Fool Me Once
Page 1
Praise for Someone Like You
‘Karly Lane’s latest book is must-read … there’s plenty to enjoy in this sweet, rural read.’ —Gold Coast Bulletin/Cairns Post
‘The chemistry sizzled off the page … I love this story and would recommend this one to anyone who loves some humour with their romance.’ —Beauty and Lace
‘Within an authentic country setting, Karly’s trademark humour knits together a fabulous story about fresh beginnings and new love. A snapshot of Australia’s colonial history is interwoven throughout the narrative with both truth and sensitivity … Karly’s novels are always full and rounded; reading one is like stepping into a new community for the duration and being welcomed in with open arms … a heart-warming read that will have you flipping the pages long into the night.’ —Theresa Smith Writes
Praise for The Wrong Callahan
‘For romance lovers, this is the dreamy can’t-put-down read for you!’ —Australian Women’s Weekly
‘I loved this book … The Wrong Callahan is a well-paced tale of love, betrayal, family, PTSD and small town communities. Another five-star read from me!’ —Beauty and Lace
‘I enjoyed this book immensely … I don’t have words to describe exactly how excited I am to read the second book in this trilogy next year. I loved being on Stringybark Creek with the Callahan family and just want to dive back into it.’ —Noveltea Corner
‘Just in time for Christmas, Karly Lane returns with another winning read … Although The Wrong Callahan is here to entertain rural romance readers, Karly Lane would love the audience to take away a small sense of appreciation of the work our agricultural workers commit to, day in day out. It truly is tremendous and worthy of our attention in this current challenging environment for our Aussie farmers.’ —Mrs B’s Book Reviews
Praise for Mr Right Now
‘To say that I’ve been waiting for the sequel to The Wrong Callahan might be understating just how excited I’ve been to read this book! Karly Lane has a wonderful way of creating a sense of place; and the characters leap off the page. These are books I know I can fall into time and time again and still be transported.’ —Noveltea Corner
‘Mr Right Now is another delightful read from one of my favourite authors, Karly Lane … Lane’s stories have depth and explore many themes that are relevant to relationships in all forms, exploring father/son relationships and the old-ways versus the new-ways, farming accidents, diversity on the land, droughts, storms, community support, family and friendships … I simply can’t wait for book 3.’ —Beauty and Lace
Praise for Return to Stringybark Creek
‘Captivating, entertaining and most enjoyable, this return visit with the Callahans encourages the understanding that sometimes there are, even from the darkest of times, huge positives to be discovered.’ —Blue Wolf Reviews
‘Lane has added additional depth to this story that highlights the plight of Australian farmers and farming communities who are under strain … I’m grateful for the calm and considered way Lane has approached the topic. The Callahans has become a favourite book family of mine … they define family and friendship and it’s been a real pleasure to read their stories.’ —Noveltea Corner
‘Karly Lane creates likeable, warm characters as she twists and turns her story … an entertaining read with an intriguing love story set against the challenges of farming and its stresses.’ —The Weekly Times
Fool Me Once
Karly Lane lives on the mid north coast of New South Wales. Proud mum to four children and wife of one very patient mechanic, she is lucky enough to spend her day doing the two things she loves most—being a mum and writing stories set in beautiful rural Australia.
Also by Karly Lane
North Star
Morgan’s Law
Bridie’s Choice
Poppy’s Dilemma
Gemma’s Bluff
Tallowood Bound
Second Chance Town
Third Time Lucky
If Wishes Were Horses
Six Ways to Sunday
Someone Like You
The Wrong Callahan
Mr Right Now
Return to Stringybark Creek
First published in 2020
Copyright © Karly Lane 2020
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.
Allen & Unwin
83 Alexander Street
Crows Nest NSW 2065
Australia
Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100
Email: info@allenandunwin.com
Web: www.allenandunwin.com
ISBN 978 1 76052 924 6
eISBN 978 1 76087 409 4
Set by Bookhouse, Sydney
Cover design: Nada Backovic
Cover photographs: Getty Images; Emily McCormack
To my Nanna and Pop and memories of North Arm
CONTENTS
PRAISE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT PAGE
DEDICATION
PART ONE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
PART TWO
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Part One
One
Georgie Henderson stood at the back of the hall watching the antics of the drunken, fun-loving crowd and felt old. It should have bolstered her ego that she’d been hit on three times in the past hour, but with the majority of the room barely over the legal drinking age, she just felt like a pervy old woman in comparison.
She felt out of place, despite being decked out in one of Shannon’s hand-me-downs—albeit a gorgeous hand-me-down. The royal blue silk gown had a fitted bodice and draped to the floor. She felt like a princess in it. She scoffed slightly at the idea. Maybe if a princess were more at home in a pair of Blundstone steel-cap boots than heels. She felt completely overdressed. Although, not, of course, for a B&S ball, but overdressed nonetheless for her.
She’d shaken her head as she’d looked at herself in the mirror earlier, trying to relate the woman in the blue silk gown with the woman she’d been barely an hour before she’d put the dress on—the woman who’d had to stop the car on the way up the driveway to chase cattle out of the new paddock of oats and fix the fence.
Why had she allowed Shannon to talk her into coming to a B&S of all things? Maybe it was because they’d been reliving old times over the phone when Shannon had called her for her birthday last week, and she’d been in a weird, nostalgic mood. At the time she’d thought it would be fun; now that she was here though, it reminded her why most people outgrew the
ir B&S days. As she sidestepped a pair of girls staggering towards the restrooms, makeup running, she wondered if she’d ever got that drunk and then winced as she realised she had.
She searched the crowd for Shannon but was distracted as her gaze collided with a man across the room. She would have sniggered at the clichéd romance of it, only in that instant she was too surprised by the fact it seriously did feel as though she’d locked eyes with a stranger across a crowded room. Although, as soon as the fact sunk in, she immediately recoiled and tore her gaze away. She was a little irritated to discover that her pulse was not as steady as it should be. Well, that was awkward. She was not going to look back across there again, despite the urge to do so, even if it were simply to make sure what happened the first time was just a fluke.
Damn Shannon for abandoning her to dance with some guy who’d started chatting them up a minute ago. Georgie was used to it—men had always been drawn to Shannon. She was the blonde-haired party girl. Georgie, on the other hand, had always been happier to hang back in the shadows. They were an unlikely pair, but they’d been best friends since kindergarten and Shannon was more like a sister to her than a friend. Best friend or not though, it was getting late and Georgie really didn’t want to be the third wheel. ‘Find someone and dance,’ Shannon had said before she’d been led away onto the dance floor.
Georgie didn’t feel like dancing. She was away from Stoney Creek, the property she managed, and being a slight control freak regarding her work, her thoughts had been constantly returning to what could be going wrong in her absence. She knew Matt, her farmhand, would have everything under control—she wouldn’t have left him in charge if she hadn’t trusted him, she reminded herself again—and yet she really wished she could be back there right now, where she fitted in, instead of standing here in this crowded hall feeling like an outsider.
The song ended and she spotted Shannon and her partner, but her hope that they’d be leaving soon crumbled as a new song started and they continued to dance. She wished she could drown her frustration in a drink or three—maybe then the roar of loud drunken voices and over-the-top laughter, which she was positive had given her this pounding headache, mightn’t annoy her quite so much. But she’d agreed to drive tonight, so drinking was out of the question. It really did suck to be the only sober person at a B&S ball.
She’d momentarily forgotten about the stranger who’d caught her looking at him earlier, until she noticed him again and took the opportunity to get a better look while he was distracted elsewhere. Despite the fact all the men were dressed in suits—formal attire being the fundamental rule of a Bachelor and Spinster ball after all—his suit looked expensive. This was no discount-store bought suit, and he wore it as though it were an extension of himself. He exuded authority. There was a rugged kind of appeal to him—he wasn’t handsome in a classical sense, but he clearly knew how to dress and act like a sophisticated businessman even while there was something not quite polished about him. A toughness maybe, which didn’t go with the whole expensive-business-suit thing. She saw him watching the event through cynical, almost judgemental eyes and his attitude rubbed Georgie the wrong way even as she felt a pull of attraction.
He didn’t belong in the worn old hall, standing there in that tailor-made suit; he stood out, even though he’d loosened his tie and undone the top button of his white shirt. The other men were mostly veterans of the B&S, their suits carrying the stains and wear of previous balls. Each scuff mark on their shoes, stain on their sleeve or lovingly repaired tear was worn like a badge of honour. The man really did look out of place, and his presence was drawing attention from others, who were being a lot less subtle in their observations than she was, judging by their blurry-eyed looks.
Trouble was brewing, Georgie could tell. Unlike the stranger, most of the younger men had been here from the beginning of the evening and had been drinking steadily. At this stage of the night, with alcohol boosting egos and courage, it would only be a matter of time before testosterone-fuelled confidence tipped over into aggression and then violence. As if on cue, she heard the first slurred indications that time was up. ‘Look at ’im,’ she heard and zeroed in on a large bloke wearing a stained white shirt, untucked and missing a few vital buttons. ‘Who does he think he is?’
Against her better judgement, Georgie decided to intervene. Nimbly avoiding splashed drinks and groping hands, she made her way across the room and came to a stop in front of the dark-haired stranger.
‘Are you lost?’ she asked, raising her voice over the loud country music.
He dropped his gaze to meet hers and Georgie felt that same weird pull of attraction, only more intensely up close. His eyes—a dark, almost denim blue—caught and held hers once more.
‘Do I look lost?’ There was a touch of amusement in his expression.
‘You don’t exactly look like you want to be here.’
He tipped his head the slightest bit, still holding her gaze. ‘I could say the same about you. You didn’t look like you were having much fun standing over there either.’
Well, he had her there. ‘Nowadays these things just make me feel old,’ she said with reluctant amusement.
‘You’re positively ancient—you’re, what, all of … nineteen?’ he drawled.
Georgie sent him a derisive look. There was no way, looking around at some of the young, skimpily dressed women in the room, that he could mistake her for a teenager. ‘I’m twenty-six.’
‘Well now, that’s made my night a whole lot brighter.’
‘And why would that be?’
‘Because I’m closer to thirty than nineteen and was feeling like some dirty old man.’
Georgie bit back a grin as he echoed pretty much the same thing she’d been feeling earlier. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who felt as though they’d outgrown this kind of event. ‘You aren’t from around here, are you?’
‘What gave it away?’ he asked with a slow grin.
‘The fact you’re wearing an Armani suit maybe? You sure as hell didn’t get that from the local menswear store.’
His deep chuckle had a husky edge to it and the sound sent a small quiver through her.
‘So what brought you to a B&S ball all the way out here?’ she asked. The hall was close to forty kilometres from the nearest large town—hardly a place you’d casually drop in and check out.
‘My brother dragged me along, and now he seems to have dumped me for a better offer,’ he said, tossing his head in the direction of the dance floor, where a couple danced slowly, oblivious to the fast country number that played, lost in their own world.
‘Yeah, well that better offer dragged me here to relive our youth, then dumped me for your brother,’ she told him with wry amusement as she watched Shannon in the arms of the tall, sandy–haired man maybe a few years younger than the man beside her.
They shared a look that said hopeless! and turned away from the two lovebirds.
‘So here we are.’
‘So here we are,’ she agreed.
She felt that strange pull again as she allowed her gaze to be captured by his once more. There was something so alive and exciting in those depths, something that dared her to let go of her usual caution, but before she had the chance to examine it further, a low voice from behind interrupted their silent exchange.
‘What have we got here, gents?’
Georgie turned and groaned. It was the big guy she’d managed to avoid after an earlier roaming-hands incident near the bar. He had the build of a rugby player, with a thick neck and stocky frame, and all the confidence of a drunk twenty-one-year-old wannabe stud. Behind him a small group of loyal mates were rallying.
‘I thought you said you were headin’ home?’ he said to Georgie, narrowing his eyes. He clearly wasn’t too drunk to forget about his earlier attempt at seduction.
Okay, so he’d caught her out on a little white lie. ‘I was, but I got … distracted,’ she hedged, hoping he’d get the hint and leave.
&
nbsp; ‘Cool. So now you’ve got time for that dance,’ he said, grabbing hold of her arm.
Georgie was about to open her mouth to protest when a deep voice interrupted from beside her: ‘The lady and I haven’t finished our conversation.’
Georgie glanced around at the hostile faces and her stomach dropped.
‘Consider your conversation over,’ the young guy snarled, ignoring Georgie completely.
‘I think you need to back off,’ the tall stranger replied, his voice low and steely.
‘You don’t belong here, mate,’ the young guy said, curling his lip.
‘I paid to get in just like everyone else, so I’m pretty sure I do,’ the man stated calmly, although Georgie noticed his body had tensed beside her.
‘Okay. Fine. I’ll dance,’ Georgie said. If that was the only way to head off trouble, she’d endure a drunken sway around the dance floor. And then she was heading home. Only, before she could move, the dark-haired man had stepped in front of her, a meaty fist connected with the side of his jaw and she was pushed aside. The next moment bedlam broke out.
Georgie stood with hands on her hips, watching the mêlée and shaking her head in disgust. ‘You have got to be kidding me,’ she muttered under her breath.
Shannon came over to stand beside her. When her dance partner had realised his brother was in the middle of the brawl, he had quickly joined in.
Fists flew, some managing to make contact, others swinging widely and missing—an indication of how much alcohol had been consumed.
‘Come to the B&S, Georgie. It’ll be just like old times. It’ll be a harmless trip down memory lane, Georgie,’ Georgie mimicked.
Shannon gave a deep-throated chuckle. ‘And I was right, it is just like old times. Isn’t he amazing?’ she went on, gazing at her new man as he launched himself at one of the blokes wrestling with his brother.
Georgie rolled her eyes. She’d hoped that maybe she’d found someone who was at least a tiny bit interested in something other than drinking and fighting for just one night, but it seemed whoever the man was, age was no guarantee of maturity.