Against All Odds (Outback Hearts)

by Silva, Jezz de

  She eased off the go pedal and allowed the dragon’s heart pumping beneath the Aston Martin’s sleek crimson hood to settle back into the menacing rhythm that promised death and destruction if provoked, much like the man sitting beside her. “Wishing Tree?”

  “The tree’s been here even longer than Mum can remember. They say it has the power to grant wishes.”

  “And you believe that?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know what I believe anymore, but every time I deploy, Mum makes me come here. So far I’ve made it back every time.” He winked at her. “Most of me, at least.”

  She studied him but still couldn’t be sure whether he was serious or just teasing her. “So do I have to rub it to get my three wishes, or can I shout them out?”

  He hitched an eyebrow. She tried masking the heat flooding her cheeks behind a curse as she visualized rubbing something else, but it was too late.

  He allowed her to flounder a little longer before shaking his head. “You don’t get to make the wish, the tree chooses. They say the magic only works if you shut the hell up and give yourself over to it, so I’m guessing that rules you out.”

  She backhanded his shoulder and mashed the accelerator to hide her embarrassment. With every passing second the Wishing Tree grew larger until it dominated the barren landscape. A gnarled and scarred trunk as wide as it was tall supported limbs that exploded over the flaming rock like a mushroom cloud of life.

  She turned off the dirt road and pulled to a stop under the shady sanctuary provided by the canopy. A wave of peace washed over her as she shut down the engine and took in the ancient being. She slid from the driver’s seat and drew in a lungful of the eucalyptus-drenched air. The branches whispered a welcome as gentle superheated gusts caressed her face and arms. Gooseflesh pebbled her skin despite the heat. She searched for anything familiar to cling to—traffic noise, car horns, feet pounding concrete—but the only thing penetrating the thick silence was the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft whoosh of air entering and leaving her body.

  She turned to find him crouched in front of what looked like a cave gouged out of a shoulder-high ridge to her left. As she navigated her way around the boulders and rocks scattered beneath the canopy toward him, the afternoon sun revealed a pirate’s stash of treasure. Toy cars, dolls, books, hats, boots, and tools were piled as high as a junkyard Christmas tree illuminated by hundreds of shiny glass jewels, crystals, and coins.

  He withdrew his hand from beneath a one-eyed teddy bear half buried under a dented cooking pot and rose to his feet. “No one knows who started this pile, but it’s become a tradition to make an offering every time you come here.”

  Curiosity turned to shock as she scanned the trinkets. “I don’t know about the rusted tools and old boots, but some of this stuff looks pretty valuable.” She pointed to a wad of tattered bills tucked through the broken windscreen of a toy truck.

  “It’s said the more valuable the offering the greater the chance your wish comes true.”

  “Sounds very televangelist.”

  He chuckled and nodded to another roll of notes wedged under a football. “Some people miss the point completely. They believe they can buy their wish, but it doesn’t work like that. The offering has to mean something.” He nodded to a dusty silver chain dotted with tiny flowers and bumblebees hanging from the handle of a cricket bat. “My father gave that to my sister, Jeddah, for her eighth birthday. In six years it never left her neck. She came here the day after he died.”

  She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’ve got just the thing.”

  He grabbed her before she’d even turned. “I’ve got you covered.”

  Like hell he was making an offering for her. He’d already done more for her than she could ever repay. She was a grown woman, not some charity case, and she paid her own damned way. She sucked in a breath to tell him just that when he hauled her off her feet and plonked her down facing the tree.

  “Before you get all pissy, the offering means more if it comes from someone else.”

  She elbowed him in the stomach. “Great, then I’ll make one for you.”

  He didn’t even have the decency to wince as he yanked her back around. “I’ve used up all my wishes.” He tightened his grip around her waist. “Plus, I have everything I need right here.”

  She made sure she got the correct leg and stomped his human foot just as his words penetrated her righteous anger. She slowly turned and stared up at him as he regained his balance and glared back.

  “Jesus, you’re stubborn.” He cupped her shoulders and pecked her forehead before spinning her back around. “For once in your life do as you’re freaking told.” The whispered words brushed her ear before he kissed her earlobe and patted her butt.

  “Smart…” She’d been going for smart-ass, but the tightness in her throat cut her short. The last of her frustration drained from her body as she took a hesitant step forward, then another. She picked her way through the maze of exposed roots until she stood before the bone-white trunk.

  She’d stopped believing in magic the day her parents had died and had given up on miracles when she’d learned her cancer had returned, but a force she couldn’t explain drew her closer until she dissolved into the landscape. She stiffened when a pair of huge calloused hands captured hers.

  “Shhh.”

  She unconsciously leaned into the lips caressing her ear and allowed him to place her palms flat against the trunk. Trapped between the cool, smooth bark of the ancient past and the warm, rough flesh of her present, she closed her eyes and allowed the magic to carry her into the unknown.

  With each thud of her heart her future blurred. The desolate plane flight home after leaving this incredible place and this unforgettable man, the fear twisting her sister’s face as Olivia waved good-bye from the waiting room, staring helplessly up from the operating table as masked surgeons cut open her head, and the endless months of chemo and radiotherapy if she survived the operation. All her dreams and all her nightmares evaporated until all that remained was a tiny, insignificant woman with flowing auburn hair drifting in the breeze like a flame. The woman who looked terrifyingly like a pre-Doris version of her walked beneath an infinite sapphire sky toward an oasis emerging from an endless ocean of red dust.

  She clamped her eyelids tighter in a desperate attempt to cling to the serene emptiness, but the vision dissolved back into the imagination that conjured it. As far as sideshow acts went, the Wishing Tree was pretty good. But like all magic tricks, she figured the success of the illusion was in setup. And the man silently clutching her to his chest had set her up pretty damned well, not that she complained.

  She turned within his embrace and snaked her arms around his neck before claiming his mouth. She licked and nibbled until he opened and let her in. She pulled down harder and explored until his tongue encircled hers in a dance as pure as it was carnal. The sweetness of the ice cream she’d bought him to make up for stealing his fries combined with the candy they’d fought over in the car to create a seductively sweet dessert she could savor for eternity.

  All too quickly he leaned back and eased her down. She opened her eyes to find him shaking his head and grimacing almost as if he was in pain. “You’re going to kill me, woman.”

  Kill him? If her lady parts got any hotter, they’d explode into a puff of smoke. And it had nothing to do with the hundred-and-ten-degree air swirling around her, or the shafts of sunlight penetrating the canopy.

  With a groan that sounded more like a curse, he looked back at the Aston Martin crouched in the dust like a fire-breathing dragon waiting to be set free and dropped his forehead to hers. “If we’re any later, Mum’s going to rip off my leg and beat me to death with it.”

  Naya Harper, matriarch of the Harper clan and ruler of the land they stood on, may have been as tough and unforgiving as the million-year-old escarpments standing guard over the landscape, but Abi had no doubt the woman loved as fiercely as she protected her family. She squ
eezed his fingers and hustled alongside him to keep pace with his football-field-sized strides. She hoped she’d never get used to the way her heart fluttered whenever he glanced at her or held her hand. They were just innocent little things couples all around the world did without thinking twice, but they were as special to her as everything else about this amazing adventure.

  “You’re not going to ask about the dream?”

  He shook his head. “Can’t, otherwise your wish won’t come true.”

  Always the salesman. “How do you know I even saw anything?”

  He didn’t bother answering. He simply grinned at her and tugged her along.

  The vision, dream, wish, or whatever the hell it’d been must have just been a combination of way too many late nights spent googling the outback mixed with jet lag and the bucket of grease she’d consumed for lunch, but she couldn’t help wondering. Maybe there was hope for some sort of a happy ending after all. Yeah, right, and maybe the Wishing Tree had only shown her her very own version of the afterlife. She chuckled and shook her head. Had she been walking toward heaven or hell?

  She’d expected him to corral her into the passenger seat, but he guided her to the driver’s side and opened the door. He waited for her to sink into the seat before leaning in and pecking her lips. “Seeing as you don’t believe in magic, you Muggle, I’ll personally grant you a wish of your very own choosing if you power-slide this thing into the front yard.”

  The warmth of his kiss spread through her body as she studied him. She wasn’t a Muggle. Then again, she wasn’t exactly Hogwarts material, either, but how much of a believer would Hermione Granger have been if she’d spent almost a decade staring death in the face?

  He raised an eyebrow. “So, how about it?”

  He’d spent the entire time she’d been driving either glaring at her or telling her to slow down. But she was way too busy trying to figure out what she wanted him to do for her—or even better, to her—to figure out if he was only teasing or if he was serious about the wish.

  He grinned and leaned so close their noses touched. “I’ll do anything you want. All you have to do is make as much noise and dust as this thing can spit out.”

  She resisted the urge to kiss him and narrowed her eyes. “Anything?”

  His stubble tickled her cheek as he brushed his lips to hers. “Anything.”

  She had a pretty good idea that no good could come from his plan, but the prospect of having him surrender to her will was just too tempting. “How do I know you’re not going to back out?”

  He flicked her bottom lip with his tongue. “If I do, you can tell my mum.”

  His poor mother didn’t deserve to have anything to do with the carnal images flashing through her mind. But he’d barely buckled himself in before she’d redlined the Vanquish and hurtled down the winding dirt road toward a rocky outcrop emerging out of a subtle depression a few miles away.

  “Not good enough, Williams. The deal was for everything this thing had.”

  She gritted her teeth and mashed the throttle as the blurring desert and visions of his naked body lying spread-eagle before her flooded her veins with adrenaline.

  Everything her father had taught her and the years she’d spent learning to drive cars the way they’d been designed to be driven came rushing back as they drifted through one sweeping bend into the next. A rooster tail of dust and gravel erupted from the tires as the desert flashed by in a blur. The nervous passenger he’d been vanished as he called out directions and urged her on.

  An oasis glistened to life like a sparkling solitaire diamond set between two ridges of crimson rock. An oasis that looked eerily like the vision the Wishing Tree had planted inside her head. She lifted off the gas and turned to him, but for once he seemed oblivious to her panic.

  “Flat out, woman.”

  In the months spent planning this adventure she’d seen some beautiful, awe-inspiring landscapes, but none came close to what materialized before her.

  Huge eucalypts shot into the sky like a tropical island emerging from a blood-red sea. At the heart of the alien forest lay a huge crystal-blue pond shimmering beneath the late-afternoon sun’s rays. A sprawling single-story farmhouse sat on the banks of the pond among a village of outbuildings, barns, and stables straight out of nineteenth-century Australia.

  She’d dreaded the thought of seeing the outback from the passenger window of an air-conditioned tour bus surrounded by strangers. She’d wanted to feel the heat baking her skin, taste the dust on her tongue, experience what it truly meant to be lost in the middle of nowhere, but she’d never dreamed of being able to do it all while staying in paradise.

  “We had a deal, Williams.”

  Thoughts of Wishing Trees and afterlives evaporated as images of naked Ryders shocked her out of her trance. She focused her attention on the dream unfolding before her and stomped the accelerator. Whether it was heaven, hell, or somewhere in between, she was making an entrance, and she’d worry about the consequences after she’d licked and nibbled every ridge and crevice on his body.

  “Everything this thing’s got.”

  She muttered a curse and stomped the dragon. The beast snarled and launched over a rise in the road before crouching and lurching forward. The trees grew bigger, the buildings larger, and still he urged her on. He reached across and crushed the horn as she slid into a huge shaded courtyard the size of a baseball diamond. The Vanquish bellowed as she wrenched on the wheel and skidded to a stop in a blinding cloud of dust and debris.

  While she and the Aston Martin took turns catching their breath, he leaned over and shut down the engine before pecking her cheek. “I’m sorry. I promise to make it up to you.”

  She barely heard his apology over the hammering in her chest, an animal shelter’s worth of barking, and a storm of insults that grew louder with each thudding heartbeat.

  “Why, you stupid, crippled, ungrateful arsehole.”

  Curse after curse thundered through the dispersing dust cloud until a silhouette emerged through the haze like a mightily pissed-off gunslinger circled by a pack of wolves. The only thing missing was the cigar stub hanging from his mouth and the cocked and locked Colt 45, but by the way he lashed at the dust with his hat and stalked forward, she figured the man didn’t need the gun. She found herself leaning closer to Ryder as the man advanced with his worn work boots stomping tiny dust clouds into the air.

  The man slapped his hat on his head, wiped the sweat beading across his mahogany forehead, and jabbed a finger at her. “Do you have any idea how expensive that car is, you jar-headed piece of—?”

  He froze, his mouth gaping and his hand hanging out in front of him as his jet-black eyes darted from the driver’s seat to the passenger’s, then back again.

  Ryder hooted and pushed open the passenger-side door. “I figured this bloody substitute dick of yours deserved to be driven by someone who knows what they’re doing.”

  Her stomach jammed itself even farther up her throat. Ryder’s big brother by all of nine days, the man who’d flirted mercilessly with her over the phone and who’d graciously provided the venue for the most incredible night of her life blinked several times and dropped his arm. She braced herself as he took a hesitant step forward and opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

  Ryder was still laughing as he smacked another kiss on her cheek. “You’re sexy as hell, you know that?”

  Before she could comprehend his words he’d slipped out of the passenger seat and into the pack of dogs circling the car. Jarrah continued to glare at Ryder as three women shoved by him and charged toward the passenger door with a chorus of delighted screams and shouts. Ryder leaned down and extended his arms as the trio engulfed him in a whirlwind of limbs, hair, and muffled sobs. Ryder hefted them up and kissed each one in turn before gently lowering them and turning to her.

  She slowly slid out from behind the steering wheel and made sure to keep the driver’s door between herself and Jarrah, who continued to stare at her l
ike she’d defiled his virgin bride.

  The dogs that had been yapping and racing around Ryder and his sisters broke away and charged her. Black, blonde, and brunette, big, small, chunky, and sleek, there were too many wagging tails and slobbering tongues to count. She crouched down and tried to pat all of them only to find a goat and sheep had snuck into the pack and were busy head-butting their way through the mosh pit toward her for some love.

  “Girls, this is Abi.” Ryder beamed a smile at her. “Abi, this is Jeddah, Madison, and Kira, three of the four harpies who rule my world.”

  Abi continued to pat and stroke her furry fan club as she straightened and smiled. He’d talked about them so much on the plane and in the car she didn’t need the introduction, but as his sisters studied her with a mixture of suspicion, confusion, and joy, visions of the opening credits of Charlie’s Angels flashed through her mind.

  Even with all the barking chaos around her and the butterflies fluttering inside her belly, she had to fight back a chuckle. Madison, the redheaded fireball; Kira, the sassy ass kicker; and Jeddah, the sultry mastermind.

  Abi caught herself reaching to smooth down the scarf Ryder had convinced her to wear instead of her wig. She smiled and diverted her hand as casually as she could into a wave that fooled no one. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  Madison nodded and edged closer to her brother before glaring at her with a pair of emerald lasers that had a chill running up her spine despite the sweat trickling between her boobs and down her back. The exquisite cowgirl looked capable of beating the crap out of the bulls wandering the neighboring corrals before flying to Milan for a lingerie shoot. How could a woman appear so capable of violence yet stunningly beautiful all at the same time while dressed in scuffed cowboy boots, dusty jeans, and a faded dark-blue button-down? And how the hell could the woman’s golden complexion remain so perfect in all this heat and dust? Abi had been standing in the sun for barely a minute and was already roasting. She’d found it hard to believe Ryder’s middle sister was in charge of all the station’s livestock, but after being on the receiving end of one of Madison’s glares, she was a believer. Madison’s eyes barely paused on her scarf as she continued her detailed inspection.