Under Christmas Stars

by Alissa Callen

  A woman who wore a pair of grey pyjamas that were little more than shorts and a singlet top. A woman whose long red hair fell down her back to the sweet curve of her waist. A woman who was so beautiful it made his chest ache.

  He went to back away but the slight movement had her swinging around, eyes wide. Her hand splayed across her chest. ‘You startled me. I thought you’d gone to bed.’

  ‘Sorry.’ He hesitated before continuing into the room. ‘I’ve just finished in the shed.’

  From the front, Freya was all full curves and large eyes, with a mass of tousled hair. The thin straps of her top showcased the delicate jut of her collarbones and the flawless sweep of her porcelain skin. He fixed his attention on the ladder he’d brought over earlier and not on the way her top dipped low at the front.

  ‘I’m guessing the ladder came in handy?’

  Even to his own ears his voice emerged husky.

  ‘It has.’ Freya hid a yawn. ‘I did go to bed but then got up to open one more box. I’ll put on the Christmas angel and call it a night.’

  He nodded, studying the tree that was decorated in a white and silver theme. Whenever he glanced at Freya, he had trouble keeping his gaze away from her mouth.

  Without looking at him, she took hold of the angel dressed in a fake fur-trimmed robe and scooted up the ladder. As Freya stretched to reach the tree, her top lifted to reveal the smooth skin of her lower back. She sighed. ‘It’s times like this I wish I wasn’t so vertically challenged.’

  He stepped forward to anchor his left hand on the ladder. ‘I can put the angel on?’

  ‘No, it’s fine.’ Determination firmed Freya’s lips. ‘It’s almost in place.’

  As she spoke her fingers slipped and the angel tilted. She grabbed for the top of the ladder as her balance wavered.

  Without thought Drew placed his right hand on her hip to steady her. Instead of the thin cotton of her singlet, his fingers encountered satin-soft flesh.

  ‘Thanks.’ Her cheeks flushed. ‘I’m not going to bed until this is on.’

  Drew only nodded. Beneath one palm he felt the cold, hard steel of the ladder. Beneath his other hand, he could feel Freya’s soft warmth and the way her fine muscles rippled as she stretched even further.

  She spoke through gritted teeth. ‘Is now a good time to admit I do have some obsessive tendencies, like finishing what I start?’

  Despite the tightness of his jaw, he smiled. ‘I’d never have guessed.’

  As the angel slipped into place, he released the breath he’d been holding. Freya moved down a step and when he was sure she was stable, he removed his hand. Cool air replaced the heat of her skin. He folded his arms to prove to his testosterone he wasn’t touching her again, even if mistletoe hung beside them.

  She stopped on the step that allowed her eyes to be level with his. In the grey-blue depths he saw a smile as well as an indefinable emotion. Colour continued to paint her cheeks.

  ‘That was close. If I’d fallen I could have ended up in the emergency department. I’d prefer Dr Fliss didn’t know ladders and I aren’t always compatible.’

  ‘So you’ve almost come off second best before?’

  Smile sheepish, she moved down another two steps. ‘A time or three. I blame my father for my sometimes single-mindedness. There’s a reason why he’s on his own at Christmas in Salzburg embracing his Mozart obsession. Just like why my doctoral thesis was on the social assimilation of high-functioning Asperger’s children in the mainstream classroom. My sister and I might have inherited our mother’s red hair but there’s still a little of our father in us.’

  ‘Which is understandable. I inherited my dad’s workaholic gene. So you’re Dr Freya?’

  ‘Yes.’ She descended the last step and the tension locking his shoulders eased when her mouth moved out of kissing distance. ‘But no one knows. I’m also a little obsessive about just being seen as Miss George. My hair colour already draws enough attention and I’d prefer not to be singled out.’

  ‘Your secret’s safe with me.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She stifled another yawn. ‘That’s why I told you. Now I’d better get to bed.’

  She made no move to leave. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and when her eyes again met his, he knew what the emotion was that he’d seen earlier. Uncertainty. Vulnerability.

  He wasn’t the only one experiencing the intensity of their connection or feeling out of their depth. He reached out to cup her jaw and to reassure her.

  ‘Yes, you had, Dr Freya. It’s bedtime for you, you’re almost asleep on your feet.’ His thumb brushed the petal-softness of her cheek before he lowered his hand. ‘Sleep tight. I’ll see you tomorrow for some more Christmas chaos.’

  She nodded, her gaze steady and her irises a clear grey.

  ‘Night.’

  He stayed where he was until he could no longer hear her footsteps, then he dragged his hands through his hair. He didn’t care about the cool night breeze that rippled across the pool, he needed a cold swim.

  Chapter Four

  The call of a too-cheerful kookaburra penetrated Freya’s deep sleep. It couldn’t be morning yet. She pushed the bedsheet away from her chin and, eyes closed, used her fingers to rake hair away from her face.

  Her exhaustion had nothing to do with staying up late to decorate the Christmas tree. Thoughts of Drew had stolen her sleep. Everything had changed. Last night there’d been a recognition that something sparked between them. There’d also been physical contact. She opened her heavy eyelids and frowned at the white ceiling.

  Drew touching her had been so much more than a physical connection. His firm, strong hold on her hip said he wouldn’t let her fall. The gentle, tender brush of his thumb across her cheek reassured her he wasn’t a man out to hurt her. And with two such simple messages, the armour had fallen away from around her heart.

  She was supposed to not trust a man again. She was supposed to be protecting herself from heartbreak. But when it came to Drew she was already heading down the smitten path. And she had to do a U-turn, both for herself and for him. Grief still held Drew tight within its grasp. What he needed this holiday season wasn’t complications, just friendship. He was already in the crosshairs of Edna’s matchmaking. So as much as Freya’s hormones disagreed, she’d do the sensible thing and make sure things remained platonic between them.

  She flipped the sheet off her legs and cold air rushed over her skin. The thermostat in the air-conditioner had switched the wall unit on. It was going to be another scorcher or she was awake later than usual. She grabbed a lightweight white robe that fitted in well with the dreamy guestroom. A white wrought-iron bed had been paired with a soft rose-pink wingback chair and curtains. She’d taken photos on her phone the night she’d arrived. One day she’d like a room just like this.

  The floorboards were cool beneath her bare feet. Usually when she went for breakfast she’d showered, dressed and her hair had been tamed. But after Drew seeing her in her pyjamas last night, there was no point maintaining her polished image.

  She stepped into the large kitchen and discovered the room empty. The aroma of fresh coffee and bacon and eggs confirmed she’d overslept. A note stuck to the fridge said there was bacon warming in the oven and asked if she’d like to go for a ride before the day heated up.

  She bit her lip. The rational choice was to stay inside and continue decorating. Her attention strayed to the rural view through the window above the sink. The green of the lawn gave way to rolling paddocks, framed by hills that backed onto a distant high ridge. A tree line meandered through the golden wheat stubble. Since she’d arrived she’d planned to take a walk to the river. In the still of dusk she often heard the calls of cockatoos and saw the glitter of white as they flew amongst the red river gums.

  She slipped on the bear-themed Christmas oven mitt that read Have a Beary Christmas. The need to feel the wind on her face trumped any need for self-preservation. It felt like a lifetime since she’d experienced the freedom
of being in the saddle. Charles had never understood her love of horses or her appreciation for all things country. She’d once taken him to the Royal Easter Show and he’d ended up at the bar with a university friend while she’d walked around the showground. She opened the oven door. She’d have a quick breakfast, shower and see Drew to accept his offer.

  After breakfast, dressed in jeans, boots and an emerald work shirt, she headed over to the shed. As she walked, she settled a broad-brimmed cream felt hat on her head. The practical hat had been the first thing she’d bought in Woodlea when she’d started her new life. The long-sleeved cotton green shirt the second. She’d plaited her hair and it slid over her shoulder as she bent to pat Bailey, who’d slid to a stop in front of her.

  ‘Morning, Mr Hypo.’

  The kelpie’s exuberant wiggles never failed to make her smile. After he’d had his normal morning pat, he dashed over to the shed. Freya followed, her steps slowing as she drew a calming breath. She was as bad as Bailey. The thought of seeing Drew made adrenaline zip through her.

  He looked up from where he stood working at a bench. For a moment his eyes remained grave and then he smiled. ‘I take it that it’s a yes for riding.’

  ‘Yes, please.’ She wasn’t sure but she thought a muscle worked in his jaw as his gaze swept over her. ‘If it’s not too late.’

  He wiped the grease from his hands with an oily rag. ‘It’s all good. If we get going now we’ll still beat the midday heat.’

  It wasn’t long before Drew had the horse gear loaded in the back of the farm ute and Freya had packed shortbread and water bottles for their saddle bags. As they drove into the paddock beyond the house yard, in the side mirror Freya could see Bailey’s happy grin as he rode on the trayback. The ute negotiated a ditch in the track and she grabbed the door handle as she was thrown about in her seat.

  Drew shot her a quick grin. ‘Sorry, grading the road again is on my after-harvest list.’

  ‘I can imagine there’s quite a few things on that list.’ Freya glanced over her shoulder to check Bailey remained on the ute. The kelpie wagged his brown tail. ‘Bailey doesn’t mind. He thinks this is more fun than a show ride.’

  Drew smiled and Freya snuck a sideways look. Apart from his seriousness when he saw her, he didn’t appear to treat her any differently after what had happened last night.

  ‘So where are we riding to?’

  ‘I need to check the cattle and instead of driving around them, I thought we could ride. The horses could do with the exercise. They’re starting to think they’re nothing but paddock ornaments. If it doesn’t get too hot we could also go down to the river.’

  ‘That sounds wonderful.’ She looked to where the track wound through a cluster of gum trees to a grazing paddock carpeted with thick, bleached grass. ‘Panda would love it here.’

  Drew chuckled. ‘That’s why he’s back at the house. He has a history of laminitis so it’s for his own good he’s in a smaller paddock, especially in spring when the grass has a high sugar content. Since he’s arrived, he’s slimmed down, lost his cresty neck and his feet haven’t given him any trouble. Ella’s pleased.’

  ‘I bet Hattie is too, she can ride him more.’

  ‘Exactly. The plan is for her to be confident enough to go on the mountain trail ride next year.’ Drew glanced at Freya. ‘I spoke to Hattie’s Aunt Cath and Hattie’s at Alice’s today so will come over tomorrow to help decorate the mailbox.’

  ‘Great. I’ll keep thinking about more things we can do.’

  Drew raised a dark brow. ‘More?’

  ‘Yes. I know we came up with a few ideas over dinner, and even though we’re not entering to win any prizes, our display has to be spectacular. Hattie doesn’t deserve anything less.’

  Drew nodded as they reached a double set of steel gates.

  ‘I’ll open them,’ she said, unclipping her seatbelt before he could lower his hand from the steering wheel to release his belt.

  She swung the left gate open and looked around for the horses. All she could see was a group of grey kangaroos dozing beneath the spreading canopy of a gum tree. She smiled and breathed in the scents of dust, warm earth and eucalyptus. Above her the sky stretched in a brilliant blue, while over in the tops of the distant river red gums white cockatoos gleamed. Bailey barked and wagged his tail as the ute drove by.

  Drew’s gaze lingered as she slid into the passenger seat, and she realised she was still smiling.

  ‘You look like you like it out here.’ His tone sounded quiet, deep.

  ‘I do. The colours are so vivid and the air’s so fresh. I might be a city girl but I’ve always had a country heart.’ She angled the air-conditioning vent a little more towards her. ‘Even if the heat makes me feel like a snowman about to melt.’

  As if she’d answered an unspoken question, Drew grinned before he parked the ute beneath a nearby box tree.

  He left the driver’s seat and his whistle sounded. Even before Freya had her door open, two brown shapes flashed to the left. Hooves pounded as the horses topped the rise and thundered over, their black manes and tails lifting in the wind.

  The bay mare slowed to a trot as she drew near, while the larger gelding bucked and flung his head high. Freya remained standing by the ute. It wasn’t fear that held her still as the gelding reached Drew, but Drew’s expression as the horse nuzzled his hands.

  Just like when he was around Hattie, the darkness in his eyes ebbed and the tension that chiselled grooves beside his mouth eased. Again Freya could see the open, warm-hearted man beneath his reserve. A man capable of feeling deep emotion. Freya swallowed and looked away. A man she was supposed to be insulating her heart against.

  * * *

  ‘How are you going with Liberty’s girth?’ Drew asked as he pulled Ace’s girth one hole tighter.

  He made sure he didn’t look across to where Freya was saddling the mare. When she’d entered the shed dressed in fitted jeans, boots and wearing her hat, his hard-won self-control had slipped. Last night, when her heavy hair had hung down her back and her pyjamas had revealed more than they hid, he’d been thrown. But seeing her as a country girl winded him far more than a kick from the wild steers Brett had bought to trade last spring. Today Freya looked right at home in his world.

  ‘All good now she’s not inflating like a party balloon.’

  Drew nodded. Freya had put on Liberty’s bridle and saddle with quick and efficient movements showing she more than knew her way around horses. She now led the stockhorse around one way and then the other to make sure the girth didn’t pinch.

  Chest tight, Drew walked Ace over to where Freya readied herself to mount Liberty. That Freya clearly enjoyed and had adapted to bush life didn’t bring him any relief. All it did was stir long-buried yearnings and dreams that had no place in his workaholic world. It was bad enough he’d indulged his restlessness by taking time off this morning to ride. Inglewood had to remain his sole focus.

  Freya held the stirrups up to measure them against her arm. Once their lengths had been adjusted, she gathered the reins in her left hand. She hesitated. Drew could understand why. Liberty was over fifteen hands high and Freya wasn’t particularly tall.

  ‘Here.’ He looped Ace’s reins over his neck. The placid gelding would stay where he was. ‘I’ll give you a leg up.’

  ‘Thanks. My flexible days are long gone. I don’t even think I could get my boot in the stirrup.’

  She bent her left leg as he closed the distance between them.

  ‘Okay.’ He placed a hand on her knee and another on her ankle. ‘After three. One … two … three.’

  Freya jumped at the same time he hoisted her upwards. She laughed as she almost flew over the other side of Liberty.

  Against the cloudless sky, Freya’s irises shone blue as she settled herself into the saddle and slid the toes of her boots into the stirrups. ‘I don’t think you’ll have any trouble moving those hay bales we need for the mailbox makeover.’

  ‘Th
at’s what the hay fork on the tractor is for.’ He chuckled as he swung into Ace’s saddle. When he was around Freya, the burden of his grief didn’t press quite so hard. ‘I have a feeling my back isn’t up to the challenge. I’m certain the amount of bales we need since we last spoke have doubled.’

  Freya just smiled.

  He led the way through the trees to a gate that would allow them to enter the cattle paddock. Liberty fell into step beside Ace. The relaxed way Freya held her reins and the curve of her mouth all communicated how happy she was to be back on a horse. She wasn’t the only one enjoying the ride. Bailey loped beside them, his ears pricked and amber eyes bright.

  Drew opened the single gate from Ace’s saddle and before long they rode around Inglewood’s prized breeding herd. He kept a close eye on the young kelpie but Bailey showed no sign of dashing after either a cow or a kangaroo.

  Drew studied the cattle around them. While mothers rested in the shade and chewed their cuds, calves hung together in small groups. All were doing well on the grazing oats crop.

  He glanced at Freya as she watched two calves play beneath a tree. Red dust lifted as the calves butted heads, the larger calf determined to push the younger calf backwards.

  ‘Your father might like Mozart, but my father and grandfather liked Red Angus cattle. Around here Black Angus cattle are more popular, but I confess I also have a soft spot for Red Angus.’

  ‘I like them too. Their colour looks … familiar.’ She dipped her head to where a lone cow grazed not far from the calves and appeared to be the designated babysitter. ‘I feel like I’m back at school and that poor cow is on playground duty.’

  Once they’d ridden around the paddock, Drew glanced at Freya to see how she was holding up. Despite the wide brim of her hat, her cheeks were pink from the strength of the sun.

  ‘We can either head back or keep going to the river.’