Honey Hill House

by Lisa Ireland

  ‘Oh, Mitch, I’m so sorry.’ She slammed the door closed and backed away. She’d seen him in a close-fitting T-shirt before, so she knew he had a nice body, but she hadn’t been prepared for what the sight of that bare chest would do to her. It had only been a second, but she’d managed to take in the toned biceps and defined pectoral muscles along with that oh-so-sexy washboard stomach. Heat flooded her chest and crawled up her neck and into her cheeks. Sweet Jesus he was hot! She bit her lip in attempt to distract herself but the pain did nothing to stem the flow of impure thoughts flooding her brain.

  ‘Hey, don’t sweat it,’ he called. ‘It’s not like you caught me with my pants down.’

  Oh lord. Now she was imagining a scenario without pants. ‘I’ll wait for you at the counter,’ she called, rushing away before he could protest. Once she was a safe distance away, Bea stripped her coat off in an attempt to cool herself down. She’d never had such a visceral reaction to a man, ever.

  Jason had been her first and her only lover. She was so young and naïve when they met. Her only previous experience had been a few tentative kisses and awkward gropes with the brother of a school friend. Her life had left little time for the normal teenage liaisons. Jason didn’t mind. He’d been gentle and patient and in time their lovemaking had become wonderful, passionate even, at least until the whole baby-making disaster began. But as wonderful as her love life with Jason had once been, never had she ever experienced anything like the flash of raw desire that had hit her when she saw Mitch’s bare torso.

  Get a grip, Beatrice. She was reacting like an adolescent who’d just come face to face with her favourite rock star. Perhaps that’s what this was—a middle-aged adolescence, seeing as she’d effectively missed that boat the first time around. But she wasn’t a teenager. She was a thirty-two-year-old woman with responsibilities. Part of being a responsible adult was knowing when something wasn’t good for you. The most important thing in her life right now was getting the B&B up and running, and then working her butt off to make it a success. Any sort of romantic scenario involving Mitch put that dream in jeopardy. How would she feel once he’d seen the real her and rejected that? A man who looked like Mitch didn’t need to settle for damaged goods, no matter how kind-hearted he seemed. Even if, and it was a big if, he could see past her scars and they managed to have some sort of liaison, what if it didn’t work out? How would she cope living right next door once it was all over between them?

  If Emma were here she’d laugh and tell her to stop overthinking everything and just go for it. ‘Have a fling. It’ll do you good,’ she could hear her friend saying. That was all very well in the city, when you could have a no-strings-attached affair and not risk ever running into the bloke again. But out here in the bush it didn’t work that way.

  ‘Hey, Bea, where are you?’ Mitch’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  She turned to see him coming out of the fitting room, wearing the green checked shirt. As she’d predicted, the colour suited him, making his blue-green eyes even more intense. She felt the heat rising in her once again and she shooed him back into the change room. ‘Okay, looks like we’ve found what we need. You can take it off and we’ll get going.’ She pretended to be interested in a nearby coat so he wouldn’t see her burning cheeks.

  Boundaries were definitely needed.

  Chapter 7

  The lock on the mailbox did the trick. Bea noted the look of surprise on Mitch’s face when she told him the box would be locked from now on. She tried to soften the blow by explaining she was expecting some guests to pay by cheque and so she thought it best to secure her mailbox. He’d nodded and said it was ‘probably wise’ but he’d hurried off home without taking the Anzac biscuits she’d made for him by way of an apology, and she’d barely seen him since.

  It was for the best, she knew that, but she had to admit she was missing his company. Plus, it was a bloody nuisance having to collect the mail each day. Bea tried to make the best of it, telling herself that the two kilometre round trip doubled as her exercise for the day, but on days like today when the wind was biting and there was the hint of snow in the air there wasn’t much joy in the walk. Still, it was hardly worth starting the car up for such a short journey, and with no gym in Dulili she really did need to do something to keep her fitness up. With that in mind she pulled on her sheepskin-lined coat, a beanie and her leather gloves, and set off down the road.

  It was freezing, but after a few minutes of brisk walking she warmed up enough for her teeth to stop chattering and for her mind to think about something other than how damned cold she was. Despite the chill, it was a clear day, perfect for drinking in the true beauty of her surrounds. Every day she grew to love this place a little bit more. Right now she was looking at green paddocks that went on as far as the eye could see, punctuated only by clumps of trees. As she made her way towards the main road there was not a house, a shed or barn in sight. The barbed-wire fences and occasional glimpses of cattle were the only clues that the area was inhabited.

  Bea inhaled a deep breath of the crisp, clean air and thought how lucky she was to have found this oasis of calm. Moving to Dulili was the best thing she’d ever done. Her decision to move here had been one of necessity, not choice. Back in Melbourne she’d put on an optimistic façade about her enforced ‘tree change’, but deep down she’d wondered if she had what it took to live in such a small town. Yes, she missed her friends, nipping down to the local café for a skinny latte, and the ability to run to the 7/11 and pick up a tub of Ben and Jerry’s at 2am should the need arise. But overall, life here was good and getting better. It was so peaceful out here. She had time and space to think and to just be. The dismal TV situation and patchy mobile and wifi signals meant she was spending less time at night plugged in and more time reading, listening to music or simply staring at the stars. She felt calmer and more centred than ever before.

  All this clean country living was doing her body good as well as her mind. She was cooking up a storm, using all the gorgeous locally sourced produce, and her body was thanking her for the effort. For first time since her surgery she felt like her old self. No, that wasn’t true. She would never be the person she was before, but that was okay. This new, stronger, more resilient body was an improved model.

  Each day she had more energy than the last, which was just as well, with all that needed to be done to get the B&B ready for its grand opening. She was really happy with the way it was turning out so far. The builder had done a great job realising her vision, and once Joe fitted out the en suites all that would be left to do in the guestrooms was to paint and decorate. In other words, the fun bits. Once those rooms were done only the kitchen remained. She absolutely loved the plans the kitchen company had come up with. Their design was very slightly over her budget but she figured it was worth it. After all, the kitchen was the heart of the B&B, the place where she would spend most of her time and hopefully somewhere the guests would naturally gravitate to. It was worth paying extra to get it right. Everything was definitely falling into place.

  The only hiccup in her perfect world right now was the awkwardness between her and Mitch. She missed his easy company, but was hopeful in time they’d settle into a friendship unfettered by attraction. For now, the polite but distant treatment they were giving each other was probably for the best. She simply couldn’t risk any dramas that might jeopardise the success of the B&B.

  She arrived at the RMB and quickly slipped the key into its lock. The new lock was still quite stiff so she had to jiggle for a moment before it sprung open. She smiled to see several letters inside the box. A postcard from Luca caught her eye first and she eagerly flipped over the glossy picture of the Trevi Fountain to see what he had to say.

  Hey Sissy

  Having a fabulous time. Can see why you love Italy so much.

  Wish you were here.

  Love and kisses, Luca xxx

  Bea laughed. Not exactly an informative missive but at least he was having a good time
. Beside the postcard there were two other letters, a bank statement by the looks of it, and a window-faced envelope that had been readdressed several times—obviously it had taken a while to find her. She pulled off her glove and slid a finger under the end flap, curious to see what it was. She unfolded the enclosed letter to see the Australian Tax Office’s logo staring at her and her heart started to beat a little faster. This couldn’t be good, could it? Jason always handled all their financial dealings, including taxation. Oh sure, she’d gone along to the accountant with him once a year and signed on the dotted line of her tax return, but numbers had never been her thing. She never really thought about tax, until the yearly accountant visit came around. She and Jason always lunched at The European afterwards, which made the affair more than bearable.

  She’d learned the hard way that leaving all the financial decisions up to her husband was a huge mistake, but with the divorce finalised she thought she’d put the worst of that behind her. She said a silent prayer that this was just an information letter or that maybe they owed her money. She’d never had a tax refund since she married Jason. Maybe they’d realised she didn’t actually earn any money and were refunding her. That could happen, right? Her hands shook as her eyes scanned the letter. Hot tears scalded her icy face as she realised the implications of the document in her hands. Just when she thought she’d finally turned the corner it seemed her past was chasing after her to drag her down once more.

  * * *

  First, Rosie’s ears pricked up, then she sat up on the ute’s front seat and began to bark excitedly.

  ‘Hey girl, what’s got into you? We’re nearly home.’

  Rosie yelped her response.

  Mitch’s brow furrowed, wondering what the heck was going on with his normally placid pup. ‘Just have to stop off at the mail box, then we’ll go right home,’ he said soothingly, but Rosie was having none of it. She continued her agitated barking and whining until he pulled over at the group of RMBs at the end of Mitchell’s Lane. That’s when he saw what all the carry on was about. It was Bea. She was sitting on the icy ground, her back leaning up against the timber post of her RMB. What the hell was she doing?

  He jumped out of the ute with Rosie hot on his heels. ‘Bea! Are you okay? What’s wrong?’

  She looked up at him through swollen, red-rimmed eyes. ‘Everything,’ she said and then her body convulsed with sobs.

  He held out his hand for her to take. When she didn’t respond he bent down and grasped both her hands in his. ‘Come on,’ he said gently. ‘You can’t sit here. The ground is freezing. You’ll make yourself sick.’

  She didn’t speak, but allowed herself to be helped up from the ground. Once on her feet she stood there forlornly, tears streaming down her face, her body heaving with sobs. He drew her to him and enveloped her in his arms, while Rosie rang rings around them. He was surprised at how slight her body felt against his own. Her height and her manner gave the impression that she was formidable, but underneath her bulky clothes there was nothing of her. Right this moment she seemed fragile enough to break.

  He held her until the sobs subsided, releasing her slowly when he felt her breathing begin to steady.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she started, but he shook his head.

  ‘Shh. It’s okay. Just relax. I’m going to take you home and make you a cup of tea. Then you can tell me what’s brought all this on. Okay?’

  She nodded and followed him back to the car. They didn’t speak again until they were back in her kitchen. Bea sat quietly, like a troubled child, at the kitchen table, while Mitch went about making a strong pot of tea. Once it was done he found two mugs in the overhead cupboards and set them on the table. ‘Milk?’

  She nodded. ‘There’s some in the fridge. Sugar’s in that little pink canister on the bench if you want it. I don’t have it in tea, though.’

  He nodded and set about pouring them each a large, strong cup. It was chilly in the kitchen so before he took a seat at the table he stuck his head into the living room and checked the fire Bea had left smouldering in the grate. ‘I’m just going to sort fire out,’ he said. ‘You drink your tea. I’ll be back in a flash.’

  She nodded silently. He was really starting to worry now. The crying was bad enough but this passive silence was really unlike her. Normally she buzzed around like, well, like a bee. He smiled at the thought. He’d thought Bea was such an odd name in the beginning, but he had to admit it suited her perfectly. She was never still, always fussing around, making sure others were comfortable. But now it seemed she was barely capable of caring for herself, let alone worrying about anyone else. She hadn’t even bothered to pat Rosie. Whatever was going on it was major and he could only hope there was something he could do to help.

  There were a couple of logs on the hearth but the fire was really no more than smouldering ashes so he headed out the back to the woodpile in the shed. He grabbed Bea’s axe and split a few logs into smaller pieces for kindling. Back inside he teased the fire back to life and then stacked a few more logs on the hearth, before finally taking a seat opposite Bea in the kitchen. She at least had some colour in her cheeks and she was stroking Rosie’s ears, so perhaps she was ready to talk now.

  ‘Your tea will be cold,’ she said.

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t mind. Plenty more in the pot anyway.’

  She nodded and pushed her cup across the table towards him. ‘Best pour me another one then. I’m done.’

  He smiled and took the cups to the sink, emptying his own before refilling them both. He put the tea in front of her and sat once more. ‘All right, what’s all this about then?’

  She slipped her coat off and dug around in one of the pockets, eventually pulling out a damp envelope. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Read this.’

  Carefully he separated the letter from its envelope and laid it out on the table. It was from the tax office. It only took him a second to realise it was a bill, a large bill at that, and it was overdue. He didn’t hesitate before responding, ‘If you need money I can—’

  Her cheeks blushed a deep shade of crimson and anger flashed in her eyes. ‘I don’t want your money,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just know it must be hard for you right now, with the renovation expenses and all. I know you’re just getting back on your feet after …’ He was going to say ‘the divorce’ but he knew from past conversations Bea wasn’t fond of discussing that particular topic. ‘After everything that’s happened,’ he continued. ‘And I have some savings. I’m not using them for anything. You could look at it as an investment in this place.’

  ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘Honey Hill House is my project. I need to do it on my own or not all.’ A fresh tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. ‘Right now, not at all seems the most likely scenario.’

  ‘Hey, don’t give up that easily. I’m sure we can find a way around this. I take it this is more than you were expecting to pay?’

  Her shoulders slumped. ‘Oh Mitch, I am such an idiot. I wasn’t expecting to pay anything. This is going to sound so pathetic, but I don’t know anything about tax at all. I’ve never had to worry about it. Jason and our accountant took care of all of those kind of things.’

  ‘But you must have filled out a tax return surely?’

  She lowered her eyes. ‘Kind of. The accountant did it with the information Jason gave him. I signed it each year and I never really took any notice of what it said.’

  ‘Wow.’ Damn. He shouldn’t have verbalised his surprise, but he was shocked that Bea, who had always struck him as independent and competent, would allow someone else to take responsibility for something as important as a tax return.

  She covered her face with her hands momentarily and then looked him in the eyes. ‘I know it seems incredibly stupid, but Jason was my husband and I trusted him. He never gave me any reason not to. Well not until…’ Tears filled her eyes once more.

  ‘Hey, there’s no n
eed to go into all that. Not unless you want to. But we do need to figure out what you can do to fix this.’

  She nodded silently.

  ‘First of all, this is overdue and you’re paying interest on it. We need to put a stop to that ASAP.’

  ‘I suppose that means paying it right away.’

  ‘Can you do that?’

  She shrugged. ‘I guess so. I mean I have enough in my account but it will wipe me out. If I pay it in full I won’t be able to finish the renovations and if I can’t finish the renovations, I’ll be left with no way of making an income.’

  ‘I’m sure if you ring the tax office you’ll be able to negotiate something, a payment plan maybe.’

  ‘Even if that’s the case, I’m still screwed. I had a tight budget as it was. I thought I’d have enough to fix up this place and enough of a buffer to live on for six months or maybe even a year if I was super careful. Even if they don’t make me pay it all at once my budget is blown. I think I have to face the fact that I stuffed up big time. I thought I’d accounted for everything when I did the costing for this project. But I guess I was wrong. My dad warned me I was out of my depth but I didn’t want to listen.’

  He could hear the defeat in her voice and it had him worried. ‘But what will you do if you can’t finish the renovations?’

  She let out a long sigh. ‘Go back home. Move back in with Dad and look for a job, I guess. I don’t really have any other options.’

  Mitch’s throat went dry. That couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let it happen. ‘It doesn’t have to come to that. Please, Bea, let me help.’

  ‘How? With money?’ She shook her head again. ‘I can’t take your money. I can’t be beholden to you like that.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be like that. We can make it a loan if you like. Interest free. Honestly, I’m not doing anything else with it. I was saving for … well, something that’s never going to happen now. The money’s just sitting there not doing anything. I’d rather it be used for something worthwhile. And really, it would be for the good of the town. It will be hard to lease this place out half finished. The B&B is such a great idea. It would be a shame for the town to lose it.’