by Karly Lane
As he’d be stuck on crutches for some weeks, it was decided Matt’s sister would take him back to their parents’ place in Tamworth till he recovered.
Later, when Georgie pulled her ute to a stop at home, she turned off the ignition and sat in the car listening to the quiet tick of the hot engine and rubbing her fingertips against her forehead in despair. This was terrible timing. She felt for Matt—she really did, he hadn’t meant to break his foot—but it couldn’t have happened at a worse time. She had the sale to get ready for, cattle to move, and only a week to do it all, and now not only was she down a foreman but also a quad bike.
Damn it.
Twenty-Four
She got out of the ute with her thoughts jumbled and her frustration rapidly rising. When she caught sight of Michael her heart stumbled for a moment. He stood, one booted foot on the bottom rail of the stockyards, his arms folded and resting against the top rail, watching the horses as they grazed in their yard.
His jeans lovingly moulded to his long legs and curved tightly around his firm butt—a butt that looked sinfully good even at this distance. His shirt, a pale blue, stretched across his broad shoulders and he’d rolled his sleeves up to mid forearm. He looked every inch a pin-up boy for a modern Aussie stockman, right down to the black Akubra, which fitted comfortably on his annoyingly perfect head.
Guiltily, she allowed her gaze to linger on him for a few extra moments before taking a deep breath and making her way across to him.
‘How’s Matt?’ he asked. She’d called him earlier to tell him she’d was heading to the hospital.
‘He’ll be okay, but he’s off work for six weeks.’
‘Is there anything I can do?’
Georgie gave a humourless chuckle. ‘Not unless you can magically repair a written-off quad and find me a stockman.’
‘So, when do I start?’
Georgie sent him a derisive look. ‘I know you like to buy up land, Michael, but owning half the country isn’t the same as actually working it.’ She headed towards the dog kennels and opened the gate, greeting each of the three animals and giving them a pat.
‘I do sometimes get my hands dirty, Georgie,’ he said as he watched her with the dogs.
She sent him a doubtful raised eyebrow.
‘Fine, so don’t believe me, no skin off my nose, I’m here on holiday anyway,’ he shrugged.
Annoyed at wasting time arguing when she had so much to do, she said, ‘Look, you’ll have to get your own lunch today. It’s in the fridge ready to go. Just grab it out when you’re hungry and help yourself to the kitchen. I have to get out there and start moving these cattle in.’
‘I’m coming too.’
‘I don’t have time to mollycoddle a guest today. This isn’t part of the farm-stay itinerary. We need two employees for safety precautions.’
‘Well, there’s only one guest and I’ll sign a waiver against any accident. You don’t have to worry about me.’
Georgie gave a whistle and her chocolate-coloured mare came trotting over, tossing her head in a friendly greeting. Two of the four other horses in the yard followed. With slow, calm movements Michael reached out and caught hold of the halter of one of the larger animals.
‘I don’t have time to argue.’
‘Good, that’ll save time,’ Michael shot back, stroking the gelding’s neck affectionately. ‘This one okay to ride?’ he asked, looking him over confidently.
‘All my horses are okay to ride. I can’t risk a guest riding a temperamental animal.’ She led her horse out of the yard and over to the sheltered end of the tack shed. ‘Fine. You can ride Elvis, but if you can’t keep up, you’ll have to make your way back here alone,’ she snapped.
‘I’ll do my best.’ Something in his tone made her glance up suspiciously, but his face was the picture of sincerity.
She entered the dark shed where all her riding equipment was neatly stored and heaved a saddle and blanket off its rack, sitting it over the railing next to Michael. ‘I’ll just get the bridle and saddle him up for you.’
Returning with the bridle, she missed a step as she saw to her surprise that he was tightening the girth strap, having deftly saddled his mount. ‘Well, at least you didn’t put it on back the front,’ she murmured, refusing to meet his smug grin. ‘Here you go, may as well make yourself useful and finish the job.’ She handed over the bridle and made her way back into the shed to retrieve her own gear.
As she hoisted herself into the saddle, she heard Michael’s low whistle from behind. Gritting her teeth, she sent him a withering glance over her shoulder, which had no impact whatsoever on the lopsided, sexy grin he wore.
‘I think I could get used to watching you do that all day.’
‘Don’t get too used to it,’ she snapped, before giving her horse a small kick to get her moving. She clenched her jaw as his deep chuckle floated to her from behind.
Walking past the homestead, Georgie leaned down from the back of her horse and opened the gate that led out of the house yard and into the paddock beyond. Michael rode through and Titch ran after him, followed by the two younger dogs racing eagerly ahead to investigate. With a click of her tongue, she urged her horse through the gate and slipped the chain back over the latch, securing it shut behind her.
As they rode together, she couldn’t help but notice how at ease Michael looked on his horse. She hated to admit it, but he handled the animal like a seasoned pro. For some reason it annoyed her. She thought she’d had him pegged. She didn’t want him to begin proving her wrong, because if she’d been wrong about this then she could be wrong about … She quickly clamped down on that train of thought. She hadn’t been wrong about Michael. Everything she’d discovered about him had been true; he hadn’t denied any of it, so there was no reason to start second-guessing him. She ignored the little niggle of doubt that tried to surface.
‘I have to ask,’ Michael said after they’d been riding in relative silence for a while. ‘How did he get the name Elvis?’ He leant down to pat the horse’s neck apologetically.
‘He has Elvis Presley eyes—look at those big brown babies,’ Georgie sighed.
‘Too bad you had to remove the poor bugger’s testicles.’ He winced as though feeling the gelding’s pain in a show of male commiseration. ‘Talk about adding insult to injury.’
‘Pity it’s not more commonly done; makes males easier to train,’ she smiled, throwing the comment over her shoulder sweetly.
His deep chuckle floated to her. ‘We’d be no fun if you broke us in too easily.’
A comfortable silence followed her small humph of agreement. A forlorn cry of a crow in the distance and the buzz of insects were the only sounds above the gentle clip-clop of horse hooves and the occasional snort and flick of a tail.
‘Tell me about you and your stepfather,’ she surprised him by asking after a while. ‘I know why I don’t like the man, but he’s the man who raised you. Why don’t you like him?’
Michael was unsettled by the question. At first he opened his mouth to give the standard, ‘We respect each other’, but then he stopped. Georgie had made him stop and think the other night when she’d accused him of being exactly like his stepfather. The thought made him panic. He didn’t respect Derrick Matthew, he didn’t even like the man—and yet that was also not quite true. He had to give Derrick credit for making his mother happy.
Noticing that Georgie was looking at him over her shoulder, he realised that she was waiting for him to answer.
‘I guess it was the old “two bulls in one paddock” syndrome.’
‘It must have been hard, losing your dad and then having a new man in his place.’
Understatement, he thought bitterly.
‘It was a shock to the system,’ he said dryly. The wind through the trees was a soothing backdrop to their conversation. He watched as it lifted the long hair that hung down her back beneath her hat, then, noting that her tone had been gentler than he’d heard her use in a long while, he
continued, ‘I guess I’m partly to blame. I didn’t make it easy for him. He had Brent, and he never made a secret of the fact Brent was always going to inherit everything. I couldn’t work out why my mother married him. He was nothing like my dad and I pretty much let him know that as often as possible. I suppose I can’t blame the guy for giving up trying with me.’
‘You were just a kid, hurting. He shouldn’t have given up on you that easily.’
Michael considered her response. It almost sounded as though she cared. ‘It all worked out in the end.’
The look she sent him clearly said she didn’t believe him, but he was growing uncomfortable with the focus squarely on his dysfunctional family dynamics.
‘So why did you give me the impression you and Matt were more than friends last night?’ he asked.
He saw her shift a little in her saddle before taking an extra careful interest in the land ahead of them. ‘Who said it was an impression?’
‘Because Matt doesn’t act like a guy who’s sleeping with you.’
‘How would you know what—’ She stopped midsentence and he chuckled at her face when she realised what she was saying.
‘Yeah. That,’ he said dryly.
‘Well, you don’t know Matt. He may just be better at hiding his emotions,’ she said.
‘I doubt it. Come on, Georgie.’
‘He is more than an employee. He’s a friend.’
‘So you let me believe it was more than friendship to make me jealous?’
‘To get you to give up.’
They walked along in silence for a few minutes as her words settled between them.
‘I’m not planning on giving up, I thought by now you’d have worked that out. We have a week and I’m going to use it.’ He sighed as she shook her head wearily. ‘I gave you my word I’d get the divorce if you gave me a week and still didn’t want to be married. I meant it, but I’m not going anywhere until my week is up.’
‘It’s your time and money,’ she shrugged.
She rode slightly ahead, signalling that she was done talking, but he was okay with that. He had a week and they both knew what could happen in the space of just a few hours.
Twenty-Five
‘It gets rougher from here on in, you think you’ll be okay?’ Georgie asked as they rode through the opening in the fence she and Matt had widened earlier.
‘No worries.’
She was beginning to realise he was telling the truth when it came to his riding ability—he was no novice horseman.
They rode in companionable silence, each concentrating on directing their mount across the rougher terrain, allowing the animals to pick their path in the roughest of spots and keeping their eyes open for wombat holes and snakes, two things that could potentially spook or injure a horse out here.
They steadily climbed the ridge and Georgie kept a keen lookout for the dogs and any sign of the cattle. It wasn’t too long before Titch’s barking indicated she’d found the herd.
The cattle, roused by the intrusion of the noisy dogs, began to shuffle in agitation, tossing their heads and bellowing.
Georgie rode over to stand beside Michael as they looked down on the herd in the narrow gully below them.
‘Keep your eyes open for Hulk.’
‘Hulk?’
‘Our bull. You know, like the Incredible Hulk … he can be all sweet and cute one minute, and the next, turn into an angry raging lunatic.’
‘Of course,’ Michael muttered, tilting his hat back on his head slightly.
‘He’s not going to be too happy about being brought in, so just watch him.’
Whistling to the dogs, she set to work, barely needing to direct them as they took to their job enthusiastically, doing what they’d been born to do—run and herd. Georgie never tired of watching them at work.
Then from behind a grove of trees came a bellow that echoed loudly through the hollow. Hulk made his appearance with all the drama of a seasoned movie star, letting out another bellow and snorting his displeasure at the sudden interruption by both humans and dogs to his peaceful grazing.
He was a magnificent animal. Solid muscle and a head as wide as Georgie’s torso. He was the star of her breeding program and she had big plans for his future. He was also worth a small fortune, which was the only reason she put up with his fiery temper and pompous disposition.
Michael worked alongside her without needing instruction, and between the two of them they worked the herd steadily back towards the lower paddocks.
Georgie felt the sweat trickling down between her shoulder blades and breasts. Beneath the rim of her hat, her hair stuck to her forehead, damp with perspiration. Glamorous work this was not, but as she listened to the creak of leather and felt the solid strength of her horse beneath her, she couldn’t have felt more alive if she tried. This was where her heart lay. She only ever felt this alive when she was out among the animals and could feel the sunshine on her back. No matter where her dreams took her from here, she was proud of how far she’d come. She felt a surge of gratitude as she swept her gaze across the herd of fat cattle and the homestead in the distance.
As she turned, something caught her eye. Titch, although dutifully moving back and forth, keeping her charges in line, was limping.
Immediately Georgie whistled and called her over, sliding from her horse and crouching low as the dog made her way over to her in obvious discomfort. Georgie moved gentle hands down the canine’s leg, searching for the cause of the limp. A deep gash between the pads on the bottom of Titch’s paw seeped blood all over the leaf matter beneath their feet.
‘Hey, girl,’ she crooned tenderly. ‘What have you done to yourself?’ Big brown eyes looked up at her, loyal and willing, as the dog waited for her next command. Georgie’s heart twisted with a fierce love. Why couldn’t all relationships be this simple? This honest? ‘Let’s get you fixed up, huh?’ She stood and turned to her saddlebag, retrieving the small first aid kit she kept there.
Michael rode over and dismounted. His eyes were immediately drawn to the blood across the front of her shirt and he raised his eyes to hers in alarm. ‘What happened?’
‘Titch’s cut her foot.’
His gaze dropped to the dog waiting patiently at Georgie’s feet, barely panting even after a day’s work out in the hot sun.
Working quickly, she wrapped the front paw and fastened it with a butterfly clasp to hold it until they got back to the house.
As she worked, Michael stroked the kelpie’s fur, soothing the animal, and Georgie felt herself weaken. Beneath his rough exterior he was a gentle man, capable of great compassion and a determination equal only to her own. She bit her lip to keep silly tears of gratitude from falling. This man with his big hands, comforting the injured animal, still held her heart, even after the pain and turmoil of the last year and a half.
Scooping the dog into his arms when Georgie had finished bandaging the paw, Michael walked over to his horse. He handed her the dog as he mounted with a graceful ease and leaned down to take Titch from her.
‘I’ll carry her back so the wound doesn’t open further.’
All she could manage in response was a brief nod, and she turned her back to hide the swell of tears. Quickly blinking them away, she mounted and gave a click of her tongue, forcing her mind back to the task of getting the cattle back.
The other dogs kept the herd in check, and with only a short distance to go, the cattle were brought home with no further disruptions.
Once they had moved the last of the herd through the gate and into the paddock closest to the homestead, Georgie dismounted and slipped the lock over the gate with a satisfied nod. Titch struggled from her position on Michael’s lap to get down and Georgie carefully put her on the ground with a command to stay.
Michael sat on his horse, the reins held loosely in one hand as he rested his arm across the top of the saddle’s pommel and watched her.
Leading her horse towards him, she stopped and tilted her head b
ack. ‘Thanks for your help today. You’ve done this before.’ Her words held a self-mocking note.
He sent her a lopsided grin. ‘I did try to tell you.’
‘Yes, you did,’ she agreed, leading her horse past him and towards the tack room.
Looping the reins over a post, she made quick work of unsaddling her animal and wiping her down. Michael arrived moments later and worked just as efficiently beside her. It was a different kind of silence that fell between them as they worked now. Georgie’s mind was busy absorbing this new side of Michael—this capable, professional side of him—she’d never chosen to see before. Thinking back, she realised that if she’d only been brave enough to really look at the man, she’d have recognised he was as much at home on the land as she was. But, of course, she’d been scared to look too deep in case she discovered he wasn’t the fraud she’d accused him of being. She was ashamed to say she’d been a coward.
For the rest of the afternoon they worked side by side to finish the chores and see to the remaining feeding and watering of the livestock. Then she stopped outside the cage she’d put Titch in, taking her into the tack room, where she sat her up on a workbench. Carefully, Georgie cleaned the cut. She was relieved to find it wasn’t as deep as she’d first thought. She applied antiseptic and made sure it was clean of any debris, then reapplied the bandage. With a small chuckle she lifted the cone-shaped plastic collar, which she kept on hand for her injured dogs to prevent them from chewing at their wounds, and placed it around Titch’s neck. ‘It’s not the most fashionable of looks, I know, girl, but it’ll stop you chewing that bandage off before your foot has a chance to heal.’
She laughed again at the clearly unimpressed look the animal gave her back, the smile still in place as she glanced up at Michael leaning against the doorway, watching quietly.
Suddenly self-conscious, she turned away and cleaned up the first aid equipment, unable to trust herself to examine all the familiar emotions that were beginning to rise in her again.