His Plain-Jane Cinderella

by Jennie Adams

‘Thank you for coming along when you did.’

  Her words took him away from his thoughts.

  She added, ‘Gemma’s very beautiful.’

  If Andrew Gale had turned to the woman for that reason, Troy felt sorry for the couple, because surface looks were not what would sustain a relationship. But right now it was Stacie that Troy cared about. ‘If the news of the baby…’

  ‘Gemma seems to think—’ She broke off and her expression became thoughtful, sober. ‘I hope she knows what she’s doing with him, that’s all. I don’t know how I feel about the rest. I don’t think it’s sunk in.’

  If Troy could have healed her in that moment, he would have. ‘My pride got hurt over Linda.’ He understood that now, and he wanted to share it, to give this to Stacie so she would know she wasn’t alone in experiencing loss. ‘I know that’s not the same.’

  ‘It’s as tough in its way. And you acknowledging it means you are emotionally—’ She broke off as though she felt she’d said too much.

  Troy didn’t want to think about her words. He’d lived much of life without digging deeply on an emotional level. The idea of doing that was uncomfortable.

  The pain in Stacie’s eyes had receded, that was the main thing. The relief Troy felt because of that was strong. It was as though he couldn’t bear for her to hurt.

  She glanced down at Houdini and Fang where they sat side-by-side on the veranda. ‘What are we going to do about this runaway dog, Troy? No one’s claimed him and he keeps making his way to you all the time.’

  It was a deliberate change of topic, and the reason Troy had come over.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that.’ The fact was, Troy hadn’t minded Houdini turning up so much at his place, sitting so patiently just hoping for a bit of attention or to be let in the house. Troy hadn’t minded his company that much at all. ‘I came over to tell you that I thought I could keep him. The back yard is secure enough. I could build a dog flap into the back door so he could get in and out of the house while I’m working. It wouldn’t kill me to have him there. Besides, he’d keep pests at bay. I’m sure I caught a glimpse of a mouse the other day on the veranda.’

  ‘Oh, Troy. That’s a wonderful decision.’ Stacie spoke her words of praise to Troy and blinked back the silly burst of emotion that had come with them. He’d probably tell her she was being ridiculous or something. ‘And he’ll be really good against rodents and things.’

  ‘Yeah. He can yap them into running away.’ Troy smiled with that quirk to one side of his mouth.

  He whistled to the little dog and it rushed to his side. To Stacie he said, ‘I’ll let you get on with your work.’

  ‘Yes. You need to go about your orchard work, too.’

  Stacie felt surprisingly undisturbed after Troy left. She’d had so much pain over Andrew. It had been hard to hear their news without mixed emotions, but overall she truly could say she was happy for Gemma, at least in the parts of her that could give that for now.

  She got hurt and it still stung, but she didn’t love Andrew any more, and she still did love her sister.

  Troy had made it easy for her to reach that state. He had helped her today, and she’d seen empathy in his eyes. Not pity, but understanding.

  Had that understanding come from his experiences? Was Troy too perhaps changing as he adapted to the new life he was building here? Or was Stacie just trying to build castles in air because she very much wanted…what?

  A chance to feel closer to Troy? She couldn’t hope for that. Troy didn’t want that.

  And Stacie had things she wanted to achieve—by herself. That was still what she wanted.

  Wasn’t it?

  ‘The creek’s flooded across the road on the way to our homes. The river’s rising badly on the other side of town, too.’ Troy made the announcement to Stacie just before they were to leave the plant. ‘I just spoke with the company that’s to install my new hot-water service. They drove out to the creek and turned around again without trying to cross.’

  Carl had called in with another migraine, and Troy had committed to a couple of hours just to make sure things were on track at the plant.

  ‘That’s not a joke, is it? How deep is the creek? Surely the delivery service could have driven through? I can’t see how the creek could rise to an impassable level in a day. It rarely even goes over the road at all. And I’ve never heard of the river flooding, though I did catch a snippet on the news about the river flooding at one of the towns higher up in the state. There’s been very widespread, heavy rain up there.’

  More to the point, Fang was out at the farmlet; that was the immediate concern. ‘I can’t leave Fang by himself. You can’t leave Houdini, either. We have to get back.’

  ‘We’ll drive out and see how it looks.’ Troy’s words were calm. ‘The delivery driver said he didn’t look at the metre marker. Maybe the level isn’t all that bad.’

  When they stopped near the flooded creek and got out of their cars, Stacie was shocked by the amount of water she saw. This was not merely a small trickle. The creek had flooded substantially across the road. The metre marker told its own story.

  Troy turned to her. ‘It’s not actually raining right now, but that’s not going to make the creek stop rising. A lot of this has to have come from upstream. The same as what’s happening with the river. I know I can get my four-wheel-drive through at that water level. Your car’s a bit of a dicier prospect. I’d recommend leaving it on this side.’

  ‘I think that’s wise.’ Stacie gathered her things, locked her car and walked the short distance to Troy’s with him. ‘I’m mostly concerned to get to Fang. I don’t want him to be isolated out here.’

  Troy hesitated with his hand on the keys in his ignition. ‘Would you prefer me to drive you straight back in to town once you get your dog? I’m comfortable that I can get us through even if it rises up another foot, but you could stay in town until we’re sure the creek’s on the way down just in case.’

  ‘No. I don’t want to…’

  Leave Troy out here by himself.

  It was so silly—it wasn’t as though he couldn’t look after himself—but that was how Stacie felt. She drew a breath and tried for a more normal tone. ‘If there are worries about being able to get in to town to go to work, that will change things, of course. For now, I’d rather be in my own home, if you’re happy with that.’

  ‘I am. Let’s deal with tonight, for starters, and see how things are in the morning.’ Troy drove them through the water, driving carefully to compensate for the tug of the current, and tapping the brakes several times once he got out.

  ‘That wasn’t so bad,’ Stacie said optimistically, and wondered just how much the creek would go on rising. Surely it wouldn’t rise much more, and in a couple of days would recede off the road completely?

  As she had that thought, she saw the water lying all about her home. Sheets of it covered the front garden, the path and were pushing far too close to the veranda. ‘That’s not from the creek.’

  ‘No. There’s been a dump of rain here earlier in the day, by the looks of it.’ Troy’s gaze shifted from her home to his.

  ‘At least there’s no water lying around over at your place, Troy,’ Stacie added judiciously. ‘Well, there are a few puddles.’ She let her gaze return to her own yard. ‘This is a problem, though. I’ll have to dig a drain to shift the water away from the house.’

  ‘We’ll dig a drain.’ When she would have argued that he’d done more than enough work for her already, Troy held up a hand. ‘You can always trade me a hot shower for the work.’

  ‘Oh.’ She hadn’t thought of the implications of his hot-water service not being delivered. Now visions of Troy standing under her shower with water running down his back and chest pushed their way into her mind. For a moment Stacie
forgot where she was, what the problem was. All she could see before her and in her imagination was Troy.

  How could she be that way? Shouldn’t she be fixating over seeing Andrew Gale again? And the pregnancy?

  But Stacie simply didn’t care about Andrew any more. She doubted she would ever like the man again, but she was over him. That fact was now abundantly clear to her.

  And do you truly think it would be that easy to push thoughts of him aside if he’d really mattered to you that much in the first place, Stacie?

  The question sobered her. She had fallen in love with Andrew.

  At least, she’d felt sure she had, and it had hurt when she realised he’d maybe never really been as serious about her as he’d let her believe. What did this mean? That she could still feel hurt about that, but not truly care about Andrew himself, and desire Troy all at the same time?

  It meant that Stacie’s capacity to over-think things and make herself crazy in the process was too well-developed!

  Stacie threw her door open and stepped out into her soggy yard. ‘You can use my shower for as long as you need to, Troy.’ She’d just work somewhere else in the house while he did that. Or take a walk outside. Or something.

  ‘Thanks.’ He searched her gaze for a moment and nodded. ‘So, do you have shovels?’

  ‘I’ve got one shovel and one spade.’ She let her sense of humour peek out. ‘Bought from a clearing sale at dirt-cheap prices.’

  His laugh was short, but deep and rich. ‘I’ll go get a second shovel.’ The smile faded. ‘I want you to wear gloves. I don’t want you coming out of this with blisters on your hands.’

  Stacie hadn’t heard him laugh like that. It was a sound she could get used to. ‘I’ll guard against blisters. Bring Houdini over. He can be company for Fang while we dig the ditch. I’d better go inside and put a pair of jeans on to go with the gumboots I’m going to need for this.’

  Did Troy give a quiet groan before he turned his head away? Stacie couldn’t be sure, but for some reason her pulse rate was suddenly faster, stronger. Despite the dismal weather, the water everywhere and the sky still looking grey and sodden and likely to dump further wet contents all over them at any time, she suddenly felt quite cheerful.

  An hour later Stacie perhaps felt a little less enthusiastic. Her lower back was letting her know that a term of Zumba classes earlier this year and taking Fang for regular walks apparently hadn’t put all her muscles in perfect order for this kind of task.

  They were digging through a patch of ground that seemed to be nothing but water and red clay. She’d taken the gloves off minutes ago so she could keep a better grip on the shovel but she knew she wouldn’t last long without them. ‘I thought this farmlet was all sand.’

  ‘There’s different ground depending on where you look. My farm is the same.’ Troy glanced up from his work. He had boots on his feet that looked as though they’d have kept him in good stead during his army days. His jeans were wet and covered in muck to the knees.

  Stacie tried to focus on practicalities rather than the temptation to let her gaze shift upwards to his firm chest, to each feature of his face.

  Troy had cast more than an occasional glance at her, too. An awareness hummed between them, but she was happy. In this moment—and somehow thanks to that first visit with Gemma even if she had brought Andrew along—Stacie felt happy. More hopeful. She’d thought about there being a little niece or nephew, too. Maybe that would feel more real once Gemma started to show a baby bump. Stacie would love it, though. She acknowledged that thought fiercely.

  Stacie picked up her pace, digging with determination and tossing the mud aside as she went along. Was she trying to dig herself out of the danger of how Troy made her feel?

  She didn’t know how the accident happened. One moment they were both digging, while Stacie told herself she wasn’t thinking about Troy or wasn’t casting glances his way every chance she got, the next her feet slipped from under her and she went flying towards him. There was a split second to realise she was going down and might potentially hurt him on the way. She gave a shocked squawk of sound, had the good sense to toss the shovel and then Troy’s hands were reaching for her.

  ‘I’ve got you.’

  ‘No, Troy, don’t!’

  But it was too late. He caught her and her momentum carried them both down, Troy rolling to protect her fall as they landed.

  They rolled again. Stacie felt the wet slick of mud coating her. Water splashed up and then they lay there, two very mucky people in some very cold water and slithery mud. She’d ended on her back with Troy poised half on top of her.

  ‘Tell me that landing didn’t hurt your knee.’ Her hands held his hips.

  ‘It didn’t.’ His voice was low and deep. ‘Tell me I made sure you didn’t get hurt on the way down.’

  ‘Does hurt pride count, for being silly enough to fall over in this?’ She meant it as a joke and he seemed to know that, even with the breathy quality of the words.

  Stacie was fighting consciousness of their closeness, but she lost.

  Troy’s body was firm and blanketing over hers. His chest pressed against the softness of her breasts, and there was no denying what their closeness had done to him. He wanted her, and Stacie wanted to arch against him…

  ‘God, Stacie.’ His hips pressed once against hers and then he seemed to force himself to stillness.

  Every fibre of her being longed for him in that moment. Stacie had never felt this way, had never felt such intensity of longing that seemed to come from deep within.

  His face softened and his gaze wandered over her hair and face. His arms were locked about her, holding her safe where their bodies pressed together. His warm heat contrasted with the coldness beneath her.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault.’ He spoke in a husky tone, a hungry tone. ‘You slipped.’

  Shivers went down Stacie’s spine, delicious, delightful shivers. ‘And now we’re both a mess. My hair’s got mud in it.’

  She had to force the words out, an attempt at calm when she was anything but.

  His gaze consumed her. Passion filled his eyes, seemed to tighten every sinew and muscle in his body.

  They were locked together and both trying very hard not to acknowledge the white-hot flare of desire.

  Troy shifted slightly above her. A clump of mud fell from his ear and landed on her cheek.

  She stifled back a laugh. The intensity was not lost, but the mood gently changed.

  ‘Go ahead and laugh, Stacie.’ He spoke in a low tone that was playfully stern. The lift of one side of his mouth negated any idea that he was actually annoyed. ‘You know you’re equally covered in it.’

  ‘I’m sure women pay hundreds of dollars for a beauty treatment just like this.’ She felt proud of the quip, even if it was breathless.

  ‘It reminds me more of mud wrestling.’ His fingers brushed the mud from her cheek.

  She drew a breath, inhaling the scent of mud and Troy’s skin. ‘I guess you’re used to dealing with nature’s extremes.’

  ‘Yes, but not…like this. God, Stacie, is there any way that you wouldn’t appeal to me?’ He bent his head and pressed the lightest of kisses to her brow, the tip of her nose. He even kissed her cheek beside where the mud had landed.

  She thought they’d avoided this, that they’d turned their corner, but they hadn’t. She’d been fooling herself because that was all it took—that one press of his lips to her skin. Stacie cupped the back of his neck and drew his lips to hers. She kissed him. She took what she wanted and gave what she wanted to give, and as his lips responded to hers, she thought, I want this, and he wants it.

  His lips were cold. Hers were too. Passion warmed them, warmed Stacie’s blood, made her even more conscious of Troy, of the press of his bod
y, even as he shifted to his side and held her in his arms, held her up out of the mud that had coated both of them. One broad hand stroked between her shoulder blades and down, through the mud slicked over her sweater.

  The touch was sensual, primal, seemed to speak of his strength and power. And Stacie loved it.

  When he looked into her eyes and pressed kisses against her lips, she couldn’t look away, couldn’t think of anything except this. Couldn’t react to anything but his touch, his scent and his mouth on hers.

  ‘It’s dangerous.’ The words slipped from her, a fear spoken aloud—because it wasn’t only her senses that responded when he held her, that seemed to open up to him and let him close, and closer still.

  Affection; it was affection, not deep emotion.

  That wasn’t so bad.

  And desire. Of course it was also desire.

  And you really, really like him as a person—more and more as you get to know him.

  But the affection, the desire, the liking, all felt as nothing she had felt before. Not towards Andrew, not towards any other man.

  And to Stacie, who needed so much to feel safe and in control of her life, her destiny, her world, that knowledge was frightening.

  It still wasn’t a problem. She told herself this, insisted on this. Because she wasn’t falling for him. And he certainly wouldn’t be falling for her.

  He wouldn’t. She had to remember that.

  ‘You’re right. It’s dangerous.’ Troy released her. He got to his feet and held out his hand.

  Stacie took that hand and let him draw her up. She brushed muddy hands down mud-caked, water-soaked jeans and forced herself to reach once more for the shovel. She wanted to go inside, to avoid this, not to let her thoughts run forward any more. But she couldn’t do that. And it was better to behave as though this was nothing. ‘I’ll take care not to slip again while we finish this.’

  The words were double-edged, just like the shovel in her hands.

  She set to work for the second time.