by Karly Lane
It was good to be home. For a moment Linc was filled with a calmness he hadn’t felt in a long while. Then his happiness began to waver. How long would it last?
Two
Cash Sullivan locked the door after her last client of the day and hurried to clean everything up. Stripping the sheets off the bed, she bundled them up in her arms to dump into the washing machine on her way back up to the main house. It was hard to believe she’d been here for three weeks already.
The offer to take over her best friend’s day spa while she went on an extended visit to the UK had been too good to refuse. Besides, it couldn’t have come at a better time for Cash. She’d just got out of another doomed relationship and had been eager for a change of scenery.
Rankins Springs wasn’t exactly the kind of place she would have chosen, though. It was a small, sleepy town in the middle of nowhere—not a place you’d immediately think of when opening a day spa, but Savannah was booked solid most days.
Naively, Cash had thought the pace out here would bore her to tears, but in fact she’d never worked this hard in any salon before, and that included the resort island she’d been working on up in the Whitsundays.
Cash stepped outside onto the gravel path that led from the Bali hut Savannah’s husband, George, had built for her. The gentle, hollow sound of large bamboo wind chimes floated through the air, accompanied by the soothing sound of trickling water coming from the Balinese water feature.
It was hard to believe that only a few metres away was a quaint little farmhouse hidden from the hut by a thick wall of bamboo planted to give the salon privacy from the rest of the farm.
Cash had been blown away by the whole place when she’d first arrived. The Sacred Spirit Day Spa was more suited to a luxury resort in some exotic tourist destination than a small community the size of Rankins Springs. Savannah never did anything by halves, though, and when she married her farmer she refused to give up her passion for the beauty industry just because she was following her heart from Bali to rural Australia. She set about bringing beauty therapy to the country, and now she had people travelling hours for spa treatments.
It was a little over a month until Christmas and already the silly season had started. It was a relief to walk inside the farmhouse and take out the chilled can of beer she’d been thinking about all day.
She glanced at her mobile on the benchtop and knew immediately who the missed calls and text messages were from: Dale Monstrato. An image of him lying naked in bed with the receptionist from the gym where he spent his every waking moment flashed through her mind, and she deleted the messages without bothering to read them. ‘Idiot,’ she muttered darkly, not entirely sure if she were referring to Dale or herself.
At first he’d seemed perfect; his exotic good looks and devil-may-care attitude had all the hallmarks of a Cash Sullivan kind of guy. He’d travelled extensively and they’d been to many of the same places, so they hit it off instantly. But then, after a few months, it lost its shine. The things she’d found attractive began to irritate her. His travel stories began to grow repetitive, his devotion to his workout and diet routine drove her nuts, and that sexy, rebellious streak that had been a turn-on at first lost its appeal when it translated to ‘I do whatever the hell I want to do’.
Sometimes she imagined that she chose these types of men on purpose, knowing they were shallow and self-absorbed. Maybe because she knew they’d be easier to leave. She always left. Even when she thought that this time she’d stay and make a go of it, she never did. When it came to the crunch, when things began to look like they might get serious, she would start to panic. It was almost like claustrophobia. She’d start to imagine a life in one place and her feet would get itchy. Moving kept her free. It gave her independence. Whenever she got tired of a place she just packed up her few belongings and left. She liked not being tied down to anyone or anything. At least she had liked her life that way. Until lately.
Savannah had never weighed in on Cash’s love life in all their years of friendship. She took the ‘live and let live’ motto seriously, but when Cash had told her about Dale, instead of the expected ‘plenty more fish in the sea’, Savannah had given her a stern lecture. A lecture.
‘How long are you going to continue down this path, Cash?’ Savannah demanded. ‘Do you seriously want to end up a lonely old woman?’
‘Hey!’ That was uncalled for. ‘Go easy on the old.’
‘I’m serious, Cash. You’re so determined not to become your mother that you’ve lost all sight of what’s normal.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with my mother,’ Cash said stiffly.
‘It’s got everything to do with her, Cash,’ Savannah said, her voice softening slightly. ‘You don’t want a relationship because you think it’ll just end up the same as your parents.’
‘Do you blame me? You know how bad it was.’
‘And if you keep choosing these men—the ones with no substance, the guys who you know aren’t worth the time of day—then you’ll be right, you’ll have a terrible relationship just like your parents.’
‘What the hell, Sav?’
‘That’s what you’re doing, Cash,’ Savannah said, not giving an inch. ‘You’re choosing men you know aren’t ever going to settle down. You’re deliberately sabotaging any chance for a normal relationship.’
‘Oh, please!’ Cash rolled her eyes on the other end of the phone. That was so dumb …
‘You have to stop, Cash. It worries me to see you lonely.’
It had taken a few days for Cash to get over her hurt and call her old friend back to accept the job. However, her words had hit their mark. She did need to make better choices; she was twenty-eight and where had she got in life? She’d travelled all over the world, sure, but she had no meaningful relationship with anyone except Savannah, and she hadn’t stayed in one place for more than twelve months. Meeting new people, seeing new places, all of it had been exciting and fun, but lately it had begun to lose its appeal.
A faint noise outside drew her attention and she smiled a little as she changed out of her smock and work pants and into a loose cotton dress, pulling out the ponytail she’d worn for work, allowing her long, chocolate-coloured locks to fall down past her shoulders.
Her bare legs felt cooler out of her work uniform, and she caught the flash of colour from the intricate tattoo on her foot that wound its way up around her ankle. She spent much of her day covered up. In the beauty industry it was important to present a serene, almost clinical image to clients. Her tattoos were barely visible when she wore work clothing. The majority of her clients wouldn’t even be aware she had them. They were not something she flaunted—they weren’t for show, they were for her. She wasn’t ashamed, she just didn’t need to impress anyone with them. The ones on her back were usually hidden, but she had one quote that wrapped around from her shoulder to her upper arm, and another on the inside of the other forearm, which were more visible. She knew she stood out like a sore thumb around here, but she was relieved to find most people were welcoming and friendly.
She took a cold beer from the fridge then headed out onto the front verandah. The front of the house couldn’t have been more different to the back. Where the rear of the house was an oasis of tropical plants and water features, the front was a quaint cottage garden, complete with white picket fence and a cobbled pathway—the advantage of having a landscaper as a husband. Savannah’s excuse for the two strikingly different areas was that she spent all day surrounded by serenity. After work and on weekends she liked to unwind in a different environment. There were days when Cash had to agree there was such a thing as too much serenity.
The sound she’d heard earlier grew louder and she looked across at the paddock that bordered her friend’s place. The Callahans owned one of the largest properties in the district and it was very much a working concern.
The tractor came into sight a few minutes later and rolled towards the fence, coming to a stop. The silence that followed was
almost deafening. This was nothing like the old rusted tractor George had parked out in his wonky timber shed. This was a monstrosity of a machine, Kermit-green, and it screamed ‘serious farmer’ like nothing else could.
She watched the graceful ease with which the driver hoisted himself over the fence. Her gaze swept across the denim jeans and long-sleeved checked shirt, taking in the masculine physique beneath.
Griffin Callahan was easy on the eye, that was for sure. He took off his hat as he approached and Cash noticed he’d had a haircut since the last time she’d seen him. His caramel hair had been trimmed on the sides and kept slightly longer on top. He’d even shaved. He looked clean-cut, handsome and respectable.
‘Hey,’ he said, stopping at the bottom step and looking up at her.
‘Hey,’ she replied, smiling. ‘You must have been reading my mind,’ she said and saw his eyes widen slightly in surprise. ‘It’s beer o’clock,’ she elaborated, holding up the can. ‘Want one?’
‘Oh. Right,’ he said, clearing his throat a little. ‘Yeah, sure. That’d be great.’
‘Take a seat. I’ll be right back,’ Cash said over her shoulder as she headed inside to grab another can from the fridge. As she went to shut the door, she hesitated before taking out the container of dip and cheese and snagging a box of crackers. Why not? It was Friday, after all.
‘Wow, looks like a feast,’ Griff said, jumping to his feet to hold open the screen door for her.
‘Thanks,’ she smiled, placing the goodies down on the small table and taking a seat. She was getting used to Griff dropping by. Over the last few weeks he’d been stopping in most afternoons. The last few times he’d arrived with presents from his mother, who was a client of Savannah’s, and a woman Cash liked a lot, even though they were about as different as two women could possibly be. Lavinia Callahan looked like she’d stepped from the pages of a stylish country-living magazine. Her hair and makeup were always impeccable, but natural and not over the top. Her nails were well maintained but short and practical. Cash knew Savannah adored her neighbour, who’d become a mother figure to her friend, and had been integral in the day spa’s success, thanks to her mind-boggling network of contacts around the area. After meeting her, Cash understood her friend’s affection. Lavinia Callahan was warm, friendly and had a natural way of mothering people, something Cash had had limited exposure to in her life. Lavinia was always sending little care packages that she brushed off as nothing: a carton of eggs, or containers of lasagne or casserole she’d accidently made too much of and would send over with Griffin. Cash suspected this was Lavinia’s way of making sure she was eating. It was strange having someone do these little acts of kindness for her. Cash had to admit, she’d grown fond of the gesture.
‘Well, you’re always bringing me things,’ Cash said to Griffin. ‘The least I can do is offer you a drink.’
‘I’ve been thinking about a beer all day,’ he said, making her smile at his comment as he opened the can and took a long swallow.
Cash tried not to stare as the tanned neck tipped back. It was a nice neck, thick like a football player’s, as were his shoulders. Cash gave the man a covert glance, trying to work out why she didn’t get that little lurch of attraction. There was a definite kindling, a bit of a flicker—he was a good-looking guy; hell, he was very good-looking—but, she thought sadly, despite his good looks, he was nice. He was well-mannered and clean cut. This is the kind of guy you need. She heard Savannah’s voice in her head and resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
‘How was your day?’ he asked, and Cash realised that while she’d been busy chiding herself, silence had fallen between them.
‘It was good. Busy,’ she added quickly. ‘How was yours?’
‘Same,’ he said, then dropped her gaze and stared down at the can cradled in his hands.
‘How’s your mum?’ she asked brightly and hoped it didn’t sound as forced as it felt.
‘Yeah, good.’
Alrighty then. This was going swimmingly. ‘I had a booking for your sister and her bridesmaids today. She must be getting excited?’
‘Hadley? Yeah. If it goes ahead this time,’ he added dryly.
‘Why? Did something happen before?’
‘They’ve postponed it twice already. Apparently it’s one of the drawbacks of marrying a celebrity TV journalist—if a big story breaks, they have to drop everything, including their wedding.’
‘Wow, that’s a bit …’ She wasn’t sure what it was. ‘Frustrating,’ she said, coming up with a polite enough word. Why would they even bother getting married if either of them could ditch their wedding for a story? Didn’t bode well for their commitment. Then again, with her relationship track record who was she to judge? ‘Your sister must be very understanding,’ Cash said doubtfully.
‘She’s as bad as he is. The first postponement was his, the second time was hers.’
‘Huh,’ Cash mused thoughtfully as she sat back in her chair. It didn’t sound like a great foundation for a marriage. Not that she had any kind of experience of what made a strong marriage. Her role models hadn’t exactly been the happy family types.
She gave a mental shrug. Not my circus, not my monkeys.
Her eyes followed Griff’s tanned forearm as he reached across and took a cracker from the plate. There was nothing wrong with this guy—and yet something didn’t feel right. They didn’t click in a way that made her go all gooey inside. She knew from a combination of Savannah’s lectures and a little bit of experience, that less gooeyness and more clean-cut dependable was needed if she wanted a lasting relationship. But while Cash found Griff’s polite, quiet ways a pleasant change from the ego-driven men she usually dated, she was finding it increasingly difficult to get the guy to open up. He seemed quite happy to let her talk about herself, to tell stories of her travels, without feeling the need to reciprocate.
‘I was wondering—’
The phone interrupted Griff’s question, and Cash paused, waiting for him to finish.
‘Go answer it. It’s okay,’ he said, pushing to his feet. ‘It wasn’t important.’
‘You don’t have to go,’ Cash said as he turned to leave.
‘I’ve got to get back to it anyway. See you around, Cash. Thanks for the beer.’
Cash grabbed the phone, looking over her shoulder through the screen door as she followed Griff’s departure with a frown. ‘Hello?’
‘Were you in the middle of something? I was just about to hang up.’ Cash couldn’t help but grin at the sound of Savannah’s voice.
‘Is it just me, or are you sounding more and more English every time I talk to you?’
‘It’s just you,’ Savannah said in a dry tone. ‘Everyone here keeps asking me to say weird words like “crikey” and “bonza”. Apparently I sound Australian enough to them.’
‘No, there’s a distinct upper-class English pronunciation thing happening with you. I’m sure of it.’
‘You didn’t tell me why it took you so long to get to the phone. Did I interrupt something hot and heavy with Farmer McHottie?’ Ever since Cash had mentioned Griffin’s visits, Savannah had been having a field day with helpful advice on how to snag him.
‘As a matter of fact, you did.’
‘Really?’ Savannah yelped on the other end of the line.
‘Okay, maybe not the hot and heavy bit. But Griffin was here briefly.’
‘That boy’s got it bad. Can’t say he ever parked his tractor in my paddock before.’
‘I should hope not. You being a happily married woman and all.’
‘If Griffin Callahan offered to plough my pasture …’
‘Savannah!’
‘What? I’m married, not dead.’
‘Was there a point to this call? Or are you just homesick?’
‘No point. I was up and thought I’d call.’
‘All good. No dramas. The Callahan wedding party is all booked in.’
‘I’m so grateful you were able to take over for me.
I swear if I’d had to pass on this wedding, I’d never have lived it down.’
‘Well, it wouldn’t have been your fault. You and George had this trip booked for months,’ Cash said calmly. That was the main reason Savannah had practically begged her to come out and keep the spa open. Hadley Callahan’s wedding.
‘I just hope there isn’t another last-minute cancellation like last time. Anyway, best go.’
‘Best go!’ Cash mimicked in a chirpy English accent.
She chuckled as her friend muttered a few less than savoury comments before hanging up. Cash turned back to look out through the screen door as she listened to the sound of the tractor fading into the distance.
She hadn’t actually considered actively searching for Mr Right, but when Griffin Callahan had turned up on her doorstep, it had almost seemed as though fate was throwing her a bone. Or maybe—and much more likely—this had been Savannah’s plan all along. Put her in a place where the only single man for miles around was decent and wholesome and she was bound to fall for him sooner or later.
Well, that was ridiculous. You didn’t just change the type of person you were attracted to like you changed your brand of shampoo. But the more she encountered Griffin, the more she began to reconsider her stance on the subject. Maybe she should give it a try? If for no reason other than to prove to Savannah she was wrong.
But she hadn’t expected it to become so confusing. She was sure Griff liked her, and yet he hadn’t made a single move. Was she reading the signs wrong? Maybe she was losing her touch.
She sighed as she collected the cans and headed into the kitchen. Maybe Savannah didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.
Three
Lincoln heard the screen door thump shut and looked up as his brother walked out onto the verandah.
‘You’re a bit early for the wedding, aren’t ya?’ Griffin said after the briefest moment of surprise, eyeing him with a curious tilt of his eyebrows.
‘Figured I better get out here while I had a chance, in case they called it off again,’ Linc drawled.