Run For the Hills

by Carla Caruso

  He forced a grin anyway. ‘Long time no see, Russ.’ Then he nodded at Macie. ‘Evening, Mrs Valance.’

  The curvy blonde waved bejewelled fingers in the air. ‘How many times have I told you to call me “Macie”?’ Her amber gaze flitted to Bridie, then back again. ‘Russ didn’t tell me you’d brought a lady friend over from the States.’

  Shit. He cleared his throat. ‘Oh, no, Bridie’s an employee. From Adelaide. She’s helping us with admin and marketing for the … new business.’

  Bridie offered a small wave. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Oh, of course. Hello, dear,’ Macie cooed, warmly patting Bridie on the arm before turning back to Cody. ‘I read about what you boys are up to in the paper and I think it’s just wonderful that you’re honouring your dad’s memory in such a way. I could never understand why you all flew off in different directions. It’s great to have you back on home turf, working together.’

  Russ shifted his feet beside his wife. Huh. Obviously he hadn’t told her exactly how their wedding venture had come to be, or his role in things.

  ‘Thanks,’ Cody smoothly replied. ‘Like the article said, we’re just seeing how things go. But we have our fingers crossed it’ll all go well.’

  Enough to be handed the keys to Goldlake permanently. Anything beyond the month wasn’t Russ’s concern.

  A beam lit up Macie’s round face. ‘It reminds me of all the romantic quotes Valentine used to say. Like, “If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it’s yours forever.” Sounds like that’s what happened with you boys and this town.’

  ‘Dad did have his moments of wisdom,’ Cody murmured, not really knowing what else to say.

  ‘Yes. Well, nice catching up.’ Macie moved to pat Cody’s arm. ‘We’d better get ourselves back to our table, so we can fuel up for all the dancing later on.’

  It was ironic last words because that was also where Cody found himself post-dinner: the dance floor. While Vance and Jaxon were busy chatting with old schoolmates at the bar, Cody had been left with Bridie tapping her feet at the table. It would have been rude not to ask if she wanted to get out amongst it, purely platonically. Good thing his brothers were too distracted to make any sly comments.

  Surprisingly, Bridie seemed in her element dancing opposite him now to the tunes a rockabilly band belted out. It was the most carefree he’d ever seen her. Meanwhile, he wasn’t doing much more than moving from one foot to the other. A careful space between them kept things from moving into romantic territory.

  ‘It feels like such a long time since I’ve had good, old-fashioned fun,’ Bridie said amid shimmying to Elvis Presley’s That’s All Right, Mama.

  It took some effort not to drop his gaze to her hips. So instead he nodded at a grey-haired couple with matching hearing aids boogieing past. ‘“Old-fashioned” might be the word of the night.’

  Bridie screwed up her button nose. ‘I’d rather hang out with a bunch of lovely, old seniors than, I don’t know, some stuck-up, unsmiling, too-rich socialites or something.’

  ‘Fair call.’

  The song finished and there was a squeal from the microphone as the flame-haired singer leant in. ‘Now we’re going to slow down the pace a bit by playing a current hit rockabilly-style. See if you can pick the ditty.’

  It only took a few bars for Cody to recognise the tune pounding from the speakers, each note twisting the knife further in his gut. Paloma Romeo’s Watch Me, Baby. Bridie shouted the song title over the music, echoing his thoughts.

  Cody clenched his jaw as older couples slow-danced around them. ‘Might sit this one out.’

  ‘Oh … no problems,’ Bridie said, though he’d seen the crushed micro-expression that’d crossed her face.

  Fuck. He felt like he’d kicked a kitten. Acting on impulse, he leant down to whisper in her ear, strawberry-scented shampoo tantalising his senses. ‘Can I tell you something you can’t tell anyone else?’

  Maybe if he let his guard down, she might have reason to, as well.

  Bridie stared up at him, wide-eyed, and nodded. Even if he didn’t know what had brought her to the Hills, in his gut, he trusted her. Who wouldn’t trust Bambi?

  ‘Okay, here goes.’ He swallowed hard. ‘I actually dated Paloma Romeo. For almost a year, in secret. Not even my brothers know.’ He offered a wry smile as Bridie’s mouth fell open. ‘Paloma was the one into the mood rings. Things ended, kind of badly, and hearing her music is a reminder of what happened. It’s nothing personal to you.’

  ‘Oh, wow.’ Bridie shook her head. ‘Now I feel terrible for bringing up her secret wedding the other day.’

  Cody’s top lip curled, involuntarily. ‘Honestly, the wedding’s probably just a publicity stunt. She was meant to be dating the guy from that vampire show when she was with me. Two celebs are better than one when it comes to media coverage. But, anyway, I’ve moved on.’ That was what he told himself anyway. ‘It’s just hard to be a fan of her music.’

  Bridie still seemed to be digesting it all. ‘Did you used to take photos of her as a paparazzo? Is that how you met?’

  ‘Yes. And it’s a line I’ll never cross again … All right, I’ve told you my big secret, any skeletons in the closet you want to share?’

  Bridie vehemently shook her head, her caramel hair fluttering about her shoulders. ‘Nope, not a one. Uh, should we go grab a quick drink before it’s home time?’

  He barely had time to nod before she’d turned and made a beeline for the bar. His only choice was to follow.

  * * *

  The next afternoon, Bridie huddled under an umbrella amid the seated guests, all watching rain ping the lake. The sky was a smear of grey. Bo, currently trying to keep cover under the wedding arch, had been adamant not to move the ceremony indoors yet and ruin Crystal’s special entrance. But things weren’t looking good.

  Bridie shivered in her dress, which comprised a white, long-sleeved, embroidered top and a pink silk skirt. Cody was at the lake’s edge, his camera at the ready in its waterproof cover. Jaxon was also poised for action with his video camera.

  When she’d first spied Cody, looking pin-sharp in a black shirt and trousers, it had kicked off the usual flurry of stomach butterflies. But she’d sent the critters on their way quick-smart. Last night had proved just how out of her league and unavailable he was. He’d dated Paloma Romeo for chrissake. She’d fit into his world as much as she had in Rory’s. No, it was best she channelled her energy into what she’d come to this teeny town for: staying hidden as long as possible.

  Hang on, why was it suddenly quiet? Could the pitter-patter of rain against her nylon shield have actually stopped? Bright light pierced her eyes as though to drive the message home. The sun. It had broken out from behind the clouds, and now, miracle of miracles, a Pinterest-perfect rainbow arced over the lake. The violin trio, on the back deck, kicked into gear as the crowd whooped.

  There was movement across the lake. Then an ivory-clad Crystal emerged from the thicket of trees with Vance, both heading for a moored rowboat. Tears pricked Bridie’s eyes as the beaming bride climbed in amid more cheers, an olive-green Akubra complementing her ginger locks. Vance took the oars.

  The rain stayed away as the boat came ashore again and Crystal made her way down the grassy aisle, a violin instrumental of Rhinestone Cowboy filling the air. Suddenly her bedazzled boots seemed the ideal footwear for the occasion. The ceremony itself was just as emotion-filled.

  The weather continued to behave and spirits remained high as day darkened into night. Bridie got her first proper chance to chat with Cody only after the guests spilled outside the marquee to watch the newlyweds boot-scoot to Shania Twain for their first dance. This time, he left Vance and Jaxon to capture the moment for posterity.

  ‘So would I’m Outta Here be the pick for your bridal dance?’ she teased Cody in the glow of the fairy lights.

  ‘Haha. Maybe something more classic, like Roy Orbison, if marriage was on the agenda. Unfortunately, my dad’
s passion for weddings kind of had the opposite effect on me. You know I’m only doing this wedding photography stuff by force.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Bridie murmured. His comment shouldn’t have stung, considering how unattainable he was, but, well, tell that to her heart.

  Cody pinned her with his aqua—non-marrying—gaze. ‘What about you?’

  ‘S-sorry?’

  ‘What would you dance to? If, hypothetically, you were getting married.’

  Bridie blinked hard. The Flamingos’ I Only Have Eyes For You had been the plan, ironically. After she’d vetoed Rory’s suggestion of Let’s Get Married by Jagged Edge. All a million lifetimes ago.

  ‘I-I don’t know,’ she stuttered, rushing on to cover her lie. ‘But here’s an embarrassing confession: as a teenager, I kept a wedding scrapbook with magazine cut-outs of my perfect dress, ring, bouquet, groom …’

  Geez Louise, why had she mentioned any of it, especially the groom part?

  Cody shot her a warm smile. ‘Don’t think you would have been the only girl to have done that.’

  The familiar strains of Guns N’ Roses’ November Rain cut through the air, saving her—maybe a bit of humour from the DJ about the month and the weather. Guests began streaming onto the outdoor dancefloor. Warm fingers reached for Bridie’s own, subsequently stealing the breath from her lungs.

  Cody gazed down at her. ‘I still owe you a dance after I backed out on one last night.’

  ‘Um, sure … okay.’

  She wasn’t about to complain, even if he was Mr Anti-Marriage. He guided her into the throng.

  Rather than goof around like last time, Cody wound his strong arms around her waist. Duly, she rested her hands on his broad shoulders and breathed in his familiar woody cologne. Ah, sweet torture. To think, to a stranger’s eye, they’d look like any other loved-up couple …

  Cody smiled at something past her shoulder and whispered in her ear, ‘Check out this lot.’ He spun her around for a look. Three middle-aged men were dancing with their trousers around their ankles and baggy Y-fronts on full display. Other guests were laughing along with them.

  ‘What the hell is that all about?’ Bridie asked horrified.

  ‘Some country wedding tradition, fuelled by beer. I don’t get it either.’ Cody nodded at the far corner. ‘Like those girls piling up their high heels over there and dancing barefoot. You see it all the time.’

  Bridie’s feet twinged in envy. That bit actually looked good.

  Cody twirled her away again, but not fast enough for her to miss what she’d just felt. She sucked in a breath. ‘That wasn’t what I thought it was, was it?’

  A fat raindrop hit Cody squarely on the forehead, then another two splattered on Bridie’s glasses. She took them off as the raindrops multiplied, the guests gasping and shrieking around them.

  ‘It’s all the DJ’s fault,’ Bridie yelped as Cody grabbed her hand again—something she could get a little too used to—and they ran for cover under the marquee with everyone else.

  Crystal and Bo were the only ones who kept kicking up their heels. The bride, in her now saturated taffeta gown, yelled over the downpour. ‘I once did a naked rain dance with other women up north to break the drought. Rain’s a blessing.’

  Bridie shook her head with a smile as the guests wolf-whistled and hollered in appreciation.

  She was distracted, though, by Cody letting go of her hand.

  ‘Looks like we’ll have to make room in the main house for those who’d planned to swag it.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Bridie said. ‘Will there be enough room? Where will you sleep?’

  Cody rubbed his bristly jaw. ‘Good question.’

  Chapter 7

  ‘You sure it’s okay I camp on the couch in here?’ Cody asked Bridie from the guesthouse’s porch, rain still thrumming on the roof and after-party hubbub drifting in from the main house.

  Bridie shrugged. ‘It’s fine.’

  He had to hide a smile at her getup: a fluffy pink dressing gown and Ugg boots. No sheer nightie tonight. If she was trying to send a message about the way it was going to be that evening, he got it loud and clear. He’d settled on a jumper and his fave worn-out jeans as makeshift bed-wear.

  ‘It is your property,’ she added.

  ‘For the moment at least,’ Cody said grimly, striding indoors. Bruce Willis’ face filled the TV screen in the lounge area. Die Hard was on again. Merry Christmas.

  ‘So who got your room?’ Bridie asked as he shut the door behind him.

  Cody couldn’t hide a grimace. ‘The newlyweds.’

  ‘Yikes. On their wedding night?’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ve got cleaners coming in tomorrow to tidy the whole place.’ He cracked a smile. ‘Including stripping the beds. Vance and Jaxon are on the couches in the lounge.’

  Good thing his brothers had been too knackered to rib him about where he was laying his head that night.

  ‘It’s good of all of you to make room.’

  ‘Well, we want happy customers, and the business to be a success—in the short-term anyway.’

  She nodded. ‘Want a cuppa to unwind or are you going to call it a night?’

  ‘I’d go a drink and some Die Hard first, sure.’

  Bridie cast a wry look at the screen. ‘Terrorists storming a holiday party isn’t my usual idea of a festive flick, but it is a classic.’

  In the kitchenette, she sorted out hot Milos, then they both settled in front of the TV—him in the armchair and her on the lounge. A safe enough distance.

  During an ad break, Bridie glanced his way. ‘So, I’ve been dying to ask, what’s behind that locked door?’ She nodded behind her. ‘If you don’t mind spilling.’

  Cody frowned. ‘Locked door? Oh … you mean my old man’s darkroom? I wish it was more exciting than that. He never moved it. What did you think it was being used as?’

  Bridie cheek’s turned pink. ‘I don’t know. Maybe a junk room?’

  Cody shook his head, fishing keys from his pocket. ‘Man, I forgot it was even locked. Ordinarily it is just to keep out any young rellies visiting. C’mon, I’ll give you a quick tour now. So you’ll know I’m not lying and really think it a drug lab.’

  ‘Oh, you don’t have to show me. I was just being nosy.’

  ‘Seriously,’ he insisted, ‘it’ll be good to see what state the room’s in anyway. It’s been a while.’

  ‘All right then.’

  Cody got up to unlock the door, a robed Bridie following behind him. Inside the space, he fumbled for the light switch. An eerie, red glow illuminated the equipment on the workbench and the black-and-white pictures pegged up on a line to dry. As though his dad was about to pop in any minute. Cody’s chest tightened as he breathed in the lingering scent of photo-processing chemicals. The smell of his dad. His father had still liked to dabble in film despite having switched over to digital with the rest of the world.

  Bridie trailed her fingertips along the benchtop. ‘This place is so cool. It’s a shame film isn’t used as much these days. I love the idea of pictures being brought to life in a darkroom.’

  ‘I know what you mean. Photos used to be treasured more when people used film too. We take so many pics today, because it’s cheap and we can—literally thousands a year—and then we just leave them on our devices and barely look at them again.’

  Bridie shook her head. ‘It’s so true.’

  She turned to gaze at the recently dried pictures hanging up like miniature laundry. He looked over her shoulder as well. Huh. His dad must have been mucking around with old negatives recently. There was a shot of his father’s late Collie, Mango, sitting with his tongue out near the fountain, another of a wild deer drinking from the lake, and—

  ‘How cute are you guys?’

  The next shot was of Cody and his brothers when they were about three, sitting on the front steps wearing cheeky grins. They were all blond back then, and according to what Cody had been told, they were outside and in disgr
ace for secretly eating a whole box of ice-blocks between them.

  ‘Ratbags is probably a better description,’ Cody joked.

  ‘Oh.’ Bridie’s breath caught as she moved on. ‘And they’re your parents, right? I recognise them from the picture in the hall.’

  Cody’s stomach cramped. ‘Yeah.’

  The seventies snapshot captured his parents leaving the church as newlyweds, thrown rice suspended in the air like snow flurry. The pair couldn’t have looked happier. His mum wore a flowing white lace dress and a flower crown on top of her dark mane. His dad donned a black suit with big lapels and a ruffled tuxedo shirt, and his hair—also blond back then—was overgrown and wavy.

  ‘Yeah, that’s them,’ Cody murmured. ‘Can’t believe Dad was still playing around with these old negs.’

  ‘I think it’s sweet,’ Bridie said quietly.

  ‘Something like that.’ Cody cleared his throat, glancing at his watch in the red glow. The room suddenly felt claustrophobic. ‘Anyway, I should probably let you get some rest. It’s beyond late. Don’t want to tire you out on your first wedding.’

  ‘Okay … sure.’

  He headed for the door, holding it open for Bridie’s benefit. She paused in the doorway, smelling as sweet as strawberries and cream as usual. Despite the memories haunting the darkroom and her shapeless robe, he still felt the urge to sweep her up in his arms.

  ‘I left some spare blankets in a basket outside my room,’ she said.

  ‘I saw that. Thanks,’ he said curtly.

  ‘Well, goodnight then.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ he echoed, watching as Bridie swiped her half-drunk mug from the lounge and went to shut herself in her room.

  It wasn’t until several hours later, yellowish light poking around the curtains, that he heard another peep from Bridie. The sound of her talking actually woke him up, leaving him disorientated for a sec. Then he remembered where he was. It was obvious she was on the phone, though her voice was muffled. He sat up, rubbing his crook neck, courtesy of the couch. Snatches of her phone conversation involuntarily drifted into his ear.