Something to Talk About (Rose Hill, #2)

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Something to Talk About (Rose Hill, #2) Page 15

by Rachael Johns


  They started back towards the house, Ferg and the dogs following her lead. As they walked, he felt the need to fill the silence.

  ‘Adventurous, courageous, versatile, positive, lively and passionate.’

  ‘What?’ She looked at him as if he’d just spoken in a foreign language.

  ‘They are the positive traits, or virtues if you like, for those of us born under the Aries star sign.’

  Tab glanced at him as she walked, her eyebrows slightly raised. ‘I thought you didn’t buy into that bullshit.’

  ‘I don’t—none of those words are ones I’d use to describe myself, which proves it’s all bollocks, but … I like to be informed.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Tab mused, looking at him in a way that made him feel as if she could see deep into his soul—also bullshit and something he didn’t believe possible. ‘Moving from the city to a little country town could be considered adventurous, you’d have to be a little versatile to work with primary school kids, and I’ve seen how passionate you are about them.’

  He couldn’t help grinning. ‘I reckon you could twist things any way you wanted, couldn’t you?’

  She grinned back as they approached the house. Thankfully the ‘moment’ between them earlier appeared to have been forgotten.

  He dug his keys out of his pocket. ‘Thanks for this evening’s adventure. Hope Ned’s break isn’t too bad.’

  ‘You’re welcome, but …’ She pointed to his feet. ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’

  He glanced down to see the filthy gumboots. They were so comfortable, he had almost forgotten he was wearing them.

  ‘As attractive as they look on you, I thought you might want to take your sneakers.’

  Attractive? A warm buzz shot through his body.

  ‘Definitely,’ he agreed as he followed her up onto the verandah and started yanking off the boots.

  ‘I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,’ Tab ordered, rubbing her feet on the heavy-duty doormat before disappearing inside.

  Ferg could hardly ignore her request, however much his head was telling him to get away from her. He was tying up the shoelaces on his sneakers when she returned, carrying a plastic bag.

  ‘Here.’ She thrust it towards him.

  He took the bag from her, ignoring the touch of her silky skin as their hands brushed once again. Oh Lord, he really needed to get laid. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Ice-cream.’

  ‘Not vegan?’ He feigned horror.

  ‘No.’ She laughed. ‘But it is something new I’ve been testing. I hope you like it, and I want your honest feedback. Okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ he promised. ‘What flavour is it?’

  Tab shook her head. ‘Not telling. That would ruin the fun. I want you to guess.’

  And then she turned and headed into the house, leaving nothing for him but to go home and enjoy his dessert.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Tab walked into the hospital late Sunday afternoon to visit her grandmother, she did a double-take at the sight of Fergus sitting on a plastic chair in the residents’ lounge, holding court with four elderly women.

  He looked up and smiled. ‘Good afternoon, Tabitha.’

  She blinked as his smile sent a jolt to her nether regions. Oh no!

  Ever since milking together on Thursday night and the moment they’d shared outside the shed, she hadn’t been able to get him out of her head. And unfortunately, it wasn’t in the rage-filled way he’d filled it a couple of weeks back.

  She blamed pregnancy hormones and the fact that all the gossip around town about how dreamy Fergus was had planted that seed in her head. Everything she’d read about the second trimester said that some women experienced an increase in libido, which was all very well when you had a boyfriend or husband to help scratch the itch. But none of the brochures the clinic had given her about doing pregnancy alone had mentioned anything about how to deal with that alone!

  ‘Hi.’ She managed a reply and some sort of a smile, before trekking over to kiss her grandmother on the cheek.

  ‘Hello, sweetheart.’ Gran frowned as she looked up at her. ‘You’re looking very tired. Are you looking after yourself properly?’

  ‘I’m fine, really.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have bothered coming in to see me. Sit down and have a rest.’

  Tiredness wasn’t Tab’s issue right now, but she pulled up another plastic chair and lowered herself into it. ‘How are you?’

  Yet although she was genuinely interested in the question, she barely heard Gran’s answer as she was too distracted wondering why Fergus was here. Whatever the answer, he’d certainly presented himself better than she had. Her hair was flat and oily from being in the kitchen all weekend and she was still wearing the tea rooms’ uniform of a black polo shirt and smart black shorts. Sadly, after a day preparing and serving food, they were looking anything but smart. In comparison, Fergus was wearing nice, slightly faded jeans and a red polo T-shirt, the colour perfectly accentuating his dark skin and eyes.

  Tab couldn’t help noticing how good he looked and smelled; even from across the room she could make out the scent of that lovely cologne she’d discovered on his dressing table. And it wasn’t helping any with her pesky feelings.

  Maybe she should get a vibrator? She knew many of her friends had them—some of her married ones even swore it was how they kept the spice in their long-term relationships—but the thought had always seemed a little desperate to her.

  ‘Can I get you a cup of tea, Tabitha?’

  Fergus’s voice jolted her from her thoughts. Her cheeks heated, terrified that everyone could guess what she’d been thinking.

  ‘That would be lovely. Thanks,’ she said as he got up and went into the small kitchen off to one side of the communal area.

  ‘How long’s he been here?’ Tab whispered, leaning in close to her grandmother.

  ‘Half an hour or so. He came the other day as well, to check that Vera was okay after her episode. He says he’s living in her old house. Next door to the farm?’

  ‘Yes, he is.’ She nodded, still feeling off-kilter.

  ‘Seems a lovely man and he’s very good-looking, isn’t he?’

  Tab swallowed. ‘He’s not bad—if tall, dark and handsome floats your boat.’

  Gran snorted. ‘You’d have to be dead for that not to float your boat, as you call it.’

  ‘I’m going to help him with the tea.’ Best thing to do would be to talk to him and get over the awkwardness of the moment they’d shared the other night. There probably hadn’t even been a moment. Maybe it had all been in her head—her crazed pregnancy libido messing with her by concocting things that weren’t even there. If Fergus acted normal when she spoke to him, she could assume that to be the case.

  As the kettle started whistling, Tab sidled up beside him. ‘Want a hand? I have one that’s happy to help.’

  He laughed, and some of the tension that had been building within her eased. ‘I think I’ve got it under control, but you can tell me when I can get more of that ice-cream.’

  ‘You tasted it?’

  ‘Tasted it?’ He grinned. ‘Hell, I devoured the whole tub that night, but I couldn’t quite work out what it was. It was like nothing I’d ever had before.’

  Tab felt immensely pleased by his description. ‘I’m not sure if I should tell you. You’ll probably change your mind.’

  Ferg raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t tell me the colour came from something like broccoli or Brussel sprouts?’

  She laughed at the almost green colour his face turned as he spoke, then announced, ‘Coconut Avocado.’

  ‘No way.’ His grimace told her he thought that was almost as bad.

  ‘Good thing I didn’t tell you before you tasted it, hey?’ she said as he dumped tea bags into mugs of boiling water. ‘Wait till you try my cheese flavour.’

  ‘Cheese?’ His scepticism was written all over his face.

  ‘It tastes way better than it sounds,�
� she said as he handed her one of the mugs and then took a sip of his own.

  ‘I might have to take your word for that. By the way, how’s Ned? We missed him at school on Friday.’

  ‘Yeah, he was gutted not to be able to show off his cast to his friends, but apparently the pain had him up half the night, so Lawson and Meg thought it better to keep him home.’

  ‘Makes sense … although his break is such a shame. I’m pretty sure he’s the best player on our cricket team.’

  Tab laughed, then remembered that their first proper game had been yesterday. ‘How’d they go against Brunswick?’

  He gave her a wry smile as they started back to the lounge area, cups of tea in hand. ‘The other team kicked our arses. At least we didn’t have to travel far, but the next game is an hour away.’

  ‘Sorry I can’t come to the games, but Saturdays are our busiest day in the tea rooms.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. You don’t even have a kid on the team.’

  ‘I know … but I feel like I do. Before Meg came along, I was kinda Ned’s surrogate mum and helping with stuff like this came with the territory.’

  ‘Sounds like Lawson and Ned were lucky to have you.’

  ‘I was lucky to have them. I am lucky. Speaking of which,’ she said, nodding towards the four old dears and lowering her voice as they approached. ‘It’s nice of you to come and visit Mrs Lord.’

  He shrugged one lovely muscular shoulder. ‘I don’t like the thought of her having no family to visit. I know she doesn’t know or remember me from visit to visit, but she seems to like me well enough.’

  Tab couldn’t blame her—once you got to know him a bit he was indeed very likeable.

  They sat back in their plastic chairs and Tab’s grandmother spoke up again.

  ‘Fergus has been telling us about how he plays the piano accordion. I think he should bring it in and play it for us.’

  ‘Great idea,’ Tab said. ‘How did you learn?’

  ‘I kinda taught myself. There was one at one of my foster homes and I just picked it up one day and started to fiddle. It was my carer’s ex-husband’s and she said I could have it. It’s old and a bit knocked about, but the kids love it.’

  The conversation went from music to milking when Fergus mentioned he’d been out to the farm the other day and Gran shared some stories of how farming had changed in her lifetime. Mrs Lord interjected with a comment totally off-topic every now and then, which Len Walker countered with an equally ridiculous reply, and although Penelope Walsh—Adeline’s grandmother—seemed to be listening, she’d been stuck in her own body, unable to speak properly since her stroke a couple of years back.

  When Tab’s phone started ringing, she reluctantly dug it out of her pocket in case it was important. A quick glance at the screen told her it was Chloe Wellington and she couldn’t think of any reason why the Ag Society’s president would be calling her this late on a Sunday.

  ‘I’ll be right back,’ she told her grandmother as she went out into the courtyard to take the call. ‘Hey Chloe. What’s up?’

  ‘Hi Tab, dear, how’s your Sunday been?’

  ‘Great but exhausting. The tea rooms were busy and now I’m visiting Gran before heading out to the farm for a roast dinner.’

  ‘That’s nice.’ But Chloe’s tone made Tab think she hadn’t even registered what she’d said.

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘I’m afraid I’ve got some news you might not welcome, but I wanted to let you know before our next meeting, or more likely before you heard it on the grapevine.’

  ‘Oh?’ Tab’s stomach’s squeezed tight and even before Chloe delivered the news she guessed what it was.

  ‘Adeline has managed to convince Ryder O’Connell to come sing at the show for a very reasonable fee.’

  Oh God. She almost dropped the phone as her hand instinctively fell to her belly.

  ‘Tab? Are you okay?’ Chloe’s anxious voice burst from the phone as Tab lifted it back to her ear.

  ‘Of course I am,’ she said, hoping the other woman didn’t hear the near hysteria in her voice. ‘No skin off my nose. We broke up years ago. We were barely really even together. Great that he can come at such short notice. It’ll be great for the show. We should definitely get some media attention now.’

  Aware that she seemed to have contracted a terrible case of verbal diarrhoea, Tab forced herself to stop and take a breath.

  ‘Yes, that is a bonus,’ Chloe conceded, still sounding apologetic. ‘Are you sure you’re okay with it?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she lied, because really what would be the point in confessing the truth—that the thought of seeing Ryder O’Connell after all these years had every bone in her body quivering. It wasn’t like the committee would un-invite him for her! ‘But I’ve got to get back to Gran.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’ll see you Wednesday.’

  ‘Yes. Sure.’ And if Adeline was there, Tab might just stab her in the eye with a knitting needle.

  When she disconnected the call, she realised it wasn’t only that her heart was quaking, her hand was trembling too. She took deep breaths in and out, trying to calm herself. Really, what was the problem if Ryder did come and strut his stuff on the makeshift stage at the showgrounds? She probably wouldn’t even get to see him—she’d be too busy in her ice-cream van and he’d be mobbed by all the teenage girls in a five hundred kilometre radius.

  The place would be so crowded, she probably wouldn’t be able to get close to him even if she wanted to. Which she most certainly did not. But she had to wonder if Chloe and Adeline had really thought this through. Even with his recent misdemeanours, Ryder was a massive drawcard—his concerts usually sold out months in advance. They would need to up security, maybe even think about bringing in more portable loos.

  Not that Tab was going to worry herself about any of this—she wasn’t the one who’d invited him.

  Oh God.

  What if their paths did cross? Her stomach cramped at the thought and she dropped her head into her hand. Why did his opinion still matter so much to her after all these years?

  ‘Tabitha. What is it? Are you okay?’

  She cringed at the sound of Fergus’s deep voice as the door banged shut behind him.

  He rushed over to her. ‘Have you had bad news, or … is it the … baby?’

  At his kind tone, a lump swelled in her throat and tears rushed to her eyes. As if this day could get any worse, now she was going to fall apart in front of someone who wasn’t much more than a stranger. Taking a moment, she willed the lump to dissolve and the tears to back the hell away.

  ‘Tabitha?’

  She made the mistake of looking up into his face. His eyes were so warm and filled with concern that any hope she had of reining in her tears evaporated.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said through guttural sobs as the tears that fell freely down her face made her out to be a liar.

  ‘You don’t look fine.’ Fergus wrapped an arm around her and ushered her over to a wooden bench. He dug a tissue out of his pocket and handed it to her. ‘It’s clean, I promise. Someone’s always got a snotty nose at school, so having back-up has become a bit of a habit. Do you need a drink of water? Should I call one of the nurses?’

  ‘No!’ The last thing she needed was a local getting wind of the fact she was falling apart over Ryder O’Connell. It was bad enough Fergus had stumbled upon her. Oh Lord, she felt herself starting to hyperventilate again. This was freaking ridiculous.

  She buried her nose in the tissue and gave her tear ducts a good talking to. You’re just in shock. Pull yourself together.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, after taking another deep breath. ‘I’m okay. I just … It’s stupid really.’

  ‘It didn’t look stupid.’ He stared at her with those beautiful big caramel eyes. She could see the stubble on his jawline and that cologne she loved was stronger now he was so close.

  Tab swallowed. She had to tell him something after he’d
found her in such a state. ‘I just found out that my ex-boyfriend is going to perform at … at the show in a few weeks and it’s …’ She sighed. She really didn’t want his pity but nothing she could possibly say was going to put her in a non-pathetic light. ‘It’s unnerved me.’

  ‘Your ex-boyfriend is in a band?’

  ‘Nope. Well, he’s got musicians I suppose that back him up, but he’s a sole performer really. The name Ryder O’Connell ring a bell?’

  ‘Ryder O’Connell?’ His eyes bulged. ‘Can’t say I’m a fan, sorry. I’m more of a rock kinda guy, but of course I know him.’

  ‘You don’t need to apologise for not being a fan,’ she said wryly. ‘If you were, we might not be able to be friends anymore.’

  ‘Are you still in love with him?’

  Tab didn’t know how to answer that question. The time in her life when she’d been singing with Ryder had been so blissful and carefree—they’d been so in tune with each other. When they were writing songs, it was almost like they were in the same head. And when they sang together, people said it was magic. Probably because it was—they were so in love, in the way that only teenagers could be. So consumed with each other. Tab had ate, slept and breathed Ryder and believed he felt the same way about her. But, when push came to shove, he chose the lure of fame over them and in the process shattered her heart and soul into a million pieces.

  She’d done a good job of pretending she’d recovered, but he’d broken her in more ways than one.

  ‘No,’ she said eventually, ‘I don’t think so. I don’t really even know him and I’m not sure I ever did but … I don’t like the way he makes me feel.’

  Ferg nodded. ‘Is he the father of your baby?’

  ‘What? No!’ Tab couldn’t help laughing.

  ‘Sorry. I just … He’s the first I’ve heard of you being romantically involved with anyone.’

  ‘Geez, the bush telegraph must be faulty,’ she said, still amused—which had at least succeeded in distracting her from the issue at hand. ‘I used a sperm donor to get pregnant.’

  She hadn’t thought it was possible for him to look more shocked.

  ‘Really? Why?’

  Tab didn’t know whether to laugh or feel affronted by his question.

 

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