Outback Sisters

by Rachael Johns

  ‘And then I’d never get anything done,’ Frankie replied, sounding far more bitter than she’d meant to. Usually, she’d be happy to see her sister and her future cousin-in-law but somehow the conversation always made it around to the wedding. And the truth was, all the talk of love and weddings was starting to get her down. She’d make the cake, she’d attend, she’d be truly happy for Adam and Stella, she’d even don a fancy frock for crying out loud, but right now she felt like everyone’s happiness was being paraded under her nose. Maybe she needed a holiday.

  ‘I’d kill for a coffee,’ Simone gushed, rushing forward and leaning over to kiss Frankie on the cheek.

  ‘Me too,’ Stella said with her usual bright smile—the one that said I’m blissfully happy and all is right with the world.

  ‘Murder won’t be necessary, but you’ll have to turn on the machine and make it yourself.’ Frankie headed back to the kitchen, knowing the others would follow. ‘Can I get you anything else?’

  ‘No, thanks,’ Stella said. ‘I ate breakfast at home and although your cakes always tempt me, it’s still early and I really must resist if I’m going to fit into my wedding dress.’

  There it was—the first mention of the wedding. Frankie’s jaw tightened. Before she knew it they’d be talking flowers and bombonière and everything else they’d already gone over a zillion times on Friday.

  Geez, listen to yourself. Shame washed through her and she was thankful neither Simone nor Stella could read minds. She didn’t want to become the bitter spinster who begrudged all her friends and family their happiness. Who knows, maybe she’d catch the bouquet?

  ‘Frankie!’ Simone’s voice jolted her thoughts. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Huh? Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?’

  Stella and Simone both frowned. ‘You kind of zoned out a moment there.’

  ‘Oh, no, I’m fine, just had a brilliant idea about your cake, Stella,’ Frankie lied, feeling as if her cheekbones would snap from fake smiling.

  ‘Ooh.’ Stella’s eyes lit up. ‘I can’t wait to hear it.’

  ‘But first, coffee,’ Simone declared.

  As her sister got to work making drinks, Frankie picked up the empty icing bowl.

  ‘So, what’s this I hear about you kissing some handsome spunk in here on Friday afternoon?’ Simone asked as the coffee machine whirred to life.

  Frankie’s heart slammed into her ribs and she almost dropped the bowl. Thank God she was facing away from Simone as her cheeks filled with heat—embarrassment, guilt and the simple memory of Logan’s lips on hers. She honestly had no idea how to reply and the time was ticking; with each passing second her guilt amplified and the silence grew more uncomfortable. She’d never had any secrets from Simone before but when she’d failed to confess Logan’s mistake on Friday night, she’d all but decided to lock it in the vault. And it looked like Logan had made the same decision.

  ‘Frankie?’ Simone prodded, sounding a tad concerned.

  She dumped the bowl in the sink and attempted a disbelieving laugh as she turned to face her sister. ‘What? Who told you that?’ Of course she knew even before Simone replied that it could only be one of two people.

  ‘Mrs Brady.’ Simone raised her eyebrows.

  Frankie swallowed as heat flooded to her cheeks. ‘It was nothing. Logan mistook me for you and he greeted me with a little kiss, not much more than a peck on the cheek, really.’

  ‘That’s not the way Mrs Brady told it,’ Simone teased.

  Frankie tried not to sound defensive. ‘Who are you going to believe? Me or that old busybody?’

  ‘You, of course.’ Simone half-laughed. ‘But why didn’t you say anything?’

  Frankie shrugged. ‘I think he was a little embarrassed, and there wasn’t an appropriate moment—you were about to go on a date with him! And it wasn’t like it meant anything.’

  Lies, all lies. However much it shouldn’t, however much she tried to deny it, the kiss had meant something to her. The memory of his lips on hers had haunted her all weekend.

  ‘When do we get to meet this infamous Logan?’ Stella asked, leaning against the work bench. ‘Before the wedding, I hope. I imagine I’ll be a little preoccupied by then.’

  Frankie swallowed; weren’t they getting a little ahead of themselves? Simone and Logan had only just met and the wedding was still weeks away. ‘Are you going to ask him to come with you?’

  ‘I’m not sure. He travels a bit for work and I’d like to get to know him better myself before I share him around, if you don’t mind.’

  Stella nodded. ‘Totally understandable. When Adam and I first got together, I couldn’t get enough of him. I didn’t want to share him with anyone, not even Heidi.’

  ‘Here you are. Coffees all round,’ Simone said, handing a mug to Frankie and another to Stella. She picked up her own and nodded towards a table. ‘You got time for a break, sis?’

  Frankie wished she could say no, but she didn’t want them to think her rude. ‘I can spare five minutes, then I’ve got to make some muffins.’

  The three women sat at the table furthest from the front window, so passers-by wouldn’t see them.

  ‘Frankie,’ Stella said, nursing her mug between her palms, ‘what was your idea about my cake?’

  Sheesh. Frankie had to think quick. ‘How about we make the top layer a rainbow cake? Only inside—but lots of bright colours—something fun for Heidi.’

  Stella’s smile stretched right up to her eyes. ‘I think that’s a wonderful idea. It won’t be too much work for you?’

  ‘No.’ Frankie shook her head. ‘It’s not that hard.’ Just time-consuming, but the way she felt right now, keeping herself busy would be a good thing.

  ‘Thanks, Frankie.’ Stella stretched across the table and squeezed her hand. ‘It means so much to me that you are all going to be involved in the wedding in your own special ways. And I know it means a lot to Adam as well.’

  At Stella’s heartfelt gesture, Frankie felt some of her irritation and frustration ebb away. ‘We’re just so happy you found each other,’ she said honestly. ‘We couldn’t have asked for anyone better for our cousin.’

  ‘Amen, sister.’ Simone raised her mug in a toast.

  Frankie couldn’t help but laugh. She was blessed to have so many wonderful people in her life and if she wanted to find love, then maybe it was time to stop feeling sorry for herself and actually take matters into her own hands. If online dating worked for Simone, why the heck wouldn’t it work for her? She’d always felt as if it were a cheat’s way to meet guys, but maybe it was time to swallow her pride. There had to be another man out there who could make her insides tingle and her knees quiver the way Logan had.

  First thing that evening she was setting up an account at Rural Matchmakers.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘Hubba, hubba. Who is that?’

  ‘I don’t know but he’s too old for you and I saw him first.’

  Frankie closed her eyes as she overheard Monique and Cara—her Tuesday trainee—out by the counter. Normally she would laugh at such sentiment—they often played the ‘first dibs’ game when a good-looking man entered the café—but today she guessed without looking who they were talking about and it made her insides twist. It had been well over a week since he’d waltzed into their lives and in that time the only contact she’d had with him was through Simone, relaying their various emails, phone calls and messages. For two people who’d only met the one time, things seemed to be progressing fairly quickly and Frankie hated that she couldn’t be one hundred per cent supportive of her sister.

  Yet, whenever she closed her eyes at night, Logan’s face appeared in her head and the memory of his kiss was as strong as it had been eleven days ago.

  She should have chucked a sickie today, but that was hard to do when you were the boss. And a day off wasn’t an option; Simone looked after the café whenever Frankie wasn’t there but today she had a prior engagement.

  Knowing she couldn’t a
void him forever, Frankie forced herself to peer through the hatch. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him. He had his hands in his pockets and was reading some of the vintage signs on the walls, looking even sexier than he had the other day. If that were possible. Seriously, it should be illegal to look that good in faded jeans. She sucked in a breath, fighting the urge to escape out the back door, to make some excuse and leave Monique in charge to supervise the lunchtime craziness. She couldn’t avoid him forever. If things kept progressing the way they were with Simone, then Logan might become a permanent fixture in their lives, so she needed to take control of this teen-like crush.

  ‘Settle, girls,’ she hissed as she came out of the kitchen. ‘That’s Simone’s new guy.’ The reminder was as much to her hormones as it was to her employees, who pouted just the same.

  She walked around the counter to Logan. ‘Hi there,’ she said, not at all sounding like herself. Thankfully, he didn’t actually know her and didn’t appear to notice.

  His smile widened as he turned away from the wall to look at her. ‘And so we meet again.’

  All Frankie could do was nod.

  Logan rubbed his jaw and said, ‘I wanted to say sorry again about the mix-up the other day. When I kissed you. I didn’t mean—’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Frankie rushed to assure him, a slither of heat snaking through her at the recollection. Her cheeks warmed. Would she ever be able to bring herself to forget it? Focus on your sister, she told herself. ‘Simone said she was meeting you for lunch?’

  He nodded and glanced down at his watch. Her eyes followed, her gaze snagging on his wrists. Dammit, even they were sexy. ‘I’m a little early,’ he said apologetically.

  Frankie forced a laugh and snapped her eyes back up to meet his. ‘Well, you’d best sit down and make yourself comfortable because Simmo is notorious for being late. Can I get you a coffee or something while you wait?’

  ‘Simone told me you make a white hot chocolate that is out of this world.’ He shrugged one shoulder. ‘I know it’s not really the type of thing you drink before lunch, but I’m thinking it sounds good all the same.’

  Trying not to focus on his sheepish grin, Frankie said, ‘One white hot chocolate coming right up.’ She turned away quickly, happy to have something to occupy herself, and took greater care than ever before in creating her most popular winter drink. When she was finished, she placed two tiny shortbread biscuits on the edge of the saucer and then looked up.

  Logan had deposited himself at a table by the window and was reading a book. She blinked and did a double take. It wasn’t that she didn’t think blokes read books but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen one doing so in her café. Usually lone male diners occupied themselves with newspapers or smart phones.

  Just act normal. She held her chin high, but her fingers trembled and she clung to the cup and saucer so as not to spill the hot chocolate as she made her way over to the table.

  ‘What are you reading?’ she asked as she placed his drink down in front of him.

  He looked up, smiled again and turned the cover of the book so she could see.

  Her eyes widened and she couldn’t hide her shock. ‘Picnic at Hanging Rock?’

  He gave her a bemused frown. ‘Something wrong with it?’

  ‘No … it’s just … I—I’m reading it too.’

  ‘No way?’ He put the book down and his half-frown transformed into something that made her toes curl in their shoes.

  ‘Yes way.’ She nodded. Play it cool. It’s just a wacky coincidence. Doesn’t mean anything.

  ‘I’ve read it a couple of times. It’s an old favourite,’ he admitted. She looked from him to the book and noticed a couple of stains on the well-worn cover. The sight warmed her heart, because she loved her books to pieces as well.

  ‘It took me a couple of chapters to get into it but now I’m hooked.’

  ‘Have you seen the movie?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, it was on TV a few months back and I almost watched it, but I much prefer to read a book before I see a movie. Still, that was what put the seed into my head—it made me realise there are so many Australian treasures I’ve never picked up. I’ve read lots of English and American classics, but barely any Aussie literature.’

  ‘I did a couple of units in Australian fiction during my journalism degree, but it wasn’t a hardship. I love this stuff.’

  They talked for ten whole minutes about the book—about how Joan Lindsay doesn’t go over the top with character description, yet each character seems so real; about how the mystery that kickstarts the story has a rippling effect that spreads wide among the characters and beyond.

  ‘I actually thought I was reading a true story,’ Frankie confessed.

  ‘Apparently that’s a common response,’ Logan said in a way that didn’t make her feel like an idiot at all. ‘So, you’re a big reader then?’

  ‘I guess. I’ve always loved reading; it’s my way to wind down at the end of a long day.’

  ‘Me too. What’s your favourite genre?’

  ‘I read anything and everything. Except paranormal. I don’t do vampires and shape shifters and stuff.’

  He laughed and cocked his head to one side. ‘You’re telling me you didn’t even read Twilight?’

  She closed her eyes and sighed. ‘Okay, caught, but in my defence I was in my late teens when it came out. Everyone was reading it.’

  ‘It’s all right. Your secret’s safe with me.’ He winked. ‘I read it too. Team Edward or Team Jacob?’

  She was about to reply when a customer—not a local—called from the counter, ‘Is there anyone taking orders around here?’

  ‘Go,’ Logan whispered before she could make her excuses. ‘I’ll be fine with my book.’

  As she turned away from him, she couldn’t help smiling at their conversation. Why did he have to be so easy to talk to, so interesting, as well as so incredibly hot? Why did he have to be going out with Simone?

  ‘What can I get for you?’ she asked the tall, aggrieved-looking man as she rounded the counter. At the same time Cara appeared from the kitchen, drying her hands against her apron. ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed at Frankie.

  ‘It’s fine. I’ll do this.’ Frankie smiled at her; after all, she’d been the one slacking off.

  When she turned back to the man, he was glaring at her as if she’d made him wait an hour, not all of two minutes. ‘I’ll have a Coke and one of those homemade pies,’ he said, thrusting his finger at the glass display counter, ‘and it better be good.’

  ‘It will be,’ Frankie promised. ‘Take a seat. I’ll bring them both out to you.’

  She set to work heating his pie—resisting the urge to spit in it—as other customers started to dribble into the café. By the time she delivered the pie to Mr Cranky, a queue was forming at the counter, and as much as Frankie longed to resume her conversation with Logan, she had to go and assist her staff.

  The next fifteen minutes or so were busy, but she couldn’t help noticing that Simone hadn’t turned up yet. Knowing her sister, she’d gotten caught up in her latest work of art, but Frankie felt sorry for Logan, sitting alone. She wished she could go over and talk books some more with him. Finally, as the lunch rush thinned and she was considering calling her sister, the door of the café opened and in rushed Simone, the ends of her colourful scarf flying behind her. Even with her hair windblown and her face flushed, she managed to look beautiful.

  ‘So sorry I’m late,’ Frankie heard Simone gush as she dumped her handbag on the floor.

  ‘It’s fine.’ Logan stood and then Frankie watched as he leaned over and pecked Simone on the cheek. They didn’t kiss like two people who were falling madly in love, but something sharp and prickly still twisted in Frankie’s heart at the sight of the two of them together. She stared miserably as Logan pulled out a chair for Simone and she sat. They smiled at each other warmly and began to talk as if they were the only people in the world.

  Feel
ing like a terrible sister, Frankie retreated into the kitchen to scrub dishes and distract herself. She’d leave Cara and Monique to take orders and serve.

  * * *

  ‘Busy morning?’ Logan asked as Simone settled into the seat opposite him. Their knees briefly brushed against each other and he moved slightly so as not to crowd her.

  ‘You have no idea. I’ve been working on the bombonières for my cousin’s wedding and I lost track of time.’ She smiled as she swept a hand through her hair. Her fingers were speckled with some kind of paint and her nails cut short and practical. An artist’s hands, he thought—different from Frankie’s, which he’d noticed had been immaculately clean.

  ‘Sounds like fun.’

  ‘It is,’ she said, ‘but I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.’

  ‘It’s not a problem. I had my book and I ordered one of Frankie’s white hot chocolates to ward my hunger off. You were right, they’re pretty damn good.’

  Simone glanced towards the counter as if just realising she hadn’t said hello to her sister yet, but Frankie was no longer in sight. ‘Everything Frankie cooks is amazing. Apparently she takes after our father. Mum and I can boil eggs and make spaghetti but that’s about the extent of our culinary skills. I feel sorry for my girls. Lucky for me, Harriet is always watching her weight and Grace is quite happy with eggs and spaghetti.’

  Logan chuckled, enjoying the way she spoke as if he knew them. If her daughters were half as captivating as their mother and aunt, they’d be lots of fun.

  ‘What about you?’ she asked, unravelling the scarf from around her neck and dropping it into her lap. ‘Can you cook?’

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I can. Angus and Olivia tease me about being a culinary snob, but I enjoy good food—cooking and eating it. After Mum died, I kinda fell into the role of feeding the family. I even did the birthday cakes.’ He kept a straight face and added, ‘I was particularly proud of the My Little Pony I did for Olivia’s tenth birthday.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m impressed. There must be a big age gap between you boys and her?’