‘Oh yes,’ Maureen said slowly. ‘I heard she was back.’
‘Is that right?’
‘She was in at the hardware store this morning. A real looker, according to Don. Just like her mum. And her grandmother. Not surprising, I suppose. She always was a pretty girl.’ Maureen was looking at him in a way that reminded him she’d known him since he was in nappies.
‘Yep,’ he replied casually. And if Maureen thought she was getting more than that out of him, she had another thing coming.
He ate fast. Five minutes later, he was at the counter, ready to pay and leave. Then he remembered the fish, the haunted look on Lily’s face. ‘I’ll take a couple of sandwiches as well. To go.’
‘I’ve got ham and tomato made up.’
‘Great.’
He took the bundle to the garage loan car. He was going to toss Lily out on her pretty behind, but he didn’t have to watch her starve in the process.
***
Better. Much better.
Lily regarded the freshly painted white wall with satisfaction. One wall down, three to go. She should take a break, stretch a little, but she was keen to keep going. Looks like she’d fallen right back into her old habit of working non-stop when the muse hit.
Was paint the best use of her meagre funds? Yes and no.
Yes because now, maybe, she could get some sleep.
She couldn’t sleep in heavy, prissy burgundy, and she didn’t care that she couldn’t see it once the candles were blown out. She could still feel it there, heavy and ominous. She couldn’t sleep feeling like it might descend to suffocate her at any moment. If she couldn’t get any sleep, how was she supposed to plan her next move?
Considered like that, white walls were an integral part of her life plan.
Which to be honest, hadn’t taken much shape yet.
But it felt good to be doing her thing again. This was the closest she’d got to her work as an events designer in almost a year. She had the best job in the world, she mused; taking people’s dreams and making them a reality. She loved it so much it was almost like clients were doing her a favour by letting her design their events. Big. Small. Casual. Formal. Seaside. Forest. She didn’t care. She just loved to create. And she was good. Really good. Shame no one wanted her anymore.
‘Lily?’
She started, whirled around. She tended to get absorbed in her work, but how had she not heard Josh coming up the stairs? He moved quietly for such a big guy.
He was leaning against the doorjamb, a slight smile on his lips. It took her breath away when it hit her how much he’d changed over the past ten years. Sometimes he seemed just like the old Josh, but then other times, he looked so different. He looked so … sexy. Confident, steady and sexy. Delicious heat pooled deep in her belly.
‘Don’t you knock?’ she asked, attempting to get a grip on herself.
‘I did. No one answered.’
Big house. Hmm. Maybe she needed to do something about that, install a doorbell that carried to every room.
He must be here about the insurance. She’d rung her father’s, and by default, her accountants this morning. The good news was they’d been able to confirm she was fully insured. The bad news was she’d also been informed she was no longer a client of theirs, due to the fact that they were in an excellent position to know she wouldn’t be able to pay them. In fact, they wanted to send her all her files. The conversation had stalled when she realised she didn’t have a postal address. The post didn’t deliver this far out. She’d have to get a box in town. If she stayed.
‘I have my insurance details for you,’ she said, stepping down off the ladder.
‘That’s not why I’m here.’
‘Oh?’
‘Business meeting. Of a sort. Going to offer me a cup of tea?’
She hesitated a moment, thrown by the fact that Josh was almost smiling at her. Was it possible he’d thawed? And what did he mean by business meeting? Only one way to find out. ‘Sure.’
She could do with a break anyway. Leading the way downstairs, out through the kitchen into the small courtyard area, she could feel his eyes on her as she got her little fire going under the small homemade barbeque. Since the house was still totally without electricity, this was how she’d done her cooking over the past few days. And by cooking, she meant boiling water for tea and reheating baked beans. She hadn’t yet managed to catch another fish.
Trout were supposed to be smart, right? They were definitely on to her.
She would have preferred not to have anyone know about all that, it revealed just a little too much about her current situation in life, but she would not be embarrassed. The set-up might be slightly unorthodox, but the water got boiled just fine.
She straightened and turned to face him, arms across her chest, trying to measure exactly what he was thinking, but it was impossible. Guarded didn’t even begin to describe how totally impenetrable Josh was these days.
‘Are you planning on reconnecting the electricity?’ he asked eventually.
‘I’m not sure how long I’m staying,’ she evaded, moving away from the fire to sit on the low stone wall surrounding the courtyard. ‘Besides, the rustic thing is fun. Tea tastes amazing when you boil the water like this.’
He came to sit beside her on the wall. ‘You aren’t missing Sydney?’
‘No.’ That she was sure of, though not too much else had become clear in the last few days. No life plan, or anything like that. All that was clear, was despite the lack of food and electricity, she was happier here than she’d been in ages.
‘Working lunch. Hope you don’t mind.’ He pulled out a pack of sandwiches cut into quarters, set them out on the stone wall between them. ‘Help yourself.’
Fluffy white bread, creamy butter, thick-cut ham and juicy red tomatoes. She was sure, in her entire life, she hadn’t ever seen anything that looked that good. Josh reached down and picked up one of the quarters. ‘Had any four-legged woolly visitors in the past few days?’
Following his lead, she picked up a quarter and bit into it. God, it tasted as good as it looked. Better even. Realising she hadn’t answered the question, she shook her head, too busy chewing to verbalise, and grabbed another quarter.
‘There’s a fence that needs fixing. Good thing the sheep haven’t noticed yet. If they do, give me a shout. I’ll get to fixing it as soon as possible.’
‘Okay.’ She took another sandwich. ‘How will I let you know?’
‘My number’s on the insurance paperwork. Or you can walk across the paddocks.’
That made her pause. ‘You’re still living at the manager’s house?’
‘It’s my house now.’
Of course. Because he owned the land.
Which meant he was living a five-minute walk from her. She took a moment to let that sink in, reached for another quarter. When she judged that the water must be close to boiling, she stood, but Josh waved her back down and filled the cups himself.
‘Milk?’
She stopped chewing for a moment, then finished quickly and swallowed. ‘I’m, um, out,’ she replied.
His lips pursed slightly, letting her know she hadn’t fooled him with any of her evasions, but he didn’t call her out. He sat next to her again, handed her one of the cups, and to her surprise given how stony he’d been to date, started talking about his plans for the farm. Maybe it wasn’t like before, but it was okay, sitting here together sipping tea and nibbling at sandwiches.
Maybe he didn’t hate her as much as she thought. Maybe there was hope they could be friends after all.
He turned. ‘So, Lily, exactly how bad is it?’
***
‘What do you mean?’
Despite her question, Josh knew she knew exactly what he meant. ‘You devoured those sandwiches faster than a ten-year old boy. What’s going on?’
She didn’t say anything for a moment, looked at the empty wrappers between them. ‘You were eating too.’
‘I had one
quarter, you had the other seven.’ He should know, he’d been watching her, making small talk while she ate. She didn’t respond, so he pressed further. ‘The court case was all over the paper today. I know you’ve got no money.’
‘I’ve got money.’
‘Yeah? How much?’
She stood, stalked away, closer to the small fire. With her attention absorbed by the flames, he took the opportunity to look his fill of her, back so straight and body so slim, shoulders tensed and high from his questioning. He had the insane urge to go to her, to stroke and smooth them down. Wrap his arms around her, draw her back against him. Offer her his protection. Fool. Old habits die hard.
Ridiculous how she got to him. How he wanted her. Still. He’d had plenty of women in the past ten years, and Lily wasn’t even what he was used to thinking of as sexy. In fact, today she looked like one of Pippi Longstocking’s long-lost cousins, in a canary yellow long-sleeve top, denim overalls with mini-shorts over blue-and-white striped stockings. And the omnipresent fur coat. Armour against the cold.
Believe me, I’ve noticed.
He frowned, looked down at the still-steaming tea in his hands. He reminded himself that he was supposed to hate her. ‘How much, Lily?’ he repeated quietly.
‘How is that any of your business?’
It just was. She must have agreed because she answered. ‘Three hundred.’ She turned to face him again. ‘I had four, but I needed paint.’
‘Paint,’ he repeated. Shit. She had four hundred dollars to her name and she’d spent a large chunk of it on paint?
‘I just couldn’t deal with the burgundy.’
‘You don’t have milk for tea. Because you don’t have a working fridge. Because you don’t have electricity. And you’re buying paint because you can’t deal with burgundy.’
She shrugged. ‘I take my tea black.’
He couldn’t help it. He smiled. She’d always been like this. Ethereal in a way that drove his down-to-earth nature almost crazy. All he’d ever wanted to do was pin her down.
‘You really should sell Mirabook to me. End all your problems.’
‘Is that the business you wanted to talk about?’ She came to sit beside him again. ‘I told you the other day, Mirabook’s not for sale.’
‘You can’t keep living like this, Lily.’
‘I’m fine. I’ve got a roof over my head. There’s food around.’ She waved her arms indicating God knows what.
‘Yeah? Like what?’
‘Fish. Spinach.’ She looked hard at the neglected, overrun kitchen garden bed just beyond the courtyard. ‘At least, I think it’s spinach.’ She shrugged. ‘Things like that.’
Yeah right. He looked pointedly at the empty wrappers between them.
‘That was a welcome addition to the diet. Thank you.’
‘You can’t survive on a couple hundred dollars.’
She swivelled on the wall to face him, knee drawn up, arms crossed over it. ‘Well, what do you suggest I do, Josh? Apart from sell the house to you. Which is not an option.’
There was some heat in the words and in the expression on her face. He was grateful she’d finally dropped the ‘everything’s fine, I’ve got spinach’ routine. Maybe now they could have a serious discussion.
‘You could sell your car.’
‘I can’t sell my car.’
‘Why not? It’s worth a small fortune.’
She turned again. ‘My dad gave it to me.’
She was going for matter-of-fact but didn’t quite manage to conceal her sadness. Keith had been a world-class arsehole, but he was still her father, and now he was dead. He knew how that felt.
Josh fought the urge to reach out, stroke a finger up and down that slim, stockinged leg, from the bottom of her mini-shorts to where the stockings were lost in her crazy bright blue boots. He forced his eyes back to his cup of tea, forced his attention back to the matter at hand. ‘You know what I’d do if I had no money, Lil? I’d get a job. This may come as a shock, but work doesn’t kill you.’
An outraged exhale was her first response to that. Then she stood, arms crossed, eyes narrowed and jaw set. ‘You think I don’t know that? You think I’ve never worked? For your information, Josh, I had a job. A job I loved.’
‘Had?’ Because there was no mistaking the use of that tense.
She turned, looked out over the blossoming trees in the orchard. ‘Dad ripped off most of my clientele, everyone in Sydney decided they hated my guts, and no one would hire me anymore. I was good at what I did, I worked my arse off, and no one would hire me. So I was sacked.’
That was rough. ‘What was it that you did?’
She was still staring out over the orchard, her arms still crossed. ‘Events design. Weddings mostly.’
Events design. Weddings. She seemed pretty passionate for someone who tied sashes on chairs and dished out bonbonnieres.
Despite how he felt about her, he wasn’t happy she’d lost her job like that, but at the end of the day, it was just one more reason why she should accept his offer to buy the house. Three hundred wasn’t much for anyone to live on, and when you also didn’t have work …
‘Last time I’m going to ask, Lily. Sell Mirabook to me.’
‘Not an option.’
That was that then.
He’d tried to play nice. He’d made a generous offer—market value plus five—and she’d rejected it. It would have been much better all around if she’d agreed to sell with her dignity still intact, avoiding any legal carry on. But she’d said no. So now it was time to go in for the kill, to let her know the reality of her situation. Like it or not, she was going to have to sell.
‘Lily.’
She turned to face him, and a long moment hung between them. Those big dark eyes. Haunted. Haunting him, like they always had.
‘It’s all I have,’ she said finally.
He felt like she’d reached over and driven a dagger right through the middle of him.
If she sold Mirabook, she’d have money, he reasoned with himself. She’d be much better off. Even once they’d taken out the money she owed them, Lily’d be a rich woman. Not as rich as she used to be, but better off than most. No more nonsense about fish and spinach.
But she wasn’t talking about money and he knew it.
He broke eye contact, looked at the small fire, the trees in the orchard. Anywhere but at her, because he didn’t want to feel sorry for her. Poor penniless orphan Lily. Yeah right.
But she had had it tough. It was hard not to feel some degree of sympathy for someone who’d had the kind of year she’d had. Losing both parents so close together, even if they were Keith and Elisabeth. Having people hate her through no fault of her own. Not being able to find work in the job she loved. Months and months of a court case that had dragged on, had dragged her family’s name through the mud and left her destitute.
Shit. This was supposed to be easy. He had Lily exactly where he wanted her.
He could admit it. He’d always wanted to turn the tables. He’d fantasised about bringing the high and mighty Schofields to their knees. But he wanted Lily on her knees because he’d brought her there, not because life had already ground her down.
This wasn’t the same thing. It wasn’t the same thing at all.
Unable to resist, he looked at her again. She was sitting, though not as close as before. Her knee was drawn up under her chin, her head resting sideways on it, and she was regarding him solemnly.
It was a hell of a lot easier to hate her when she was in his head instead of sitting in front of him. He looked at her now, and he didn’t see the enemy. He saw Lily—about as vulnerable and lost as a person could get, but too proud to admit it.
What would it do to her to lose Mirabook now?
He needed to think this through. He stood, took her cup from her and returned it to the kitchen along with his own.
He wasn’t considering backing out, was he? Surely not. It wasn’t that he couldn’t be ruthless. He’d had
to make tough calls, and encourage his clients to do the same—fire underutilised labour, cull unproductive stock, shut up shop and salvage something on businesses that just couldn’t be saved.
But this went further than that. Taking Mirabook from Lily now would be cruel. He could be ruthless, but he wouldn’t be cruel.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kick her when she was down.
He’d talk to his business partners, tell them that he was working on securing the house, but it was going to take a little longer. Delays were part and parcel of business life. They’d be fine with it, especially since the alternative was taking it before the courts. Coming to a settlement outside was much better for everyone involved.
He’d give her an extra month. That should be enough time for her to find her feet. When she was ready, he’d break the news about the debt.
She probably wouldn’t use the whole month anyway. Probably, once she’d recovered a bit, she’d realise she was bored here and return to Sydney.
And it’s not like the extra time would change anything. The end result would be the same.
It did mean, however, that she’d be around for longer, messing with his head. He’d just have to keep his distance.
He walked back outside. ‘Do you remember Maureen at the Lemon Tree Café?’
‘Yes. Of course.’ She looked confused by his change of subject.
‘She needs help covering the lunch shift. Do you have any experience waitressing?’
‘No.’
He shrugged. ‘Maureen’s desperate. She’ll take you on.’
Lily didn’t jump at the offer like she should have given the way she’d devoured those sandwiches. ‘You better say yes, Lil, because I can’t leave you out here like this, living like some kind of wild thing.’
‘I told you, I’m fine.’
‘Yarrow’s a small town. We know when someone’s floundering, we don’t leave them to drown.’
‘I’m not floundering. I’m reassessing my life options.’
‘You can do that while you help Maureen out. Keep yourself in sandwiches and paint at the same time.’
Her eyes narrowed, and he knew his comment about the paint had hit home. Suppressing a reluctant smile, he said, ‘Ten o’clock tomorrow.’
No Place Like You Page 4