by Karly Lane
As the meal wore on, Olivia felt herself relax. It was good to be surrounded by these people again—if she couldn’t have her own family around her, then the Callahans were the next best thing. The two families were as close as relatives. For as long as she could remember, the Dawsons and Callahans had shared most of the major yearly celebrations—Australia Day at the old hall in town for breakfast, followed by a barbecue and cricket match at either homestead afterward. This year it had been here, but she hadn’t come home for it. It had been too soon after her humiliation at the wedding. Next January it would be at her parents’ house—her father would be back home by then and everything could go back to normal. Whatever normal was now.
The conversation around her caught her attention and she gladly traded her melancholy thoughts for a happier subject.
‘And the dear little pet was so excited to feed a calf,’ Lavinia was saying.
‘I can’t believe it was the first time the kid had seen a cow,’ Holder scoffed without looking up from his phone.
‘Well, he’s only ever lived in the city, darling,’ Lavinia explained patiently.
‘Still, I don’t know why people pay money to come and do farm chores,’ Payton added.
‘They don’t have to do farm chores, but it’s something new to them and it’s good to broaden your horizons and try new things,’ Lavinia said.
‘Yeah, like sitting at the table without your head buried in your phone,’ Griffin said. ‘You two should give that a go sometime.’
Olivia noticed the irritated glance Harmony sent her younger brother. ‘It’s the twenty-first century, Griff. Technology is the normal way of life nowadays.’
‘Funny, ’cause I also have a phone, but I know the time and place to be on it.’
Olivia could see Lavinia fidgeting with her cutlery across from her and knew she was worried about an argument boiling between the siblings. ‘So the B&B is really taking off, Lavinia?’ she cut in, hoping to change the course of the conversation.
Lavinia glanced up at Olivia with a look of relief. ‘Yes, it is. We’ve had almost constant bookings since we opened a few months ago. It’s amazing.’
‘And not all of them are coming from Savannah’s spa customers?’ The main push behind the B&B idea had been to provide accommodation for the hugely successful beauty spa that operated in the middle of nowhere but drew an astonishingly large clientele to their little backwater town. Lavinia Callahan, never one to miss a sound business opportunity, had jumped at the chance to create luxury cottages that allowed Savannah’s customers to stay close by.
‘Since the tourism push for the region started a few months ago and the ads we placed, we’ve had a wonderful response from families coming out here. They love feeding the cattle and collecting the eggs. Bob sets up a hay ride on the back of the tractor for them. We have a campfire and cook-out … I think we’re getting more enjoyment out of it than the guests,’ she smiled across at her husband. ‘You’ll have to come over and have a look while you’re home, Liv.’
‘I’d love to.’
‘So you’ve taken time off from work in a nice swanky office to come all the way back out here and sit on a tractor? I can’t imagine why you’d volunteer to do that,’ Harmony said, spearing the salad on her plate daintily with her fork.
Olivia managed a tight smile. ‘I wanted to help out.’
She’d never really warmed to Harmony. She was almost ten years older than the youngest Callahans and Dawsons and had not really been part of her childhood. She was always the much older, sophisticated one. It was strange how life worked out sometimes—of all the kids, Harmony was probably the one Olivia would have imagined living as far away from Rankins Springs as possible, somewhere very cosmopolitan. As kids, Hadley and Olivia had sometimes snuck into Harmony’s room and borrowed her magazines chock full of fashion and celebrities and made their own plans of moving away and finding fame and fortune. As it turned out, Harmony had only managed to get as far as Griffith.
She’d met a charismatic up-and-coming entrepreneur, Don Bellantoni. His swanky Italian heritage and good looks had made him a catch in Griffith’s social circles and he’d been a man destined to go places. He always seemed to have the next easy deal, to be hunting for investors to join him in making a fortune, but his real estate schemes never seemed to pay off and make him the tycoon he’d always seemed destined to be. Maybe he just wasn’t a good businessman. Or maybe if he’d spent less time having an affair with his secretary and more time concentrating on work, he might have had a thriving business and a happy marriage. As it was, Harmony’s solicitor had taken him to the cleaners after she’d found out about the affair.
Maybe escaping an unhappy marriage would mean Harmony would become less bitter and jaded, but somehow Olivia doubted it. It had been Harmony’s way for so long, she feared it was part of the woman’s personality now. It was a shame. Olivia felt a bit sorry for her. It must be tiring always seeing the negative in everything.
She glanced up. Griff was leaning against the verandah railing, one arm braced on the rail, the other holding his can of beer as he listened to Ollie talk. He glanced away as the men shared a laugh and his gaze caught hers. For the briefest moment his smile held and she felt a warm glow fill her. Memories of long hot summers and heady nights of youthful passion flitted through her mind. Perhaps what she was feeling somehow showed on her face because Griff’s smile melted away and was replaced by something more intense. That was enough to snap her out of whatever insanity had taken hold of her, and Olivia looked away, breaking the connection that for a moment had felt as real as a touch.
This was very weird. She’d never reacted like this around him before. Why had everything suddenly changed?
Conversation at the table returned to farming, as it always did at gatherings like this, and Griff and Ollie sat back down to join in. Both men were in their element when they talked about farming. The passion and commitment in their voices was unmistakable. It was easy to get caught up in it. Somehow she’d lost her own passion and commitment somewhere along the way. Maybe this was what burnt out meant. Perhaps all she needed was a change of scenery for a while and she’d find her mojo again. It was worth a try. After all, what was the alternative?
Eleven
‘I’ve been thinking a lot about this B&B thing the Callahans are doing,’ Olivia said a few days later over an early breakfast.
Ollie glanced up from eating and shook his head. ‘Don’t even think about it.’
‘No, seriously. It makes a lot of sense.’
‘Pretty sure muscling in on the Callahan B&B market wouldn’t be great for neighbourly relations.’
‘I don’t mean we’d do a B&B. I was thinking more along the lines of providing educational opportunities. Targeted groups, not families.’
‘We’re not doing it here,’ Ollie said, shovelling in another mouthful.
‘I’m thinking of the future. What happens if Dad doesn’t get back to full strength? What if he can’t do as much as he used to? Having a second income wouldn’t hurt. Let Mum and Dad run it. It would give Dad something to do and it’s right up Mum’s alley.’
‘The amount it’d bring in wouldn’t put a dent in things around here. You’re talking a few nights here and there.’
‘I looked online to check out what other similar places are charging. It’d bring in a pretty tidy sum. At least help out with the household costs,’ she shrugged.
‘I still can’t see how you’d make back your initial outlay. You’d have to be fully booked for years.’
‘Around two years, give or take,’ Olivia told him, carrying her dishes to the sink. ‘I did some sums. It’s what I do after all,’ she added drolly over her shoulder.
‘How do you get two years?’
‘I asked Barry from in town about what it would cost to convert the old shearers’ quarters. He gave me a ballpark figure and I worked it out from that. I have some contacts, and I reckon if we had the accommodation and an educational
package, we could attract school groups and other organisations and give them the total experience of paddock-to-plate cropping or beef production.’
‘And when would I get time to become a teacher?’
‘Not you. Dad,’ she corrected and saw him sit back in his seat thoughtfully.
‘He’d never go for it,’ Ollie said finally, shaking his head.
‘We haven’t asked him yet.’
‘Ah, come on, Liv. Can you honestly see him playing tour guide to a bunch of kids? He could barely take the time to teach us what we had to learn growing up around here.’
Yes, it was true their father hadn’t been the most patient of men, and Ollie more than anyone had copped the brunt of that, but she thought Bill Dawson may have started to mellow over the past few years. ‘I wouldn’t be so quick to write him off. Think about it—if he can’t get out there and do as much, he’s going to go crazy. He’ll be on your back more than usual,’ she added, ‘not to mention driving Mum up the wall. I think he’d be great doing something like this. He’s a walking encyclopaedia of farm knowledge, and it shouldn’t be going to waste.’
Ollie gave a small grunt as he continued eating. ‘I still say he’d never go for it.’
Olivia wasn’t convinced. She chewed the inside of her lip as she cleared away the breakfast things. If she put together a plan, complete with figures and projected earnings, she was certain she’d be able to talk her parents around. Happy to be back in familiar territory, she found herself spending every spare minute of the day jotting down notes and ideas about what she needed to research and how she was going to pull together a portfolio to present to her family.
Griff wiped his hands on his jeans and cursed quietly under his breath. This was ridiculous. He was a grown man for God’s sake. He walked around the back of the house and knocked on the screen door, waiting for an answer. Music blared out from somewhere inside.
He knew Ollie was out in the paddock somewhere as he could hear the header in the distance. He’d been counting on him not being at the house when he came over.
A movement from the corner of his eye made him lift his head and look up, but the sight that greeted him was not what he’d been expecting.
Olivia was heading down the hallway, a towel wrapped around her, belting out the wrong lyrics to Cold Chisel’s ‘Khe Sanh’. He gave a small grunt of amusement as a memory came to mind: her sitting beside him as they drove with the window down, stereo blasting and the scent of sun cream hanging in the air one hot summer’s day. She hadn’t known the lyrics back then either.
She hadn’t yet noticed him on the back steps and he was just wondering if he could maybe escape without her spotting him, when she suddenly looked up … and screamed.
Even though he knew she was screaming at him, he still glanced over his shoulder automatically just in case there was some psycho with an axe and hockey mask standing behind him. It was that kind of scream.
He pulled the screen door open and stepped into the kitchen so she could see him, one hand held out in front. ‘Liv, it’s just me,’ he said.
‘What the hell are you doing, sneaking up on me like that?’
‘I wasn’t sneaking. I knocked on the door.’
‘Well, I didn’t hear you,’ she snapped.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were in the shower.’ Now that the initial shock had worn off, he suddenly started thinking about her in the shower.
‘You nearly gave me a heart attack,’ she said weakly, her hand still clenching the front of the towel tightly.
‘I think you actually did give me one.’
They stood staring at each other, catching their breath.
‘Ollie’s not here,’ she said after a moment.
‘I know,’ he said, then quickly amended, ‘I mean, I’m not here to see Ollie. I wanted to …’ His words dried up as his gaze shifted to where one side of the towel had started to slip, exposing a fair bit of white skin down one side of her ribcage and a breast. She quickly gathered the fabric tighter and his brain was miraculously able to function once more. ‘I, ahh, came to see you actually.’
‘Me? Why?’ She eyed him warily. ‘Hang on,’ she said with an irritated frown as she walked across to the stereo and turned the volume down.
Her suspicion annoyed him. Why would he need an excuse to come and see her? They were friends, weren’t they? No. They weren’t, he suddenly realised. They’d never really returned to friend status after the break-up. He couldn’t actually remember a single time in all the years that had followed when they’d sat down alone and had a conversation. Sure, they’d gone out to the pub and sat around at family barbecues and dinners, but they’d always had the buffer of their siblings and friends, or their families. ‘I, umm … wanted to talk to you about something.’
‘What did you want to talk about?’ she frowned.
‘Maybe you should go put on some clothes,’ he suggested as the towel threatened to slip once again.
‘Fine. Help yourself to coffee,’ she said, turning abruptly and vanishing back down the hallway.
He watched her go, pretty sure coffee wasn’t going to do it.
Oh. Dear. God.
Olivia slumped against the closed bedroom door and felt her face redden. What the hell was that? The very last person she expected to be standing at her back door this morning after she got out of the shower was Griffin bloody Callahan. What was he even doing here?
She’d been about to wax her legs and had realised she didn’t have any baby oil and so had come out to grab some olive or coconut oil from the pantry. With Ollie out windrowing, there wasn’t supposed to be anyone else around.
What did he mean he wanted to talk to her about something? What could he possibly want to talk about? Standing around like a stunned mullet wasn’t going to get her any answers, though. She grabbed her jeans and pulled them on, followed by the first T-shirt she found in the pile of unfolded clothes on the ground that had somehow spilled out of her suitcase. She really needed to get around to unpacking the damn thing.
Running her hands through her hair, she did her best to straighten the tangled wet mess. There wasn’t time to use a brush. It wasn’t like she was out to impress him anyway, she reminded herself firmly.
She hesitated briefly at the door to the kitchen. He was standing at the sink, and her gaze wandered across his wide back, the dark shirt outlining the smooth expanse that tapered down into a pair of denim jeans that faithfully outlined muscular thighs and backside without being skintight. You could always tell a real country boy from a wannabe by their jeans. Skin-tight jeans were all for show, whereas a real country boy knew that you’d practically choke yourself trying to work in a pair of jeans that didn’t have a little bit of room in them. Griff’s jeans defined rather than hugged his butt and she felt her pulse give a little hiccup.
Focus, she reminded herself, taking a calming breath before walking into the kitchen.
‘Do you still take your coffee without sugar?’ He glanced over his shoulder as she walked in.
‘Yes. Thanks,’ she added. ‘I can finish if you like,’ she offered, moving up beside him to take over.
‘No, it’s okay. I’m almost done,’ he said, refusing to step aside, and in the process her arm grazed the side of his chest. She eased back, trying not to make a big deal of it, even though he was looking down at her.
He still had the kindest eyes she’d ever seen, she thought, finding herself lost in their chocolate-brown depths. His eyelashes were dark and thick, and up this close she could see the tiny flecks of black in his iris. She suddenly realised he hadn’t moved and neither had she. Olivia dragged her gaze away and crossed to the other side of the kitchen to get the plastic container of biscuits. Her pulse was still fluttering wildly and she was sure her cheeks were red. Get a grip, Dawson. She glanced across at him as he picked up the two mugs and passed one across to her.
‘It was nice to see everyone at dinner last night,’ Olivia said, following his lead and leani
ng against the kitchen bench. Maybe he wasn’t here for a social call and didn’t need a seat. ‘Gran’s still a character.’ Her smile slipped a little as she remembered that his gran had tried to fix them up. She hadn’t meant to bring up that particular topic again.
If he was thinking about it too, he didn’t show it. He simply grinned and shook his head. ‘She’s one of a kind, that’s for sure.’
Olivia let out a small sigh of relief, sipping her coffee.
‘I wanted to drop by and see you,’ Griffin started and Olivia found herself holding her breath. ‘I’ve been thinking lately … about a lot of things really … but there’s something that’s been bugging me.’ He risked a glance at her and then looked back down at his coffee. ‘I never really got around to seeing you after that night at Hadley’s wedding.’
Oh no. Olivia could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. Oh, please, no. Don’t go there.
‘I feel bad,’ he continued, seemingly unaware of her rising panic.
‘There’s nothing to feel bad about. Forget it.’ Please, for the love of God, forget it.
‘I do. Feel bad, that is,’ he added quickly. ‘By the time I was out of hospital you’d gone back to Sydney.’
There had been no way she was going to hang around after that humiliating night; she’d left as soon as she could. ‘There was a lot of stuff going on.’
‘Yeah, well … it’s always bothered me that I didn’t get to see you afterwards.’