Holly's Heart

by Fiona McArthur

  So, what did he know? She had two bereft twin boys who needed to be factored in. They were six years old, if the article on his computer was right, and she worked in the coffee shop during school hours.

  Sometimes she went out at night, at least to the hairdressers, and had mentioned a babysitter before she bolted last night, so there was a possibility of evening coverage for the twins.

  Trouble being, as soon as they sat somewhere for dinner the whole town would be talking about them and he doubted Holly needed more conjecture. Nor did he need to be chasing a reluctant woman when he was just about to open his new business.

  Maybe he could order takeaway and invite her to his flat. They wouldn’t be interrupted. If he made it after seven then the main street would be practically empty, and nobody would notice their comings and goings.

  Thing was, would she come? That was the sticking point. Would she want to?

  She’d never been interested in him, but she hadn’t looked on him with disinterest last night or this morning. There had been something, even if it had been shock. And for the first time her bosom buddy Jasmine was sending approving signals, which she might share with Holly. Would that help?

  In the distance of time Holly, as a student, had been so totally focused on her dream that she hadn’t looked at any boy. Possibly, it hadn’t been personal. But would she look now? Talk to him. Open up so he could help her. Maybe in that way she’d changed.

  He had no idea how he’d ended back at square one, with him wanting Holly Peterson and worrying if she’d go out with him.

  His best mate, Connor James, now the local policeman at Wirralong, had always told him plenty of women would have been happy if he’d looked at them. Connor, more of a jock than Ben, hadn’t understood what Ben had seen in Holly.

  He sighed. If he’d come back married this wouldn’t be a problem. The women at his last hospital had been particularly friendly. Keen to flirt, while he’d been happy to keep relationships light and cool. So why, when he arrived home, couldn’t he keep it just as light, here in Wirralong? He had to stupidly lust after Holly Peterson. No light and cool about it.

  He had a career he loved, financial security, and the welcoming distraction of his grandmother’s affection and the station to let his inner cowboy out. At thirty-one he should have grown out of schoolboy infatuation.

  Yet, despite all the naysaying to himself, if you never forgot a certain person, periodically checked on their welfare, and compared other women to them, it probably wasn’t infatuation.

  He’d loved Holly. Had always loved her. Probably always would. But this was the last time. An all-out effort. He’d give it a damn good try and if that crashed and burned this time, then he’d go on Cowboy Doctor Wants A Wife and be done with it.

  Chapter Eight

  Holly

  ‘Holly Peterson?’ The delivery boy took her nod as fact. ‘These are for you.’

  The basket of potted flowers, or more accurately the white riot, came at the same time as she closed the shop. With a note. She picked it out and read it because she’d been pretty sure such amazing flowers couldn’t have been for her.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t know about Susan. My condolences to you and the boys. Hope these brighten your days during the sad times. Sincerely, Ben.’

  Holly felt the sting at the back of her eyes and swallowed, then, taking the extravagance from the delivery boy, her lips curved at the abundance of white faces with growing amusement.

  She walked the few steps to her alleyway entry with the pot held against her chest and friendly daisies brushed her face like inquisitive butterflies. Making her smile again.

  ‘Nice of him,’ she said out loud, and then turned to see if anyone had seen her talking to herself. Phew. She climbed the stairs and awkwardly juggled the pot as she searched her bag for keys. The boys would be home soon and she wanted a minute to gather her thoughts. The door swung open and she and the cloud of dancing daisies floated in.

  She put her new friends on the dresser in front of the window, squared them up so they’d get light, twisted the pot a little for the best angle and then stood back. The white faces bobbed and waved and practically breakdanced in the breeze that came through the screen.

  Inside her, a bubbling flutter, something like a frisson of joy, a feeling she’d lost in the last months, skittered in her chest. Wow. If she’d known how much pleasure she could get from a potted plant she would have bought one earlier.

  But this wasn’t any potted plant. This was the biggest bunch of bright-eyed daisies she’d ever seen, from a man who didn’t hold a grudge, who actually cared she hurt, and, right now, she wanted to hug Ben for the thought.

  Then she heard the twins thumping up the stairs and she breathed in. It wasn’t just her. Breathe out. She needed to remember that. The twins had had enough upheaval without their aunt, their one stable figure, being sidetracked by a man. Even if he did provide daises.

  Pat catapulted in the door first—he always did—waved in her general direction, then dumped his bag and headed for the fridge.

  Tom followed, thoughtful and observant. He smiled at Holly. ‘Hello, Holly,’ he said and grinned. It was a private joke that had given them their first smile. They’d been talking about what the twins would call her and she’d said Holly. ‘Think of me as a cockatoo you’re talking to. Hello, Polly. Hello, Holly.’

  Pat had thought it hilarious and even the serious Tom had smiled. The transition from aunt to special adult was made a little bit easier by their shared sense of humour.

  ‘You’ve got new flowers.’

  ‘Yes. I think they look happy. What do you think?’

  Tom tilted his head. ‘Definitely not sad.’

  Pat joined the conversation with a mouth half-filled with a carrot. They could snack on any fruit or vegetables they wanted, but everything else they had to ask for. ‘Happy plant,’ Pat agreed flashing carrot between his white teeth.

  ‘Don’t talk with your mouth full,’ Holly murmured and ruffled his hair as she went to the fridge herself.

  ‘What would you boys like to drink?’

  ‘Banana smoothie.’ The simultaneous answer made Holly smile.

  ‘Easy, then.’

  As she prepared the smoothies, her special no-frills way to keep them full until tea time, she considered the best way to say thank you to Ben.

  She could write him a note. Slip it under his door. Or she could phone him. If she’d had his number. Which she didn’t. Or she could wait until tomorrow and have his coffee ready at the same time with ‘Thank you’ on the cup. And just hope he came in.

  Maybe she could do the first and last. Or was that too much?

  ‘Can we go to the park and kick the ball?’

  Holly glanced at the daisies, their smiling heads nodding, and she smiled. ‘Sure.’ Getting the boys out for a game was the best way to handle the afternoons. It wore them out and made her breathe in the outdoor air. And suddenly she was feeling a little breathless.

  She put their glasses of smoothie out on the bench. ‘Sit and drink these and I’ll get out of my work clothes. Then you can get changed and I’ll meet you at the door.’

  *

  Fifteen minutes later Holly sat on the park bench, shaded from the afternoon sun by a big red cedar tree the town founders had planted, while the boys kicked the soccer ball across the oval.

  ‘Afternoon, Miss Peterson.’ Ben’s drawl made her smile before she turned, her neck had been prickling and she wasn’t surprised to see him standing, tall and actually quite magnificent, smiling down with his dark blue laughing eyes, checking her out. No other way to describe his perusal.

  ‘Boys and balls,’ she said as the sun came out from behind a cloud and shone down on the green grass stretching ahead of them, turning it iridescent and lush. A breeze picked up and for some strange reason she could smell the scents of the afternoon as if her senses had turned up reception.

  ‘Gotta love ‘em,’ Ben agreed easily. ‘Mind if I sit
?’

  Her face heated. ‘Please do. I wanted to thank you anyway. I love my new friends, Daisy and Co. They’re truly beautiful.’

  He dipped his head in acknowledgement but this time his pleased grin took her breath away as he sat down beside her. His big body felt solid bumping into the air around her, though they didn’t touch. Good grief. She glanced at the boys and steadied herself. Her brain was too full to cope with this.

  She nodded at the children and changed the subject. ‘As I said, boys and balls. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt over the last few months it’s to always have a ball in my bag.’

  He glanced down at her tote on the grass. ‘Tricky with a soccer ball.’

  She acknowledged the truth of that. ‘Not quite a soccer-ball-sized ball in my handbag, no. That one I keep in the cupboard in the entry. Having learnt that if I leave it lying around the flat, well, my lounge room would accidentally become a stadium. Funny how good intentions are forgotten in the heat of the moment. See ball, kick it.’

  He studied her, those warm eyes laughing. ‘Yep. It’s a male failing. I believe my grandmother actually feels pain when she sees a ball in the house.’

  And another reason she didn’t want to get involved with Ben Brierly. She could shudderingly imagine the grandmother-in-law from hell. Not a comfortable thought for Ben’s future wife, whoever she was. ‘Mrs Brierly must be pleased to have you back in town. I’m surprised you’re not staying out at the Park.’

  He turned to look at the boys. Gave a non-committal nod. ‘I’ve just come back from there. But I like my own space and privacy.’

  So did she. Before. ‘You won’t get much of that living on the main street.’

  He smiled at her again and her heart rate accelerated that little skip. ‘I disagree. It’s pretty quiet after dark.’

  She’d run from him in the dark. Stop that. Holly’s fingers tightened in her lap.

  Then he said, ‘Except for last night. It was noisy last night.’

  She frowned then remembered. ‘Ah. The Smart Ladies’ Supper Club. Held at Elsa’s hair salon. Most of that noise came from Jasmine.’

  He laughed. ‘I can believe that. Do you all meet often?’

  ‘Once a fortnight. Those women know a lot about business. I’m learning.’

  His eyes narrowed and she could see the question in his eyes. Why was she in business and not practising medicine? Please don’t ask. Please don’t ask.

  He must have read her panic, as he changed the subject. ‘I can’t believe how much the town has grown. I heard there’s a new wedding centre causing most of this population explosion?’

  ‘That’s true. Old Carmel Walker’s niece, Maggie—she’s one of the Supper Club ladies—took over Wirra Station. She has a dynamic wedding planner in there, Isabella. It’s crazy.’

  She shook her head. Still bemused by how well her own coffee shop was doing once the rush started. ‘Wedding parties float my coffee shop. Old grazing land’s been resettled and the airport reopened for private aircraft.’ She was gabbling again. A plane buzzed overhead and she paused as the boys stopped, except they stared and pointed.

  Ben’s voice. ‘Do you enjoy this supper club that was on last night?’

  She still felt guilty about that. ‘I’ve only just started to go. Mrs F, Mrs Fairclough, minds the boys and they like her. She’s saving, so it suits her to earn cash. Jasmine says it’s good for me to get out sometimes.’

  ‘I agree. In fact, you could go out with me, as friends of course, just to talk, somewhere low key. Occasionally? When Mrs F can mind the boys?’

  She sucked in a breath. Wow. Her brain seemed to tangle itself as the words sank in and she picked the phrases apart to look at them. He’d said low key. He’d said as friends. He said occasionally. None of it something she needed to run from. He’d even picked up on Mrs F’s availability.

  But she’d let her mouth run away with her again. This new Ben managed too easily to listen when she should press her lips together and shut the heck up.

  ‘I really opened myself up to that pick-up line, didn’t I?’

  ‘Couldn’t believe my luck.’ Solemnly nodding.

  Her mouth twitched. He said the dandiest things. She was saved from having to answer by Ben leaning across her and casually deflecting a soccer ball with the flat of his hand. A rubber missile that would have thwacked her in the forehead. And hurt.

  ‘Try to miss the spectators,’ he said mildly as an anxious Pat ran panting towards them, with Tom on his heels.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Ben stood up and put out his hand. ‘I’m Ben and you’re …?’

  Pat looked at his aunt. Holly stood up as well. ‘This is Dr Brierly. He and I knew each other at school.’ She glanced at this big Ben beside her. ‘A long time ago.’

  Patrick nodded, relieved. And shook Ben’s hand. ‘My name’s Pat. Good save.’ Waved at his sibling. ‘My brother, Tom.’

  Tom slowed as he came nearer.

  For Ben’s benefit Holly repeated the introduction. ‘Dr Brierly and I knew each other at school, Tom. You both know I grew up here. We went to the same school you go to and then to high school.’

  Tom nodded and put his own hand out formally. ‘How do you do, Dr Brierly?’

  ‘Good to meet you, Tom.’ He glanced at Holly and then back at the boys. ‘Can I kick the ball with you for a bit? I think your aunt is bored talking to me. Two against one?’

  ‘Sure.’ Both boys nodded enthusiastically and Ben booted the ball expertly back to the centre of the field. The boys took off like bees to the honey pot.

  ‘I hope they run you ragged,’ she said softly to him. And get yourself all sweaty. Nice thought.

  ‘No doubt.’ But judging by his last glance at her before he jogged off he was looking forward to it. She wasn’t quite sure what happened, but she had the feeling she’d been outmanoeuvred.

  Chapter Nine

  Ben

  Ben couldn’t believe his luck. Score with the daisies. And score to making contact with the boys, because he would be happy with any allies he could get.

  And score she hadn’t said no to the idea of a ‘friendly date.’ Which was why he’d left when he did. Now she couldn’t say no.

  Technically she hadn’t said yes, but she hadn’t said no. It was worth a very discreet fist pump as he ran out onto the field and stole the ball from a six-year-old. Except the six-year-old’s twin stole it back and took off for the goal post like a homing pigeon.

  The next twenty minutes worked up a very healthy shine and by the time he followed the boys back to Holly the score was three all and he’d revised taking it easy on the twins. ‘Good game, boys.’

  He didn’t miss the appraisal Holly sent his way. Or the amusement. ‘Why, I think you’re puffing, Dr Brierly.’

  ‘Just nicely loosened up,’ he said. ‘Should have brought a water bottle.’

  Holly reached into her huge carryall and produced a bottle of water. She moved so damned gracefully he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. ‘You can have mine. I don’t need it. You saved me.’

  She magicked out two more silver drink bottles and handed them to the boys. As he took the bottle he wondered if she’d drunk out of it at all. He hoped so. He took his time putting his mouth to it.

  Pat narrowed his eyes at Ben. ‘Can you come back tomorrow? Rematch?’ Pat looked at his brother. ‘What do you think, Tom?’

  Ben tried not to smile. He took a long swallow from his bottle. Waited to see what Tom had to add.

  Tom nodded. ‘Yes, please.’

  Ben glanced at Holly who very slightly raised her shoulders. Did that mean okay? He’d go with that interpretation. ‘You’re on.’

  ‘Excuse me, you lot?’ Holly’s voice pretended to be offended with the boys as she put her hands on her hips, and Ben’s lips twitched. ‘What if I don’t want to sit in the park again tomorrow?’

  Ben watched the boys turn to look at her and they weren’t fooled. He teased her back. ‘Please m
ay we do this again tomorrow, Miss Peterson?’

  She blushed. Score. He couldn’t help his elation.

  Chapter Ten

  Holly

  This was all happening too fast. Hearing her name said so teasingly from this giant of a man, who made no secret of the fact he still fancied her. Sending her flowers. The boys wanting to spend time with him after one afternoon. Inviting her for a ‘friendly visit.’

  Yes. Things were moving too fast.

  But the boys were looking at her expectantly. She didn’t look at Ben. He looked too good with his big chest and his big smile and his crinkled eyes to do more than glance at. ‘Fine. Here. At four. For one hour.’ If she had to come out he could give the boys an hour. Maybe he could wear them out and she could enjoy the show.

  ‘Yippee,’ Pat cheered and Tom nodded his head, but he watched Holly anxiously to see if she really was all right with being steamrollered into it.

  ‘It’s okay, Tom. I like the idea. You get some free footy training and I’ll be able to read my book in peace.’ She smiled at him and his serious little face lightened. He nodded once. Satisfied. She wanted to hug him.

  ‘Let’s go, boys. I think Dr Brierly wants to jog around the oval before he leaves and we’re holding him up.’

  She grinned evilly at Ben. ‘Have a good jog.’

  He didn’t call her bluff. Just waved and pulled out his phone to check something as they walked away, as if he’d just do that first. Cheeky blighter. But she was smiling as she walked, until she remembered she didn’t have the headspace to factor in a flirtation.

  *

  The next morning Ben arrived for coffee at eight thirty-five. She hadn’t had her own caffeine hit yet. The boys had been dithering this morning, and she wasn’t sure why. Her personal mug was still waiting. Maybe she could sit with him and enjoy it in company?

  No. She needed to stay professional. ‘Good morning. Large, double strength, cap on, full? Takeaway?’