‘That was close,’ she said on a shaky exhale, leaning back against her car.
Yeah, it was close.
He was still in shock, he must be, because it still didn’t feel real. Lily Schofield, right in front of him. He didn’t know what to do, couldn’t think of a thing to say. Part of him wanted to turn on his heel and walk, pretend it wasn’t happening; but running wasn’t his style, and besides, he had a niggling sense he needed to do something.
Check for concussion, dumb-arse.
Some part of his brain was still functioning obviously. Good. Checking for concussion was sensible, and it would give him some time to get his head together. ‘Can you tell me what just happened?’
‘I took the curve too fast and lost control.’
‘Yeah, you sure did. How many fingers?’ he asked, right hand in the air.
She spared it a quick glance. ‘Three,’ she said lightly, as if he was amusing her with his questions. As if their near-crash were no big deal.
‘Can you follow my finger with your eyes?’ He held up one finger, waited for her to look at it.
She didn’t, she looked at him instead, head tilted to the side, lips curved in a slight smile. ‘I didn’t hit my head.’
‘Humour me.’
Her smile deepened. ‘I’d forgotten you were like this.’
‘Like what?’ he asked, not smiling back.
‘Like this.’
Like checking someone was okay after what could have easily been a fatal accident? Well, yeah. ‘Follow the finger, Lily.’
She shifted her gaze, tracked along with no problem. ‘How’s that, Doctor Farrell?’
Doctor Farrell. Like they were the best of pals.
They might have been once. They weren’t anymore.
He shoved his hand in his jeans pocket and walked around her car, looking more thoroughly for signs of damage. None as far as he could tell.
‘Nice wheels.’ Exactly the kind of over-the-top thing he’d expect her to drive.
‘Birthday present from my dad.’
Yeah, of course. When you’re Lily Schofield, a birthday present wasn’t an iPad or a watch, it was a top-of-the-line Lexus.
And that was it. Finally, the fog cleared and he felt like himself again. Cold, bitter anger, his constant companion, was back. Vicious but contained, and all directed at Lily, the last of the Schofields.
‘You almost totalled it. You almost totalled both of us,’ he said, allowing a whisper-thin slice of his anger out.
She picked up on it and her face clouded a little. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I was driving too fast, and I didn’t see that curve coming. I was just excited to be back.’
Just excited to be back? Did she grasp the enormity of the tragedy her driving had almost caused? Did she realise how close to death they’d been only moments ago? It didn’t seem like it. Just one more reason to hate her. ‘You want to tell that to my ute?’
‘Your ute?’ Her gorgeous velvet-brown eyes widened and flicked to where his car was parked up the road. An elegant hand flew to her mouth. ‘I didn’t realise. You’ve been checking me and my car, but you’re the one … Are you okay?’
‘I am, my ute’s not.’
‘Oh God. I’m sorry.’
He shrugged. ‘It’ll still drive. I’ll take it into town for repair. You’re heading to Mirabook?’
The smile crept back and she nodded. Lightly, easily, as if there were no question about her right to do just that. And for the moment, he supposed, that was true. Another coil of black, oily anger seethed up and through him. He clenched his jaw, suppressing it, driven as always by his deep-seated need for caution and control. He needed to wrap things up here, get away from the confusion and the anger her presence had stirred in him, so he could think carefully about what it meant that she was back. ‘I’ll drop the paperwork off tomorrow.’
‘What paperwork?’
‘Insurance. To pay for the damage.’ He took in her blank expression. ‘You do have insurance?’
‘Yes. Of course.’ She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Probably.’
He found himself watching her, entranced despite himself. Her hair was darker now, still the same warm honey-caramel tones, but darker. Was it because she was all grown-up, or because they were just coming out of winter? He’d only ever seen her in summer.
Realising his eyes were still following her fingers, he forced them back to her face. ‘Better check on that. Or it’s going to cost you a pretty penny.’
Her shoulders slumped. Were things that tough, then? He knew the creditors were baying at the doors, howling for Schofield blood. He supposed Lily had had to deal with all that by herself, now her parents had passed. It was rough, he knew, losing a parent. His dad was gone now, and he felt the loss every day. He should offer condolences, but despite the manners his mother had drummed into him, he just couldn’t bring himself to. Not after what her family had done to his.
She leaned back against her car, arms resting behind her. ‘You’re still here. I wasn’t sure if you would be.’
Her smile was tremulous, as if it had finally sunk in that this was no happy reunion.
‘I went away to university. I came back,’ he heard himself say.
‘What did you study?’
He had to give her points for trying, but he didn’t answer. He wasn’t interested in making small talk with Lily Schofield.
She must have been feeling uncomfortable, because her hand came to her head. He watched as her fingers ran through her hair again, leaving it to fall in waves of soft dark gold. He remembered how soft it’d been, the one time he’d touched it. He could almost feel it again, as if it were his fingers, not hers, spearing through the silky strands.
His gaze shifted to her lips. Sweet and warm, that’s how they’d felt against his all those years ago. It was his first kiss, and hers. He’d waited so long for her. Years. She’d been shy, but not for long. He remembered exactly how it had felt when she’d twined her arms around his neck, and leaned up, into him, pulled him closer. Despite his almost desperate need for her, he’d been the one to put on the brakes. Responsible, do-good fool that he’d been.
‘So, it’s, um, good to see you again,’ Lily said.
The words penetrated the fog in his brain and he realised he’d been totally caught in the past. His heartbeat, slow and heavy, thudded in his ears and he could feel a tingling warmth on his fingertips, on his lips. Expelling a heavy breath, he crossed his arms and stared for a moment at his boots, gathering himself. He didn’t know what he was thinking or doing. He had to get rid of her. Now. ‘See you tomorrow, Lily.’
She’d been dismissed. She gave up on the tentative smile she’d been trying to maintain in the face of his stoniness. What did she expect? That they’d stand around shooting the breeze?
‘You know where to find me,’ she offered lightly, then pushed off the car and slipped back into the driver’s seat.
He made his way slowly back to his poor mangled ute, but made no move to start it. He needed a moment. More than a moment. He watched in the rear-view mirror as she sped out of sight.
So, that was the reunion with Lily that had always weighed on his horizon. Funny, but in all his fevered dreams of how it would be when he saw her again, he’d skipped the part where they made awkward conversation about insurance claims.
And that… yearning. Was there any other word for it? He’d always felt it for her, and despite everything that had happened, it hadn’t gone anywhere. It didn’t seem to matter that he hated her, which was just plain disturbing.
Adjusting his mirror, he gave himself a firm pep talk. His reaction to Lily was irrelevant. He had to put it to the side and focus on using her presence here to his advantage. He didn’t have all the details yet, but once he did, it could only help him achieve his goal.
Maybe it’d be easy. Maybe she’d sell. After all, things weren’t going so great for the Schofields in court. She probably needed fast cash. He’d make an offer tomorrow when
he dropped the insurance paperwork off.
But if she didn’t want to sell?
He frowned. Too bad for Lily. He wasn’t going to let it matter. He’d waited long enough, and one way or another, Mirabook was going to be his. And then Lily’d be gone again.
The sooner, the better, because she messed with his head. She was toxic. To him, at least. His unique version of Kryptonite.
He hadn’t always thought that way. Once, he’d thought she was the sun and the moon and the stars all rolled into one.
Christ, what a fool he’d been.
Chapter 3
Josh Farrell had grown up hot, Lily thought as she drove off. Weak at the knees hot. She didn’t think he’d been that tall at sixteen, and he certainly hadn’t been that built. Those shoulders … She wasn’t usually drawn to that muscular kind of physique, but on Josh? Well, it sat well.
His eyes were the same steady, searching, clear grey they’d always been. Harder though. Colder. That grey was steely in more ways than one. Or maybe that just applied to her.
He hadn’t been happy to see her.
Oh, he’d checked her carefully to make sure she wasn’t injured, but Josh would do the same for anyone. She hadn’t seen him for ten years, but she knew that much about him. He was like that, had always been like that. Responsible and caring. A rock. Maybe that’s why she’d been so drawn to him—in him she’d found what neither of her parents could provide.
She hadn’t been sure how things would go if they met again. That last summer … When she thought of the last time she’d seen him …
The simmering tension between her parents had finally boiled over. Now, she could see that it had been heading that way all summer long, but at the time, it had erupted in a burst, like some kind of malevolent volcano. She was always going to be trapped in the molten flow, but somehow, Josh and his family had got caught up in it too.
Was that what he remembered of her? Just that last encounter? Given the conversation they’d just had, or lack thereof, she thought maybe it was. After all they’d been to each other in the years before that, if all she got was dislike, disdain and stony reserve … Well, it hurt a little.
Maybe their friendship hadn’t meant as much to him as it had meant to her. To her, it’d been everything.
Before she could lose herself in memories, she saw it. The towering pine tree that signalled she’d finally arrived. And just beyond it, the gates to Mirabook. All thoughts melted away as warm liquid joy spread through her.
She pulled up, leapt out of her car, opened the gate, drove through and then got out to lock up again. The gate routine. That had always been her job as a kid. A job she’d relished. Every so often, someone would make noises about replacing it with a remote-controlled system, but she’d always protested vehemently. That job meant the summer holidays had begun.
The ‘driveway’ was a kilometre of dirt track, towering gum trees lining both sides, paddocks beyond. She drove it slowly, looking around with hungry eyes, devouring the colours, the textures.
And then finally, there it was. She stopped the car, wanting to savour her first impressions. A stately, two-storey white glory, wrap-around verandahs on both levels dripping in iron lacework. It was surrounded by what used to be manicured gardens, now overgrown as Sleeping Beauty’s. And it really was like something out of a fairy tale, glowing white against the encroaching dusk. As beautiful as she remembered.
Sighing deeply, she continued on, up around the circular drive. No water in its centre fountain now. She parked and walked up the front steps, paused on the deep verandah she’d spent hours playing on while her mother was either sleeping off a hangover or preparing for the next one. Lily located the spot where her dollhouse had always been.
Butterflies fluttering around in her tummy, she fitted the key to the lock and stepped into the long, wide hallway.
Wow.
She’d forgotten the scale of this place. Not that the Point Piper house wasn’t big, but it didn’t have a three-metre wide hallway or twelve-foot ceilings. Dimensions like this were a feature of the past.
She stood for a moment and breathed it all in. Only to get lungfuls of musty air. Coughing, she looked more carefully around her. Picture-perfect from a distance, up close, she could see the years of neglect. Dirt and cobwebs. The beginnings of cracks in the plaster. Peeling paint. The dust—she hadn’t even known dust could gather that thickly—and oh my God, mice droppings. Everywhere.
No one had been inside in a good long while. Mirabook was not only stale and musty, but abandoned. Unloved. No one had lived here, taken care of it, in an age.
Well, she was back now.
She walked the hallway, poking her head into the rooms going off to both sides as she passed—the drawing room, the dining room. Marched straight past the morning room, but it didn’t help. She couldn’t prevent the vision of her mother straddling some unknown man on an armchair. Something in her tummy twisted. No doubt about it—she’d seen things she should have been shielded from.
Hand trailing around a circular newel, she moved past the staircase sweeping up to the first floor bedrooms, the double doors to the ballroom off to the left. She’d get to those later. Right now, she was starving and it was getting dark.
Her mother had insisted on preserving almost every aspect of the house as it had come down to her, for reasons which had never totally made sense to Lily. If it was about respecting her ancestors, well, her behaviour would have made most of them turn in their graves. But the kitchen, thankfully, was where she’d drawn the line, and it’d been remodelled not long before they’d stopped coming here. French provincial blue and ochre yellow, top-of-the-line appliances, and a large island bench separating the kitchen from an informal dining area. As much as she loved Mirabook’s Victorian gentility, she could only be grateful for this totally modern space.
She flicked on the light switch. Nothing. Frowning, she walked back to the hallway, and tugged on one of the old-fashioned light pulls still used in most rooms. Nothing.
No electricity. Of course. What did she expect?
Candles it was. She knew her way around, and before long, the kitchen was bathed in a gentle warm light.
Perfect. Who needed electricity?
Right, food. Nothing in the fridge obviously. Pantry? She peered in, now shivering. It was cold here. Colder than she was used to.
A canister of tea bags and a couple of tins of baked beans. She didn’t even want to think about the expiry date on those babies.
Back to town? It was only a ten-minute drive, but she didn’t have the energy tonight. She was at Mirabook. After a close call on the highway back there, but she’d made it. Home.
Tomorrow, she’d think about the rest of her life. Tonight, she’d eat cold baked beans.
***
‘Throw it back.’
Lily whirled around to find Josh standing behind her, in faded jeans, work boots and a black V-neck wool jumper.
‘It’s too small,’ he added, looking her up and down. He looked as cold and forbidding as he had yesterday, but there was amusement on his face now too.
Perhaps she did look funny. She was dressed in a floral dress and long johns, a vintage fox-fur coat and her bright blue Docs. To add to the picture, she was also clasping a flapping fish. Too bad, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and to be honest, she was really, really lucky she’d found the coat stashed away in an old wardrobe. She was sure the thermostat had dropped well below zero during the night. Something her Sydney wardrobe couldn’t deal with.
She looked down at the fish, still flapping sporadically in her hands. It looked pretty big to her. Still, Josh would know. She reluctantly walked to the water’s edge, crouched, gently unhooked the pretty little trout and slid it back into the water.
Goodbye, dinner. After hours spent sweeping up mice droppings and trying to ignore her hunger, she’d been struck with inspiration. She had access to food of the non-bean variety—she had a river full of fish. Healthy and frugal. She
’d gathered together some gear and headed down, setting herself up in the spot she’d always used with Josh. After hours of patient waiting, she’d finally caught something, only to be told to throw it back.
She straightened and turned to face him, feeling cross. Which was what low blood sugar did to a girl. ‘You’re trespassing.’
‘Actually, you’re trespassing.’ With those hard eyes, and his arms across his well-built chest, he looked like a warrior protecting his village against an invading horde.
Which would be her?
And if the trespassing thing was a joke, she didn’t get it. ‘Meaning?’
He shrugged. ‘What does trespassing usually mean? You’re on my land.’
‘I’m not sure what you mean. I inherited Mirabook from my mother.’
‘Sure. What’s left of it. She’s been selling parcels of land for years. I should know. My business partners and I are the buyers.’
What? But he looked sublimely confident, and since Josh had always been a straight arrow, she had no reason not to believe him.
So the estate had been carved up. Great. One more bit of bad news in a never-ending procession. ‘I’m going to ask my lawyers to confirm that,’ she said.
But she knew Josh, and she was sure it would be exactly as he’d said.
‘You do that,’ he said, blithely unconcerned.
She glanced at the rod lying on the ground. Should she try for another fish? Would Josh let her? What a strange thought that was, that he might not. She paused, awkward. ‘Are you throwing me off your land?’
‘No.’
Not yet, she added, mentally filling in the unspoken words. Or maybe she was just being paranoid.
She sighed. ‘I’m not catching anything anyway. That’s the first bite I’ve had all day, and it was too small.’
No Place Like You Page 2