Jeff’s reaction was better than Paul had hoped for, and he exhaled the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. ‘Four in total. That suited the client’s wall space.’
Jeff took a builder’s tape from his briefcase and measured the dimensions. ‘You said you have planned but not begun the other panels?’
‘That’s right. They were designed to show the process from planting to harvest. Do you have something else in mind?’
‘Possibly a fifth panel, but we can chat about that later. Could you have the panels completed by mid-September? That’s when the opening of the new building is scheduled.’
***
Paul tapped his glass against Josh’s. ‘A fifth panel with a deposit to be paid as soon as the purchase is ratified by the acquisitions committee next week. That will pay off my second mortgage and pay for next season’s seed purchase.’
His uncle looked thoughtful. ‘Hayden may not accept your help. Young Emily has taken his bookkeeping in hand and shown him ways and means to manage his finances better.’
‘They set up the panels in the Cotton Bale for me to show the bloke from the Cotton Board. I thought they looked a bit more than friendly then.’
Josh took a swig from his glass and lowered it. ‘I take it you’ve had a disagreement with Serena?’
Could such a betrayal be labelled a disagreement?
‘Worse. She’s Frankston’s daughter. She said nothing and she came into our home, and duped my family into liking her.’
‘Why? What do you think she hoped to achieve?’
Paul sighed. ‘Honestly? I don’t know. She arrived in town the same day Frankston returned and started talking about buying the mill, and I figured she was part of some revenge plot he’d set up. But now—’
‘Have you seen her with him? Have you any reason to doubt she was genuine in her dealings with you?’
‘She’s a Frankston. What more proof do you need?’
‘Paulie, actions speak volumes, far more than words. What’s in a name? Besides, what do Serena’s actions tell you?’
Trust Josh to hit the nail on the head.
Paul had asked himself the same question during the drive from Bourke, after picking up Jeff Smart. Serena’s actions revealed a woman who cared about others, not a scammer intent on taking the town for all it had.
‘Even if Frankston’s her father it doesn’t mean she’s anything like him. She’s not.’ He had to see her face-to-face, to apologise and beg her forgiveness for his boof-headed, blind ignorance. Josh had the right of it. Serena was nothing like her father.
‘Josh, I think I made a big mistake.’
***
No one else would do for panel number five. He could imagine Serena posing for the sketch he would make: she would be wearing one of her creations and those high-heeled boots he loved.
How do I capture the green of her eyes?
He was still pondering the problem as he knocked on the front door of the B & B. Hopeful that Dawn would give him Serena’s address, he tensed as footsteps approached down the hall. The door opened and he looked into the very eyes he’d been fantasising about.
‘I thought you were in—’
‘How did you know I was—’
Voices overlapping, they stopped at the same moment.
Dawn appeared behind Serena’s shoulder and smiled. ‘How lovely to see you, Paul. Come in. We were just talking about you.’
‘No, we weren’t.’ Serena seemed less pleased than her mother by his appearance, but she stepped aside and held the door open for him to enter.
He followed Dawn into the lounge. Regardless of Serena’s denial, he took satisfaction from the fact she had him on her mind. ‘This is lucky. I came hoping to get your address in Sydney from Dawn.’
‘Why?’ Serena stood behind the armchair while he debated whether to sit on the sofa, since it was likely he’d be out on his ear as soon as he apologised.
Dawn laid a hand on Serena’s arm and looked at him. ‘I’m visiting too. I was just going to make a pot of tea. Or would you prefer coffee?’
‘Coffee please.’ Either Dawn was manipulating the situation to give him time to say what he’d come to say, or Serena hadn’t told her mother how they had parted.
‘Serena, tea, darling?’
She nodded jerkily, and Dawn went out, closing the door gently behind her.
‘Have you come to tell me off again for poking my nose into your family affairs? I got the message last time.’
Hurt glimmered in her eyes and ratcheted up his guilt at putting it there. Would she forgive him?
He stood in front of the fireplace and straightened his shoulders. Whatever she had to say to him, he deserved it. ‘I wanted to see you face-to-face and apologise. I was a prick for having a go at you.’
Her gaze drilled into him and she raised her chin. ‘You were.’
‘I couldn’t see past your connection with Frankston. The coincidence of you both appearing on the same day, the idea he was plotting to get back at my family through you for helping to put him in prison—and then when I found you photographing my work. I put it all together and, well, I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry for what, Paul?’
Was there a slight unbending in her stance, a softening in her eyes? Was there hope she might hear the rest of what he wanted to say?
‘I’m sorry for doing what people in town have done to others because of the name they bear. They’re no more responsible for the actions of their family than you are for your father’s. I’m sorry for not seeing past that, for not seeing you as the wonderful woman you are. Forgive me, please?’
Her lips parted and a soft sigh escaped before she moved around in front of the armchair and sat. ‘Apology accepted. I should have been more understanding, with Jack and everything that happened.’
‘No, I was an idiot to think for a moment you were anything like your father. And that remark about family was uncalled for. I don’t care if your father is Greg Frankston. I’m hoping we can start again.’
‘No.’ Softly murmured, the lone syllable dashed his dreams.
Forgiveness was one thing, but she didn’t want him in her life. Failure was a hard pill to swallow. Disappointment choked him and he stood. He needed to get out of here, out of her life and let her go. Forcing the words around the lump in his throat, he nodded. ‘Okay. I get it.’
‘Do you?’
‘You don’t want anything more to do with me.’
‘Paul, when I told you I’d found my father—’
‘I lashed out and hurt you.’
She closed her mouth and looked at him. Her gaze seemed to roam his face and his delusional mind imagined her eyes—those glorious green eyes he’d fallen in love with—had lightened and were looking at him without disappointment, without regret. He imagined they looked at him with—pleasure?
‘We both said stupid things that day. But, Paul—’
Hearing the excitement in her voice his gaze connected with and held hers. ‘Serena, I don’t care that your father is Frankston. He may have given you life and that would be the most generous thing he’s ever done, but, Serena—you aren’t him. You’re unique, and special, and I fell in love with you. And I want you to give me another chance to show you—’
Her hands pressed into the arms of the chair as she stood, smiling the smile of a winner.
It took his breath away.
She stepped towards him and his heart thundered in his chest as her hands reached for his shirt and pulled him towards her. Her strawberry scent surrounded him and laughter filled her eyes.
‘I found my father. And he isn’t Frankston.’ She pulled his head down and crushed her lips against his.
He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her right back. Kissed her until a loud knocking on the door penetrated his consciousness. Reluctantly he pulled back and looked up.
Serena’s mother stood in the doorway balancing a tray on one arm. Behind her stood his cousin Sean. As the penny dr
opped and Serena opened her eyes, her parents joined them.
Sean planted his feet and folded his arms over his chest, smiling at Serena. Paternal pride, fatherly love, and—as his gaze flicked to Paul—a distinct warning not to hurt his little girl were wrapped together in a look he’d never seen on his cousin’s face. ‘Remember what I told you about Carey men, macushla.’
‘I remember, Dad.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Paul’s workshop was chilly despite the fan heater blowing on full blast. Goosebumps rose along Serena’s bare arms and legs but she hadn’t been able to refuse his request that she pose for the fifth panel. Peering out of the corner of her eye so she didn’t alter the angle of her head, she tried to make out the time on the wall clock.
‘Any chance of a break for a few minutes? My arm’s about to fall off.’
Paul glanced up at her and back at his sketchpad, added another line or two and tossed the pad and charcoal onto the bench. ‘Yep. All done for now.’
She dropped her arm with a groan and shook it.
‘Sore?’
She nodded.
‘I can fix that. Come here.’ He nudged her gently onto the stool he’d vacated and massaged her shoulders and neck. His touch warmed her, sparking thoughts inappropriate for the time of day of other ways to warm up. ‘Better?’
‘Getting there.’ She’d happily stay like this all day but Paul had to make a start on the final panel if he was to meet his deadline. ‘How about you start transferring that sketch onto leather and I’ll organise lunch?’
‘Want to know what I fancy?’ He brushed her hair to one side before his lips nibbled along her collarbone and up her neck.
Suddenly, she wasn’t cold anymore. Her toes tingled and a wave of heat flashed through her body. Moistening her mouth, she dragged in a ragged breath through parted lips. Dammit, there really wasn’t any time inappropriate for what he had in mind. ‘Same as me.’
She turned into his arms and wrapped hers around his neck. Pressing her body into his, she brushed her hips slowly across his groin.
With a groan, Paul lifted her off the floor. She hooked her legs around his hips as he headed to the workshop door. His bed—and heaven—lay on the other side of it.
She had her hand on the doorknob when two sharp knocks rapped on the door to the yard and Sean’s hearty greeting made them rip their mouths off each other.
Sean walked in carrying a large wicker basket. His gaze ran over the pair of them caught in a seriously compromising position and a huge grin broke across his face. ‘Glad I am to see the two of you have found your way to each other. For a Carey, you were mighty slow to get your girl, boyo.’
Unsure whether to give way to embarrassment or to play it cool, Serena slid down Paul’s body and stood on her high-heeled black boots. ‘Hi, Dad. Good one. At least you knocked.’
‘Well, your mother told me you were posing for a sketch and, seeing as how I’m not so old I can’t remember what young love is like, I thought it wise to announce ourselves first.’
Serena leaned on the bench and peered around her father. ‘Do you have royal aspirations or am I missing something?’
‘There’s someone wanting to meet Paul. Here.’ He beckoned them to the table and lifted one flap on the basket.
Chocolate brown eyes in a white and black face peered up at them, and two tiny paws hooked over the edge of the basket. ‘She’s six-weeks-old and has no name yet, apart from Girl, so you’d best be thinking of what you want to call her.’
The border collie puppy yipped and Paul reached into the basket and lifted her out. A saddle of black sat between white shoulders and rump. On her rear, a small brown heart-shaped patch broke the stretch of white.
Paul cradled her in his arms and ran a gentle hand over her head and back. ‘Thanks, Sean. She’s a beauty.’
Serena lowered her face to the puppy, who licked her cheek and chin, then yipped and wriggled until Paul set her down. She ran in a circle and jumped on Paul’s loosened shoelace, before shooting off around the workshop, nose down, exploring every corner.
‘Wanda the wanderer.’ Paul laughed as the puppy found a piece of leather and tugged it out from a low shelf.
Serena giggled as the pup dropped to the floor and began chomping on the treat. ‘Or Maeve the marauder! You might need to put everything up high until she’s trained.’
‘Aye, Paul, keep an eye on the scamp or she’ll make her mark on your panels.’ Sean opened the other flap of the basket, lifted out a bag of puppy food and dumped it on the bench. ‘That should keep her going for a few days. I need to get back and pick up your mother before she clears Callie’s shop of every last ball of wool. You know she’s already threatened to throw out my lucky jumper?’
He pulled Serena in for a quick hug and left, swinging the empty basket at his side.
The puppy had fallen asleep with its head on one of Paul’s boots.
Serena slipped her arms around his waist and rested her forehead on his shoulder. ‘I have an idea.’
‘So have I, but I think we’ve run out of time today.’
‘There’s always tonight. Besides, I wasn’t precisely thinking of that right now. But if I promise you’ll enjoy tonight, will you be agreeable to my idea?’
‘I’m sure I will.’
Epilogue
3 September (two months later), Mindalby Cotton Festival
Sunrise gilded the treetops in the Wooroorogan National Park as Serena and Paul pulled up in his ute. This early in the day, the only action at the make-out spot was wildlife and they had the place to themselves. A lizard darted along a fallen branch into the shadows of the long grass as Serena set their hamper on the blanket.
‘It took you long enough to bring me here. What was it your uncle said?’
‘Something about not being a real Carey if I hadn’t shown you the sights from up here. I’m planning on rectifying that today.’ His voice dropped into a growly whisper as he slid his arms around her waist and nibbled her earlobe.
‘Showing me the sights, or proving you’re a real Carey? Of course today probably shouldn’t count because Uncle Josh specified the night view. I wonder what difference that makes?’
‘You can’t see a damned thing from here at night. Apart from a few streetlights. In other words—’
‘There’s nothing to do but—’
‘Make out.’ Suiting action to words, Paul kissed her with a slow, almost lazy attention to every centimetre of her mouth.
Despite the sneaky wind that soughed through the gumtrees and bush, in Paul’s arms, she felt safe and warm. Uncle Josh was right. Kisses from a Carey man were addictive.
At least when he was her Carey man.
Intense hunger for Paul rushed through her like a hit of adrenaline, a need she knew would never leave her. She closed her eyes and kissed him right back.
When her stomach rumbled Paul drew back with a sigh. ‘Guess I’d better feed you before you fade away. I really want you to—’ He broke off.
‘Want me to what?’ She knew all too well what she wanted to do to him, with him, every day.
Paul drew her to a flattish boulder and gently pushed her to sit. Then he stepped back and raised his hands and framed her between them.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I want to remember this moment forever.’
‘Our first make-out session at the lookout?’
‘No, macushla, the day I asked you—’ He took a jeweller’s box from the picnic basket, opened it and turned it to face her. ‘Serena, marry me?’
***
‘I can’t believe you conned me into doing this.’ Nerves kicked in with a vengeance and he paced from one side of the small dressing room to the other.
‘Shush, you agreed and you can’t go back on your word. Besides, it’s too late now.’ Serena adjusted Paul’s collar and smoothed an imaginary piece of fluff from his shoulder.
‘Did you think asking me to marry you over breakfast would get y
ou out of appearing now?’
‘Will it?’ He pulled her into a tight embrace and buried his face in her hair. ‘I love you and you know I’d do anything for you, but this is above and beyond the call.’
‘I know, but you’ll have Tilly to keep you company.’ The puppy woke at the sound of her name and sprang out of her basket. Serena picked her up and hugged her before handing her to Paul. ‘All the best photo shoots are pairing puppies with sexy men.’
‘So I’m sexy, am I?’ He slipped an arm around her waist and nuzzled her ear.
‘Of course you are. Why else did you think I wanted you to be part of the show?’ She tilted her head to give him better access. Tilly licked her chin and Serena giggled.
‘I’ve got to introduce the next segment. See you at the other end of the long walk.’ She kissed the tip of his nose and twirled away in a cloud of sunset-coloured chiffon and cotton. At the doorway, she stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder. ‘I love you. Keep your eyes on me when it all starts.’ She blew him a kiss and disappeared through the opening.
Paul picked up Tilly—the shortened name suited her mercurial nature—and stroked her soft back. ‘It’s you and me, girl, until we meet Mum at the other end. Come on.’
The music changed, Serena announced the next section of ‘cotton designs for discerning men’, and Paul knew he was on.
He thought of Serena and all they had overcome to reach this point, and stepped through the doorway. A cheer went up like the roar of a footy crowd when the home team runs onto the ground. Tilly squirmed as his grip tightened around her middle and he settled her along his forearm. Ahead of him, the catwalk seemed to go on forever.
For Serena, he would face down dragons.
Or his friends and family at the Cotton Festival Fashion Show. Because she was everything that was right with his world.
And she had promised to be his wife.
Paul chuckled as Tilly’s pink tongue licked his bare arm. Ah, the things a man would do for love.
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