Lake Hill

by Margareta Osborn

  Julia held onto the mug he was trying to take off her. He was disturbingly close again, thanks to the tug-of-war, and she took in his handsome features. It made her want to go back in time and start all over again.

  Hidden from her customers by the coffee machine, she spoke quietly. ‘Rick, what are you really doing here? You don’t like dealing with strangers. You don’t like people.’

  His brows shifted upwards in surprise. ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Montana. Oh, and just about half the town.’

  ‘Is that so?’ He moved a step closer, put those warm lips back to her ear. His whisper was a delicious tickle. ‘I like you.’

  She gasped as his lips sought hers, and ducked around him, leaving him poised to kiss the air. She didn’t look back, just fled towards the safety of her kitchen.

  She grabbed a stool and sat down. What on earth just happened?

  Rick Halloran tried to kiss you again.

  And she’d run.

  Why? Why flee from the thing she’d been dreaming about since he last kissed her?

  The answers were simple. One: the complications of getting involved with Rick were overwhelming. And two: how dare she lust after a man when she’d killed Rupert?

  You didn’t kill Rupert.

  I wished him dead! I wondered if he’d miss me if I died, and instead he was the one who died.

  But you didn’t kill him.

  I started the argument. He stormed away so angry!

  YOU DIDN’T KILL RUPERT!

  Julia sank her head onto her crossed arms. No matter how often Zara, her counsellor, had reminded her that it was a texting truck driver who had killed her husband, there was a deep-down part of her that didn’t believe it.

  The phone on the wall rang. She grabbed the receiver and barked hello.

  It was the woman from the employment agency in Narree and Julia couldn’t believe what she was saying. The cook who’d been lined up for Julia had dropped out.

  ‘But I’ve already opened the cafe,’ Julia said. ‘I was relying on you!’

  Apparently they couldn’t find any other local cooks or bakers looking for a job. Julia hung up the phone and sank her head onto her arms again.

  What else was going to go wrong?

  By five-thirty that afternoon, the front door was shut and bolted and the sign had been turned to closed. The glass cake stands were empty – not a single piece of baking was left – the coffee machine was off, and the blackwood benches had been wiped down. The only noise was the humming of the dishwasher in the kitchen.

  Julia sat at a table next to the picture windows, trying to enjoy the last of the late afternoon sun streaming in. The lake was a dark turquoise blue, matching the bluebirds scattered around the cafe. Clouds floated across the sky. Far off in the distance, over a rolling green hill, she could hear the lowing of cattle, see some soft puffs of dust rising into the crisp air. But she couldn’t concentrate on the view or her pleasure in how well today had gone, not when she had no idea how she was going to manage without someone in the kitchen. She sat for a long time, pondering, worrying.

  Eventually the crunch of boots on the gravel alerted her to a visitor. She unlocked the french doors onto the verandah and stepped outside, watching him come closer. She hadn’t expected him to return.

  ‘You came back,’ she said softly.

  ‘I was on the way to the boat and saw your lights on. Thought I’d check you’re okay?’

  ‘I’m fine. Just need to ice the last of the cakes and I’ll head up to bed.’

  Now why had she mentioned bed?

  He hovered on the verandah, not coming any closer but not backing off either. What did he want?

  Julia’s lower lip quivered and she bit down on it hard. There was no way she was going to cry. Nothing, not even an absent cook, was going to get in the way of her new life.

  He must have noticed her distress all the same.

  ‘Julia, it’ll all be fine. The cafe’s a fabulous idea. You’re going to nail this. And I want to help.’

  ‘Well, you can’t. No one can. Especially you, of all people, Rick.’

  She was talking about more than the cafe now, but of course he didn’t know that.

  Confusion flashed across his face. ‘What do you mean?’

  Oh God. She wanted to suck the words back. So many feelings competing with one another. Guilt. Anger. Need. Desire …

  ‘Nothing. Just … it’s been a long, hard week. And now I’ve heard I don’t have a cook coming tomorrow.’ She paused and then it all came tumbling out. ‘How am I going to manage this by myself? It’s too much – I’m going to fail when I’ve only just started!’

  She sank against the verandah rail as if it was the only thing holding her up. She was so tired. The move, the setting up of the cafe. And the guilt she’d felt earlier, the way she’d managed to forget about Rupert the moment Rick kissed her. How could she have done that?

  ‘You just need a cup of tea and an early night,’ Rick said. ‘It’ll all look better in the morning.’

  ‘Don’t tell me what I need!’ The shout came out before she could wrench it back. She moved towards the french doors, agitated. ‘Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. I’m just … you know … tired.’

  And so scared you’re going to hurt me all over again.

  Rick took a deep breath and stepped towards her. His emerald shirt looked so soft and she wanted to bury her head in it. Cling to his chest. Feel his arms, strong and capable, holding her up.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she said.

  The words came out breathless, as if the closer he moved towards her the less oxygen she was able to take in. Why was he doing this? Didn’t he know she wouldn’t be able to resist him? She’d been waiting for him for so long.

  The air around her grew hotter, but it was nothing compared to the fire that was racing through her body at the look in his eyes. They were pewter-grey tonight, dark with desire. She stepped back, stunned by his depth of feeling, and banged into the door handle behind her. She gasped.

  A slight frown. ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘No … I mean yes.’

  ‘Which is it?’ His voice was full of humour. And then he was in front of her, staring down, dwarfing her. ‘Do you need me to kiss it better?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Whatever hurts.’ He was serious suddenly. ‘I hurt you, didn’t I, all those years ago? Somehow, in some way?’

  How could she tell him of the pain of that time? The guilt, the yearning, the never-ending loss.

  ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘Well, what is it I see in those beautiful eyes every time you look at me?’

  She was silent. He could never know.

  He touched her face; his hands were warm. ‘I tried to find you, you know. I looked everywhere.’

  ‘So you said.’

  ‘Whatever I did, Julia, I’m sorry. I was young, full of myself.’

  ‘You were amazing.’

  He had been. Enough to fill her dreams for years.

  ‘Would you give me a second chance?’ he asked.

  His strong face was gentle, his eyes questioning. She wanted to run her hands through the soft curls at his temples. To push them back, along with the years that had passed between then and now.

  ‘Please?’

  His lips touched her cheek. Hot, almost fevered kisses feathered their way down the slope of her jaw. And then he was back, claiming her mouth. He tasted of chocolate. Or maybe that was her? She’d just finished icing some cupcakes before she sat down at the cafe window.

  ‘Mmmm,’ he said, ‘chocolate.’ He licked the fingers of one hand that had crept up to his shoulder. ‘I like chocolate.’

  ‘You don’t say.’ It came out as a whisper.

  His eyes held hers. ‘Delicious.’

  She knew he didn’t just mean the chocolate.

  Holding her gaze, he savoured each finger, lickin
g, sucking. Her tummy twisted.

  His mouth drifted to the hollow of her shoulder, then back up to her lips. It felt like her entire body was throbbing.

  He lifted her in his arms and carried her into the cafe, closed the french doors and slid the lock shut with one hand. Then they were in the kitchen and he was sweeping the benchtop clear, baking trays and bowls clattering to the floor.

  ‘Oh, Julia,’ he breathed, and his hands fluttered down to her waist, gently pushing up her top. Cool air swept around her tummy and then her breasts. Julia was oblivious to everything except the heat swirling across and under her skin. His lips seemed to dance across her flesh, flitting, tickling.

  She held his head and brought his mouth back up to hers. She needed to taste him. Savour him. It had been so long. The same desperate need, the desire, the sensation of falling so hard it was bound to hurt – those feelings from so many years ago washed over her again. But it would be worth it, wouldn’t it?

  Rick dropped to his knees in front of her, as if in homage.

  ‘Someone might come,’ she gasped.

  He grinned at her. ‘Hopefully you.’

  ‘Rick … we have to stop.’

  ‘Why?’

  His hair flicked tantalising against her thighs. Tickling. Teasing. She gasped again and thrust her hips forward. Her head fell back in complete surrender.

  ‘At least take me upstairs,’ she managed between whimpers.

  He stopped and looked up at her with a soft smile. Then he got to his feet in one movement, clasped her around the waist and lifted her off the bench. The blast of cool air on her bare skin made her gasp and he snuggled her closer into his arms, taking all her weight with ease. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held on.

  Rick easily negotiated the stairs to her loft bedroom. He laid her on the bed’s silky cover and gazed at her, his eyes drinking her in.

  ‘Your clothes. They have to come off.’ She gave a little laugh to cover her nervousness.

  ‘Would you like to do it?’ he said, his voice husky and soft.

  She reached for his shirt buttons and undid them one by one, holding his gaze the whole time, then swept her hands across his chest, feeling him shiver at her touch. Her hands dropped lower to the fastener of his jeans.

  ‘You might need to help me here,’ she murmured, tugging, pulling, and finally winning. ‘Got it.’

  Her lips followed the denim, kissing and nuzzling as she inched the jeans slowly from his hips, down his muscled legs. Above her Rick groaned. He reached down and drew her up into his arms.

  The bedside clock ticked over to six in rhythm with the rain that thrummed on the tin roof. Rick was in a state of satisfied bliss, his limbs heavy, his mind not thinking of much at all.

  His arm moved slightly as Julia shifted, then her eyes opened and gazed at him.

  ‘Rick?’

  ‘Yep. I’m here. Just.’

  ‘Are you alright?’

  ‘That was an incredible night,’ he said, tucking her tighter into his side. ‘I don’t think I can move for at least another hour, or maybe twelve?’

  She chuckled and her body quivered seductively against his, which made him want her all over again.

  He rolled over and trapped her beneath him. Gazed at her dark hair splayed across the sheet. Traced kisses down the curve of her neck, nuzzled the hollow of her shoulder, kissed across the swell of her breast and down, down. He wanted her again. All of her.

  The emotion welling within him was so strong and it took all he had to hold it back. He didn’t want to scare her. Now he had her, he didn’t want to lose her. Again. This woman, who’d gotten right under his skin as a teenager, and then stayed there through all the years since, like a splinter needling at him. He’d never been able to forget her. She had touched something inside him, buried so deep that he hadn’t known the strength of it until he’d seen her again.

  ‘Rick?’

  God, he loved the way she said his name.

  ‘I thought you said you were beyond movement?’ she teased.

  ‘I was wrong,’ he said, delving into her body again. ‘And I’m man enough to admit it.’

  She gave a sneaky giggle and wriggled out from under him. ‘You want me? Catch me!’

  He grinned, and launched himself after her.

  Round the bedroom they went, like cat and mouse. She threw a pillow; he deflected it. He feinted one way, then hurled himself the opposite way, just missing her again. Finally he caught her in the corner near the dormer window. They were both gasping with laughter by then. It felt so good to laugh again.

  ‘You’re a fast and feisty wench,’ he said as he folded her tight in his arms.

  After a brief resistance, she surrendered, and he picked her up again and laid her on the bed. He buried his face between her breasts and moaned, deep and guttural.

  Her hands came up to stroke his hair and he felt trust in her touch. He was relieved.

  Perhaps Charlie was right and this was what he’d been waiting for all his life.

  Chapter 15

  Julia heard a gentle knock on the kitchen door. She opened it to see Ernie standing there in his three-piece suit and his green cap. He had what looked like an apron under his arm and a bowl in his hand, large, powder-blue and made of porcelain.

  What on earth?

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me calling in,’ Ernie said, ‘but I heard you may need a fill-in cook?’

  There was nothing wrong with the Lake Grace bush telegraph that was for sure.

  ‘Yes. The agency’s having trouble finding one.’

  ‘Well, by all means tell me to mind my own business, but I’m quite a good baker. My mother was a dab hand at sweet treats. I’m not being completely altruistic, mind you. Now I’m retired, I volunteer as a reporter for our local newsletter. It goes around the district once a week via the Neighbourhood House. I thought perhaps I could do an article on the cafe, promote it as a new local business? In which case, you could chat to me while we work.’

  ‘You’re hired,’ said Julia. ‘The kettle’s just boiled. Make yourself a cuppa, then would you mind if we get started straight away?’

  ‘That’s what I’m here for,’ said Ernie, indicating his apron and bowl. ‘I can drink my tea while we work.’

  He placed the bowl down very carefully, as if it might shatter. The apron, blue gingham, went onto the benchtop next to it, the folds perfectly square. Julia wondered whether he might be OCD.

  ‘Would you like another cup of tea, Ms Gunn?’ he asked as he poured hot water into a teapot.

  ‘Julia, please. And I’m right for tea. This is already my second cup. Now, before we get started, we need to talk about wages.’

  Ernie looked affronted. ‘I don’t require money. This is what friends do to help each other out.’

  ‘But, Ernie –’

  ‘No buts, Julia. None whatsoever. However, I would like to use my own bowl if you don’t mind. My Betty used to use this one and it makes the best scones. I thought perhaps with it being Saturday and all, we could do a Devonshire tea?’

  She smiled. The man was already on her wavelength. And his kindness was another example of how the locals of Lake Grace had welcomed her. It warmed her heart.

  There was another knock, on the side door this time, loud and forceful. When Julia opened it, Montana flew inside with the force of a north-westerly gale.

  ‘Fucking Dorpers! Rick was right, but I’ll be buggered if I’m going to admit it to him. I mean, he’s my brother, right? You don’t admit you’re wrong to your brother, do you, because then he’ll have something on you. It’s almost as bad as admitting I’m wrong to Owen and that is so not going to happen. He wouldn’t let me live it down ever.’

  She ran out of breath, which was just as well because both Julia and Ernie were staring at her open-mouthed.

  ‘What?’ she said.

  ‘Montana, you … um … appear to be covered in poo!’

  ‘Yeah, well, I fell into that huge pud
dle of shit around the trough near the cattle yards trying to stop the sheep going under the fence. Have you ever seen those sheep squeeze through gaps? They’re worse than mice! If I hadn’t seen them myself I wouldn’t have believed it. They just flatten their tummy and literally pour themselves under the wire! I can’t keep them in with those fences for love nor money. And if it was for love, I wouldn’t have chosen Dorpers anyway. I wanted black-faced Suffolks, but I’d have to shear them, so I thought Dorpers were the way to go. No care, the stud-owner said. Like hell. And they’re pure bred so they cost a packet.’

  Montana stared at them accusingly, like it was their fault. Julia had no answer.

  ‘So what am I going to do now?’ the girl demanded.

  ‘I have no idea, but you can’t stand in my cafe covered in poo!’

  ‘Yes, alright, but what about the sheep?’

  ‘Didn’t your brother –’

  The girl’s eyes flashed dangerously and she held up her hands like she was warding something off. ‘Don’t go there, Julia!’

  ‘Um … well, maybe my fences will keep them in? Aren’t they supposed to be good ones?’

  Julia had no idea really, but she had a vague recollection of Montana saying so when she bought Lake Hill.

  Silence as a look of contemplation spread across the girl’s face. Then: ‘You are a genius, Julia!’

  She was?

  ‘That’d be perfect! I’ll pay you agistment, I promise.’

  Julia knew what agistment was from working as a law clerk – money paid to a landowner in exchange for allowing stock to graze on their land. She’d never in a million years have expected to earn an income that way. Her new life as a cafe proprietor and now landowner hit her full-on. How bizarre that she, Julia Gunn, had become a farmer! Well, not a real farmer of course, but one who would be paid agistment. How exciting! Wait until she told Rick. On second thoughts, perhaps she should let Montana tell Rick rather than risk this precious connection that was forming between them.

  ‘You won’t even know I’m here,’ Montana was saying. ‘I’ll need to run the working dog school here, but don’t worry, we’ll get you to cater so you’ll be making money there too. We’ll probably have about twenty or thirty dogs and their owners.’