Secrets of Silvergum

by Mandy Magro

  Reaching into her saddlebag, she straightened and took a long swig from her water bottle. Unusually restless in the saddle, she swatted a persistent fly from her face, cursing it for following her all the way from the stables. Her mood still stormy, everything was annoying her, more so than it should. She really needed to take a breath and try to find gratitude in her heart. That would be the only way to get rid of her anger before sitting down to enjoy a barbeque dinner with Riley and Zane. She didn’t want anything to ruin the short time they had together before she dropped her bombshells in a few days’ time – wanting to give the roiling emotions of the funeral a bit of time to settle first.

  So she focused outwardly, breathing and releasing, just as she’d learnt to the one time she’d agreed to go to a meditation class with Renee. Sulphur-crested cockatoos perched high in the gum trees and pink and grey galahs squabbled over the best place to rest on the nearby water tank. The call of the cattle travelled on the wind, as did the sing-song of green tree frogs from the creek. She tried to take comfort in the rhythm of Bundy’s stride as they reached the ridgeline and turned back towards home. Taking her cue, he widened his gait and they were soon galloping across the flat; the whistle of the breeze rushing past gave her goosebumps, and the thunder of his hooves echoed in her chest. This was the only time she ever felt truly free, unrestrained and real to her very core. Give her a horse and an open paddock over retail therapy any day – this was a country gal’s way to de-stress. She imagined the wind whipping away all her worries, at least for today, and as the seconds ticked by and the sound of Bundy’s hooves grew more and more thunderous, her anger and frustration began to ease.

  Quickly approaching the stables, she slowed him to a trot and then a walk. Bundy’s flanks heaved beneath her as the gelding blew out a rolling snort.

  ‘Thanks, boy. I can always rely on you to make me feel better, can’t I?’ Her tension stripped away, she patted his wet neck. ‘Love ya shitloads, mate.’

  Stopping beneath the shade of the stable’s awning, she dismounted, removed his bridle and then she gave the horse a hug around his neck. As usual, he lifted his front left leg and curled it over hers, snuggling his head in against her shoulder. A horsey hug if she’d ever had one. He was such a beautiful boy, and she felt blessed he was hers.

  With Bundy soon unsaddled and back in his paddock, his head buried in a bucket of chaff drizzled with a bit of molasses for a treat, Emma hoisted the Australian stock saddle from where she’d rested it on the railing of the round yard and carried it to the stables and put it away in its usual spot. Stepping outside, the sound of a vehicle grabbed her attention. Looking up, she watched a dusty old LandCruiser rumble down the drive, a trail of dust flying out behind it. It took her a few moments to recognise the old beast as Zane’s grandfather’s. She quickly tucked her flannelette shirt into her jeans, wishing to God she’d changed into something a little less bogan-ish.

  Slipping her hands in her back pockets, she made her way across the round yard, climbed through the railings, and over to where Zane had pulled up. Catching sight of his handsome, smiling face out of the open car window, she was unable to stop her own grin spreading wider, even though her stomach was a jumble of nerves.

  Zane tipped the brim of his hat. ‘Howdy there, Firecracker.’

  ‘Casanova,’ she said with a cheeky glint in her eyes. ‘I see you’ve scored your pa’s old truck.’ She patted the bonnet. ‘He’d be mighty happy about that after all the years it’s been sitting in the shed at Wattle Acres, wasting away.’

  ‘Yeah, he would be.’

  ‘Did you go around and pick it up?’ She arched a brow.

  ‘Shit no. It was sitting outside the pub when I went back there to get my stuff, and the key had been shoved under my door. I’ve dropped the rental back to the drop-off point in town. Apparently they rent it out cheap to backpackers to get it back down to Cairns.’

  ‘Oh, cool. How’s it faring on the inside?’ She peeked in.

  ‘A spring from the seat’s digging me in my butt, and the old girl needs some work, but …’ He tapped the dash, a cloud of dust rising. ‘She’s all mine and that’s what matters.’

  ‘But you’re going back to the States, aren’t you?’

  ‘I am, and I’ve already thought about that. I reckon it would be a doozy of a first car for Riley, if I got it restored, don’t you reckon?’

  ‘Oh, wow, you’d really do that for her?’

  ‘Of course, she’s family.’ His gaze traced slowly over Emma as he stepped from the driver’s side, leaving fire in its wake.

  ‘I don’t know what to say.’ She felt her cheeks glow beneath his warm gaze.

  ‘You don’t need to say anything,’ he said slowly.

  Starting a few inches lower than his belt buckle, her gaze traced up over his muscled biceps and to the tattoo on his suntanned forearm. He smelt so good, like leather, saddle soap and sunshine – woodsy, spicy, clean and masculine. She took a deep breath. ‘Thank you for being so thoughtful.’ She tipped her head to the side. ‘Anything else exciting happen at the office?’

  ‘Not really; other than this old girl, I came up empty handed in the inheritance department, but we all knew that was going to happen.’

  ‘That really sucks, Zane. I’m sorry Michael and Peter have always been such arseholes to you.’

  ‘All good, I’ve just gotta roll with the punches.’ His deep masculine chuckle sent a flutter throughout her body. ‘Anyways, don’t apologise. It’s not your fault you married a selfish prick, just like I can’t help the fact he’s Kay’s other son.’

  Hands shoved in the pockets of her jeans, Emma dragged the toe of her boot across the dirt, her gaze anywhere but on Zane’s. His eyes were way too close to hers and the guilt bearing down on her right now was crushing. ‘You check yourself out of the pub?’

  ‘Yup, bag’s in the back.’

  She braved catching his eyes. ‘Good, I’m glad.’

  ‘I hope so.’ He moved closer and she licked her suddenly dry lips.

  ‘I am.’ She breathed deeply. She felt vulnerable, feminine and desperate to tear every inch of clothing from his magnificence. Ached to melt her tense body into his, skin on skin, lips to lips, heart to heart.

  ‘And you sure Riley’s okay with it?’

  ‘Of course, I wouldn’t have asked you to stay here otherwise.’ She looked to his hands, big and strong, yet always so gentle when they touched her. Shocked with the direction of her thoughts, she swallowed down hard and forced her eyes back to his.

  ‘Good, because I don’t want to upset her any more than I did at the wake.’ He handed her a bag she recognised from the bakery.

  Emma looked inside and then back to him. ‘Oh yum, you got me some sourdough.’

  ‘Sure did, and I bought Riley some lamingtons.’

  ‘Oh, thanks, Zane, she’ll like that.’

  ‘No worries, it’s the least I could do.’ Reaching behind him he pulled out a sealed yellow envelope. ‘Before I forget, I’ve been asked to pass this on to you.’

  She was suddenly breathless. ‘From who?’

  ‘Peter … George asked me to give it to you.’

  Staring at the envelope, paralysing fear froze her to the spot. ‘What’s in it?’ Her voice trembled and she could do nothing to stop it as her heart sped out of control.

  ‘I have no idea.’ He shook his head, sighing. ‘God only knows what he thought he needed to write to you, but there’s only one way to find out.’ He held the letter in front of her.

  ‘I don’t really want to read it right now,’ she said softly as she gathered up enough courage to reach out and take it from him. Although light as a feather, it felt as heavy as a boulder in her hand. She was dimly aware of the warm breeze blowing tendrils of hair across her cheek as she considered opening it. But terrified of what was inside, and of Zane seeing it, she stopped herself. Tears blurred her name written in bold black ink across the front. What in the hell did Peter want from her now,
after his death? She shivered as icy fingers ran down her spine.

  ‘You okay, Em?’ Zane brushed the stray tendrils behind her ears. His voice was calm, soothing, as was his touch.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Emma blinked fast, willing her tears away. Craving to rest her head against his chest, she dared not meet his eyes for fear he could read what was hidden in them.

  ‘Hey, don’t let it worry you. There’s nothing Peter can say or do that will affect your life now. You’ve cut all ties to Michael, other than Riley of course, so he has no control over your future.’ His hand still resting on her cheek, he took another step forward. ‘And if you’re thinking it has anything to do with what happened that night at the homestead, when we were teenagers, I really doubt it. Michael played a big part, and Peter wouldn’t risk incriminating his favourite son, would he?’ Although nobody was within a mile of them, he kept his voice low, hushed. ‘Especially in a letter.’

  Her racing heart slowed and she felt strangely numb. ‘I’d hope not, but seeing as I’m the one that caused it all, who knows what Peter would try to do from the grave, what strings he’s still able to pull with the people he was tied in with?’ She wrapped her arms around herself, the feeling of Zane’s hand still resting on her cheek giving her comfort she didn’t deserve. ‘He always had it in for me, right from the very start.’ She chuckled cynically. ‘Part of me wants to walk into the police station and tell them everything about that night. I’m sick of carrying the guilt around every waking day. It’s crushing me.’

  ‘You know you can’t go and do that, Em. Not that I care what happens to me, but you can’t risk anything happening to you. Besides the fact it would kill me if anything happened to you, Riley needs you.’

  Unable to speak, she nodded. Silence hung between them.

  Both hands now came to cradle her cheeks. He was so close she could see the soft scattering of fine hair peeking out of the top of his shirt. ‘No matter what’s in that letter, I won’t let anyone hurt you, Em, or Riley. You have my word.’

  ‘Thanks, but some things are out of your control, Zane.’ She braved a glance up at him. ‘And besides, you’re going back to the States soon, and there’s not a lot you can do from the other side of the world, now, is there?’

  He held her gaze. ‘Well, seeing as your parents aren’t here, until everything settles down, I might have to postpone my flight and stay a little bit longer, just to make sure you and Riley are all good.’

  ‘You’d do that, for Riley and me?’

  ‘Of course.’ A smile dangled on the corner of his lips. ‘It’s not like I’ve got a wife and kids to run home to now, is it?’

  ‘I’m sorry your marriage didn’t work out for you, and I’m sorry I didn’t check in to see how you were coping with the divorce.’

  ‘Hey, don’t apologise. It’s not like we were in contact then, Em.’

  ‘You want to talk about it?’

  ‘Nope.’ He shrugged. ‘I gave it a shot, it didn’t work, and I moved on.’

  ‘Fair enough, I get not wanting to go over and over it.’ Emma offered him a soft smile. ‘What about the bull-riding circuit? You need your points.’

  ‘You and Riley are more important.’

  She drew in a shaky breath, silently thanking the powers that be for making it his decision to stay a bit longer. Now she had more time to find the right moment to tell him and Riley, and Michael, everything they deserved to know. ‘Thank you, Zane, it means the absolute world, you wanting to stick around a little longer.’

  He said nothing, the depth in his sky-blue eyes only intensifying. He looked as if he was going to kiss her, and she was terrified that if he did, she wouldn’t be able to stop from showing him just how deeply she felt about him. She’d daydreamed about being naked with him so many times over the years, his kiss would be the only invitation she needed right now to lose herself in him.

  The voice of reason mentally slapped her into action. ‘What are you doing?’ She tilted as far away from him as she possibly could without falling.

  Remaining silent and leaving his hands right where they were, Zane brought his boots toe to toe with hers. There was a wayward smile on his lips and a glint in his eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago. And lord help her. He. Smelt. So. Damn. Good.

  ‘Zane?’ Her heart quickened, her breaths were awkward. Eyes wide, she met his gaze. A hint of amusement was veiled within their blue depths. He was clearly taking great pleasure in making her blush, and by god she was blushing from the tips of her toes all the way to the top of her head. ‘Zane, bloody hell, what’s got into you?’

  He chuckled, deep and throaty. ‘Stop freaking out, Em.’ He tipped his hat back, as if to see her better.

  His air of confidence enveloped her, and she forgot how to speak, how to breathe. Everything about him oozed the kind of masculinity that made her toes curl within her boots.

  ‘You’re real cute when you’re showing your vulnerable side, you know that, Em?’

  Straightening her shoulders, she tossed her head. ‘I’m never … cute.’

  ‘Whatever you say.’ He moved in closer still, if that were even possible, so she could feel his breath on her cheek, could feel the touch of his jeans against her legs. His gaze fell to her mouth, but leaning in, he brought his lips to her ear. ‘Thanks for inviting me to stay.’ He brushed a kiss over her cheek as he finally dropped his hands and stepped away.

  She reached out and slapped him on the arm, hard. ‘You’re a goddamn arsehole sometimes, you know that?’

  Wincing, he rubbed it. ‘Shit, still got it in you, Firecracker.’ He grinned. ‘And just why am I an arsehole?’

  She stifled a grin and lifted her chin a little. ‘I think you can figure that one out for yourself, Casanova, don’t you?’

  He grunted and frowned. ‘Is it because I like stirring you so much?’ His dimples deepened with his devilish smile.

  ‘Ding, ding, ding, and we have a winner …’ she said playfully, hands going to her hips. ‘I’m going to buy you a big wooden spoon this Christmas and get Head Shit Stirrer written on it.’ Enjoying the banter, she was thankful for the distraction. Zane’s mischievous spirit helped her to ignore the letter now shoved in her back pocket.

  ‘A personalised wooden spoon, huh? Yes, please, I’d really like that.’ His lips curled into that slow, sexy grin she’d come to love, way too much. ‘And by the way, Miss Emma Kensington, you rise to the bait every single time.’

  ‘So do you, my friend.’ She flashed him a challenging grin. He gave her a megawatt one back. He was handsome and charming and funny and caring and protective and … she needed to stop. Beads of sweat ran down her back and between her breasts, and she suddenly felt like she was on fire. She had to move, do something, anything but stand here, wanting him as badly as she did. She fanned her face. ‘Damn it’s hot, I need a drink.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘I’m going to grab a beer.’

  ‘You going to offer me one while you’re at it?’

  She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Maybe, if you’re lucky.’

  Laughing, he shook his head as he followed her across the front lawn and up the steps, Tiny by his side.

  The verandah was cool and welcoming beneath the corrugated-iron roof. Emma headed for the beer fridge and plucked two longnecks from the back of the top shelf, where it was the coldest, and twisted off the lids. Grabbing two coolers from the hubcap bowl on top of the fridge, she pushed them on and then passed a beer over to Zane, who was making himself at home in the swing chair with Tiny almost sitting in his lap.

  She flopped down beside him and took a long glug. The icy cold beer slid easily down her dry throat. ‘Ahhh, just what the doctor ordered.’

  ‘My bloody oath it is … beer always makes everything better.’ He smiled. ‘You going to open that letter, or what?’

  ‘Maybe later.’

  ‘Why not now?’

  ‘Because I don’t want to.’ She swallowed, trying to slow her quick, shallo
w breath. ‘Please, Zane, just let me open it in my own time.’

  ‘Okay, sorry, I thought you’d be dying to know what’s in it.’ Turning his gaze to the paddocks, he took a slow swig from his beer. ‘I know I am.’

  ‘Yeah, I get that, and so am I, but not right now.’ She tried to smile as she squared her shoulders.

  ‘Is there something in there you don’t want me to see?’ He smiled, but there was something in his voice she couldn’t quite read. Perhaps she was just too worked up.

  ‘What are you on about?’ She forced a shrug, feigning indifference but feeling as jittery as a colt. ‘I’m not in the right frame of mind right now to read Peter’s condescending bullshit, that’s all.’ She looked away. ‘I don’t want to give him the chance to ruin our first night together, with Riley.’

  ‘That’s a good way to think about it, I suppose.’ He regarded her thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know why, but I have a feeling you’re not telling me something.’

  ‘Please, Zane, lay off, would you?’ Bitter tears stung her eyes and she blinked quickly. ‘I just don’t want to read it right now, is that okay with you?’ She went to stand, to walk off and calm down, but his hand came to her arm, gently stopping her.

  ‘Righto, but it’s clearly rattled you.’ His gaze deepened with concern. ‘You know you can tell me anything, right?’

  ‘Zane, please, just back off and mind your own business,’ she snapped, instantly regretful. She had to recover somehow before there was no turning back. She couldn’t give him an opportunity to see the guilt in her eyes. Not yet, not here, not now.

  He held up his hands in surrender. ‘Okay, all right, I’m sorry.’

  ‘I’m sorry too.’ She bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. ‘I’m just super tired and super grumpy.’

  Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her into him. ‘Truce.’

  She nodded against his shoulder. ‘Truce.’