Her Outback Cowboy (Prickle Creek) Read online

  “What about our heritage, the family, and”—Jemima bumped her shoulder—“the gorgeous Garth?”

  Heat rose into Lucy’s face and she walked away and opened the fridge.

  “Garth?” She stalled for time as a little skitter ran down her spine. What is wrong with me? “We’re just friends. And he’s going to do a photo shoot for me for my campaign. Oh damn, in all the talking I forgot to tee it up with Sebastian. Remind me when they come back in for lunch.”

  “We’ll see,” Jemima said with a grin. “You didn’t see the way your ‘just friend’ looked at you yesterday.” She put her finger to her chin. “And I seem to remember hearing about an encounter or two by the dam—”

  “That was when we were kids!”

  “Kids? You were eighteen, and as I remember it, you were in lurve.”

  Lucy elbowed Jemmy and grinned as she put the butter in the esky. She was saved from further teasing when the screen door opened.

  Tommy Robinson pushed open the door and fell back against it in a dramatic pose with his hand on his chest. “Be still my beating heart. Now there’s two of them!”

  “Come in, Tommy,” Lucy said. “This is my cousin, Jemima.”

  She smiled. It was Jemima’s turn to blush as Tommy took her hand and bowed before kissing her fingers.

  “Love coming over to the kitchen these days,” he said with a cheeky grin.

  “I thought the harvesting was almost over,” Lucy said with a frown. Not that she minded. If she was in the kitchen, she didn’t have to work outside.

  “Another three days will see us out.” Tommy picked up the boxes, and with a final appreciative grin shot Jemima’s way, he headed back to his ute.

  Jemima glanced at Lucy as he drove away. “I can stay that long and then I’ll head back to Sydney and organize my life. I feel so bad that we live so close and didn’t see each other. What happened to us all, Luce?” Jemima looked out at the paddocks with a sigh.

  “Tragedy that not many families go through on that scale, I guess. We knew if we got together we’d have to remember it.”

  “You know what? I’m going to saddle up and follow them down the back. Want to come for a ride?” Jemima pulled her loose hair back into a ponytail.

  Lucy shook her head. “No thanks! I’ll tidy up here and do some more work on my proposal. Can you tell Seb I’ve lined him up for this afternoon, in case I’m not here when they come in?”

  “Will do.”

  Lucy stood and watched as Jemima headed for the horse paddock, her back straight and her walk graceful. Lucy felt like a misfit when they talked about cattle, and feed, and weights, but never more so than now as she watched Jemima stride confidently to the horses.

  Lucy spent the afternoon on her laptop, trying to Skype with the office. The connection kept dropping out, and in the end she called Caleb on the landline and he gave her verbal approval to start the campaign she proposed.

  “Flick me an email with the outline and send me some of the photos you get this afternoon, and I’ll have a look. But Lucy, the concept sounds great. Go for it!”

  At four thirty, she looked anxiously at the clock; there was no sign of Gran and her three cousins. Luckily, the food for pick-up had been prepared and all she had to do was pack it and wait for Tommy to collect it when he brought the lunch baskets back in. She smiled as he looked around for Jemima.

  “Sorry, Tommy. Only me this time.”

  Lucy took a quick shower and deliberated over what she would wear before pulling herself up with a good talking-to. In the city, she’d wear cargos and a T-shirt, so that would do here. The lipstick she put on was purely to stop her lips getting burned by the late-afternoon sun.

  It was.

  She grabbed a bottle of water and her hat, and then scribbled a note for Seb, reminding him to come down to the dam and bring his camera as soon as he could. The cattle crush was quiet and empty when she walked past, but a sudden memory of her mum sitting on the top rail as the cattle ran through the gate made her catch her breath. Lucy took out the memory and let it roll around in her thoughts. Back in those days, she had loved to help when Mum and Dad came out from town when the cattle work was full-on.

  Move ’em, move ’em along, Paul. The beasts were noisy, and it had been hot and dusty work. Mum used to perch up on the rail, her blue-checked flannel shirt flapping in the cool winter wind as Dad would push the cattle along in the crush. It had been Lucy’s job to raise the gate and let them out one by one after Mum lifted the drench gun and moved to the next beast. In primary school, she’d felt important, and by the time she’d got to high school, she was allowed to write down the numbers as Pop weighed the cattle so the animals got the right dose of Cydectin. God, she even remembered the name of the drench for parasites. What else was buried in her brain?

  She shook her head and stared at the cattle crush. The only noise today was the chain rattling on the gate as the hot westerly blew in. If she was honest, it was only after Mum had died that she associated Prickle Creek Farm with all the bad memories. Before then, the dust and the flies, the heat and the prickles, had just been a part of life.

  Her thoughts were pensive as she walked to the back dam.

  Chapter Eleven

  Garth watched as Lucy strolled along the edge of the dam wall towards him, her head down. He’d come down early and put out some yabbie nets, remembering how much Lucy used to love to fish for the muddy crustaceans. Years ago, he’d stood behind her, holding the string, showing her how to feel the tug and pull the suckers in from the muddy water. She’d been so excited when they’d pulled the nets in. Garth had been more excited by the press of her soft curves against his chest.

  Back in those happy days, it hadn’t taken much to make her smile. These days she seemed preoccupied. The only time her face lit up was when she was talking about her work. Her job was in Sydney, six hundred kilometres and a seven-hour drive away. He frowned—even though he’d only spent a small amount of time with her, the thought of Lucy leaving Prickle Creek Farm again was not one he was very keen on.

  Maybe he’d spend a bit of time in the big smoke when he got the farm sorted. Keep in touch, go down and visit.

  Yeah, and pigs might fly.

  There was no future there. He wanted to stay on the farm and get married. Raise a family. Start his own dynasty. There was nothing to be gained by going to the city. Lucy and he wanted different things from life now. He had to remember that, and not live on the old memories. No matter how much he loved the sexy sway of her hips.

  Even though the work was hard, Garth knew he’d made the right choice. Six days between Christmas and New Year each year was the only time his parents had ever left the farm for the annual family holiday up to Mooloolaba on the Sunshine Coast. When he’d taken over six months ago, in the excitement of being a landholder, he’d forgotten the long, hard slog and the daily grind of running a five-thousand-acre property. But up until this week, spending all his time on the farm and not being able to get away much hadn’t bothered him. He loved his farm, and he loved living in the Pilliga Scrub. Hell, he wasn’t even going to take the traditional break when the next summer holidays came around, even though Dad had offered to come home and give him a spell. He didn’t need one, and he didn’t want one. Maybe in a couple more years when he was settled.

  “Hey, Garth.” Lucy called down from the top of the levee bank at the edge of the dam.

  “Hey, Lucy-Lou.” Garth put down the string he was holding and placed a small rock on it to keep it secure.

  “I didn’t think you’d be here already,” she said with a hand up to her eyes. The sun was setting and the golden shafts of light reflecting off the dam were bright.

  “Came down and parked in the shade a while back.” He nodded to the small stand of trees where he’d parked the ute. “And then I came down to the water to set some nets.” His eyes ran over her lush curves moulded by a snug pink T-shirt. Her lips were a shiny pink, the same colour as her shirt. “I remembered how
much you enjoyed yabbie fishing.”

  “Eww, I forgot about the yabbies in the dam when I swam the other day. No more swimming in that one!”

  Garth laughed at the look of horror on her face. “Come on, they don’t bite. Where’s my country girl gone?”

  Lucy held his gaze, and a strange shimmer ran though him. It was more than desire; it was a strong need to get to know her again, to make her smile, and take away those shadows from beneath her eyes. He shook himself mentally and looked past her. There was no point in following that line of thought. “Where’s your photographer?”

  Lucy put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. “My fault. They all went out on horseback to check the cattle at the back of the property, and I forgot to ask him. They didn’t even come in for lunch. But I left him a note to come out here when they get back.”

  Garth kept his eyes on her face, ignoring the clingy T-shirt. “So while we wait for him, we have time to catch some yabbies.”

  He reached up and held out his hand to Lucy at the top of the bank. She grabbed his outstretched fingers, and as she stepped down her boots sank into the soft side of the dam wall, and the red dust caved in to reveal a network of small holes.

  “Good sign. The yabbies have been burrowing in the bank, so there must be a few in the water.”

  Lucy followed him over to the water’s edge, and Garth glanced across at her. “Want to pull the first one in?”

  Her nod was enthusiastic, and he watched as she gently picked up the rock and tugged at the string.

  “Feels heavy.” A delighted squeal left her lips as she pulled the string and the first net cleared the water. “Oh, look. Five beauties.”

  “Dinner.” Garth gestured to the ute before he bent and lifted the huge crustaceans out by the back of their shell. He was wary of those huge nippers. He’d had them latch onto him more than once, and it wasn’t pretty. “I threw in a pot and a rack and some rock salt on the off-chance we caught some.”

  Lucy’s smile sent another ripple of need running through him. “What about your special sauce?”

  “You remember?” He looked at her quizzically as he dropped the yabbies into the bucket and snapped the lid on.

  “How could I forget such a gourmet delight?” She tilted her head to the side, and he watched as she ran the tip of her tongue over full pink lips. “Equal parts tomato sauce and condensed-milk mayonnaise, if I remember correctly. Right?”

  He held his fingers to his lips in an Italian gesture. “Spot on, food of the gods.”

  “I used to think about you and that sauce whenever I went to the flash seafood restaurants in the city. Always made me smile.”

  “Nice to know you were thinking of me, Luce.” He wiped his wet hands on his jeans and reached up and cupped her face in his palm. “I thought of you, too. Often.” He held her gaze steadily, and the soft evening light deepened the mauve shadows beneath her eyes. An unfamiliar surge of protectiveness ran through him. “Wondered where you’d got to and what you were up to. And I’m proud of you, now you’re a mover and shaker in the world of advertising. I thought you might go into the music business. I remembered how much you used to love country and western music. Or has that changed now you’re a city dweller?”

  She grinned at him. “No way would I give up my music. I haven’t missed the Country Music Festival at Tamworth for the past three years.”

  “Oh, you lucky gal. That’s still on my bucket list.”

  Lucy leaned over and bumped his shoulder with hers. “And guess who signed my T-shirt last year.”

  “Who?” Garth smiled back; her eyes were dancing with excitement.

  Lucy’s voice was sweet as she sang, “But how’s a country girl gonna play, when her working day is over?”

  “No shit?”

  Lucy nodded.

  “For real? You met Lee Kernaghan?” Garth was impressed. “You’re a city girl and you still sing C&W?”

  “I did, I am, and I have the T-shirt to prove it,” she said with a grin, and turned as the sound of an engine came over the levee bank.

  “So how about tonight? Wanna come over later?” He tried to keep the neediness out of his voice. Sheesh, what is wrong with me? “It would be nice to have some company.”

  “I’ll let you know later, okay?”

  Garth ignored the disappointment shooting through him.

  “Did you ever start the great Australian novel you always said you’d write one day? You were always such a fabulous storyteller at high school.” He watched as she pulled the string again. Another successful haul, and she smiled.

  “So the book?” he pressed.

  Lucy shook her head but didn’t answer his question. She pointed up the hill. “Oh good, here’s Seb now. And the light is just about perfect.”

  Garth walked thoughtfully behind her as she clambered up the bank in front of him. He’d been leading too much of a lonely life over the past six months. Combine that with the memory of Lucy lying next to him as they’d spent the afternoons discovering each other on a picnic rug at this very dam; it was no wonder she interested him so much now. That’s all it was; he’d get over it when she went back to the city.

  He’d have to.

  …

  Lucy had put aside the novel she’d written in the months following Mum’s death. She didn’t want to think about it, and she certainly didn’t want to talk about it. Reading her words had frightened her; her vulnerabilities and her deepest desires had been exposed in the story that had poured from her and filled the void that grieving had left. She’d put too much of herself into her story. Never for public consumption, not if she wanted to be seen as a confident twenty-four-year-old.

  But Garth’s words had left lingering warmth in her chest. Not only had he thought about her, he sounded genuinely pleased that she was making a success of her career, and he’d remembered her writing dream. With any luck, his willingness to be a part of this campaign would contribute to her career success and she would be well on the way to shaking up the advertising business.

  Funny how things came around, wasn’t it? Life was strange.

  Back here in the Pilliga Scrub and the opportunity she’d sought for so long in Sydney was right here in front of her.

  And looking mighty fine, too. Mighty fine.

  The sun was hovering above the horizon and the bank of clouds in the western sky was a deep pink. Seb jumped out of Pop’s ute and slung a camera around his neck before sauntering over.

  “Not such a bad idea, Lucy. Best light ever out here.” He held out his hand to Garth and shook it firmly as he greeted him. “Didn’t get much of a chance to say hello the other day, Garth. How’s things over at the Mackenzie farm?”

  Lucy lifted her head and watched, surprised as Sebastian and Garth chatted about cattle prices. Her eyes narrowed as Seb’s voice rose enthusiastically when Garth told him about the rise in prices on the radio at midday.

  “Missed that,” he said with a sidelong glance at Lucy. “We were out on the horses. Ended up mustering the back paddock.”

  She stared at him and shook her head with a grin. “Who is this man?” Her grin turned into a chuckle. “Aliens have taken my cousin, the photographer. Can you take photos, too?”

  Sebastian pulled a face at her. He wore a pair of old work trousers and a khaki shirt. The only hint of the metrosexual from the city was the man bun that Lucy knew was tucked beneath the battered Akubra. He’d even taken the diamond stud out of his ear before he’d arrived at the farm. No need to give Gran ammunition for another blue, he’d said.

  “He’s here and he’s ready to get to work.” Seb held his camera up. “Let’s go, if you want to catch this light.”

  Lucy enjoyed the next hour. Positioning Garth against a tree trunk, with the light filtering though the dry leaves behind him, meant she had to run her hands down his muscled arms. Removing his hat, running her fingers along his jaw, and tilting his head and mussing his hair sent the butterflies down her thighs. She swallowed an
d focused on being professional.

  Seb clicked away as Lucy instructed Garth where to put his hands.

  “And stop smiling.” She stepped back and put her hands on her hips and regarded those sexy lips set in a smile. “I want you to look rugged, yet mysterious. It will be a real contrast to the sexiness of the underwear.”

  “Sorry, I can’t help it. Never thought I’d find myself in this position.” The quiet confidence in his voice as Garth tried to compose his face into a serious expression put paid to any of her thoughts that he might be embarrassed. He was more professional than most of the models they worked with in the city, and as Lucy lifted a hand up to Garth’s hair again, Seb winked at her.

  “If cattle and wheat prices go down, he can come to work as a model in the city. What do you reckon, Luce?”

  She caught Garth’s eyes on her, smiled up at him, and nodded. “Sure could.” Reaching over to adjust the sleeves of his T-shirt, she pushed them up a little so that the curve of his biceps caught the light. Her fingers lingered over his warm skin, smooth and tanned beneath her touch.

  As she reached across, he leaned down and his breath whispered against her ear. “I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

  Heat rushed up her neck at the same time goose bumps rose where his breath had lifted her hair away from her neck.

  She was, and it had nothing to do with the advertising campaign she should be focusing on. Her voice was prim as she hid her response. “Enjoying what?” she said with a little shrug. “This is what I do every day.”

  Seb chuckled, but the look he shot her was intense. “You wish, Luce.”

  Garth leaned against the tree with a smile, just looking bloody beautiful.

  “Light’s gone.” Seb put his camera down. “Great work, guys. How are you going to get the shots to the agency, Luce?” They’d despaired of the dodgy internet connection when Seb had tried to download some files this morning.