The Dairy Farmer's Daughter

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The Dairy Farmer's Daughter Page 9

by Sarah Williams


  Justin watched her over the screen of his laptop. He loved looking at Freya, with her smooth, sun-kissed skin and thick blonde hair. He felt so lucky that she had chosen him to spend her time with. He didn't know what he had done to deserve it, but he was oh, so thankful.

  She smiled, her eyes soft and lovely.

  His heart flipped over. Shit. He needed to pull himself together. The sooner he finished his work, the sooner he could taste those sweet lips again.

  For hours they banged away on their computers, every now and then sharing something of interest—a Facebook comment, or picture on Instagram. Finally, he leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms. The sun was shining, covering the pastures with its golden warmth.

  "I think we deserve a break." Freya closed her laptop. "How about lunch and some sightseeing?"

  He shot her a cheeky grin. "I'm all yours."

  She pushed her chair back and came around to wrap her arms around him from behind. Her arms draped around his chest, her cheek against his. She smelt so good, felt so good, and with a single touch, she made him turn to mush.

  It wasn’t fair that a woman could have this much pull on a man.

  He pulled her onto his lap and kissed his way across her cheek to her ear where he nibbled at her lobe, before leaving it to kiss a trail down her neck. She felt too good in his arms, her curves moulding against him as she pressed closer and moaned against his mouth. That sound was his undoing.

  When they finally left the house in search of food, Justin found himself seeing the world in a whole new light. The cows were grazing contentedly and chewing their cud, enjoying the full sun after the cool night. It was peaceful and quiet. A perfect country setting.

  Freya drove them out of town. Instead of heading to the main street, like he was expecting, she turned down Mountain View Road. The street was lined with a mix of old and new houses, many architecturally designed, with neatly pruned formal gardens. The houses on the left were built on downward-sloping blocks, and behind them he saw their magnificent view of the mountains and hills below.

  Freya slowed and flicked the indicator before turning, taking them past a sign welcoming them to the Mary Cairncross Scenic Reserve. After parking the car, Freya took his hand, and they walked towards a very modern building which housed a café and other rooms.

  "What is this place?" he asked, turning to take in the surrounding rainforest, playground, and wide open space where children kicked balls and cartwheeled on the soft grass.

  "In the 1940s, three sisters gave this land to the council under the condition that the rainforest be preserved and never sold for residential or commercial purposes." She waved toward a sign directing them to a rainforest discovery centre. "This was redeveloped in the last few years. After we have a look, there's a beautiful trail we can walk."

  He pulled her towards him with a gentle tug. "I thought we were getting lunch."

  She pressed a kiss against his lips. "After our sightseeing. We have to work up an appetite."

  "We already did." He ran his hands up and down her arms. "Twice."

  "Trust me. You don't want to miss this." She took a step and waited for him to follow her.

  They walked through the open doors of the Rainforest Discovery Centre, and Justin paused to take in the state-of-the-art interactive displays and exhibits, while Freya dropped coins into a donation box.

  She showed him how cabinet drawers in the display opened, and peepholes revealed secrets of the bush. There was even an interactive movie which showed a rainforest setting in different weather conditions. As they sat watching a holograph of a wallaby grazing, he couldn't help but chuckle.

  "What's so funny?" she asked.

  "Is this your idea of a movie and a meal?"

  She smiled and kissed him. "Welcome to Maleny."

  Freya held onto his hand as they strolled through the bushwalk. She pointed out birds she heard and saw, including whipbirds, parrots, and the one bright yellow and black regent bowerbird.

  When they returned to the café, his stomach was grumbling, and he happily sank into a chair at an outside table with a stunning view of the Glasshouse Mountains.

  “Since you’re playing tour guide, tell me about the mountains," he said, grandly waving his hand towards the hills that rose abruptly from the otherwise flat terrain.

  Freya had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the town's history, locals, and nature. She smiled at him and cleared her throat. "The highest hill is Mount Beerwah, but that funny-looking one"—she pointed in the direction of a rocky hill with a long, vertical spire-shaped peak—"that’s Mount Tibrogargan. They’re not actually hills, but remnants of volcanic activity that happened millions of years ago.”

  Her voice, combined with the view of these ancient rock mountains, lulled him into a strange, mystified state.

  "Captain James Cook named them 'Glasshouse Mountains' in the 1700s because they reminded him of the glass furnaces in Yorkshire."

  He forced his attention back to Freya, whose gaze seemed hazy, as though she too was caught up in their enchantment. She looked so lovely like that, so at one with her surroundings and the magical qualities they had. Or maybe it was Freya who was magical and projected it onto her surroundings. He was about to comment on it when a waiter came over to take their order.

  Flustered, Justin grabbed the menu and quickly scoured it. There were plenty of gluten-free, paleo, vegan, and free-range options, but he settled on the good old cheeseburger with chips and an aioli dipping sauce.

  "Are you sure you don't want to swap the aioli for tomato sauce?" Freya grinned at him, before ordering herself a caesar salad.

  "No, I'll take a chance on the aioli." He reached for her hands and held them in his. She rubbed her thumb across his sensitive palm, and he felt his body relax.

  "Tell me about your life in Brisbane. What's it like?"

  He thought of his daily routine in the bustling city, crowds of people everywhere, the pollution and garbage. "It's a whole different world from this."

  "I could never live somewhere I couldn't see the stars at night."

  "But don't you want to go shopping, or to a nightclub sometimes?"

  She grinned. “Of course, and I do. It's only a ninety-minute drive away; we're not in the middle of the outback, after all.”

  “It kind of feels like it.”

  “It’s great, isn't it? We're tucked away up here in our own little oasis. Sure, we have a thriving tourism industry, which"—she put her hand on her heart—"pays my bills, and I love it to pieces. But when the tourists go home and the weather cools down, it's just us locals left. We are the people who look after the land and nurture it for the next generation."

  "Would you ever live anywhere else?"

  She shrugged. "Maybe, but this will always be my home. My heart is here; so is my family. I want to raise my children here, on a farm with animals and wide open spaces." She looked at him wistfully, and he wished he had a fraction of her certainty about life.

  "What do you want?" she asked in a lowered voice, so quiet he almost didn't hear her.

  He squeezed her hand. He was only sure of one thing right now. "You."

  Chapter 13

  After a delicious meal, the pair drove back into town and parked on the main street. Freya took Justin’s hand and enjoyed the shiver of sensation that ran up her spine at his touch. She knew the main street of Maleny like the back of her hand. The store owners were friends, and she could always count on them for a quick chat or to lend a helping hand.

  They crossed the road to Tesch Park, where the children’s playground was the centre of attention. Pre-schoolers played happily while their mums watched on, sipping coffee. But it was the library, still the heart of the community, that she wanted to show him, so they walked past the children and entered the old building.

  "The library? Really?"

  "Don't you like books?"

  "I adore books, but I don't have a membership."

  "Libraries are about more than
just books." She gestured to the wall where large photographs of Maleny's history were on display. He stepped forward and studied them and she watched him, hoping he would feel the connection to the land, and to the history, like she did—like his father had.

  "The butter factory? Butter used to be made here?"

  "Yep, the building is still here. It's a vet surgery now." She led him past the stacks of books, and past the people sitting quietly reading at the tables, towards the back of the room where huge windows overlooked the river. Beautiful old trees lined the far side, and bushes helped to frame their view.

  "This is the Obi Obi River. The pioneers had to build bridges to get over it. It's not very high now, because we haven't had a lot of rain, but when it does pour the river can be very dangerous."

  He nodded at her and seemed to be taking in everything she said.

  She led him outside and around the building, where a low pathway wound under the main road, right along the riverbank.

  "There are platypuses in the river. If you come here at dusk, or very early morning, you can see them."

  He paused to look out on the narrow river. It was flowing steadily over rocks and through reeds. "I've never seen a platypus before."

  "They're so cute. They dive and splash around—it’s fun to watch."

  "Where are we going now?" he asked as they walked back up to street.

  "To the supermarket. I noticed you need a few things."

  A short stroll later, they walked in through the open, welcoming doors of the independent supermarket. As usual, it was a hive of activity, the checkouts busy and lots of people pushing trolleys up and down aisles.

  "I don't think I need milk," he said when she paused in front of the fridge.

  "I know. I just wanted to show you what they stock." She pointed to the display of milk in various-sized containers with the familiar Emerald Hills logo displayed on them. “Milk from your cows goes into every bottle that we sell. It goes into the cream, the yogurt, and the cheese." She paused. "You can find Emerald Hills products everywhere as far as Toowoomba, the Gold Coast and Rockhampton. People all over south-east Queensland consume milk made right here in Maleny. From Boyd's animals. You should be proud of that; I sure am." She turned slightly to show him where the yogurts and cheeses were kept. "The strawberry yogurt is my favourite."

  She handed him a single-serve tub, which he accepted and stared at the Emerald Hills logo of jagged hills and a cartoon cow.

  "My mother designed the logo. It was supposed to be a joke, but we decided it captured the essence of what our business is all about. From our family to yours—that's our core value."

  "It's really good. I didn't know your mum was an artist."

  Freya thought of the times she had caught her mother drawing on serviettes and edges of the newspaper. "She likes to dabble, but she doesn't get a lot of time to pursue it."

  They walked slowly through the aisles, and Freya pointed out other local produce, including strawberries, pineapples, macadamia nuts, and a wide variety of meat. Justin stopped to read labels and put various things in his trolley.

  As they loaded their products on to the checkout conveyor, Freya chatted to Margie, their cashier. It wouldn't take long for news of their outing to become widespread knowledge around town. People had already seen them together plenty the last few days, not to mention at the pub. Tongues would be wagging, but she didn't care. The more time she spent with Justin, the more her feelings for him grew.

  Of course, that would make it harder when it came time for him to leave. Would they be able to make a long-distance relationship work? Would he even want to try?

  She pushed the thoughts away. She needed to focus on the present, not the what-ifs. They were together now, and that was all that mattered.

  He was facing a big decision, and she knew it would be a hard one to make. She could only hope that during this week, he would fall in love with the farm, the community, and maybe just a little bit with her.

  Chapter 14

  Justin and Freya had finished unpacking the groceries, and putting things away in the kitchen, when there was a knock on the door.

  Justin turned to see Fred waiting for him. "Afternoon."

  "Sorry to bother you." Fred looked from Justin to Freya but didn't make a comment. “We've got an orphaned calf down in the shed."

  Freya moved beside him. "Is it a newborn?"

  Fred nodded. "A big one too. Looks like there was some problems birthing and the mother didn't make it."

  "Is the calf okay?" Justin asked.

  "Should be fine. She's in a nice, dry pen."

  Freya touched his shoulder. "You must be tired. We'll look after her tonight; you head home."

  Fred gave her a weary smile, and Justin realised he must have been on the job for more than twelve hours. "That's right. We'll look after the calf."

  "I appreciate it. She'll need a feed in a little bit."

  "Don't you worry about anything. Go home and get a good night’s sleep.” Freya waved him home before turning back to Justin. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a potty calf.”

  “A what?”

  “An orphaned calf is called a ‘potty calf’. Now let’s go and find a bottle and give her a feed.”

  They put on their boots and walked down to the milking shed, where Freya hunted around for a bottle and teat.

  After finding them, she filled the bottle up from a tanker and secured the teat on top. The calf was alone in a pen, bleating hungrily when they found her.

  Freya murmured softly and offered the calf the bottle. It was apprehensive at first then, with a little coaxing, took the teat in its mouth and sucked hungrily.

  "Your turn." She offered Justin the upturned bottle.

  Justin shook his head and stepped back. "I've never done it before."

  "There's nothing to it. Just take the bottle and hold it at this level.

  He took the bottle from her and held on as the calf pushed and pulled on the teat until the bottle was empty.

  "Does she need more? How do you know that's enough?"

  "She's a newborn so we just fed her colostrum and that's all she needs today. Soon she'll go on the milk feeder with the other calves."

  Justin took in the size of the black and white calf. “She's a newborn? She's huge."

  "Usually they're born at around 30 kilograms. This one's a lot bigger though. I'm not surprised the mother didn't make it," Freya said as she cleaned the bottle, and left it to dry on the sink.

  He shouldn't have been surprised. This was a working farm—animals were born and died every day. It was part of the life cycle. Fundamentally he knew this, but being here, seeing it in person, made it really sink in.

  He watched Freya as she dried her hands on a towel. Her hair was swept up in a top knot and she looked sexy as hell, even in her muddy black gumboots.

  It wasn’t just the farm.

  She made him more aware of life, of love than he ever had been before.

  Justin was bone-cold and shivering as he finished spraying the antiseptic on the last of the teats and put the spray away for the following morning.

  Freya had slept over last night and woken him early, insisting they help with the morning milking, despite the cold rain that had pelted down consistently overnight.

  The sound of rain hitting the iron roof drowned out all sounds as the last of the animals left the stalls with full bellies and empty udders.

  "You look like you could use a warm shower," Freya said, a healthy blush on her cheeks, and a satisfied grin on her face.

  He nodded. "A shower would be great."

  They let Fred know they were going, before turning up the collars on their jackets and facing the wet, grey day.

  "Want to make a run for it?" Freya asked.

  "Do you think it will ease?" He looked towards the clouds, dark and thick.

  "The alternative is to stay down here."

  He glanced around. "I don't think I can get any colder than I already am."


  She took his hand in hers, and they started running. Freya's boot got caught halfway to the house and she slipped forward, causing Justin to lose his balance as well, until they both fell flat on their backs in the mud. The cold rain sluiced down their faces. He rolled over and looked at Freya. She was laughing, despite the rain soaking her.

  He chuckled, and stood and wiped his muddy hands on his jeans, before offering one to her. She grabbed his hand and let him help her up, still laughing as the rain soaked her hair and clothes further.

  “What’s so funny?” He wiped mud from her cheek.

  “This is,” she replied. “You and me out here while it's raining. Don't you love the rain?" She leaned back and opened her mouth.

  He couldn’t help but watch in awe, admiring her free spirit and nature-loving attitude. So instead of being smart, and running up to the house, he pulled her closer to him and kissed the smile right off her face. The passion built between them. Freya turned serious and took his hands in hers. Together, they sprinted the final distance back to the house.

  They discarded their dirty boots and jackets at the door. He leaned in and claimed her mouth with a searing kiss. It was slow, and hot, and deep; his body pressed her back against the wall, so she could feel every solid, taut, inch of him.

  He felt like a man possessed, and nothing in the world could have kept him from her. He carried her to the bathroom and flicked the heater on. He ran one hand down her curves and felt her tremble at his touch, and lord, he loved how responsive she was, how he could see the effect he had on her, her desire just as wild as the fire burning in his own veins. She felt so good in his arms, her curves moulding against him eagerly as she pressed ever closer.

  While the water heated up, he lovingly undressed her, memorising every inch of her skin. Then she helped him out of his own clothes before they stepped into the shower together.

  He soaped his hands and glided them up and down her arms and legs, across her back and belly, and over her breasts. Then he sank to his knees and tasted her core. She writhed in pleasure, pushing herself into his mouth and hands, as he worked his own kind of magic.

 

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