Fool Me Once

by Karly Lane

  ‘That’s why I have assistants,’ he pointed out, his fingers playing with the hair at the base of her neck.

  ‘If it’s too much …’ he said after she didn’t reply. ‘I know this whole thing’s been pretty intense.’

  ‘No, it’s not too much,’ she said quickly, pulling into a car space and turning to face him. ‘It has been intense, but I want to see you again … I just don’t know how it’s going to work. The distance thing.’ She waved a hand in the direction of the airstrip.

  ‘It’s not that far if we fly,’ he shrugged.

  ‘Michael, I can’t afford to buy plane tickets all that often.’

  ‘I’ll take care of it,’ he said and kissed her, deep and full of longing. It distracted her from her brief moment of unease when he promised to take care of it. As he rested his forehead against hers, that terrible emptiness filled her once more. It was over. He was going back to his world and leaving her far behind.

  She felt rather proud of herself for not crying. She just stood there and watched him walk up the stairs and into the small aircraft that would fly him out of her life. Then she turned and walked back to her faithful old ute and drove herself back to the humble farm-manager job that was waiting for her.

  He wasn’t coming back.

  That was the thought that continued to echo through her mind as she attempted to drag herself back to reality. It was one of those once in a lifetime, tell the grandkids stories—well, maybe not the grandkids—but that’s all it was. And now it was over. The sooner she accepted that, the less it would hurt when the weekend came and went, and no fantasy man stepped back off the plane to greet her.

  Eight

  For the first part of her drive home, she wallowed in self-pity and listened to sad country songs, adjusting to life after Michael Delacourt. However, a little over an hour into the trip her phone began to ping and after three message notifications she pulled over and dug her phone from her bag.

  Landed. See? Nothing to this distance thing.

  Miss you.

  Rearranging the schedule now.

  Georgie shook her head and chuckled, putting her phone back in her bag and pulling out onto the road. Nothing to it, she thought as she stared down the long straight road ahead. He’d arrived in Brisbane before she was even halfway home. Maybe he was serious, she thought a little hopefully. But the cold voice of reason only raised an eyebrow at her doubtfully. Don’t get your hopes up.

  By Thursday afternoon Georgie was dragging her way through the day. She’d been stuck in the office paying bills and ordering feed for most of the morning, and Matt had come up at lunchtime to tell her the tank pump that pumped the water from the creek up to the top paddocks, where she currently had the cattle, had blown up. She’d called the hardware store in town to check they had the part she needed for the repair, only to be told it had to be ordered in. The pumps had been on her list of things to bring up with Harry. They needed updating. They were all old, and while they’d outlasted pretty much anything that was made nowadays, they’d all been repaired to within an inch of their lives too many times and it was getting harder, not to mention more expensive, to track down parts for them. They’d have to move the cattle until they could fix the pump, which was no easy feat given the number of cattle.

  When she eventually arrived back at the house, jeans filthy, her hair sweat-soaked and caked in dust, the last thing she felt like doing was dealing with the unexpected visitor in a hire car.

  She parked the quad bike and walked towards the house, wiping an arm across her face in an attempt to at least look presentable, but her steps faltered as the man on her verandah stood up and grinned down at her from the top step.

  ‘Hey cowgirl. So this is what you get up to when I’m not here to distract you?’

  Georgie felt her mouth drop open—she knew she looked like a stunned mullet, but she couldn’t help it. She literally would not have been more surprised if the cows she just mustered had all stood up on their hind legs and performed a flash mob dance.

  ‘Michael?’ she squeaked, her brain still struggling to come to terms with the fact the man she’d convinced herself wouldn’t ever be back was indeed standing right in front of her.

  His deep chuckle set off a tsunami of emotion inside her and as he started down the steps, she launched herself into his arms with a small cry. He felt so good, his strong arms holding her tightly against him, and he also smelled so good—instantly she pulled away. She smelled like cow and dust, with maybe a touch of wet dog thrown in for good measure.

  He looked down at her, confused by her abrupt move. ‘I’ll get your clothes dirty,’ she murmured, feeling self-conscious. She looked like a train wreck.

  ‘You think I care about my clothes?’ He hitched up an eyebrow and she felt her insides melt as he tugged her back against him and kissed her.

  She’d missed this so much. It had only been three days since she’d seen him, but it had felt like a year. He was really here.

  When they pulled apart again Georgie could only stare at him. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I couldn’t wait till the weekend,’ he shrugged. ‘I finished what I had to do early, so I came out today to surprise you. Surprise,’ he said lightly, but Georgie wondered if she’d imagined the slightest trace of uncertainty underneath.

  ‘It worked.’ She smiled up at him and felt a ridiculous urge to cry. Seriously? What was going on with her lately?

  The sound of a motorbike engine in the distance reminded her where they were, and that Matt would be wondering what the hell was going on if he turned up and saw them. ‘Come inside. I should get cleaned up.’

  ‘Now that’s a great idea. I think you did get my clothes all sweaty and dirty,’ he said, dusting at the front of the blue business shirt he wore, unbuttoned at the throat and the sleeves rolled up. When he looked up at her mortified expression he grinned. ‘Pretty sure I’ll have to take a shower now.’

  ‘Oh really? How convenient. You can go first then,’ she said, walking past him and heading inside to the hall cupboard. She handed him a towel with a smug glance.

  ‘Even I know you can’t waste water in the country,’ he said, shaking his head sadly. ‘Looks like we’ll have to share the shower.’

  She smiled after him as he walked towards the bathroom and beckoned her with a crooked finger. Like he even needed to encourage her, she thought, already unbuttoning her shirt. It was funny how she was able to forget all about her crap day, when everything had gone wrong, the minute this man walked back into her life. If every crap day ended like this, she wouldn’t mind how many of them she had.

  Timboora was a small village off the beaten track. It was inland from everywhere and no major roads ran through it, so for all intents and purposes it pretty much didn’t exist for the rest of the world. It had a population of just over two thousand, and Georgie loved the big wide streets and shops with old-fashioned verandahs that lined the main street. As far as small rural towns went, Timboora was well serviced. They had most of the essentials: a chemist, bakery, grocery store, petrol station, café and takeaway, and no country town is complete without the iconic pub. Once upon a time Timboora had several, but now only one remained and it did a great counter lunch, which was where Georgie had decided to take Michael.

  ‘Hey, Georgie, I haven’t seen you in here for ages. How’s things going?’ asked a lean woman with the leathery look of someone who’d spent their life outdoors.

  ‘Hi Peg, things are going great. How’s Paully doing?’

  ‘Oh, you know Paully. Won’t let a little thing like a heart attack keep him down,’ the woman said drolly, but her gaze had fallen on Michael, and Georgie saw undisguised curiosity light up her eyes. ‘Who have we got here?’

  ‘Peg, this is Michael,’ Georgie said, trying to keep things as light as possible.

  ‘Oh really?’ Peg tilted her head like a curious bird as she inspected Michael from across the bar.

  Georgie felt a blush creeping up he
r neck and inwardly cursed. She was a grown-arse adult and didn’t owe any kind of explanation to anyone about her personal life. Who cared if the locals felt a need to gossip?

  ‘Hello, Peg. It’s nice to meet you,’ Michael said, leaning across the bar to extend his hand.

  Peg took it without hesitation, but her eyes still shone with a glint of curiosity. ‘Here for a few days?’

  ‘Just a short break, yep,’ Michael confirmed.

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Anyway, we’d like to order lunch,’ Georgie jumped in, hoping to bring a halt to any further speculation.

  Peg picked up her notepad but sent Georgie a knowing look, thankfully taking their order without any further questioning. Georgie wasted no time finding a table for them nearby.

  Michael refused her offer to come with him to buy drinks, and when he returned he was wearing a wry smile.

  ‘Oh no, what now?’

  ‘I just met Rocky,’ he said drolly.

  ‘Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention Rocky.’

  ‘It’s okay. He filled me in on your … relationship.’

  ‘I’m sure he did,’ Georgie said hesitantly. ‘You know he’s a little bit …’

  ‘Crazy?’ Michael filled in helpfully.

  ‘Different,’ Georgie corrected with a small grunt. Rocky had once been a boxer, and apparently a pretty good one, but a few too many knocks to the head had resulted in him being forced to leave his profession and return home to Timboora, where his uncle gave him a job bartending and as the unofficial bouncer and groundskeeper. Georgie had developed a soft spot for the gentle giant, but at some point he’d convinced himself Georgie was his girlfriend. No amount of talk had managed to convince him that they were just friends, and his steadfast refusal to stop calling her his girlfriend had turned into general acceptance within the town. Although it was considered more of a harmless joke, Georgie had sometimes wondered what would happen if she ever got a real boyfriend. It hadn’t been an issue … until now.

  Was that what Michael was? Her boyfriend? The term seemed too … trivial for the way she was feeling. This was far more intense. She couldn’t even imagine Michael being called someone’s boyfriend. A shiver ran up her spine as she replayed last night and the feel of that stubble on his jaw as it rubbed coarsely against the soft skin of her …

  ‘Georgie?’

  She gave a start and lifted her gaze to his amused eyes. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You stopped talking midsentence.’

  She cleared her throat quickly, forcing her mind back to the conversation at hand. ‘He’s harmless. It’s just a thing he goes on about.’

  ‘Yeah well, I certainly don’t ever plan on pissing him off … just to be on the safe side.’

  ‘Probably a good idea.’

  ‘It’s a nice old pub,’ Michael commented, taking a sip of his beer and looking around.

  ‘It’s beautiful. I love country pubs.’ This one was built in 1881 and it still retained the architectural beauty of the era.

  ‘You come here often?’

  ‘Is that another pick-up line?’ Georgie asked, hitching an eyebrow.

  Michael’s lopsided grin made her heart go a little giggly. ‘Nope. Just curious.’

  ‘I come here if I’m in town and have time for lunch. The food’s fantastic.’ Almost as though on cue, their order appeared.

  Michael watched Georgie eye the plate of food in front of her with unrestrained glee. He’d never dated a woman who loved food as much as Georgie. He could watch her face light up like this all damn day.

  ‘Is there something wrong?’ she asked, catching him gazing at her. ‘Is it not what you ordered?’

  ‘It’s fine. Looks good,’ he said, picking up his cutlery and looking away. He felt like a clumsy kid around her. He hadn’t felt so out of his depth before with a woman—at least not since he was a clumsy kid. She’d thrown him completely off his game. Not that he played games, but the women he used to date had never been anything like Georgie Henderson. God how he’d wished for someone like her back then. He’d grown bored of high-maintenance socialites. He’d always wanted someone he could have an actual conversation with—to discuss things he was interested in, not just listen to idle gossip and the latest scandals about the people who ran in the same social circles as his mother and stepfather. And now, when he hadn’t even been looking, Georgie had been dropped into his life, as though his fairy godmother were waving her wand and making all his wishes come true.

  Maybe it was magic. It sure as hell didn’t feel like anything he’d experienced before. If anyone had told him they’d fallen in love with someone the moment they’d laid eyes on them, he’d have laughed it off as crazy. And yet here he was. He’d gone back to the city to attend to the few things he couldn’t leave to other people, and then he had come straight back to Georgie. If he’d been worried that whatever was between them was some freak moment of insanity, he shouldn’t have been. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Even work—the one sure way to forget anything else going on his life—had failed to distract him. She was everywhere he looked and everything else around him only served to annoy him because Georgie wasn’t there. Then he’d opened an email from Brent that had ruined everything. He’d reread the message and felt a wave of dread rise up inside him. He’d almost forgotten about the investigation he’d asked Brent to do.

  Hey bro. Finally looked into Tamban as you asked. It’s a property out past a place called Jacks Creek. It’s one of the holdings the old man owns. Should I be concerned at your interest?

  He’d pondered what to do with the information for the past two days. The right thing would be to tell Georgie and get it out in the open. That’s what he’d decided to do, face to face, which was why he hadn’t waited until the weekend to come out. He couldn’t stand the turmoil it was causing in him. Only, the minute he’d seen her swing her leg off the quad bike and walk across to him, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, dressed in tight dusty jeans and a green work shirt, he’d forgotten what he’d come to talk to her about. She couldn’t have looked any sexier if she’d tried and he knew she’d think he was nuts if he told her—but it was the truth. Dirt smeared across her face or dressed up for a B&S ball, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  He’d wanted to clear the air and tell her that his stepfather was the man behind the corporation that had purchased her father’s farm, but he knew if he did, he’d lose her. So he’d kept his mouth shut. But he couldn’t completely push aside the uneasy feeling that lingered.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Georgie’s voice cut into his troubled thoughts and he forced a smile.

  ‘Not a thing,’ he said. He looked down at his meal, but he’d suddenly lost his appetite.

  Nine

  After lunch Georgie suggested a drive around the area, pointing out some of the town’s highlights. Michael had become unusually quiet during lunch and she wondered what was wrong. Was he having second thoughts about being out here? Had the novelty worn off? He held her hand as he drove, and she was sure she’d never get used to that, but surely if he was sick of her he wouldn’t want to hold her hand?

  She indicated he should turn left at the intersection, then bit the inside of her cheek as they drove along the long, narrow road. Pasture grew on either side of the grey ribbon of bitumen; fat cattle grazed in some paddocks, while crops filled others. It had been a great season out this way. Everyone seemed to be having a good year. It could be deceiving if you visited the region in a year like this—it’d be hard to think that in previous years these paddocks had grown little more than weeds and dirt. It was amazing what a good season of rain could do.

  ‘Up ahead, take that turn,’ she told him. He slowed the vehicle to leave the sealed road for the dirt and she stared out the window, catching the plume of dust behind them in the side mirror.

  They passed a large gum tree on the side of the road, where a small cross with her father’s name had been nailed to the wide trunk.

  ‘That�
�s where my dad died,’ she said quietly.

  Michael pulled the car to a stop.

  ‘Georgie, I’m sorry,’ he said quietly from beside her.

  ‘I was the first one on the scene of my father’s car crash,’ she said, breaking the gentle stillness around them. ‘I remember standing there and having no idea what I should do first.’

  ‘That must have been an impossibly hard situation to be in, seeing your father injured like that. You can’t blame yourself for being inexperienced.’

  Georgie gave a small shrug. ‘They told me later he would have died on impact, so nothing I could have done would have made any difference. But I still remember that feeling.’

  ‘No one should have to see someone they love in that kind of situation. I can’t even imagine how hard that must have been.’

  Horrific was what it had been, and not something you ever forgot, although thankfully shock had dulled some of the memories. When she thought about it now, which wasn’t as often as she used to, she found there were lots of foggy moments, which she supposed was her brain’s way of protecting her from the worst of them.

  ‘This wasn’t what I brought you out here for. It’s just a little bit further up the road.’

  Michael looked over his shoulder before pulling back out on the road.

  ‘Pull over here,’ she said, pointing to a wide area beside a closed gate.

  She swallowed past the familiar lump in her throat. It never got easier. She thought it would—someday.

  Matthew Enterprises was printed on a sign that hung on the gate beneath a timber slab with Tamban etched into it.

  ‘My grandfather hand-carved that sign,’ she said and tried to keep her tone light. ‘I kind of wished I’d taken it.’

  ‘Why didn’t you?’ Michael asked gently.

  ‘It felt wrong. It belongs here.’

  In the distance she could see the house and the machinery sheds. There’d been some new silos built and a few extra sheds put up. Nothing looked overgrown or neglected; the fences had all been replaced and no longer sagged. It looked exactly the way she’d always imagined it would look … when she took over.