by Stacey Nash
Hannah knocked on the townhouse’s front door and it swung open, blinding her with light from within. It closed again right away.
‘Cooper.’ She bashed on the timber. ‘Let me in.’
No response.
‘Cooper!’ She shivered in the cold night air, her black work skirt no barrier against the June temperature.
‘Damn it, Coop, open up.’ Her fist hurt from thumping the bevelled timber, but she wasn’t about to give in.
Lights flicked on in the window next door, followed by the yellow glow of the neighbour’s porch light. She banged again and the neighbour’s door creaked open, exposing a face. ‘Everything all right?’
‘Yes,’ Hannah responded just as Coop’s door flung open. Caught off balance with nothing under the hand she’d been leaning against the timber, she pitched forward. Cooper caught her.
She straightened up and eyed off her brother’s hand still holding the door ajar.
‘Come to make another flying accusation?’
Hannah swallowed. ‘I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.’
‘Damn straight.’
‘But …’ She glanced at his hands again, which now looked as though they’d been scrubbed raw.
‘Looks like you’re still jumping to conclusions. You’re bloody paranoid, Hannah.’
A prickling shiver erupted across the nape of her neck, under her woollen scarf. ‘I swear I’m not. It’s just … well, it looks like—’
‘I would never do anything to the gin, all right? Wouldn’t mind putting the wind up Don Carter and scaring the old bastard into settling his debts though.’
Her forehead pinched.
‘Goodbye, sis.’
The door slammed in her face. Hannah backed away. Maybe Cooper was innocent, or maybe he’d actually done something stupid. I have no control over his actions, she reminded herself. She walked away from the townhouse with her head more jumbled than it had been before. Coop had always been easy to read, but right then he was impossible and her sisterly intuition thought he was lying.
Chapter 19
Morgan rolled out of bed late on Sunday morning. His Saturday hadn’t gone according to plan. After taking two emergency appointments and a phone consult with a client from home, he’d sent Hannah a message, but she hadn’t answered. It was well into the evening when he remembered phone coverage was patchy once outside the small town. He had then ambled up to the Red Diamond in the hopes of catching her at work, but Hannah wasn’t there either. The middle-aged manager was waiting tables instead. He probably should have gone out to Burton Park—seen Jase again and tried to smooth things over. The way things with Hannah had been heating up, he owed his mate the courtesy of trying to explain.
His phone buzzed as it vibrated against the wooden table. Morgan shoved aside used newspapers and last night’s room service tray to find it.
The text was from Hannah: Was ploughing fields yesterday, so missed your message. Free today if you still want to do something.
His fat fingers botched up all the words he tried to type. These phones were made for kid’s digits, not chunky fingers like his. Morgan fixed up the errors and hit send.
What’s to do around here?
Hannah fired back: I’ve got an idea. I’ll pick you up at ten.
An hour later, a knock sounded on the door and Morgan pulled it open. He soaked up the sight of Hannah dressed in jeans and a snug-fitting jumper. Damn, the girl was hot.
‘You ready?’ Her voice was hot too. All raspy and deep and seductive.
‘Yep.’ Morgan pocketed his wallet and room key before stepping outside where Hannah’s ute was parked right beside his green hatchback.
She swung herself up into the driver’s seat, and Morgan did the same into the passenger’s side. Hannah glanced across at him, her eyes bright. ‘Buckle up, cowboy.’
Morgan spluttered out a laugh. ‘I’m not a cowboy.’
‘You never were.’ Hannah grinned. ‘That’s half the appeal.’
She floored it then, reversing out of the parking space and spinning around to face the exit, which she zoomed out of and onto the deserted main street.
As Mindalby Cotton grew closer, Morgan frowned at the locked gates. Protesters had been turning up every day for the past three weeks, and still it seemed like this thing was no closer to a resolution. The townspeople needed answers.
‘How’re things with Coop?’
‘Not good.’ Hannah turned onto Woodburn Road. ‘I tried to apologise the other day, but it didn’t go so well. His defences were right up and Coop’s never like that. I don’t know … maybe he’s lying.’
‘Could be.’ That wasn’t the boy he remembered, but people changed. ‘Even if he is, you can’t control his choices.’
The caravan park zipped past, as did the few trees dotting the paddocks beside the road. ‘We’re going to the river?’
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. ‘Uh-huh.’
The fields quickly morphed into weeping willows and sloping banks. Hannah swung the ute off the road and parked in the long grass, then jumped down before he’d even unbuckled his belt. The girl sure was keen. When he climbed out she was rustling around in the tray.
‘Would you grab the rods?’
Morgan grinned as he plucked two poles and a tackle box from the back of the truck.
‘You still like fishing, right?’ Hannah shoved a metal tin under one arm, shouldered a huge bag over the other then grabbed baby esky and folded blanket from behind the driver’s seat.
‘Sure do.’ Not that he’d been fishing since leaving Mindalby. City life was too fast for relaxing afternoons spent at the end of a rod.
Just before they got to the bridge, Hannah veered off onto the dirt track that led to the jetty. He’d fished from there with her before. Well, with Jase and Cooper and her. They’d treated her like one of the boys back then. Morgan’s eyes were drawn to her arse, then the curve of her slender waist. It had taken him too damn long to realise Hannah was anything but one of the boys.
She stopped just before the wooden jetty to survey the grassy bank, then crunched across the dry grass, finally spreading the orange rug on the ground under a particularly shady tree. She used the small esky and her tote bag to hold down the rug, then removed a huge Milo tin from under her arm while she scoped out the river.
‘It’s been pretty dry out here lately?’
‘Yep. We had a hotter than normal summer without much rain. Autumn wasn’t any better.’ Hannah walked out onto the jetty, her boots echoing against the timber boards. ‘It’s been pretty tough for us farmers.’ Upon reaching the end, Hannah turned to the left, appraised the willow hanging out over the river bank, and turned her back on its sure-to-snag-you branches. ‘There’s still a bit of water, though lots of pumping licences have been restricted.’
Morgan joined Hannah on the jetty as she prised the lid off the metal tin. It clattered onto the boards, revealing an abundance of damp dirt and wriggling worms. He dug into the bait and pinched up a juicy one which he threaded onto a hook, then passed the small rod to Hannah. She cast out right away and settled in, sitting cross-legged on the edge of the jetty. God, she was a keeper—digging her owns worms, loving fishing, sexy as all hell—what more could a guy want?
His friend’s blessing.
Time slowed while they sat, lines in the water, chatting about the town and what had happened in the years since Morgan had left. Cooper had shocked the whole family by taking up an apprenticeship the year he turned seventeen. Jase had gone straight from school to the farm while Hannah had studied to become a more informed farm manager. After a near fatal heart attack, their grandfather had handed the reins over to them. No new people had really come to town, but plenty had left. A few kids from his grade already had kids; some were married.
Hannah jumped to her feet. The line stretched taut between the top of her bent rod and where it dipped into the rippling water.
‘I got one,’ she shouted, ‘I got on
e!’ She started reeling it in, released some tension on the line then reeled again.
‘You’ve got it.’ Morgan jammed his own rod into a tight hole between two boards, ready to help her pull the bugger in.
Hannah’s rod bent farther forward and she pulled back against it, reeling for all she was worth. The fish was too strong though; whatever she had on the end of that line was going to break it. He hovered behind her, but Hannah was strong, too. In just a few moments a massive catfish struggled to the surface. Hannah dropped to her knees and used both hands to tug the sucker out of the water by the thin fishing line.
‘Good god, woman. You’re still the best fisherman I ever met.’
Hannah laughed as she tossed the fish up onto the jetty, its flailing sending water in every direction. She pressed a foot against its side and unhooked the gaping mouth, careful not to get stabbed by its barbels. In a single flick of her boot, the catfish slid off the wet wood and nosedived into the river.
‘Be better if I could catch something worth eating.’
‘Like yabbies?’
He got the reaction he was after when she barked out a laugh. ‘Not worth losing a finger over.’
Hannah laid her rod in the middle of the jetty and retreated to the blanket, where she dug a packet of wet wipes from the bag. Morgan returned to his fishing rod, watching her lie back on her elbows.
‘Remember when we used to swim down here after school? You and Elsie would sunbathe right there—’ he pointed to the very spot she now lay, ‘—while we jumped off the jetty?’
Hannah rolled onto her stomach.
‘Why’d we stop doing that?’ He realised why the second the words had left his mouth. Hannah had stopped hanging out with them—with anyone—after Jase’s eighteenth.
‘Times change.’
When so-called friends hurt you.
She sat up now, her sunnies masking her eyes, and Morgan reeled in his line then placed his rod beside hers. He plopped down beside her on the tartan rug. What was wrong with him today? He kept turning their conversation in the wrong direction. Making Hannah smile was fun—seeing her relive pain was gut-wrenching even if he wished she’d talk about her nightmares. In an attempt to spin it another way he said, ‘I’ve seen Elsie Sumner around. Are you girls still tight?’
‘She was more Cooper’s friend than mine.’ Hannah glanced out over the rippling water.
‘I thought—’
Her lips pressed against that tender spot behind his jaw. All blood rushed south, leaving his train of thought scattered. He looped an arm around her waist and pulled Hannah up onto his lap, kissing her so soundly she moaned into his mouth. Long fingers edged up under his shirt and this time it was his breath that caught. The sensation was so intense when her palm flattened he gasped. Holy shit. Morgan deepened their kiss, his toes curling like a friggin’ cartoon character’s.
They made out by the river like they were still goddamn teenagers. Hannah unbuttoned his shirt, her hands careering over every inch of exposed skin. He itched to reciprocate, but this was a public place and anyone could have walked by and seen her perfect body.
That thought instantly cooled Morgan’s roaring blood.
He’d seen that perfect body once before. In public.
Hannah picked up on the change and drew back, her face flushed and lips swollen. He rolled onto his back. Staring up at the sky, he couldn’t shake the image of her torn dress from his mind. Gemma was a bitch, but Elsie … she hadn’t even been there that night. Surely Hannah hadn’t tarred all her friends with the same brush. Not everyone was bat-shit crazy.
***
After Hannah dropped him back at the motel, Morgan picked up his phone. Scrolling past Cooper’s and Hannah’s names, he stopped on Jase’s contact entry and hit call. The line crackled as it rang.
‘Jason Burton.’
‘Mate, it’s Morgan.’
‘Harris. How the hell are you?’
‘Great. Look … ah … about last time …’
‘What do you want, Harris?’
Morgan’s heart beat loud enough to hear, but he wouldn’t feel intimidated. Burton was his buddy, and he wasn’t asking anything unreasonable. Morgan schooled his voice to an even keel. ‘I’m trying to do the right thing here. I know you don’t want me seeing her, but I like Hannah a lot, and she likes me too. I think we could have something great.’
Jase didn’t respond.
‘Burton?’
An absence of sound echoed in his ear. Morgan lowered the phone, examining the black screen. The bloody bastard had hung up.
Chapter 20
Hannah sat back on the quad bike, admiring the furrows and mounds of the cultivated field. The cotton stubble was now gone, ploughed back into the soil to compost. Normally they’d be planting out the off-season crop—usually maize—to enhance the soil’s nutrients ready for the next growing season. But if they planned right, the jojoba seedlings could go in at the beginning of spring, well before the off-season ended. She must talk to Jase about their options. He’d been too busy organising cotton issues to make time for planning and Hannah didn’t want to step on his toes by going ahead without consulting with him first, especially when he and the old guy hadn’t properly made up. She didn’t want to exclude him too.
With the midday sun inching closer to the west, she took off towards the farmhouse. She’d finish this field tomorrow. This afternoon she had paperwork to do. It seemed never-ending of late.
The quad bumped across the paddocks, flying over mounds and through ditches while Hannah soaked in the gorgeous countryside. The red land stretched into the horizon, and the stumpy trees perched along the edges of the cultivated fields. A flock of cockatoos frolicked as only the big white birds could around the edge of the half-filled dam. Normally she rode right on by, ignoring it all as she charged through chores associated with running a farm the size of Burton Park, but today was different—as though she were looking at the world through new eyes. Her whole psyche soared. She’d been walking high in the clouds all day. All week really.
Hannah smiled as she dragged her leg over the quad and climbed down. It was a good thing phone service was crappy out here or she’d be unable to stop herself from blowing up Morgan’s mobile with sappy messages. That could get embarrassing real fast.
She tossed her Akubra onto a peg outside the front door and headed towards the bathroom to wash up. A quick check of her phone showed no service, thus no messages. She typed out one anyway—Thinking about you—and walked back to the kitchen, waving her phone as she tried to snag a single bar. One popped up near the bottom of the stairs. Sent.
An instant response buzzed back: Likewise.
She never would have taken Morgan for a romantic, but he’d surprised her in many ways since he’d returned. She couldn’t resist taking the phone with her when she trundled downstairs and to the kitchen table, stopping to scoop up the laptop and a pile of bills as she went. Hannah set herself up to work then retreated to the kitchen for food, where her mother fussed with a wicker basket of veggies she’d harvested from their garden.
‘Lunchtime?’
‘Yep.’ Hannah slapped together a sandwich and a glass of cool water, and returned to the bills.
No sooner had she sat down than her mother’s raised voice came from behind her. ‘Where’s that twin of yours been hiding? He hasn’t been out to see us in weeks.’
‘Just busy, I guess.’ Hannah reordered Burton Park’s bills by priority.
‘You two haven’t had a falling out, have you?’
The jojoba quote didn’t look right. She could have sworn the per-cutting price was supposed to be higher.
‘Hannah?’
She made a noise she hoped would pass as an answer.
‘What’s that?’ As was his habit Pop appeared out of nowhere, shuffling around the edge of the oval table and into the kitchen.
‘Cooper,’ Kate said again. ‘He’s been suspiciously absent of late.’
‘That boy
better be keeping his nose out of trouble. I won’t have my upstanding name tarnished.’
‘Hey! Get out of that,’ Kate scalded.
It was impossible to see what was happening behind her, but at a guess Pop must have pinched freshly shelled peas. ‘Ring him up, Kate. Get him out here for a family dinner.’
‘Yes,’ her mother said. ‘I’ll do just that.’
She bustled into the dining room, wiping her hands on her apron.
Hannah picked up the jojoba paperwork. ‘Hey, Pop. That quote came in for the new venture. I’d love to grab your thoughts on it.’
He shuffled across, peered over her shoulder then snatched the paper off the table. A magnifying glass came out of his top pocket and he examined the numbers for a few moments. ‘Have you costed this out?’
‘That’s the thing. Since there’ll be no harvest on it for at least two years, I’m thinking we may need to up the risk in order to up the profit margin.’
‘You want to plant out more land?’
Hannah grimaced. There was no way Jase would go for that. ‘I think so. You see, this guy—’ she stood up to point at the paper in his hand, ‘—will cut us a deal if we buy an even five hundred plants. So right now, with the hundred we’re looking at, it’s almost double per rooted cutting than the fixed price for a bulk lot. Buying more will cut the price per plant exponentially.’
‘Hmm.’ Pop dropped the paper back onto the dining table. ‘It’s a good offer.’
It seemed like an easy choice, but jumping in would break the deal she had with Jase, so Hannah set the quote aside.
‘Cooper’s coming!’ Kate’s shout echoed from the kitchen. ‘And he said Morgan’s in town. We should invite him out too. It’ll be like old times.’