The Protea Boys

by Téa Cooper

  “Everyone makes mistakes, but you can’t fix them by running away.”

  “I am not guilty, and I am not running away, but I have made up my mind, and I am going to WA.”

  Georgie bit her lip and glared long and hard at him, and then she opened her mouth to protest and snapped it quickly shut, her shoulders sinking. “If that’s what you have to do, then so be it, but please, please, Tom, don’t come back, because it would destroy me.”

  She spun on her heel, work boots clicking on the timber floor, and walked through the door and closed it quietly behind her.

  The sound of the door registered somewhere in Tom’s brain, and he sank to the chair. Why couldn’t she understand? Being around him was no good. No good for anyone. It hadn’t done Jane any good, and it wouldn’t do her any good. She was lucky she hadn’t been injured the other day. It wouldn’t have happened if he had done the right thing, stayed with her and cleared the grass, the same way as Jane would be alive and smiling now if he hadn’t been slaking his desires in the bedroom, if he’d answered her phone call.

  His guilty conscience had almost got the better of him, and he had almost blurted it out, but he didn’t speak about it, hadn’t spoken about it since the dreadful phone call to his parents. Georgie’s huge King Proteas sitting in the sink filled his vision.

  The restaurant door opened, and the ridiculous pink cap peeked around.

  “I forgot my bucket.”

  Tom rolled his eyes and leaned back in the chair. “Come and sit down again for a minute. I need to explain.”

  She perched on the wooden chair opposite him.

  His lungs constricted, and he had to let out a huge sigh before he could speak. “I decided it was better for you to hate me and for me to lose you than for you to rely on me and pay the price. Better to go away and for you to have a moment’s sadness than you rely on me for something and me fail to deliver.”

  “What sort of thing might happen to me? I’ll try not to make a habit of falling off cliffs, I promise.” The silly, crooked grin of hers made him want to kiss her.

  “Georgie, stop it. Be serious. I don’t know what might happen. That’s the problem. Anything, a car crash, a fall, an accident, a bushfire. Things I can’t control. I would rather be somewhere else, knowing I can imagine you safe and happy.”

  “You’re being ridiculous. Things happen to people all the time. It’s just luck—good luck, bad luck, being in the right or the wrong place at any given moment. We were in the right place when the bushfire came over, and we sheltered in the dam. That was good luck. It was good luck we got back up to the house before the spot fires took hold. And anyway, I might be safe, but I wouldn’t be happy.”

  “Why not?”

  She paused, grilling him with those blasted eyes. Then he saw the telltale flush on her cheeks. “Because without you, I would be miserable. I want us to be together, and everything will be fine, I promise you. I love you.”

  Her words weren’t what Tom expected. He stood up and pulled her into his arms, and she rested her head against his chest. Her breath was warm through his T-shirt, feeling just right and so very safe. The rest of his body liked it too. It was so right—and so wrong.

  Tom took a deep breath. “Georgie. There’s something you have to know. I haven’t told you everything about the way my sister died.” She tipped her face up, and stared at him, a tiny frown creasing her perfect forehead.

  “We went out together to a party. She had met this guy, but she was only seventeen, and I knew there would be a lot of alcohol around. I didn’t want her getting a lift home with someone who couldn’t hold his drink. We lived well out of town, and the road was dangerous even at the best of times because of the trucks.” He pulled her head into his shoulder and rested his chin against the warmth of her head.

  “A woman was at the party, an old friend, I hadn’t seen her in a long time. I left Jane at the party and went to the woman’s hotel room with her. Jane must have rung on my mobile, but I didn’t hear her call. She drove herself home in my car, and she was killed, in the accident.”

  ***

  Georgie tightened her grasp around his waist and pushed deeper against his chest, trying to absorb some of his hurt. It was quiet, so quiet in the restaurant. Only his breath, the rise and fall of his chest, and then his shoulders dropped, and the tension leeched out of him.

  She struggled against him, and he pulled her closer, not letting her go.

  “So you see, Georgie, I’m not the man for you. You deserve better.”

  “I think you should let me be the judge, Tom. I can’t say or do anything to bring your sister back, but what has happened in the past doesn’t make me think any less of you. I can’t change your mind except to say I don’t want you to leave. I value our friendship, I need your help with the Protea Boys, and I would very much like to pick up where we left off the other night.” There was no point in trying to control the blush sweeping her body; they were so close he’d be able to feel the heat of it.

  “Georgie, I...”

  “Tom, stop. It’s time for me to come clean about a few of my problems, too, because if we are going to be together, we have to understand each other.” She took a deep breath; it was something she hadn’t told anyone, hadn’t wanted to share before. Still the humiliation of her gullibility cut deep, but he had to know that he wasn’t the only one with baggage, and if they were to go forward, they would have to carry it together.

  “I told you that my father and I owned G & G Martin, and when he retired the company became my responsibility.” Her head remained buried in his chest; it was easier to talk, to tell the story, if she couldn’t see his face in case he thought less of her because of it. “What I didn’t tell you was that I made a very foolish mistake. I employed a man, his name was Dale.” Tom’s body stiffened, but Georgie didn’t stop, she couldn’t now. It was her last chance, and she would see it through. “I fell for him. There is no other way to explain it. I took one look at him, and I wanted him, and it seemed that he wanted me. I believed he was the one, and he led me to believe that I was for him. But I was wrong. He had an agenda. He wanted G & G Martin, not me. He told me he had divorced his wife, and their relationship was over, and I believed him when he said he and his wife were still good friends. They’d known each other for so long it was a shame to throw a relationship they had both invested so much in, that’s what he said.”

  Tom’s arms tightened around her waist, and he pulled her closer.

  “I was naïve, and I was a fool. It was a sham. I was nothing more than his ticket to the boardroom, and worse, I would have let him take over everything my father and I had worked for because the man and what I saw as his glamorous and sophisticated lifestyle infatuated me. I would never have known except his wife became pregnant and insisted he tell me that our relationship was over.”

  Georgie’s voice caught as a surge of humiliation rocked her, and she closed her eyes, leaning against the security of his warm chest.

  “We all make mistakes, Georgie. People often aren’t all we believe them to be.”

  “No listen, Tom, it was worse. I was so angry, so jealous and so duped that I retaliated in the only way I could. I closed the company, sold out to a competitor, and the only proviso on the deal was that they would not employ Dale. It was a foul thing to do, to anyone, and I am not proud of it. He paid...”

  “He deserved to pay. He was a con man.”

  “But I was the fool. I was the person in control, and I was the one who made the mistake. All because I wanted him. I behaved like a spoiled brat. I sold my business, everything my father valued, and ran home with my tail between my legs. I’m not proud of what I did. I’m not a very nice person at all.”

  “Oh, Georgie!” Tom planted a big kiss on her lips and then pulled away, tilting her chin up toward him with his finger. “You are a beautiful person, and your only mistake was that you trusted someone, which is why I am not the man for you. You deserve far better.”

  “R
ubbish. The only thing I deserve is what I want. Think about what I have said. As much as I would like to stay here with you and talk further, I can’t. I have to go. I have a meeting I must go to tonight.”

  “I’m coming with you. I’ll drive you.”

  Oh no!

  Georgie’s heart sank. Tom’s overprotective instinct had to be resolved once and for all if they were going to move on. “No, Tom, I’ll go to the meeting on my own.”

  “Just let me drive. It is a dangerous road. Those blind bends at night can be difficult.”

  Georgie shook her head, the familiar surge of anger rising as she deposited her hands on her hips. How could she love someone who made her so angry? “Tom. No. I’ll drive myself. I’ll only be an hour or so, and if you would like to meet me at home when I get back, I’d like it very much.” Her hands fell from her hips. “It’s too good an opportunity to miss, Tom, and it saves me the hike down to Sydney. They’re representatives from the Sydney Growers’ Market, and they’re only up here for two days.”

  “You should go, but I’ll drive.” He pushed himself up out of the chair and reached for his keys.

  “Tom, it’s fine. I have no intention of having a drink, this isn’t a social meeting. It is a bunch of farmers talking to the people who rent out the stalls at the markets in Sydney. I’d love you to be there when I get back though.” Georgie shot him an inviting glance from beneath her eyelashes. “And I’ll make some pasta and we can talk.”

  He nodded his head. She could see him struggling, hating to have to give up control, but he did. “Right. I’ll be up at the farm when you get back”

  “I expect you to be waiting for me—” She stopped. The color leeched from his face, and the anguish in his eyes horrified her.

  Fool. You stupid fool.

  But he had to get over it. There would be no life for either of them if he couldn’t let her out of his sight, couldn’t let her drive a car in case, just in case, she had an accident. He had to let go of the responsibility. He had to stop trying to control the world.

  Dropping a quick kiss on his cheek, she scooped up her bucket and cheerfully waved good-bye. As her car spluttered up the cobblestone road, she could see him in the rearview mirror, leaning against the restaurant wall, the tenseness in his shoulders evident even from a distance.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The taillights disappeared into the dusk, and Tom heaved a huge sigh, forcing down visions of the winding road, speeding bikies, or random wildlife jumping into Georgie’s headlights. She was right; he couldn’t control everything, and talking to her had lifted a load from his shoulders. He was so connected to her that he’d opened his heart, shared his darkest and most shameful secret with her, and she had been able to do the same. It had given him such a sense of well being.

  The future suddenly came into sharp focus. Why would he want to be anywhere else? There was no need to run from his fears; they were here with him, and all he had to do was accept them. He could live with that. Tom walked back into the restaurant, looking for something to pass the time until he could be where he wanted to be, with Georgie.

  ***

  The curve of the road wound up to the top of the hill, and Tom dropped down a gear as he swung into the pot-holed driveway at the protea farm. The outside lights from the house threw patterns across the lawn, and he pulled up and parked next to the shed. He swung out of the vehicle, the bottle of red wine to go with Georgie’s pasta tucked under his arm, slammed the door, and strode across the lawn and onto the deck.

  He tried the kitchen door. It swung open, and he leaned in and flicked the light switch on. Light flooded the house and the veranda. Dumping the bottle of wine unceremoniously on the bench top, he looked around, expecting to see Georgie tucked up in one of the chairs, watching the moonrise over the ridge, but by the time he’d made a full circuit of the house, his stomach was churning, and a stifling sense of unease gripped him.

  Turning his wrist, he looked at his watch. Nine o’clock. She’d left the village before it was dark and said she’d only be an hour or two. That was three hours ago. Where was she?

  “Georgie? Georgie!”

  Nothing.

  Tom sucked in a great gasp of air, closed his eyes, and tried to settle the pounding in his chest. Ignoring the persistent voice in his head telling him he should have insisted on driving, he made one more circuit of the veranda, his footsteps echoing louder with every pace until the familiar icy splinters of dread filled in his tortured mind, and he finally accepted the truth. Georgie wasn’t home.

  Thrusting his hands into his pockets, his fingers coiled around his car keys as tightly as the fear in his belly. Why had he agreed to her driving? It would have been so simple to insist. He sniffed the air, searching for the odor of smoke, his gaze roaming the darkening sky, looking for telltale signs of lights on the road below the farm. And something snapped. Leaving all the house lights blazing, he took off at a run across the grass to his car and froze like a rabbit as the headlights hit him.

  Tom closed his eyes and stood stock-still, waiting for the hand on his shoulder, waiting for the voice to say his name, dreading the looks of concern and condolence. Swallowing down the bile threatening to choke him, he sucked in a great lungful of air and opened his eyes. The headlights dimmed, and a figure walked toward him.

  “Tom. This is a nice welcome. What are you doing out here?”

  His breath escaped in a whoosh, and his shoulders dropped. “You’re back.” All he wanted to do was to sweep her into his arms and pull her close and keep her there safe and then scream at her for frightening the living daylights out of him, but she stepped back and stood holding up one hand like a traffic cop.

  “This is for you.” In her outstretched hand, she held a red rosebud so dark the unfurled petals were almost black in the moonlight; the velvety sheen of the perfect bloom shimmered. She lifted it to her freckled, upturned nose, sniffing the fragrant scent, making such a beautiful picture, his perfect picture.

  Georgie slipped her arm through his. “This is for you—because I want roses to remind you of me, not proteas—always—for all our time together.”

  Tom’s eyes widened as he fought down the panic that two minutes ago had threatened to consume him. He’d been wrong; she was safe. He shook his head, pulling her warm body closer to his and wrapping his hand around hers as it rested in the crook of his arm.

  She gave a little skip and lifted her face to his. “Tom...I’d like us to be together for a long, long time.”

  “Are you propositioning me?” He stopped, his panic put out of mind, as he gazed with pure pleasure into her upturned face and pulled her into his arms, inhaling the fragrance of her hair and wrapping his arms tightly around her.

  “No,” she murmured into his chest and then stepped back, leaving a cool, empty space between them. “I am proposing to you, if you’ll have me and Bertha and this.” She spun around, arms outstretched, embracing the two of them, her home, and the high, high Australian night sky.

  “Does this mean you’ll buy me a diamond?”

  Her eyes glittered like the Southern Cross above them.

  “No, I think I might let you take control of that,” she said before she reached up and covered his lips with hers.

  Biography

  Téa writes contemporary and historical romantic fiction featuring strong-minded women and sexy Australian men. Love and life Down Under isn’t always easy. Her heroes and heroines have to fight long and hard for what they believe in before they reach their happy ever after.

  The Protea Boys is Téa’s second Australian contemporary romance, and her third Passionfruit & Poetry will be published in mid-2013. She is currently working on a series of nineteenth-century historical romances set in Sydney and the Hunter Valley. The first two, Lily’s Leap and Matilda’s Freedom, will be released in 2013.

  To keep up with all of Téa’s news visit her website www.teacooperauthor.com where you will find links to her blog and social media pages.<
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