‘They give part-timers work to take home?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t mind.’
‘Well if you change your mind, let me know. I’m taking the bike and I’ll be on light beer, so I could give you a lift.’
‘Light beer?’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Why aren’t you drinking?’
She heard a weird buzzing noise, and Owen pulled out his pager from his pocket. ‘Because of this thing. I’ll catch you later.’ And with that he was off down the stairs, out of the door, and away on the Ducati.
Owen came back a couple of hours later, and even though Rosie had taken to lying on her bed to read from her Kindle, she positioned herself back at her desk with her iPad to create the illusion that she was doing something work-related, in case he came upstairs and asked her about the pub again. She planned to stay home this evening and FaceTime Adam and mention the cottage she’d found. She had nothing to lose after all.
When Owen bypassed her bedroom and she heard the pipes in the old house groan as he took a shower, she was strangely disappointed. Twenty minutes later and her stomach rumbled so loudly she knew she couldn’t hide away any longer, and she went down to the kitchen.
She took out the chicken breast she’d marinated earlier and set about dicing an onion, peeling and slicing a carrot and cutting up a few florets of broccoli. She added these and a rainbow-selection of sliced peppers to the wok once the meat was sizzling, finishing the dish by throwing in udon noodles.
She tossed the ingredients together as Owen came downstairs to join her in the kitchen. His arm snaked over her shoulder and his hand snatched a piece of chicken from the pan.
‘I’d have made you some if you’d asked,’ she said.
‘I didn’t think I wanted anything until the smell crept up the stairs and found me.’ He looked longingly at the stir fry as Rosie scraped it into the awaiting bowl.
She laughed at him practically salivating. ‘No tasting!’ She let the dish cool a bit while she arranged the roses she’d picked earlier into a vase. Jane had told her to pick them as often as she liked or the garden would be overrun with them.
She pushed a pale yellow rose in amongst the ruby reds and then another, and grabbed the stem of the last one.
‘Ouch!’ She dropped the rose and wrapped her opposite fist around her finger.
‘Did the thorns get you?’ Owen stopped pulling on his boots and instead led her over to the sink. ‘It looks deep, we’ll rinse it with water first.’
Rosie held out her finger while Owen turned on the tap. When the water ran clear and the bleeding subsided, he wrapped her finger in a piece of kitchen towel.
She winced.
‘Am I hurting you?’
Looking up into those green eyes, Rosie realised he still had hold of her hand. She looked away. ‘I need a plaster.’
Owen found one from the first-aid kit in the cupboard by the sink and expertly wrapped it around her finger.
‘Thank you.’
‘Are you sure you’ll survive if I abandon you and go to the pub?’
‘I think I’ll live.’
‘Well if you change your mind, you know where I am.’ He carefully put the rose in amongst the others before he left.
Rosie sat out on the deck to eat dinner and watched the countryside change colour as the sun faded to a saffron hue. When she’d finished and cleaned up, she picked up her iPad. Adam was a mere click away, FaceTime was ready to go, but instead she bashed out an email to him telling him about her work, the weather – although she knew their relationship had hit a new low if all she could talk about was climatic ebbs and flows – and exploring Magnolia Creek. She typed about the cottage she’d found but then deleted the paragraph, deciding she’d rather hear his reaction, gauge whether it could be a possibility for them.
When she signed off and found she was idly rubbing the plaster on her forefinger, she plucked her keys from the hook in the hallway and set off for the pub.
Chapter Seven
Fairy lights were strung between the trees in the beer garden at Magnolia Tavern. The evening was filled with chatter and laughter and the sound of glasses being chinked together as Rosie weaved her way between outside tables and into the pub.
Owen spotted her from his place at the bar.
‘What can I get you?’ he asked.
It was a warm evening and even warmer inside. ‘I’ll have a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, please.’ She needed something cold and refreshing.
Dotted about the room were groups of people, probably locals, clustered around the wooden tables, along the curved mahogany bar, and over by the dart board.
‘So what changed your mind?’ Owen asked.
‘Huh?’
‘You were supposed to be working.’
‘I only had a couple of things to do,’ she lied.
He loaded his change back into his wallet. ‘Where’s it from?’ he asked.
‘What?’
‘Your necklace.’
She was playing with it again, without thinking, a panacea to her awkwardness.
His eyes flickered from her face to the necklace and back again. ‘I’ve been trying to work it out since the first day we met. Is it a body with no head, legs and arms open wide?’
Rosie replaced any awkward feelings with laughter.
‘Am I right?’ he asked.
‘No!’
‘Look at it from my point of view.’ He gestured for her to turn the necklace the other way so she could see it the way he did. And then he moved closer and ran his fingers along the delicate silver shape, tracing the outline. ‘These are the two legs, these are two arms, and up here you’d expect the head.’
‘It’s a cello bridge.’ Her grin faded, and before he could delve further, she asked, ‘Who owns this place?’
Owen told her who the owners were and the conversation shifted to business owners in Magnolia Creek, many of whom had been here for years.
Rosie twirled the stem of her glass between her fingers. ‘I like it.’
‘You like what?’
‘I like that so many people have been here for a long time, that this town is their home.’
Owen crunched an ice cube that had been hiding beneath the juice in his glass. ‘It was pretty cool growing up here, although I think I could’ve been anywhere with my brothers and we’d have had a ball.’
‘Did all three of you go to school here?’
‘Yes, there’s a school up the hill beside the vet’s surgery.’
She’d seen the hill but not ventured up it yet. ‘It looks like a bit of a climb each day, especially in the heat.’
‘Not to mention the backpack stuffed with books. But it’s only fifty metres or so before it flattens out. It’s a lovely little school, only forty children or so.’
‘That’s tiny.’
‘I don’t think it’s much bigger now, but they’ve got a lot more there than they had in my day. There’s a playground, monkey bars, a climbing frame and plenty of space to run around. In my day it was a couple of sand pits and a large log we used as a beam of sorts.’
‘It sounds great for kids.’
‘I’d like to send my kids to a country school one day,’ he said. ‘I love all the green space, and being a kid to me is about freedom – running everywhere.’
Rosie sipped her wine, surprised at his candid admission.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ he asked.
‘I’m not looking at you like anything.’
He seemed doubtful.
‘Come on,’ Owen picked up his drink and hers. ‘Let’s go outside with these, it’s too warm in here.’
As they moved towards the door, Rosie spotted the same blond who’d been on the driveway earlier. She beamed an electric smile Owen’s way as soon as she saw him and only turned down the wattage when Rosie came into view. She didn’t look about to let some newcomer to town claim all of Owen Harrison’s attention.
No danger of Rosie claiming the limelight; that low
-cut top the girl was wearing ensured most eyes would be on her.
Rosie sat opposite Owen at the picnic bench farthest away from the door to the pub. ‘The blond has a thing for you.’
‘Who, Stephanie?’
‘I don’t know her name, but the young girl with the not-so-subtle dress sense.’
He smiled. ‘Stephanie’s harmless.’
‘Just be careful,’ she said.
‘Careful?’
‘Young girls get hung up on boys and take a long time to get over a crush … longer than it takes for you to burn away on your motorcycle anyway.’
He shook his head but didn’t seem annoyed at her comment. ‘That wine’s gone to your head.’
‘No it hasn’t.’
Rosie’s look told him otherwise.
As they sat chatting, Rosie tried to imagine a young girl being besotted with Adam. He attracted his fair share of women with his dark blond hair, well-cut suits and boyish charm, but she wasn’t sure he had the same magnetism with girls that Owen had in spades. Then again, Adam wasn’t a flirt, and flirting seemed to come naturally to the man who sat opposite her now.
‘How’s the finger?’ Owen asked when she picked up her water, finger extended away from its condensation. She hated it when plasters got all wet. They smelled and the skin beneath the material always shrivelled up like a prune.
‘Much better, thank you. Those thorns are vicious.’
‘The roses look good though. My last girlfriend said having flowers all over the house showed we must have money, that flowers were a luxury item.’
‘She really said that?’
‘She did.’
‘So what happened to her?’
‘She went in search of adventure. I think she liked the big house but not Magnolia Creek. She said small country towns suffocated her.’ He put his hands to his throat and made a mock-choking sound.
Rosie sniggered.
‘She was harmless enough,’ he said, ‘… apart from her name.’
‘Oh go on, what was it?’
‘Orphelia.’
Rosie’s laughter mingled with Owen’s in the heady evening air.
‘So, is there anybody else on the scene now?’ Rosie asked, not sure whether she wanted an honest answer.
He shrugged. ‘I enjoy women and their company, but I’m not desperate to settle down.’
‘You haven’t brought anyone home to the house since I’ve been there.’
‘I don’t often do that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I move around too much, so I tend not to stay over with a girl or bring them home to my bed. It makes me feel awful when I have to leave again, and they’ve thought I’m more serious than I actually am.’
‘Sounds like a cop out to me.’ She stared into the crowds, the people laughing and chattering all around them outside, and her hands found her necklace.
‘Surely it’s worse to lead a girl on, to have her waiting at your beck and call.’
Rosie thought for a moment. ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re directing your comment my way?’
He hesitated. ‘It’s just that here you are, house-sitting for my parents, while your so-called boyfriend is swanning around the world. The women I date know where they stand more than you do.’
‘Rubbish!’
‘Is it?’
‘What makes you think you know anything about my relationship with my boyfriend?’ She huffed.
‘I heard you that day, out on the decking on FaceTime.’
‘You were eavesdropping?’
‘No,’ he said calmly. ‘I came out to talk to you and realised you were chatting with someone and before I could creep away I heard enough.’
Rosie looked into the crowd rather than at Owen. In the eight days they’d been under the same roof – some of which they’d spent apart – he’d learnt enough to be able to summarise her whole relationship. He was right. Damn it, he was right. She had no idea where she stood and no idea when Adam was going to make the situation any clearer.
The truth hurt.
He rubbed a hand across his jaw. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.’
‘No, you shouldn’t.’
A smile played on his lips. ‘But you commented on my love life.’
She fiddled with the plaster on her finger. ‘Adam and I are serious even though, at the moment, we’re living apart.’
‘Okay.’
‘We almost bought a place together near the city a few months ago, you know.’
‘So what happened?’
‘We were outbid by some arsehole on the phone.’
‘That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?’
‘We’d had our hearts set on the place and it was our only chance. Nothing else came up, so Adam went overseas to start the new job and I carried on house-sitting.’
‘So it’s the other bidder’s fault you missed out on setting up home with your boyfriend?’
‘Yes … well no … I mean, we thought we had it and the other bidder came in at the last minute. In my mind I’d already moved in and put my personal touch on the place. It was gut-wrenching to lose out when the buyer went over the price we were able to pay.’
‘There’ll be other places.’
Rosie’s mind went to the derelict cottage on Daisy Lane, and she almost mentioned it.
‘Adam is a good man, you know,’ she said instead.
Owen toyed with the beer mat on the table, turned it over and then back again before he said, ‘Right, enough analysing one another’s love life. Tell me about the best and worse house-sits you’ve ever done.’
She almost wanted to hug him for being man enough to leave the subject of Adam alone. ‘Your place is easily the best – and not because of the company.’ She added the last bit before he could say the obvious.
He laughed. ‘And the worst?’
‘I once agreed to look after two puppies at a house in Glen Iris. They were six months old, and let’s just say it’s made me a bit wary of signing up for dog sitting again.’
‘What happened?’
‘The dogs were gorgeous in the daytime hours. But they were little buggers on the first night. One of them got out of the laundry where they sleep, and I woke up to find him in my open suitcase at the foot of the bed. It was cute he’d come to see me, but after I’d shut him back in the laundry and barricaded the door, I went back into the bedroom and I could smell something was off. It turned out he’d buried a bone in amongst my clothes and then peed all over everything.’
Owen couldn’t keep a straight face. ‘I’m sorry, but that’s hilarious.’
‘Not at three a.m. it wasn’t!’
‘You’re a funny girl, Stevens.’
She gulped at the way her surname tumbled from his lips.
‘And don’t worry,’ he said. ‘George hasn’t been known to pee anywhere other than outside or in his litter tray.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘You seemed so serious when I first met you,’ he continued.
‘What did you expect? I was terrified when you turned up in the middle of the night.’
‘You’re much more relaxed now, and you know what? I think we may even be friends.’
‘Yeah, don’t push it.’ She smiled and looked up. ‘Your admirer’s back.’ Stephanie stood two tables away with four or five friends now, flicking her hair over her shoulder and batting her eyelids when Owen looked her way.
‘Wait here a minute.’ He headed inside the pub and reappeared thirty seconds later wearing his leather jacket and helmet, and a second jacket and helmet were looped over his arm. He passed the spares to Rosie. ‘I took the liberty of bringing these along tonight in case you changed your mind and joined me. I’m sorry it’s not a great fit, it’s a one-size-fits-all as the spare, but we’re not going far.’
‘Oh no, no way! You’re not getting me on that bike of yours.’ She held up her hands and refused to take the jacket and helmet from him.
�
��Well I’m not pushing it round the corner like some imbecile to walk you home.’
‘I don’t need walking home. I’m a big girl now.’
He leaned in and she got a waft of the crisp aftershave that reminded her of the house, where it lingered long after he’d showered and left. ‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’ he whispered, wrapping the leather jacket around her shoulders. ‘Let’s give Stephanie something to gossip about and let her down gently that I’m only interested in being her friend.’
Rosie could see Stephanie ready to pounce should Owen move in her vicinity. She relented and shrugged on the jacket as they walked to his bike. ‘You’ve got a lot to learn about women, Owen Harrison, if you think this is letting her down gently.’
She pulled on the helmet before she could talk herself out of it. ‘Don’t go too fast,’ she wagged a finger at him. ‘I don’t have a death wish.’
He reached out and adjusted the chin strap on her helmet. She wondered whether he’d seen her gulp when his fingers grazed her neck. And when he flipped his visor down and climbed onto the bike, she realised she was more nervous about how close their bodies were about to be than how terrifying it might be on the back of a motorbike.
‘Put your arms around my waist and lean with me on the corners,’ he told her as she climbed on behind him.
Her voice competed with the rumble of the engine. ‘I’m not sure about this!’
‘You’ll be fine.’ He pulled away. ‘Now give Stephanie a wave.’
Rosie didn’t wave – she daren’t let go of Owen – but she couldn’t help but giggle as she watched Stephanie glower at them, bright red lips pursed as the Ducati manoeuvred its way out of the car park.
On the open road, the bike vibrated beneath her as her body pressed against Owen’s. The wind lifted the strands of any hair not held down by the helmet, and the air cooled with the speed as they headed back to the house.
Owen’s height made him look skinnier than he actually was. With her arms wrapped round his waist, her mind flitted back to the day she’d seen him wearing only a towel, and she was pretty sure Adam had never made her tummy flip like this, even when they’d first dated. Then again, maybe it was the difference between a cad and a responsible, reliable man. This was a frisson of excitement that wasn’t meant to last.
What Rosie Found Next Page 6
