The kettle switched off and Drew didn’t move. He nodded, jaw tight. He’d made a mistake and misjudged Freya. Not only was she comfortable around farm animals but she was far from fragile.
There was an angle to her small chin he hadn’t seen before and a steadiness to her quiet stare. No wonder the Reedy Creek parents were in awe she’d sorted out the youngest Ridley boy within three weeks of school starting. Two other boys who’d preferred pigging to being in the classroom had also returned to school and caused little to no trouble.
She hid it well, but for all of her apparent gentleness, she possessed a will as strong as the curved steel in his wheat silos.
Mouth dry, he collected a coffee mug from the shelf beside him. So much for quiet and unassuming Freya not disrupting his life. It wasn’t enough her beauty drew him to her, her spirit did as well.
Chapter Two
The days at Inglewood settled into an easy routine. Freya would hear Drew leave early and would then briefly see him when he returned dusty and tired for a late dinner. The conversation they’d had the night she arrived remained their longest.
He’d insisted she not cook for him but it didn’t feel right not doing something to help at such a busy time and to thank him for having her to stay. So she’d taken to leaving a meal in the fridge and muffins or slice on the bench to pack in his esky for morning smoko. She’d also made sure she fed Bailey, if he hadn’t accompanied Drew into the paddocks, and Panda.
She clucked to encourage the fat black and white pony dawdling at the end of the lunging lead as he walked in a circle around her.
‘Come on, Panda Bear, I know you can walk faster. Hattie’s coming over and might want a ride so I don’t want you misbehaving. You don’t fool me. The glint in your eye tells me you know plenty of tricks.’
The Shetland pony flicked his tail and increased his pace.
Freya smiled across to where Bailey lounged in his favourite spot in the shade of an old jacaranda tree. Everywhere she went the young kelpie followed. As she’d predicted, she mightn’t have Drew’s company but between Bailey and Panda she didn’t feel alone.
Her smile slipped. It didn’t seem to matter whether she saw Drew or not, she kept thinking about him. Especially late at night when she heard the splash of water as he took a swim in the large pool at the back of the homestead. She focused again on Panda and not on imagining what muscled and tanned Drew would look like wet and shirtless. He already distracted her enough dressed in ripped jeans and covered in dust.
She lunged Panda in the opposite direction before returning him to his shaded pony paddock. Hattie mightn’t ride after all. The temperature already soared. No birdsong sounded and no blue-and-black wrens flittered around the sparse garden. The only sound that disturbed the hot silence was the ceaseless drone of cicadas. Out in the summer-bleached paddocks, heat waves shimmered, distorting the dark shapes of Red Angus cattle. Today wouldn’t provide any respite from the heatwave predicted to last until Christmas.
She returned to her wing of the house to change into a loose white blouse and a denim skirt. Her jeans, long-sleeved pink cotton shirt and the cowgirl boots Cressy had gifted her for her birthday protected her fair skin when outside but weren’t practical inside. She kept her heavy hair in its quick and cool top knot.
She was adding the last detail to the design template for the felt Christmas tree her class would make in the upcoming craft workshop when tyres crunched on the gravel driveway. Hattie had arrived. Her aunt needed to take the energetic twins to Taylor at Woodlea to have their hair trimmed and Hattie had asked if she could visit Freya and Panda. Drew was going to try to come home at lunch so he too could see her.
Hattie’s small hand slid into Freya’s as they stood on the veranda steps and waved goodbye to her aunt and cousins. A plume of red dust followed the white sedan along Inglewood’s gum tree–lined driveway until it reached the tar road.
Freya always maintained a professional distance between herself and her students. But with her teacher hat being shelved for the summer, she could be what grieving Hattie needed—an adult who understood and cared. She smiled at the six-year-old.
‘So what should we do first? Make Christmas cookies or visit Panda?’
Hattie’s solemn heart-shaped face broke into a smile. ‘See Panda.’ She pulled an apple from the pocket of the purple shirt she wore with shorts and cowgirl boots. ‘I brought him a treat.’
‘He’ll love that.’
Bailey trotted beside them as they headed for the pony paddock behind the stables. As soon as Panda saw Hattie he nickered and cantered over.
Freya smiled. ‘That’s the fastest I’ve seen him move.’
Hattie giggled as the pony flung his head over the gate and neighed. For all his energy, when Hattie sat the apple on her flat palm, Panda ate with care. Hattie leaned in close to hug him and play with his white forelock. Panda sighed with bliss. The pony adored his little rider as much as she adored him.
When the heat flushed Hattie’s cheeks, they headed inside for a cool drink and watermelon Freya had cut into Christmas trees. They busied themselves with making cookie dough and rolling it out onto the floured, grey granite bench. Hattie’s face became a picture of concentration as she pressed out Christmas shapes with the cookie cutters.
Freya helped slide the last tray into the oven when tyres again sounded on the driveway. Bailey’s excited bark said Drew had come home. Hattie’s bare feet made no sound as she sped over the floorboards to the back kitchen door.
Freya took her time to wash the cookie dough from her hands. There was no reason for Drew’s arrival to trigger a flurry of nerves in her stomach. Laughter sounded as Drew piggybacked Hattie into the kitchen. Freya glanced up and her hands stilled beneath the trickle of warm water.
She’d witnessed the deep bond between Drew and Hattie at various school functions. But she’d only ever seen them together when she’d been working and busy. Now there was nothing stopping her from fully seeing the depth of their connection.
Hattie’s brown eyes sparkled and her blonde hair fell about her face as she giggled and clung to Drew’s broad shoulders. But it was Drew who Freya barely recognised. From their two-minute conversation that morning she knew his jaw was clean shaven and his aftershave contained a woody-citrus note. She also knew he wore his usual faded navy work shirt and jeans.
What she wasn’t prepared for was the happiness that relaxed his face. His grin flashed and his eyes turned the deep, dark blue of a moonlit sky. No longer did grooves bracket his mouth or reserve close his expression. Unsmiling, Drew Macgregor had the power to hijack her thoughts. At ease and playful, he took her breath away.
No wonder Edna had him on her marriage list for Bethany. Freya ignored a twinge of unease at the thought of Drew’s single days possibly being numbered and finished washing her hands. He loved Hattie so much and deserved to one day have a family of his own.
Drew and Hattie approached. She smiled, hoping her strain didn’t show.
‘Something smells good,’ Drew said, glancing at the stainless steel oven.
Even his voice sounded different, lighter, less rigid, as though it came from a part of him he always kept hidden.
‘Yes, sugar Christmas cookies. They’ll be ready in about ten minutes.’
Drew turned his head to grin at Hattie who remained on his back. ‘Time enough for a swim.’
Her squeal was only matched by the wideness of her smile. Drew lowered her to the floor. She skipped over to scoop up her pink backpack and continued towards the guest bathroom where she could change into her swimmers.
Drew’s eyes met Freya’s. She wasn’t surprised seriousness tempered his happiness. The way he’d folded his arms now they were alone reflected her own wariness. ‘Would you like to come for a swim too?’
She’d shaken her head even before he’d finished. ‘Thanks, but no. Apart from not packing any swimmers …’ She lifted a pale arm. ‘This Irish skin of mine isn’t designed for the outbac
k sun.’
The gravity in his eyes eased as he smiled. ‘I wondered where your colouring came from.’
‘My maternal grandmother emigrated from Ireland when she was ten. My sister has the same colouring.’
Drew’s attention focused on Freya’s hair. ‘I’ve never seen such a shade. It’s very … pretty.’
She thought she caught a flare of something in his eyes before Hattie appeared at the kitchen doorway dressed in a colourful swimsuit and holding a beach towel. ‘I’m ready.’
Drew grinned at his goddaughter. ‘I’d better hurry up then.’
He gave Freya a brief nod before he strode down the hallway to the west wing. Freya could only hope the hot colour in her cheeks hadn’t betrayed her reaction to his words.
Her red hair had been called many things, not all complimentary, but never had a comment elicited such a rush of feeling. For some reason it mattered that Drew thought her hair … pretty. She pushed aside her contentment to concentrate on making sure Hattie had sunscreen smoothed all over her young skin. She hadn’t started a new life only to risk her heart again.
A splash sounded and she and Hattie looked through the oversized kitchen window to where Drew resurfaced after diving into the pool. Sunlight caressed planes and chiselled hollows tanned by the summer sun. Smooth, corded muscles flexed as he tunnelled his hand through his wet hair. Freya swallowed. Her imagination could never have done justice to the masculine perfection that was one Drew Macgregor.
* * *
Shoulders tight and eyes gritty, Drew drove over the cattle grid to head for home. It’d been one of those days. A bearing had gone in the auger and now the header steer tyre had blown, all before lunch. So he was off to Woodlea to collect a new tyre. The closer he drove to the homestead, the more his tension increased.
He couldn’t get used to Freya being there to greet him. He couldn’t let her warm smile or the way she always left him homemade treats for his morning smoko trigger longings he’d suppressed. She’d soon be gone and the kitchen would no longer smell of cinnamon or gingerbread.
He’d already crossed the line by complimenting her on her hair. The way she’d stiffened and now looked at him with caution ensured that he wouldn’t blur the boundaries again. But as much as he needed to keep things casual between them, the urge to spend time with her proved too strong.
He parked the farm ute in the shed. Bailey bounded over to him and he rubbed the kelpie’s neck.
‘I know, I’m home again during the day. I must have had too much sun.’
He removed his boots at the kitchen door and continued inside. Freya came out from the living room, a book in her hands. She’d pulled her hair into a high ponytail and wore the short-sleeved green dress he’d seen the night of the Christmas concert.
‘Everything okay?’
He blanked out the concern in her voice and the way her eyes searched his. Her worry wasn’t personal. Freya had a kind heart. He’d seen how she’d cared for a student after the little girl had skinned her knee at the sports carnival. She’d also gone out of her way to make sure Hattie received the support and help she needed.
‘Yes, all good. I have to go to Woodlea to pick up a header tyre.’ He rubbed a hand around the base of his neck. ‘You said last night you needed more craft supplies … I wondered if you’d like to come with me.’
Her smile was instant. ‘Yes, please. I’ll grab my bag.’
Instead of taking the farm ute, Drew led the way towards the garage and his white four-wheel drive. They’d be more comfortable with the stronger air-conditioning. Freya gave Bailey a farewell pat before climbing into the passenger seat.
Silence settled between them until they reached the tar road. As they passed a neighbour’s mailbox entwined with red tinsel Freya turned to get a better look.
‘What a great idea. Hattie would love to decorate your mailbox.’
Drew looked away from where a chaser bin moved in tandem with a red header to catch the golden flow of grain. The unharvested wheat rippled as a breeze danced by. The unseasonable spring rain had resulted in bumper crops right across the fertile Bell River valley.
‘I’m sure she would. I’ll see if I can get some tinsel while in town.’
‘It’s fine. I have plenty and in lots of colours.’
He sent her a quick look which she met with a smile.
‘No, I’m not a crazy hoarder. I just like Christmas.’
‘I didn’t say a word.’
She laughed softly. ‘You didn’t have to. Just be warned your mailbox is going to be very sparkly very soon.’
He nodded, fighting to keep his expression from changing. Freya’s husky laughter reached inside and thawed places he’d never known were frozen.
She looked out the window as they passed a windmill decorated in rainbow woollen scarfs. There was a reason Woodlea was called the town of windmills. The closer they got to town the more circular blades they’d see spinning in the wind.
‘I can’t wait to see what the guerrilla knitters do next. I wonder what they’ll do to Main Street for Christmas?’
He too glanced at the colourful windmill. ‘I have no idea but whatever they do the tourists will love. The yarn bombers have been great for business.’
‘They’ve also been good for the kids. I’ve had students ask me to teach them to knit and crochet and it’s been so nice to get them off their electronic devices.’
‘Hattie showed me the scarf she’s knitting me for Christmas.’
‘It’s coming along really well.’ She paused to look at him. ‘I hope it’s okay to ask … sometimes she asks me things and I’m not sure of the answer … but how did you know Hattie’s parents?’
‘It’s fine. I’m happy to fill in the blanks. Brett was my best mate. We went away to school in Sydney together, then when my parents died in a light plane crash while I was at university his family looked out for me.’
‘I’m so sorry to hear about your mum and dad.’
The care and concern in Freya’s quiet voice had him meet her gaze. Sadness made her eyes appear more grey than blue.
‘Thanks.’
‘Do you have any cousins or other family you spend Christmas with?’
‘No. My father was an only child like me. He met my mother when he went on an agricultural exchange to Canada so my mother’s family are all over there. I usually went to Brett’s for Christmas.’ He risked another glance at Freya, knowing if she looked close enough she’d see the rawness of his grief. ‘What about you?’
‘It’s just my father and my sister. My mother died of stomach cancer when I was at school. My father’s overseas this year for Christmas and my sister’s spending it with her fiancé’s family. I’m welcome to go there too but … I want to spend the holiday season here.’ A small smile twisted her mouth. ‘I’m not sure what the rumour mill said about me coming out west but I’m guessing there are many conspiracy theories.’
‘Just a few.’
As he’d hoped, his light tone eased the shadows in Freya’s eyes. He guessed she hadn’t enjoyed being in the public spotlight.
‘The truth, and the short version, is that I was engaged to a man I should never have believed I’d be happy with. He cheated on me last Christmas so I accepted the first job that would take me as far away as possible.’
‘He was a fool.’ He made no attempt to hide the disgust edging his words. Freya was special. Any man should have treasured and valued the relationship he had with her.
‘Yes, he was.’ The composure in her reply signalled she’d moved on. ‘Even though I was devastated, it actually was a blessing as we weren’t compatible. So here I am very happy to be in the bush, and even happier being single, with no plans to change my relationship status anytime soon.’
‘I second that.’ Drew grimaced. ‘Even if Edna thinks I’d make Bethany a perfect husband.’
Freya’s soft laughter wrapped around him.
He slowed as they reached the Woodlea town limits. After ma
king plans to meet at the Windmill Café in an hour, Drew dropped Freya outside the craft shop. Knitted woollen stars and candy canes adorned the lampposts along Main Street. The yarn bombers were already dressing the town in the red, white and green of Christmas.
With a sweet smile and a wave, Freya disappeared into the craft shop. Drew’s gaze lingered on the doorway. Even with the faint scent of flowers reminding him that Freya would soon again be beside him, the passenger seat felt too empty.
For the next sixty minutes he focused on running errands, collecting the header tyre and doing a grocery shop. When he entered the Windmill Café, Freya sat at a corner table chatting to the shop assistant, Sally.
When the university student saw him she gave him a cheeky grin. He knew full well his name around town was dashing and distant Drew, a fact confirmed by it being six months since he’d last called in for a coffee. He usually didn’t come to Woodlea to socialise.
‘Hi, Sal.’
‘Hi, Drew. Your usual?’ Her smile grew teasing. ‘I think I can remember what it is.’
‘I’ll be happy with anything as long as it has caffeine in it.’
Sally giggled. ‘I know, it’s harvest time. I’ll make you a takeaway.’ She smiled at Freya. ‘Your usual too?’
‘Yes, please.’
Drew had only just slid into a seat when the door opened and the distinctive smell of overpowering perfume alerted him to who had entered.
‘I thought it was you, Drew,’ Edna Galloway said, voice higher-pitched than usual as she bustled over. ‘I can’t believe I’ve finally caught you in town.’ She looked at the spare chair between Freya and Drew. ‘May I?’
Without waiting for a reply she sat and waved at Sally. ‘I’ll have my usual, dear. Oh, and a piece of your caramel slice. Dr Fliss isn’t here to see what I eat. My cholesterol’s just fine.’
Drew didn’t miss the smile tugging at Freya’s lips before she spoke. ‘Edna, you know you can’t hide if you haven’t been eating properly. Your next lot of blood test results won’t lie.’
Under Christmas Stars Page 2
