‘Have you made him do this?’ Brenda whispered at one stage, and that was the last straw. When Jack turned up at the checkout counter she turned on him.
‘Brenda thinks this is charity,’ she snapped at him. ‘It’s not. It’s Oliver’s wages. You know how much it’d cost you to have a trained vet nursemaid your horse every day, and you know Oliver’s value. You need to get involved here, Jack Connor.’
‘You can’t speak to your boss like that,’ Brenda whispered, appalled, and Alex grinned, unabashed.
‘Why not? I just did. He’s getting a good deal with me, too. I’m cheap for a vet and if he sacks me he’ll be completely dependent on Oliver.’ She was angry, but she tried to make this light. She managed a cheeky grin at her boss. ‘Right. Brenda needs clothes for herself so this next bit is women’s business. Jack, I need you to take care of the kids. There’s a playground over there—’
‘I don’t do child care.’ He looked horrified.
‘Oliver will tell you what to do,’ she said. She’d been carrying Brenda’s rather grumpy two-year-old and she handed the baby over before he—or the toddler—could object. ‘Here’s Anna. Tracy, you go with Jack and Oliver and Anna. Jack will buy you all ice-creams. Your mum and I need some girls’ time out.’
And she steered Brenda away before Jack knew what hit him.
* * *
He was sitting in the middle of a shopping plaza playground, surrounded by mums and kids. Oliver was whooping on the trapeze. Four-year-old Tracy was crawling through a worm-shaped tunnel. Two-year-old Anna was dripping ice-cream onto his knee.
He felt...he felt...
‘Dadda,’ Anna crowed, and it needed only that.
He looked at four-year-old Tracy and he saw Sophie. He looked at Oliver’s gaunt young face and he saw Sophie.
He never wanted to feel like this.
One female vet who didn’t know how to mind her own business...
‘If I get on the swing, will you push me?’ Tracy demanded.
‘I need to hold Anna.’
‘I will,’ Oliver said, squaring his shoulders.
Oliver was having fun on the trapeze. There were a couple of boys his age, having a game with him.
He was climbing off the trapeze to do what Jack should do.
‘I’ll manage,’ Jack said manfully, and heaved himself to his feet. Anna dropped her ice-cream and wailed.
‘You need to multitask,’ a broad grandma-type advised him kindly. ‘You give me money and I’ll buy the littly another ice-cream. The deal is that you keep an eye on my grandkid while I go.’
‘Fine,’ Jack said helplessly.
‘Hey, it’s fun if you just relax,’ the grandma said. ‘Lighten up and enjoy yourself.’
* * *
Alex and Brenda bought more in half an hour than Alex could believe. Clothes shopping in Manhattan was a serious business, but Brenda wanted it done fast. She was mortified that she needed help, but if she had to accept, then she was going to do it as quickly as possible.
Four pairs of jeans, T-shirts, windcheaters, a coat, smalls—Alex searched the shop, Brenda barely tolerated trying things on, Alex paid with the money Jack had left with her and they were done.
‘I should never have agreed,’ Brenda whispered as they made their way back to the playground. ‘I hate taking charity.’
‘It’s a lot harder to receive than to give,’ Alex said, hugging her. ‘Giving makes you feel great. So that’s what you’re doing. Making Jack feel great.’
‘He isn’t...’
But then they rounded the corner—and he was.
This was a different Jack. Both women stopped in their tracks and stared in amazement.
Jack was in the middle of a muddle of mums and kids and grandmas. An elderly grandma was sitting on the padded floor, holding Anna. Anna’s face was practically buried in her ice-cream. The grandma was jiggling her and giggling, and the giggles were echoing around them.
There were two swings, side by side. Two little girls, Tracy and another who looked like she matched the Anna-holding grandma.
Jack was behind the swings. He was pushing, very carefully.
For out the front was Oliver, holding two ice-creams aloft. Ready for a lick a swing.
Jack’s pushing had to be perfect.
If he pushed too little, the girls didn’t reach their ice-creams. If he pushed too hard, the little girls’ tongues would act as a bat and swipe the ice-cream out of Oliver’s hands.
Oliver was holding the ice-creams for dear life. The little girls’ concentration was absolute.
Half the population of the shopping centre seemed to have stopped, entranced.
Oliver was cheering, giggling, sneaking the odd lick of his sister’s ice-cream, as well. He was turning into a kid again.
Alex found herself clutching Brenda and Brenda was clutching right back.
‘See,’ she said in a voice that wasn’t quite steady. ‘You’ve made Jack feel great.’
‘You’re great,’ Brenda said, and her voice was just as wobbly. ‘You’ve made this happen.’
‘Nonsense,’ Alex said, struggling to pull herself together. ‘I didn’t need to make anything happen. Some guys are a bit blind, but once they see... Jack’s pretty great.’
‘He is, isn’t he,’ Brenda breathed. ‘And you’re staying with him for six months?’
Her inference was obvious and Alex blushed.
‘‘He’s not that wonderful,’ she retorted, and grinned. ‘He hasn’t bought us an ice-cream. You’d think a true hero would have all bases covered.’
* * *
Reluctant hero or not, he’d made Brenda happy. The little family sat in the back of the SUV and smiled and smiled all the way back to the farm.
But Jack looked rigidly ahead all the way, and Alex thought, Hmm, will he fire me the minute we leave Brenda’s?
And then she remembered that two days ago she’d wanted to leave. Now the thought of leaving was appalling.
The parameters had changed.
Two days ago she’d been worried about leaving because she needed this job for her career. She didn’t want her family thinking she’d failed. She didn’t want to return to the States with her tail between her legs.
Now, she didn’t want to leave because...
Of Brenda? Of Oliver?
Or because of Jack?
Because he’d looked wonderful pushing two kids on swings. Because he’d made an entire shopping centre smile.
Because he’d made her smile.
That was a dumb thing to think. First rule for employment, don’t fall for the boss.
She wasn’t falling. How could she fall? But the transformation from a dark, shadowed enigma, to a guy who cared...
It was some transformation, and it was making something inside her twist.
‘I don’t like you staying out here by yourself,’ he said to Brenda as they turned into Brenda’s yard, and she thought, What? Is he about to offer to have them stay in the big house?
How many sausages would he need to cook, then?
‘Would you like Alex to stay over tonight?’ he asked, and she stilled.
She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. He was her boss. He’d stipulated he’d provide accommodation. He hadn’t specified where.
‘I’m fine,’ Brenda said. ‘You need Alex at the farm in case the mares foal.’
Yes, you great lump, Alex thought, shooting Jack a private glare that could have frozen lesser men.
‘Do you have parents?’ Jack said, meeting her gaze fleetingly and moving on. Like this conversation wasn’t about her.
‘There’s only my sister,’ Brenda said.
‘Would you like to go to her? Where is she?’
‘I might,’ Brenda said. ‘But she’s in Brisbane. It’d cost a fortune to move.’
‘I might be able to help you.’
Here we go, Alex thought grimly. Pay to have the problem leave.
‘No,’ Oliver said, panicked. ‘We can’t leave the farm.’
‘It was only your father who wanted the farm,’ Brenda retorted. ‘But you’re right, we can’t leave yet. Oliver has to pay back our debt.’
Oliver subsided but still looked anxious and Alex jumped right in. As was her wont.
‘You can’t move. We love having you here. And we love Oliver helping with the horses.’ Alex was beaming back at Oliver, trying to make things better, but suddenly things had changed.
Jack’s face grew grim.
‘Don’t we, Jack,’ she prodded, knowing she was going too far but unable to help herself.
‘Of course,’ he said stiffly, and even managed a smile.
Oliver settled, happy again, but Alex knew, she just knew, she was in serious trouble.
They arrived at Brenda’s, unloaded Brenda, the kids and their stuff, then headed back to Werarra.
With just her in the car Jack was back to looking grim.
She should ignore it, she thought. But then, when had Alex ever kept her peace? She’d spent her childhood in a conflicted family. She’d spent her childhood trying to make things right and she wasn’t stopping now.
‘What’s wrong?’ she said at last as the car drew to a halt.
‘Leave it, Alex,’ Jack snapped. ‘You’ve had your way.’
‘My way as in helping Brenda?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you’d have done nothing?’ She took a deep breath, feeling a familiar surge of anger. It was the anger she felt when her father was unfair to his oldest two children, ignoring Matt, saying something cutting to Ellie. It was the helplessness she’d learned in a childhood when her father obviously didn’t do what was just. But right now that anger, that helplessness, was directed straight at Jack.
‘Oh, that’s right. You did nothing,’ she snapped. ‘You did nothing until I poked you into reluctant action. How long has Brenda been coping on her own? She’s your neighbour. I might live in Manhattan but even we know what’s happening with the people in the next apartment.’
‘Okay, so I should have checked,’ he said, slamming the door of the SUV with a force that could have taken it off its hinges. ‘I agree. Satisfied?’
‘You’ll keep checking?’ she demanded, climbing out of the car after him, coming round to his side and keeping right on prodding.
‘It seems I don’t need to. My conscience will do it for me. I thought I was employing a farmhand with veterinarian qualifications. Not someone who’s demanding I take the weight of the world—’
‘Brenda’s hardly the weight of the world.’
‘She’s not. And neither’s Oliver or the two little girls, but as of today they’re dependent.’
‘So what?’
Enough, she thought, but she was still fuelled with anger. There was no way she was staying here for six months if Jack Connor was a boorish, uncaring oaf.
But the thing was, she knew he wasn’t. He’d been wonderful today.
And now she was pushing him to stay being wonderful.
She could see conflict written all over his face. This wasn’t coldness, the lack of passion of someone who truly didn’t care. He looked...on the edge of a chasm, she thought, and the edge was crumbling.
‘My big brother and sister did some research on you,’ she said, softening a little, backing up a little. Her anger had flared but in the face of this man’s confusion it ebbed to nothing. ‘Matt was especially worried about me coming to the middle of nowhere to work for a guy he knew nothing about. So he had you checked. He says you built an incredibly successful IT company from nothing. He says your staff thinks the world of you, though you always hold yourself apart. Matt likes that—he said it’s important not to blur employee/employer lines. But I’m wondering if it’s just employer/employee lines. Is it everyone?’
He didn’t answer. Well, why should he? He looked impassive, she thought, like what she was saying was nothing to do with him.
She should shut up now—but when had she ever?
‘He also said your sister overdosed a few months ago,’ she whispered. ‘Rumour has it that Sophie had major problems all her life. Matt says talk within the company had you caring for her for ever. So I’m thinking, this was your grandfather’s farm. There’s been no talk of parents. Matt couldn’t find anything out in the time he had, so I’m guessing, for all intents and purposes, there weren’t any. I’m seeing one guy caring for his sister and losing, then deciding not to care again. Am I right, Jack?’
And the look on his face...
She’d gone far too far. She’d stepped right over the employer/employee boundary, and she’d kept right on going.
His face was like thunder. He was staring at her like she was something that had crawled out of a piece of cheese.
Apologise, she thought. But then she thought no, an apology would achieve nothing. She’d said it. Why not stand by it and face the consequences?
What did she have to lose?
Her job?
Maybe, but she thought of Oliver...
‘If you cared, you could make Oliver’s life good again,’ she told him.
‘No.’
‘Because of your sister?’
‘Alex, if you can’t keep out of my personal affairs, then leave. Your choice.’
‘I’m not good at minding my own business.’
‘Learn.’
She glared but he gazed back, impervious.
What now? He’d been good to Brenda today, she reminded herself. He’d asked Oliver to work here. Maybe things would happen without her pushing.
But why did it seem that there was something wonderful right before her, something just out of reach...?
She was being fanciful and she was being dumb. She was putting her job on the line when Jack had already done what she’d asked.
Step back.
But she’d hurt him. She looked into his face and saw exposure.
She’d been right about his sister.
Before she could stop herself she reached out and took his hand.
‘Jack, I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘Yes, I was out of line. Yes, your relationship with your sister is nothing to do with me, only I’m seeing someone who’s trying to be a loner but not succeeding. You can’t be a loner and react to those kids like you did today. You like people. You care.’
He stared down at her, looking baffled. He gazed at their linked hands like he didn’t know what they were doing. Like this whole conversation was beyond him.
‘I don’t care,’ he said roughly, as though it was a mantra. ‘You come here, you come on my terms. You were supposed to be the guy who comes in and helps with the heavy work, helping me get the place back to where I can run it by myself again. If you can’t accept the rules, then leave. I can cope on my own.’
‘You’ll always need a vet.’
‘I can get one from town at need.’
‘You’ll lose horses.’
‘It’s the price I need to pay. When I get this place back to what it should be, I can set up accommodation, get decent staff, have it running like it should be running.’
‘And step back again?’
‘I won’t need to step back. The place will run itself. I can stay living here—’
‘In isolation?’
‘So what’s wrong with that?’
‘Nothing,’ she said stubbornly. ‘If you were a different kind of person. But today I saw you with those kids and I know you’re not built to be a hermit.’
‘And you’re not paid to be a p
sychoanalyst.’
He was still holding her hands.
And she was still holding his. There was a difference—but he hadn’t pulled away.
Maybe he hadn’t noticed, she thought, but there was no not noticing in her camp. She was noticing like anything.
‘I’m not a shrink,’ she managed. ‘But I am a vet. I can recognise pain when I see it.’
‘Then go and look at the horses. Do what you’re paid for. Look for pain there.’
‘I’ll do that,’ she said, but she still didn’t let go his hands.
‘Alex?’
‘Mmm.’
‘Don’t do this.’
‘What?’ But she knew very well what he was talking about. She was gazing up at him, her eyes not leaving his, her hands still holding.
She could see him warring with himself.
He wanted her?
Was she crazy? If he did want her, she should run a mile.
She didn’t run. She held him.
She waited.
* * *
It was four in the afternoon. There were horses to be fed and watered. He needed to ride up to the back paddocks and check the mares.
He shouldn’t be standing beside his car, staring down at a pert, blonde American with a penchant for sticking her nose where it wasn’t wanted.
He wanted nothing to do with this woman. She was a mistake. She was a woman when he’d wanted a man. She was smiles, laughter, caring, when he wanted none of those things.
He should pull away now. He should turn his back on her and go care for his horses, who asked nothing of him.
She was waiting for him to pull away.
The problem with pulling away was that he wouldn’t get to kiss her.
Whoa.
Kiss her? Now there was a crazy thought. This woman was his employee. It was the middle of a Monday afternoon and there was work to be done. He needed a working relationship with this woman, boss to employee, formal, distant, workmanlike.
But she was looking up at him and she was worrying about him and it was doing his head in.
No one worried about him. No one had to.
Taming The Brooding Cattleman Page 8