strip a lot of it back to those bare bones but it will be a great place once that work is done. I’ve already renovated the laundry room and done a really good job of it, if I say so myself.’
She’d started there to make sure she could do the work using do-it-yourself guides and she’d proved that she could.
‘In any case, welcome to your farm, and to the town, Troy.’ She drew a breath. ‘I should have said that this morning. I’ve been happy since I moved here. I hope you will be, too.’
‘Thanks. I’m pleased to have the plant as an investment, though it’s the orchards where I want to put in most of my time. Labour-intensive work that I do for myself.’
‘Yes. The plant is a solid place, but it’s not all that exciting.’ As the words emerged, she clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…’
His eyes narrowed. For a moment she thought a rebuke might follow. It would be well deserved. What had she been thinking? Well, that she’d taken on a job that wouldn’t be too taxing so she saved most of her energy for building her home business, actually—but it wouldn’t be particularly PC to hint at that!
But Troy simply dipped his head. Was there a tiny hint of amusement in the back of his eyes before he did so? ‘That’s probably an accurate statement. Why didn’t I see you over the weekend while I was moving in, Stacie?’ He glanced beyond her to her home. ‘I thought the place was not only empty but, eh…’
‘Just an abandoned shack? The whole farmlet was a mess when I bought it. You should have seen the yard before I put the time in to get the “jungle” hacked back to discover what garden might be left underneath. And the paddocks were terrible.’
She only had two, and they were small, but her face broke into a smile as she remembered hiring a little machine one day to get them cut down.
This move had been good for her. It had given her a new focus, and she’d needed that. She would never forget what had happened with Andrew, and because Gemma was her sister it would always be there, but Stacie didn’t want to think about it all the time either.
‘I haven’t minded roughing it here, and the house is clean and mostly functional.’ She followed his gaze to the exposed weatherboards, to the front door that needed to be realigned, to guttering that maybe needed some attention, and a few other things.
Well, a lot of things, but she had an aim for this home and at least it would keep her busy. ‘I’ve been learning all about DIY.’ And she was glad Troy hadn’t minded her suggesting the plant wasn’t the most exciting place to work.
‘I’ve indulged in a few do-it-yourself projects myself. They are satisfying.’
‘That’s how I see it.’ Stacie rushed on. ‘There’ll be a chicken coop one day, and a vegetable garden. I do need some work from a few tradespeople in the town. There’s only one roof guy; he’s been out here once.’
Stacie had been in town at that time, and disappointed not to get up there with him to look. ‘The roof needs to be treated where there are rusty patches. He fixed a few loose sheets of tin and said the rest of the work can wait until he can fit the job in. And, to answer your question, I spent last weekend away visiting family.’
‘I hope you enjoyed the time with your family.’ His expression made it clear that he expected she would have.
‘Of course.’ She said it too quickly, with too much emphasis.
Stacie sought for a change in the topic. ‘Do you see your family often?’
‘Not often. My parents are early retirees. They spend a lot of their time travelling.’ He shifted his arm almost awkwardly. ‘I couldn’t say we’re close.’
Stacie couldn’t claim to be close to her younger sister either. Not any more. Maybe never again, but she kept the words to herself. Why was Troy not close to his parents? Was that why he’d spent school holidays with an old uncle?
‘The reason I came over…’ Troy shifted and she realised he had something tucked into the crook of his arm. That something wriggled and let out a yip.
‘You stopped by because you have a dog?’ Somehow Stacie hadn’t pictured him with a pet. He seemed too solitary for that.
Why had he brought the dog to her? Had he learned somehow of the Bow-wow-tique and he wanted to make a purchase?
Fang would have known about the dog from the moment he let out that woof, of course.
‘I found this mutt on my front step when I got home this evening. I thought it must have come from here.’ Troy’s words were dry, though his hold on the dog was gentle enough. ‘I—’ His gaze seemed to catch on her mouth before he cleared his throat and went on. ‘When I saw a car arrive here I thought I’d found the dog’s owner.’ Troy held the bundle out. ‘I’m not quite sure where it’s come from if it isn’t yours.’
Stacie’s hands closed around it.
It was a sweet little dog, collarless and a bit too lean. It looked as though it had some poodle in its gene pool. ‘It’s not exactly the kind of dog I’d have pictured you owning, now that I look at him. If anything I’d see you with—I don’t know—a husky or boxer or Dobermann or something.’ A strong dog, a man’s dog, worthy of someone like Troy.
She paused and added, ‘Then again, I have Fang, and he probably doesn’t exactly suit my image either, though he’s a very sweet muscle-dog.’ Even if he was terrified of balloons and grasshoppers. Stacie would keep those secrets safe for her pet!
Her gaze moved from the poodle to the much-loved Fang who was now running about her yard. She met Troy’s eyes again. ‘Would you like to come inside? I’m sorry I can’t claim ownership of the little dog, but maybe we can clean him up and find him some food while you decide what you’re going to do about him.’
His frown remained fixed. ‘The owner will have to be found.’
That might not be as easy as he hoped it would be.
‘How about we take care of his immediate needs for starters?’ She stroked her fingers over the dog’s head. It shivered in her hold. ‘Food, clean it up and warmth. Once those things are sorted out, we can worry about the rest.’
Troy seemed to hesitate for a moment before he nodded. �
��If you have some dog food you could spare, I’d appreciate it. Then I think I’d best take it into town to the lost-dog shelter, or the pound if there isn’t one of those. That seems the logical next step.’
In a town the size of Tarrula would there be an animal shelter? And what if the pound put the dog onto borrowed time?
‘We’ll see what’s in the phone book.’ Stacie placed the dog back into his hands and led the way inside.
Troy followed Stacie into her home. The farmhouse was small, but with verandas down each side and a porch at the front. She would have her work cut out, whipping this home into shape, but it felt solid beneath his feet.
Troy had his own challenges with a dog suddenly showing up, a home and orchards to settle into and a catch-up needed with Carl Withers to discuss the forward progress of the processing plant. Yet all he could think of in this moment was the woman in front of him. Her eyes had softened as she looked at the mutt. She’d reached for it and cuddled it close.
Stacie Wakefield was gentle, and probably a very giving woman. Troy had never looked for those characteristics, but something about those facts attracted him to Stacie in a way he couldn’t explain. Strength was his forte. He’d hurt a gentle woman like Stacie, would stomp on her emotions without meaning to.
He’d never managed closeness with his parents, had much preferred the company of his crusty, grumpy, unemotional old uncle until the man had died while Troy was away on a mission. Even then he hadn’t missed him, not desperately. Just those times of quiet companionship with Les had counted the most.
‘Come inside, Troy.’ Stacie gestured him into her home.
Visions of Stacie working about the place filled Troy’s mind, filled it with too much curiosity and interest. He could picture her in old clothes or overalls, intrepidly taking on DIY projects, strange nail-decorations flashing as she worked. He stifled a smile.
And he had to admit the combination of delicacy and determination that he sensed in Stacie intrigued him whether he wanted to let it or not.
