by Annie Seaton
He followed Garth and Lucy through the gates, and nodded at Jim Ison as he paid for his ticket.
“How’s the article going, Liam?” Jim passed him the program for the weekend.
“Almost done, Jim. If you’ve got some free time today, it would be good to sit and have a chat. I’ve uncovered quite a bit about Christos and I’d like to find out how much you already know.”
“How about meeting in the beer tent after the cattle judging. I’ll be ready for a beer after that.”
“Sounds good,” Liam said.
Jim smiled. “Did you enter any cattle this year?”
“No, that was my grandfather’s area.”
“So you’ll be spending most of your time in the pavilion waiting to hear about your cake?” Jim tipped his hat at Liam with a broad smile.
“My cake?” Liam looked around suspiciously but Lucy had disappeared.
As he turned, his mouth dried and his heart picked up a beat. Angie was walking out of the main pavilion. A brightly coloured dress just brushed her knees and her hair was loose and blowing in the slight breeze. A huge smile wreathed her face as she caught sight of Lucy. Liam narrowed his eyes as the two women greeted each other with a hug and put their heads together in conversation.
When did that happen? Lucy hadn’t mentioned that she’d palled up with Angie. He swallowed as suspicion flooded through him. He knew his cousin all too well, and a couple of things she’d said on Sunday began to make sense. She’d been full of questions, and Liam suspected that she was on a matchmaking bent.
God, that was the last thing he needed. He was going back to Sydney, and Angie was staying here.
He’d be pulling Lucy aside and having a little cousinly chat to tell her to pull her head in the first opportunity he got. He’d also have to warn Angie that once Lucy got an idea in her mind, it was hard to move her on.
Liam lifted his hat, nodded, and turned away as Angie caught him staring.
“Liam.”
He turned as Garth called him.
“Can you mind James and the bags for a minute? I need to stow all this gear that Lucy’s packed somewhere.”
“Sure. It’ll give me a chance to read the program.” Liam laughed. “Everything but the kitchen sink is there by the look of things. You were pretty cramped in the back of the car.”
Garth walked off toward the main office beside the gate, and Liam looked down and checked on James before he pulled the show program from his pocket. As he read down the list of events, a sweet jasmine smell surrounded him and he looked up slowly, knowing who was standing beside him before his gaze settled on Angie. He’d recognise that perfume anywhere. Hell, it had even been in his dreams this past week.
“Hi, Liam.” Her voice was sweet and soft, and he ignored the warm feeling that filled his chest as she spoke.
“Hello, Ange, sorry, I mean Angie.” God, he was stammering like a teenage boy, the teenage boy he’d been last time he’d attended the Spring Downs Agricultural Show. “You look lovely.”
A rose-coloured blush ran up her neck and her cheeks and a measure of satisfaction flitted through Liam. She wasn’t as immune to him as she tried to make out. But if he was fair, they’d lived together for almost two years, and knew each other very well.
Very well.
“Thank you. Lucy asked me to tell you she had to go and see someone.”
“Someone?”
Angie lifted her shoulders in a soft shrug and the shoulder of her dress slipped off, revealing creamy, smooth skin. Liam resisted the urge to run his hand over it, knowing it would be soft to his touch.
Her blush deepened as she tugged her dress up. “Yes, she said she won’t be long.” She cleared her throat. “Are you going to watch the cake judging?”
“Maybe.”
This time, she smiled. “You know I’m presenting the awards? I tried to tell Sally that I was at Prickle Creek Farm when you baked your entry, but she said as long as it’s not entered in my name, that’s fine.”
“It’s Lucy’s entry,” Liam said.
Angie frowned and shook her head. “No, I saw the cake on the stand in the pavilion. It definitely says Liam Smythe, Prickle Creek Farm.”
“Jeez, you must be joking!” Liam ran his hand through his too long hair. He really was overdue for a haircut. “Wait until I see Lucy. She must have switched it over. Honestly, she is a minx.”
Angie leaned over and peered into the pram. James was sound asleep. “You’re doing a great job babysitting, so I’m sure no one will have a problem with you baking a cake.” When she looked back up at him, her expression was innocent but her eyes were dancing. Liam couldn’t help smiling. “Although,” she said. “I must warn you, you are the only male entrant.”
Liam groaned. “All my credibility has flown out the window.”
“Don’t be sexist.” Angie pointed to the pavilion. “Have a look at who won the blue ribbon for needlework.”
“Who?”
“Go and see. Look, here comes Garth, and then you should come in to hear the cake winners.” Angie wiggled her fingers in a cute little wave as she walked away. “I’ll see you in there, okay?”
“Thanks, mate.” Garth took the handle of the pram from Liam as he stared after Angie. “We can put the picnic baskets and a couple of the bags behind the counter.”
“I’ll give you a hand.” Liam picked up the bags and followed Garth into the building.
“I don’t know where Lucy’s disappeared to,” Garth said.
“Probably avoiding me.” Liam shook his head. “She entered the bloody cake in my name.”
Garth choked back a laugh. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“I know. I’ve already been accused of being sexist.”
They stowed the bags safely, and Garth turned to Liam with a grin. “You head into the cake judging, and I’ll head over to the ring to watch the cattle judging. I’ll meet you for a cup of tea later.” Garth crooked his little finger and snorted.
“You’ll keep, mate. I’ll see you in the beer tent, later.” He swaggered off and turned to Garth and his grin was as wide as his cousin-in-law’s. “Now, I’m going to go win me a blue ribbon in the cake baking. Gotta keep Gran’s record intact.”
As Liam walked into the pavilion, the smells of fresh produce surrounded him. The wall at the far end was decorated in the shape of the Pilliga region. Oranges, limes, and apples provided a colorful display. A huge sheep had been fashioned out of wool on a stand, situated proudly in front of the needlework entries. Liam couldn’t help wandering over and taking a look. In pride of place sat a handmade quilt, and as he leaned over to see who had won the prize, a deep booming voice came from behind him.
“Well, if it isn’t young Liam Smythe!”
He turned and stood face to face with Gordon MacArthur, the headmaster of the high school he’d attended in Spring Downs. Well, he had been headmaster when Liam had left school ten years ago. “Mr. MacArthur. Good to see you.” Liam held out his hand and the older man took it.
“Gordon, please. You’re not in my office anymore.” He shook Liam’s hand with a firm grip. “I wondered if it was you when I saw the name on the big chocolate cake. I don’t remember you studying home science when you were at school.”
Liam stifled a groan. “No, I didn’t. I’ve entered on my grandmother’s behalf. They’re away on a trip to New Zealand.”
“Yes, I heard you’ve moved back to the Pilliga.”
Liam didn’t correct him.
“Anyway, it’s good to see you back, and entering into the community spirit. Good luck in the judging.” As the headmaster walked away, Liam leaned forward, and this time he smiled.
First prize in needlework: Gordon MacArthur.
If it was good enough for his headmaster, it was good enough for him. He made his way confidently to the end of the pavilion, where rows of cakes, scones, and slices were arranged on a long table with three tiers. At the end, a large refrigerated cabinet was filled with a display
of frosted cakes. A group of women stood beside the stand, each with a clipboard and pencil in hand. On the top shelf was his chocolate cake, and it didn’t look too bad, if he did say so himself. From where he was he couldn’t see if there were ribbons on the cakes.
Liam stood back as the group of judges moved on, and waited until he got a good view of Angie. She looked at home, smiling and chatting to the other women as they discussed each entry and awarded a score before they moved on to the next. He took a deep breath as confusion filled him. His feelings for Angie hadn’t changed. He knew that the year or so since she’d left him in London had been empty, and he’d not been happy. A part of him had left with her, and he’d buried himself in his work. He’d never forget the frustration that had consumed him the night he’d called her and her new guy had answered.
He clenched his fists by his side. He was being a bloody dog in the manger. Angie deserved happiness. Even though she’d never said much about it, apart from talking about the grief of when her mother had died, he knew she’d had a tough childhood. It was good that she’d found a man to love her, a man who was living with her and already settled in enough to be renovating the house.
It was.
The crackling of the microphone interrupted his thoughts and he turned to the stage.
“Testing, one, two, three.” An older woman stood on the stage tapping the microphone.
Liam looked around. Angie was standing at the bottom of the steps leading up to the small stage and presentation area. As he looked across, her gaze was on him and colour flooded her cheeks as she quickly looked away. He’d caught her looking at him. That was interesting. That was the second time he’d caught her eyes on him. He must make her feel awkward. It was time they had a bit of a talk to clear the air. Things had been left unresolved when she’d left him in London—no, scrub that—when he’d let her leave without him. If he was honest, it was the biggest regret of his life, and now it was too late to do anything about it. She was living here, and this time he’d be the one leaving.
Forget talking about it, all he had to do was avoid her like he’d planned. He shouldn’t have come to the damned show. He’d let Lucy talk him into it way too easily.
He took a step back and leaned against one of the few pieces of wall that wasn’t covered with posters or entries. He’d wait until the winners were announced, unless Lucy made an appearance, and then he’d head over to the cattle show and leave her to it.
Ten minutes later, Liam was filled with impatience. He shifted from one foot to the other. How many damn categories of biscuits and scones could there be? And to make it worse, every time the category changed, they switched over the judges on the microphone announcing the winners. He lifted his head as a soft, familiar voice filled the pavilion.
Angie cleared her throat and gripped the microphone tightly. He remembered she’d never been confident in public situations. He closed his eyes, remembering the night they’d met. She’d been the quiet one in the corner but he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her.
“It gives me great pleasure to announce the three winners of the cake competition, and of course, announce the Cake-of-the-Show winner: the ultimate blue ribbon and a hundred-dollar voucher.” Her voice firmed and Liam’s attention focused on her.
Angie announced the winners and each person climbed the steps and shook her hand before she handed each woman—yep, all women, not another man in sight, not even the headmaster—the prize voucher. Liam let his appreciative gaze linger. Angie was slightly built, but the dress hugged the curves she had in all the right places. Her skin was fair, and her hair fell softly onto her shoulders. She was the prettiest woman in the whole pavilion, and his gut clenched. He couldn’t wait to get back to the city. It would be easier there to get her out of his head.
The speakers emitted a high-pitched whistle, and Angie held the microphone away for a moment. Liam could have sworn he saw a smile in her eyes as she glanced across at him. “Now we move to the Cake-of-the-Show section. As you all know, I’m new to the district, but I’ve been told that the usual winner of this ribbon has won it for fifty years in a row. What a record! Helena Peterkin, from Prickle Creek Farm, who is taking a well-earned rest away with her husband, I believe.”
Liam shuffled his feet. In a way, he didn’t want to win, but it was probably important to Gran that the farm keep their winning streak intact. And the cake had turned out pretty well with Angie and Lucy’s help.
Her voice got louder. “The winner of the blue ribbon for this year is…Liam Smythe, on behalf of Prickle Creek Farm.”
A round of applause surrounded Liam as he pushed himself away from the wall, and headed self-consciously for the stage where Angie waited, clutching the last prize voucher of the day. He took the six steps two at a time. The sooner this was over and done with, the better. As he stopped in front of Angie, the gleam of an idea came into his head. He let a lazy grin spread over his face as he stood nonchalantly on the stage.
Damn being embarrassed. He’d won the prize for Gran. Prickle Creek’s reputation had been upheld.
Angie held her hand out to him. “Congratulations, Liam.”
Before she could read his intent, he took her hand and leaned forward, catching her lips in a kiss, much to the delight of the spectators. The applause got louder and a couple of whoops and whistles came from the back of the pavilion. He pulled back and took the ribbon and the prize voucher from Angie. Her cheeks were pink and her lips slightly open. It was all he could do not to put his arms around her and kiss her again.
This time, she must have seen his intent, because even though she murmured softly, her voice was like steel. “Don’t even think about it.” Turning to the side away from him, she flicked the switch back on the microphone and made the closing announcement.
“Thanks for coming today, folks. I believe next up is the judging over in the small animal nursery.” Angie put the microphone back up on the stand and switched it off. Liam waited until she was ready to walk off the stage and held his arm out. “I’ll help you down the steps, Angie.”
The look on her face was one of frustration rather than anger. “I’m perfectly capable of walking down a few steps, Liam.” Her expression softened. “I only judged the appearance of the cake. I didn’t taste it.” For a moment, he didn’t understand what she was saying, and then he remembered Gran’s secret ingredient and laughed.
“Ah, I thought you might have had a taste and would be wobbly on the steps.” He held her gaze and couldn’t look away. For a moment, he imagined that the look in Angie’s eyes was longing, just like he was feeling, but she pursed her lips and stared at him as the expression left her face.
She looked…sad. “No, and I didn’t tell anyone what was in it. That secret stays in your family.”
“I’d like you to meet Gran and Pop when they come home.”
This time, her voice was devoid of any expression. “I’m sure I will. Most probably after you’ve left, I would say.”
“Yes, most probably.” He shoved the voucher in his shirt pocket. “Hey, can you do me a favour?”
Angie looked at him with her eyebrows raised. “Maybe. Depends what it is.”
“Promise not to laugh?”
“Promise.” He was pleased to see her lips twitching already.
“I want to go on the dodge ’em cars but when I walked past them on the way here, there was no one over fifteen on them.”
Angie’s smile was wide. “Why not? Let’s celebrate your award-winning cake.”
Liam grabbed her hand and led her through the crowd to the sideshow alley. They wound their way along the dusty path, past the stalls filled with tacky soft animals in garish colours, past the ghost train, and the Ferris wheel that was in the middle of a paddock. Liam joined the queue, unable to believe that Angie had agreed to join him so readily.
“Single car each or a double?” the show hawker asked.
“Two please.” Angie’s smile was innocent, and she held his eye as he paid
for the tickets.
“What are you up to?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. I know that look, Ange.”
“I bet I can beat you.”
“Is that a challenge?”
She lifted her chin, brushed her loose hair back with one hand, and grinned at him. “No, it’s a statement. I bet you can’t hit me with your car.”
Excitement and anticipation flickered through Liam. If he didn’t know better, he would have said that Angie was flirting with him. “That’s a challenge to me. No man likes to be shown up in the dodge ’em cars. What are we playing for?” He bumped her with his shoulder as they waited for the current circuit to end.
“Um, let me think.” She tilted her head to the side and the tip of her tongue touched her top lip. “How about the loser gets to go on the ghost train.” She shivered and made a scary noise. “Woo… All alone.”
Liam laughed. It was great to see Angie loosening up. “Is that the best you can come up with?”
She shook her head and her hair brushed against his face. “There’s not a lot to pick from at a country show.”
“If I bump you with my car—and I will”—Liam knew his smile was smug—“you can shout me a battered sav and a beer. Knowing Lucy, she’ll have salad sandwiches packed for the picnic tea.”
Angie held her hand out. “And if you don’t, you can go on the ghost train. In the dark. All by yourself.”
He shook her hand as the ride operator opened the gate. “You’ve got a deal.”
Angie took off and jumped into the car at the back of the group. A bright red car with a yellow and red post and a smiley face. As Liam looked around at what was left, a group of teenagers pushed past him, and the ride operator nudged him.
“Go for that one, mate.” His grin was wide and he had a tooth missing. “Looks a bit sad but it manoeuvres better than the rest.” He pointed to a black car with the paint peeling off it.
