by Cathryn Hein
Mindful to leave room for Wal’s departure, Matt parked to the side of the drive. His legs jittered with the urge to sprint straight to the house but he wasn’t about to barge in and risk fucking this up. He’d learned a few things during his years in the army; preparation and good intelligence were never wasted. Callie had been upset enough to sell Glenmore, the place that meant so much to her, even if she couldn’t reconcile that attachment with her guilt over Hope’s death. What state she was in now he could only guess at. His heart squeezed at how crushed she must be.
‘How is she?’ he asked, sliding round Wal’s ute to where his uncle had risen from his chair.
‘In a mood.’
Matt nodded toward the broken fence. ‘I take it that was an attempt to leave?’
‘Would’ve if not for Dolly.’ Wal shuffled and squinted at the house. ‘Feel a bit bad about that. Scared the horse. Think the missy hurt her hand too.’
‘Is she all right?’
‘Dunno. Probably wouldn’t tell me if she wasn’t.’ His face scrunched. ‘Called me a horrible old man.’
‘Fuck.’ Matt rubbed his hand over his head and followed Wal’s gaze to the house and then past it. A flash of colour made his breath hitch. Callie sat on a chair under the liquidambar, watching him intently. Matt half raised his hand and then let it drop when she deliberately turned her face away. The knot in his stomach twisted. This wasn’t going to be easy.
Wal bent to pack up his chair. Matt helped, debating whether to ask Wal to stay, then quickly dismissing the idea. He wasn’t going to trap her here. If Callie stayed it would be because she wanted to. Because she loved him. Instinct told him that she did but how could he deny her desperation to leave? Her ute was backed up to the house and by the look of the tray’s tilt, heavily packed. She’d cut a hole in the fence. And only a moment ago she’d turned her face away, dismissing him.
Matt glanced in her direction again as Wal manoeuvred the LandCruiser out of the gate. Her attention was back on them. At least she hadn’t raced for her car, but he couldn’t rule out that she was biding her time, waiting for Wal and Dolly to leave their posts and for Matt to return to his car. A short sprint to the Jumbuk and she could be shooting out through the hole in the fence as he was driving through the gate. The thought drenched in him sick panic.
Ready to leave, Wal pulled up and reached his arm out the ute window to clutch Matt on the shoulder. ‘Good luck, lad.’ He shook and let go.
The act was so fatherly, so unlike anything Matt had experienced in his life, he wanted to hug his great uncle. Instead he nodded. ‘All I can do is explain. If she wants to leave . . .’ He stopped and stared toward the liquidambar, his sick fear returning. Callie couldn’t leave. He loved her. She meant everything.
‘I’ll be around if you need me.’
‘Thanks, Wal. Appreciate it.’
Wal nodded, and put the car into gear, puttering up the road to Dolly. With a whistle, the collie left her post and vaulted into the ute. Dust swirled, greying the air until a gust left the road clear once more.
The way out of Glenmore was open.
Matt watched for a moment, muscles on alert, ready to sprint to stop her if he had to, but Callie made no move. Her face was turned away, her body hunched over her crossed arms.
He strode for the hatch and drove it to the house, resisting a compulsion to block her ute. This had to be her decision. Even if it broke his heart.
Taking two solid breaths, Matt stepped out of the car.
‘Hey,’ he said, walking into the shade, his tension easing a tiny notch when she finally turned to look at him.
Fatigue tugged at her eyes. Her clothes were filthy, her long golden plait a mess. Though her arms were tucked in tight to her belly, she held one hand open. She looked beautiful, fragile and so very, very hurt.
He knelt by her chair and gently took her hand, opening it to inspect the raw mark streaking her palm. ‘Have you put anything on it?’
Mouth tight, she shook her head.
He rose, still holding her hand. ‘Come on, we’ll get this cleaned up properly.’
‘Go away.’ A tear slid from her eye. She jerked her head aside. ‘Just go away.’
‘I can’t, angel.’
Fire flashed. She snatched her hand back. ‘I am not your angel.’
He took a moment, trying to stay calm. Nothing was lost. Not yet. He crouched down again, hand on the chair arm, wishing it was on her instead.
‘Callie, what Deb told you isn’t true. Not all of it.’
Her lips parted but she said nothing.
‘Wal did offer to leave me Amberton if I could get you to stay but I refused from the start. Told him he was being an idiot. I want my own place but I’m not the sort of bloke who’d sell their soul to get it.’ He made a wry face as his own tightly held hurt leaked out. ‘I kind of hoped you knew that.’
She bowed her head but remained silent. He wished he could hold her but her lack of response stalled him.
‘Callie, I love you. I’d never do anything to hurt you.’
Suddenly she rose and paced toward the house. Dismayed, he let her go, praying that she’d stop. That’d she’d look up and see him and recognise the truth in his words.
As abruptly as she’d left, she halted and swirled to face him, chest rising and falling in rapid heaves, blue eyes wide and bright with tears. Matt waited but she seemed incapable of speech. She lifted her arms and then let them fall, her head dropping again. A broken sob had him striding for her.
‘Don’t, angel. Shh.’ He cradled her against him, stroking her hair. ‘It’s okay, I promise. It’s all going to be okay.’
She felt ragged in his arms, as if selling Glenmore had cost her spirit, the spark that made her so gorgeous. He pressed his cheek against her hair and closed his eyes, wishing he could bring his Callie back, the girl who’d caught him with her banter and sexy smile, her strength and determination.
When she began to move against his hold he let her pull away. She retreated a step, rubbing her eyes with the backs of her wrists, before letting out a resigned breath and regarding him.
‘I know about Hope, Matt.’
Now it was his turn for silence. His gaze flicked to the west, toward Amberton, his fists clenching. Fucking Wal. Fucking, fucking Wal.
‘I wish you’d told me. It would have been nice to remember Hope with someone who loved her.’ She looked toward her ute. ‘I have to go. I’ve a long drive ahead.’
‘No.’
She turned her weary, sad gaze back his way.
‘I wanted to tell you about her, I really did but the longer it went on the harder it became. And I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it. I was too scared I’d lose you. I’m still scared.’
‘It’s over, Matt. I’ve done everything I set out to do and now I have to leave.’ She shifted her gaze past him to the farm, a hollow, thousand-mile stare. ‘I can’t stay. I have to let it go. It’s the last step.’
‘No.’ He knew he was being unreasonable, that he was going against what he’d said he’d do if she wanted to leave, but his panic was making him insane. ‘Fucking hell, Callie, I love you!’
She glanced back, her sad smile breaking his heart. He didn’t understand her expression. He didn’t understand anything except the sinking dread threatening to consume him.
‘What? What is it?’ He reached for her hand but she stepped away. ‘Angel?’
‘I really have to leave.’
He watched her reach the water tank. In a few steps she’d be on the path. A few steps more and at her car. This couldn’t be happening, not after all he’d said. It just couldn’t.
Resignation and failure washed cold through his veins. She didn’t love him. He’d been wrong.
‘Was it really that bad, you and me?’
She halted and looked over her shoulder at him. ‘No.’ She smiled a little. ‘It was wonderful.’
‘Then why? Is it because of Hope? We were kids. Teenagers full of hor
mones. I loved her but she started doing all that shit stuff. I hated it, told her she was being stupid, but she just thought I was the stupid one. Next thing she stops coming to Glenmore. Sends me some crap “Dear John” email like I didn’t matter. Broke my fucking heart.’
He approached Callie and, mindful of her injured palm, grabbed her hands. ‘She was special and I loved her, and I wished I could have done more to stop her taking the path she did. But I was a stupid kid and it was all a long time ago. And just because I once loved her doesn’t mean I can’t love you.’ Matt gently squeezed the fingers of her unhurt hand. ‘Don’t leave. She’s the past. You’re my now and my future.’ He ducked his head to smile at her. ‘I can beg if you want.’
His heart leaped as she smiled tentatively back.
‘This is where you belong, Callie. Here, at Glenmore.’ He paused. ‘With me.’
‘I can’t.’
‘You can.’
She shook her head. ‘I sold it, Matt.’
‘I know. To MPK Holdings.’
‘Then you’ll understand why I can’t stay.’ Her gaze dragged toward the paddocks, her grief at Glenmore’s loss palpable. ‘I won’t be able to bear seeing it ruined.’
‘But that’s the thing – it won’t be.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘Actually, I do.’ At her confused expression, he grinned. ‘You see, I happen to know the intentions of the majority shareholder of MPK Holdings, and he has no plan of ever dividing it up for hobby farms. In fact, he has pretty big plans for it. It’s me, Callie. I own Glenmore.’ His grin slipped a little. ‘Well, not quite all. Mum and Kieran own the rest, but I have control over it.’
Callie’s mouth dropped in shock. ‘How can that be? I thought . . .’ She shook her head before regarding him again in astonishment. ‘You?’
‘Yeah, me. Mum broke the news to me yesterday. She’s been looking for a property for weeks and suddenly Glenmore comes up. Couldn’t have been more perfect timing as far as she was concerned, whereas I just felt like I’d gained one dream only to realise I was losing an even bigger one.’ He cupped a hand around her jaw. ‘I haven’t, have I? Lost you?’
She shook her head, frowning. ‘I—’
‘Love you?’
Her gaze dropped, sinking his heart with it, only for it to lurch again when her mouth curled as her eyes sparkled from under her lashes. ‘If I stay . . .’
‘Yeah?’
‘That would technically make you my landlord. I’m not sure loving is allowed.’
‘Lots of kinky sex then?’
She laughed, a sound that made his heart tumble. Then she quieted again. ‘I’ve made such a mess of things. I knew Deb’s accusation wasn’t right. I knew you weren’t like that, but everything had gone so wrong. I was so happy, then it was like the world wanted me not to be.’ She bit her lip. ‘It was always so hard after Hope died. Like enjoying all the things that she never would was wrong somehow.’
‘Everyone deserves happiness, Callie. Especially you.’ He studied her, wondering which way she’d turn. ‘Stay? There aren’t many girls in the world who can make nurses’ shoes look sexy.’
She took a good while to reply, but when she did, her voice was light.
‘I suppose I’ll have to now.’
His eyebrows shot up.
‘You ruined me.’
‘All that great sex?’
She shook her head. ‘It was the scrambled eggs. There aren’t many men in the world who can make eating scrambled eggs erotic.’
‘So it’s just my cooking skills you want me for then?’
‘You do have other assets.’
‘I do. I’m an attractive, capable man after all.’
‘And a terrible romantic.’
‘With a big farm.’ He wiggled his eyebrows. ‘What a catch.’
She broke into a grin and wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘How can a girl refuse all that?’
‘Exactly. So you’ll stay?’
Callie held his gaze. ‘Yes.’
Joy surged. He hoisted her up, relishing in her giggles. Strong legs wrapped tight around his waist. The feel of her against him, laughing with happiness, made him want to shout to the sky.
She pressed her forehead against his, blue eyes gorgeously alive. ‘I love you.’
‘Now that’s my kind of tenant,’ he said, kissing her.
Twenty-Seven
Old fishing hat tight on her head and the tail of her long-sleeved shirt flapping in the breeze, Callie cast out into the deep gutter. Cool seawater lapped around her ankles. In a few months, she’d have to swap shorts and her Dunlop Volleys for jeans and waders but for now she thrived in the last of summer. Not tropical heat by any means, but enough for her all the same.
As it had with every other cast, the line remained slack except for the ebb and tow of the tide. It didn’t matter. She hadn’t trekked to MacLeans Bay in the expectation of catching anything. Fishing was something to do while Matt was in town, finalising his part ownership of Glenmore.
Callie bit her lip. The last several days hadn’t been easy. Regret over her actions still lingered. He kept telling her that it didn’t matter, that the past was done and she needed to look ahead, but she found it hard to forgive herself for acting so rashly, for believing a series of stupid accidents instead of in a man who’d done nothing to warrant such lack of faith.
Well, not nothing. He hadn’t told her about Hope, and though his reasoning for the lapse was sound, a twinge of hurt remained. Love was winning though, knitting them together in trust. Besides, her hurt over his non-disclosure was no different to his over her easy belief that he’d made a deal with Wal. She needed to get over it.
A tap on the line caught her attention. She concentrated on the feel of the nylon against her fingertip, waiting for another dart. It came, the rod tip bending as the hook embedded. Callie began to wind, assessing the fight, curious to see what had taken the bait.
A big-eyed Tommy rough emerged from the water. She crouched down and rubbed her fingertip over its coarse scales before checking where it had been hooked, gratified to see the barb through the fish’s lip. Working quickly, she manoeuvred the hook out and let the fish dart back into the sea. Strong-flavoured Tommy roughs weren’t her favourite eating, and summer’s end was when they made their way westward to spawn. That little one could live another day.
She walked back up the sand and settled down by her tacklebox to change her rig. If one Tommy existed, there were bound to be more and she didn’t want to keep tossing them back. Perhaps today she’d snag a coveted mulloway. She could bake it whole. Let Matt make a salad. Sit outside and eat in the cooling evening. Talk about Hope if he wanted to, although he never seemed keen to do so. She was his past, he kept saying. Callie was his now and forever.
How she loved him for that.
Rig changed to a lure, she padded back down the beach and cast out. The line was too light for mulloway, the risk of it snapping against the power of the fish high, but she didn’t care. The likelihood one would even bite was minimal. She just wanted to fish, let the ocean smooth the last of her hurt away.
A car engine filtered through the sea noise. Her heart did a little flip when she turned to see a ute crawling along the edge of the high-tide mark, where the sand was firm. She followed its approach, unable to keep the smile from her face as Matt signalled a farmer-like raised finger salute through the windscreen at her.
‘Catch anything?’ he asked as he joined her, lifting the edge of her hat to kiss her temple.
‘A Tommy rough. I threw it back. I’m trying for mulloway.’ She fingered the rod. ‘How was it?’
‘Dull and exciting at the same time. Lots of papers. The solicitor looking traumatised from his dealings with Mum.’ He rubbed at his scar. ‘Bit sad because your name wasn’t on the deed.’
‘That’s okay.’
‘No, it’s not. But we can always sort that out later.’
The way Matt made ‘later’
sound so full of promise, so full of a future together, left Callie wrapped in a feeling she’d never before experienced. A feeling like safety and tenderness and optimism all bundled into one blanket, its warmth dissolving the last of her doubt. Leaving only love.
He kissed her temple again. ‘Are you done?’
‘Why?’
He grinned. ‘That fishing hat’s given me ideas.’
‘You always have ideas.’
‘Yeah, it’s one of the things you love about me.’
‘It is.’ She glanced at the ocean. Fishing had lost all allure. Nothing unusual there. Matt had a way of dragging her attention away from everything. She inspected him, noting the sparkle in his green eyes, the tilt of his mouth. He had ideas all right. Anticipation prickled like drying salt water across her skin. ‘I thought you preferred nurses’ shoes.’
‘Can’t a bloke develop a fishing hat fetish too?’
‘He can. So, kinky boy, what’s on your mind?’
He dug a toe into the sand and flicked a clod. ‘Remember that sex in the sand thing?’
‘I do. You’ve never done it.’
‘Neither have you.’
‘And?’ As if she needed to ask, but it was all part of the game. One they’d been playing a lot lately.
‘I thought we might test it out.’
Callie scanned the beach. It might be late morning on a Wednesday but MacLeans Bay was a popular place. ‘Risky.’
‘Yeah, I know.’
‘I suppose we could make it quick.’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘Okay, so we’ll do it slow.’
‘How about we just do it and see what happens?’
She lowered her lashes, mouth curling, heart racing as his eyes widened. She loved the way he responded to her, like creatures in tune. ‘You sure?’
He answered by tumbling her to the ground, snaking his hand up her shirt as he covered her face and mouth with feverish kisses.
‘My rod,’ she said, wriggling in protest. ‘What if I hook something?’
‘You already have. And it’s a whopper.’
