by Mandy Magro
‘My body clock won’t let me sleep in. I’m too used to being up at sparrow’s fart to spend some time with Warrior before I head off to work.’ She chuckled softly and then sighed. ‘No rest for the wicked, as they say.’
‘Ha, yeah, true. Times have changed. I remember when you could’ve slept for Australia.’ He laughed with the fond memories of tossing pebbles against her bedroom window to wake her up. ‘I used to have a hard time getting you out of your house before ten on a weekend.’
‘Ha, yeah, I remember that. Adulthood doesn’t allow for such luxuries, though.’ She groaned, pausing for a few short moments, as though back there, with him.
Allowing himself a moment of bliss, Joel closed his eyes, imagining being back there with her.
Juliette cleared her throat. ‘Anyway, I just wanted to give you a call because I found out some interesting background info on Dynamite for you.’
‘You did?’ He was chuffed she’d gone out of her way for him. ‘You rock, doing that for me, thanks heaps, Jules.’
‘I did it more for Dynamite, but you’re welcome.’ A playful note shone through her voice.
‘Ouch. I’ve got feelings, you know.’ He made sure to emphasise the lightheartedness in his tone.
‘Do you now? I hadn’t noticed.’ Her familiar banter was unmistakable, and he loved it.
They both chuckled as the grumble of the four-wheeler made Joel glance over his shoulder. His father ambled past, his old cattle dog, Bandit, perched on the back of the bike. Joel raised a hand in greeting. His father returned it with a short, sharp nod, and then looked the other way. At least he’d acknowledged Joel was there – a small step forwards, possibly.
‘I don’t know if you know of him …’ Juliette’s beautiful voice took the sting out of his father’s aloofness. ‘… but old Bob Brown down at the servo told me that Charlie Falcone apparently bought Dynamite for his teenage daughter to use at western pleasure classes, and for his wife to use for her lessons at the pony club she runs on the other side of town.’
‘Oh, yeah, I think I’ve heard of Charlie and his missus. If it’s the bloke I’m thinking of, I recall people saying he’s not so good to his horses, or his wife, for that matter.’
‘Yeah, that’s the one. He’s a bit of a bully. Old Bob reckons Dynamite was a superstar at first, a bombproof kind of horse, he said, but after a while he got sick of all the rigmarole of spending every weekend traipsing around the countryside for events, only to spend the entire week in between with inexperienced kids on his back.’
‘I can understand Dynamite’s frustration.’ Joel nodded to himself as everything fell into place. ‘I mean, who wouldn’t get sick of that?’
‘Yeah, right? Old Bob told me Dynamite started playing up at the shows initially, and then that carried on into every day. He began making it hard for anyone to catch him or clean his feet, and refused being mounted, let alone ridden. Charlie sent him to be straightened out with some bloke down in Cairns, who believes in being heavy-handed. It worked for a little while, but not long enough. A couple of weeks into it, Dynamite started bolting and biting, and Charlie gave up on him, saying he was a liability.’
‘Shit, poor Dynamite.’ Joel gazed at the horse in the corner of the yard, his back end to him as he looked out at the other horses grazing in their paddocks. ‘It sounds to me like Dynamite gave up on Charlie a long time ago, and for bloody good reason.’
‘Uh-huh. So, just a heads up, he’s going to be a bit of a tough nut to crack, but once you show him that you’ll take care of him, I’m guessing Dynamite will be putty in your hands.’
‘Mmhhmm, I’ve kind of already gathered that. He’s got a real good nature and kind eyes. He just needs someone to believe in him.’
‘That’s a really nice way to look at it, Joel,’ she said gently. ‘He’s a lucky horse, scoring an owner like you.’
‘Thanks, Jules.’ He found himself speechless with her compliment.
She chuckled softly. ‘It’s the truth.’ There was a thumping sound in the background and she huffed. ‘Righto. Warrior is vying for my attention by throwing his feed bucket around the paddock, so I better get going before he starves to death.’
‘Ha ha. God love him.’ Joel felt lighter in his steps as he headed towards the small tack room beside the round yard. He needed a few tools before he started the day. ‘Thanks so much, Jules, appreciate the help.’
‘No probs, anytime. Catch you round sometime,’ she said just before the call ended.
Smiling like a lovesick fool as he tucked his phone back into his pocket, Joel tried to bring his thoughts to the here and now – Dynamite needed his full attention. He deserved his full attention. And Joel needed to be at full attention or run the risk of getting hurt. The art of being a passive leader for a horse was a gift he’d always had, thanks to endless days spent by his father’s side, and one he’d refined over the years he’d spent working alongside Curly. Earning respect from a horse, and being able to build on it, was all about leading by example, not by brutality, unlike what some forceful trainers wanted to believe. From the get-go, Joel’s plan had been to allow Dynamite to make his own decisions and come to his own conclusions about whether his new owner could be trusted. As the trainer, he was simply going to let whatever was going to happen, happen, and then go from there. Just like humans, every horse was different – there were no hard and fast rules to follow, other than treating Dynamite with the respect and love he deserved. It was a simple approach, but extremely effective – one that worked, every time, perfectly.
He worked quickly now, his new understanding of what Dynamite had been through making him all the more determined to show the horse that most humans could be trusted and that he wasn’t one of the minority who mistreated animals. Stepping back out of the stables with his freshly oiled stockwhip hung over his shoulder, a curry brush, and a bucket with a handful of oats drizzled with molasses, Joel made his way into the holding yard, where Dynamite eyed him cautiously, the gelding’s ears pricked back so far they were almost flat to his head.
‘Come on now, buddy, play nice today, huh?’ he said soothingly as he stopped and carefully placed the bucket a few feet from him. ‘Look, I even went and brought you a treat.’
Dynamite eyed the bucket suspiciously and took a little step forwards, sniffing like mad.
Joel squatted onto his heels, his back against the bottom rung of the railings, and waited, making sure not to look Dynamite directly in his big kind eyes. Dynamite remained glued to the spot, but blind Freddie could see the horse was being more stubborn than fearful. The standoff began. Patience was now his virtue. Joel wasn’t going to be the one to make the first move, he knew that much, so he remained nonchalant. Almost five minutes passed. Dynamite’s ears pricked forwards and back, thinking. Assessing if it was safe to see what was in the bucket. Joel smiled to himself. His plan was working. Clearly choosing it was worth the risk, Dynamite took some slow steps towards him, his nostrils flaring. He was almost there when the backfiring of a car in the far-flung distance rang out. Dynamite jumped, peering over towards the echo.
Joel swore beneath his breath but remained calm. ‘Nothing to see over there, buddy. You just keep your eyes on the prize.’ He kept his voice gentle yet authoritative.
Dynamite stole a few more moments before turning his full attention back to Joel and the bucket, less than a metre away from him now. He stretched out his neck, taking a quick sniff, his lips smacking together. As much as Joel wanted to respond, to reach out and stroke Dynamite’s muzzle now he was so close, he remained stock-still. Although he’d made ground over the last couple of days, the horse needed to learn he could fully trust him. He observed Dynamite’s tail beginning to swish – a sure sign the horse was becoming more relaxed – as he finally closed the last bit of distance, ducked his head into the bucket and munched on the sweet treat. Moments later, and with his lips covered in black sticky goo, Dynamite moved to within an arm’s length of Joel as he sniffed at his hat
, then suddenly, cheekily, took it from his head.
‘Hey, you. Give that back,’ Joel said, laughing as he recalled how Ratbag used to do the very same thing.
Dynamite flicked it up and down in his teeth, as if toying with him.
Grabbing hold of the magical moment, Joel slowly stood and, taking one smooth step, came to Dynamite’s side, finally at ease to give the horse a well-deserved neck rub. The gelding stretched it out, enjoying the attention. Smiling from ear to ear, Joel took pride in the fact his approach had worked and the hardest part was over.
The connection was created. Dynamite now trusted him.
CHAPTER
14
The Davis estate, perched high up on a hill, dominated the view and Joel, for the life of him, couldn’t bring himself to drive past it. Instead, he’d opted to go into town along bumpy old tracks that eventually led to the side gates of the estate, a stupid decision. Desperate to lay his eyes on her once more, just knowing Juliette was on the other side of the pristine fence line drove his pulse wild. Should he just drop on in to say g’day? Isn’t that what friends and neighbours did? Isn’t that what they were striving to be, typical mates in a small country community? Slowing before he could talk himself out of it, he turned and stopped at a set of gleaming white gates that worked on a sensor. Before they’d swung open all the way, he’d squeezed his LandCruiser through, rattled over a couple of cattle grids, and then started up the long tree-lined driveway that would lead him past Lachlan’s parents’ overstated home – his mother had filled him in on their latest display of extravagance – and then, hopefully, from what he’d gathered from what Zoe had told him, to Juliette and Lachlan’s home.
He idled past immaculately kept paddocks, impressive outbuildings and manicured gardens and lawns, even more stately than he recalled. Not a cent had been spared on the upkeep of this place over the years. He’d stepped foot on the property only once before, many years ago, to drop off a parcel that had accidentally been left by the postman at the Hunter homestead’s front door, and it was neither a friendly nor inviting kind of place – exactly like the arrogant Davis family. Old family plus old money equalled pompous attitudes that drove him up the wall and made his blood boil. Never one to care about materialistic things, or how much money a person had, just how Juliette had fallen for a man like Lachlan Davis was beyond him. Maybe she’d gone and changed while he’d been away. Damn, he’d changed, a hell of a lot, so it was possible, but still envisioning her as the sweet innocent girl he’d fallen deeply in love with, and had never fallen out of love with, he didn’t want to believe for a second she’d become like the family she’d married into.
Cruising past the main homestead with his window down, he caught sight of a curtain moving aside upstairs, but couldn’t see who was peeking out at him. It would be Margery, he suspected. Nothing went past that nosey, gossiping woman. Shortly after – way too shortly for someone to have to live beside their in-laws – another, smaller, two-storey homestead, with wide wraparound verandahs both downstairs and up, appeared. A small timber sign hung from the picket fence, with Lachlan and Juliette Davis written upon it. He was at the right place. His jaw dropped. This was a far cry from Juliette’s humble childhood home. But what had he expected, given the endless supply of money this family had?
Pulling up beneath a gigantic paperbark, he killed the engine and jumped out. One boot in front of the other, he strode towards the front door, only now thinking about what he’d say if it were Lachlan who answered. He hadn’t a damn clue. What had he been thinking, coming here? He’d look like an idiot turning around and hightailing it now. He’d just have to wing it. His footsteps clumping across the timber boards, he arrived at the leadlight-adorned front door. Nobody responded to the beating of his knuckles against it or the two presses of the doorbell. Maybe she was still with her horse, or out in the saddle. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he was considering leaving when a dog appeared from behind him. Skidding to a stop at his boots, the Chihuahua cross something-or-other bared its teeth, each shrill yap hurting Joel’s ears. Amused at the dog’s need to protect its home, he bent and scooped it up, doing his best to avoid nips. A quick massage to the back of its head, along with a few coos, and the dog was putty in his hands.
The sound of country music being played out back caught his attention. He made his way towards Brad Paisley’s honky-tonk voice. As he rounded the corner, he spotted Juliette lazing on a foldout sunbed, her eyes shut, her well-tanned slender legs that seemed to go on forever and a day crossed at the ankles. With her silky raven hair and smooth olive skin, she was a vision to behold. The sight of her, now all womanly in her bright yellow string bikini, stole his breath.
‘Now that’s one hell of a woman,’ he whispered under his breath as he placed the tiny pooch onto the ground, watching it run over to Juliette, as if to protect her. Taking steps, he felt the inevitable connection they’d always shared drag him closer to her until his shadow stole the sun from her pretty face.
Her eyes flung open and she gasped. Propping herself up on an elbow, she quickly pulled a sarong over her bare skin. ‘Oh my goodness, Joel, I didn’t even hear you pull up.’ She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head, her glossy black hair spilling over her shoulder and covering the little love heart tattoo he wasn’t familiar with but liked very much. ‘You should have let me know you were calling in.’
He smiled and touched the brim of his hat in greeting. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t planning to when I left home.’ Sometimes sparkly, other times stormy, he knew from experience that the depth of her chocolate eyes depended on her mood. And they were somewhere in the middle right about now, leaving him unsure.
‘Right.’ She eyed him cautiously. ‘So you’ve just called in on a whim, with no agenda?’
‘Yup.’ He shrugged. ‘I just wanted to say g’day.’
‘You said g’day on the phone a few hours ago, remember?’
‘Did I?’ He pretended to think about it and then laughed. ‘Well then, I just wanted to say it in person.’
A wary smile surfaced on her lips. ‘You know I’m a married woman, right? It’s probably not the best idea to be dropping in on me at home. Because it won’t look good at all.’ The intrigue within her unwavering gaze was unmissable.
There was something about him being here that she liked. He could see it, sense it. He stole a few short seconds to recover, to play it cool. ‘Yeah, I know you’re married, how could I forget with the size of that bloody rock on your finger?’ Half smiling, he glanced towards where it sparkled in the sunlight, her hand resting on her thigh.
She held her hand up, as if assessing the ring for the very first time, seemingly unimpressed. ‘Yeah, it’s pretty, but you know me. I’m not into all the glitz and glamour. I wear it because it’s a symbol, not because I want to show it off.’ She dropped her hand back to her side. ‘I’d take the O-ring off a motor if the man giving it to me truly loved me.’
He swore he could see gathering tears in her eyes, but if they were there, she blinked them back. Picking up on some hidden undercurrent, and not knowing if it was directed at him or Lachlan or just men in general, he cocked his head to the side. ‘Why’d you go and marry someone like Lachlan Davis if you don’t care about the money? Because I’ve known him most of my life, and I haven’t got a good word to say about the bloke.’
Her brows bumped together in a scowl. ‘You left. He charmed me. I fell for him,’ she said simply.
There was so much in what she didn’t say. It slapped him hard, stung him deep down in his soul. ‘Fair enough. How’s it all going for you, being a married woman?’
‘Fine.’ She couldn’t even look at him now.
‘Just fine?’
‘Yup, just fine.’ She gave him a lacklustre smile. ‘What’s with the interrogation into my personal life, Joel?’ Her gaze was fiercely challenging.
‘I just want you to be happy,’ he responded carefully, evaluating her defensive body language – lips pressed tigh
t, arms folded, the pulse in her throat racing. He hated himself for liking the fact that everything didn’t seem peachy perfect between her and Lachlan. He really did mean it when he said he wanted her to be happy; he’d just failed to make mention that he wanted it to be with him.
She inhaled a sharp breath and blew it away, staring at him. ‘So … this is just a friendly call, from a friend, who only wants to be friends?’ She pressed a finger to her lips and tipped her head. ‘Kinda doesn’t feel that way.’
His hunger for her tender touch almost rendered him senseless. ‘Yes, exactly,’ he lied. ‘Just friends, being friends, and doing friendly things. That’s us.’
‘Okay then. In that case …’ She produced a half empty can of Pringles from beside her. ‘You hungry?’
‘Depends.’ He was actually ravenous, and not only for food.
‘On what?’ Her lips curled into a slow and oh-so-sexy smile.
‘On what flavour they are?’ He matched it with a dimple-studded smile of his own.
She feigned a look of shock he would even ask such a question. ‘Salt and vinegar, of course,’ she replied, offering the can.
‘Well, then. How could I say no?’ He smacked his lips together.
She flashed him an extra-bright grin. ‘I thought as much.’ She patted the ground near her. ‘Come, sit. You’re making the place look untidy.’
He laughed and glanced around at the opulent surroundings. ‘How’s that even possible?’
‘Yeah, good point.’ Amused, she eyed her dog, now squished up against her foot. ‘Just watch out for Brute here. He has a tendency to bite when he doesn’t know someone and they’re getting a little close to me.’ She looked back to Joel, mischief in her eyes. ‘He may be small, but he could quite possibly rip an arm or leg off with those almighty teeth of his.’ Her teasing grin put Joel completely at ease.
‘Oh, he and I have already bonded.’ He sank down, dangerously close to her, her sweet perfume wrapping around him. Reaching out, he gave a very submissive Brute a good scratch behind the ears. ‘Love the name, by the way, little buddy,’ he said, liking how Juliette was looking from him to the dog and back again, clearly a little shocked. ‘What? Can’t I be friends with your dog?’