Christmas at Candlebark Farm (9 page)

The grin she sent him when she turned from the sink made him feel a million dollars.

‘Y
OU'RE
baking?'

Keira swung around from taking the last sheet of cookies from the oven, to find Luke silhouetted in the kitchen doorway, bringing with him the scent of the outdoors and a reminder of her own wayward desires. Her hand shook. She hastily set the tray down on a rack to cool, and wiped suddenly damp palms down the sides of her shorts. ‘I'm practising.'

‘I like the sound of that.'

Backlit by the sun she sensed rather than saw his grin. He and Jason had spent yesterday working in the fields, and ever since Luke had seemed to find it a whole lot easier to smile. Which was great, she told herself, a definite improvement. Even if those smiles were proving lethal to her pulse.

It would be a bigger improvement if she could forget about kissing him. But all it took was one glimpse of those broad shoulders and strong thighs and yearning would stretch through her, pulling her skin thin and tight across her bones—as it had when they'd sat on the floor together at that ridiculous time the other morning.

Dwelling on that, though, wouldn't help. You're a strong, independent woman, she reminded herself.

She waved a hand at the cooling cookies and tried to banish all thoughts of broad shoulders, strong thighs and kissing from her mind. ‘All the best mums bake.'

A chuckle emerged from the strong column of his throat.
Before her thoughts could go all wayward again she added, ‘I just know I have a speciality.'

‘Speciality?'

‘You know—something that will make my kid swoon whenever he or she smells it baking or sees it cooling on the kitchen table.' She gestured to the cookies. ‘Like choc-chip cookies or scones or pineapple upside-down cake or pikelets.'

‘Or lamingtons or lemon-meringue pie,' he supplied, that grin still stretching through his voice.

‘Exactly! So much baking, so little time. You can see why I have to start practising now.'

Christmas and cakes and birthday parties and bedtime stories—they were what childhood memories were made of. She might not be able to give her baby a father, but she was working on the baking and the bedtime stories. She'd bought a stack of children's books the other day in town, and when no one else was in the house she'd taken to reading them out loud. She wanted to get all those funny voices just right. Besides, her pregnancy books told her that her baby would hear her voice while it was in the womb, and would recognise it once it was born. The thought thrilled her.

She couldn't wait to hold her baby in her arms!

‘Oh, Luke.' She clasped her hands beneath her chin and recalled what he'd said about the first moment Jason had been laid in his arms. Magic—that was how he'd described it. ‘Wouldn't you just love to have another baby?'

‘No!'

His vehemence startled her. The choc-chip cookie goodness leached from the air, the wholesome baking scents dissipating in the face of Luke's stark denial. Her mouth went dry. Did he hate single parenthood so much?

She tried to erase the frown from her face, moderate her shock. He and Jason had sorted everything out, hadn't they?
Everything between them was good again, wasn't it? So why…?

He dragged a hand down his face. ‘I will never have more children.'

He said it with such quiet finality it made her blood run cold, and she wasn't even sure why. ‘Why not?'

His lips twisted, but not a spark of humour lit his eyes. ‘Let's just say that marriage and I are a poor pairing.'

There was nothing she could say in answer to that.

He pulled his hand away and shoved his shoulders back. ‘Is that what you have planned for the rest of the afternoon?' He gestured towards the oven, the table. ‘Baking?'

‘Um, no. It seems silly to bake more than we could eat.' She tried to shake off the sombre cloud that threatened to descend over her. How this man chose to live his life, the decisions he made, was none of her business. ‘Why?'

‘I've finished my work in record time today, and I've just dropped Jason off at his grandparents'…'

‘So?' She strove as hard as she could to be casual.

‘I wondered if you'd like to take a drive down to the river? I was going to make some sandwiches, grab a nectarine or four and a couple of cans of soda, and head on down there.'

A picnic? His thoughtfulness suddenly touched her. He wanted to make sure she rested up and ate well, didn't he? ‘That sounds lovely.' She held her arms out and turned on the spot. ‘Will I be okay to go as I am?'

She wore navy cargo shorts and a raspberry singlet top. Luke's eyes darkened as they travelled over her, and her insides expanded while her skin contracted, making her hot and cold all at once.

He glanced away at the same moment she did. ‘Do you have a long-sleeved shirt you could put on over that? You're very fair. You look as if you could burn up.'

Oh, she was burning up all right—but it had nothing to do with summer heat.

‘You'll need to wear a hat, and slap on plenty of sunscreen too.'

With that he turned and pulled a loaf of bread towards him, his shoulders stiff with tension. She gritted her teeth and reminded herself that kissing him was a seriously bad idea. Why was it that all her common sense flew out of the window whenever she so much as glanced in Luke's direction?

‘Friends,' she mumbled under her breath, retreating to her bedroom to find shoes and a shirt. ‘Friends,' she intoned, slathering on sunscreen. ‘Friends,' she whispered, standing in the hallway.

Pasting on a big smile, she breezed into the kitchen. ‘Have you made those sandwiches yet, Hillier?' She
could
do friends.

‘Packed and ready, Keely.'

He grinned, and predictably Keira's heart thump-thumped. She clapped her hands. ‘Well, let's get this picnic on the road.'

‘Hat?' he demanded.

‘Oh um… I keep forgetting to buy one.'

He rolled his eyes. He dropped one on her head as she walked past. ‘It's an old one of Jason's.'

She touched a hand to its brim and warmth billowed in her chest.
Friends,
she reminded herself.

 

‘Oh, Luke,' Keira breathed as he pulled the ute to a halt by a stand of gums.

‘Is this good enough for you, Keely?'

She heard the grin in his voice, but she didn't turn to grin back because somewhere between here and the homestead she'd come to the conclusion it would be a whole lot easier to do the friends thing if she kept her eyes firmly averted from broad shoulders and rich brown eyes.

Unfortunately she'd only gone on to notice how tanned and muscled his forearms were, how sure and strong his hands on
the steering wheel. So she'd decided it might be best to avert her gaze from them too.

She hadn't worked out how to prevent his voice from doing that mush thing to her insides yet, though. She supposed she could always stop her ears with her fingers if she didn't care what he thought of her.

But she did care.

Dangerous
, a little voice whispered through her.

She ignored it. She'd be leaving here in two days—how dangerous could one little picnic be? Besides, it had been interesting listening to him talk about the farm. He was working on improving the seventy hectares of pasture at the western end of the property. He was clearing weeds by hand because down the track he meant to go organic. It sounded exciting.

The enthusiasm in his voice had caught at her. She admired his dedication. Not to mention the view spread out before her now.
That
stole her breath.

‘I… This is…' She couldn't find words to do it justice, so she pushed out of the car and made her way to the top of the bank to gaze down at the river below. Directly beneath her was a strip of sand that glittered gold, bound on either side by boulders and tall grass. The river flowed by smoothly, the water so clean and clear she could see the sand and pebbles in the shallows.

‘The Namoi River,' Luke said from beside her.

In the field on the other side of the river something green grew. Its particular deep hue in combination with the shade provided by the trees behind her and all that gold…

‘Canola,' he said, gesturing to the field opposite.

She spun to him. She couldn't help it. ‘This place is gorgeous!'

‘It is today.' He pushed the brim of his hat back. ‘You should see it when there's been rain upriver in the ranges. The water roars through here like you wouldn't believe.'

He loved it then too, she could tell. She pointed to the strip of sand. ‘Can we have our picnic down there?'

‘That's the plan. Head on down while I grab the food.'

‘Is it safe to paddle?'

‘As safe as houses,' he promised, halfway back to the car already.

The second she hit the sand, she kicked off her sandals and plunged her feet into the water. It was cool and pleasant against her over-heated flesh. She wished Luke had told her to bring a swimsuit.

In the next instant she fanned her face. She and Luke with nothing on between them but thin Lycra and a pair of board shorts?
Not
a good idea.

‘It gets colder further out,' Luke said, obviously misinterpreting her face fanning. He settled himself on a rock. He didn't come any closer.

Keira rolled up her shorts a couple of extra inches and waded out up to her knees. ‘It's lovely,' she called back.

He nodded and stayed exactly where he was. So she waded back to shore and sat on the sand nearby. Not too close.

She rested back on her hands and lifted her face to the sun. This was like being on holiday—heavenly—and she was determined to enjoy it while she could. ‘C'mon, Hillier, pass out the sandwiches. I'm starving, and I'm eating for two, you know.'

With a low laugh, he tossed her a packet of sandwiches.

They munched them in silence, staring out at the river and taking deep breaths of gold-green goodness. When she glanced up, she found him watching her. ‘What?'

‘I wanted to thank you for the advice you gave me about Jason the other night. It's made a difference. An enormous difference.'

‘So working together yesterday was good?'

He nodded. ‘I can't believe how badly I let things slide with him.'

She wanted to tell him he'd had a lot on his mind—being thrust into the role of single parent, trying to work the farm single-handedly, dealing with Tammy's parents' bitterness—but she sensed he wasn't interested in making excuses.

‘Have the two of you talked about Tammy?' She'd left him and Jason alone together on Tuesday night. She'd hoped that over those boxes they'd dragged in from the shed that Jason would find the courage to ask Luke the questions he needed to.

‘Yeah.'

She grimaced for him. ‘Hard?'

‘Hell,' he bit out. Then frowned. ‘It was hell at first,' he amended. ‘It got easier as it went along.'

Her stomach unclenched.

‘Tammy's parents have been telling Jason that mine and Tammy's separation is what caused her brain tumour.'

Tammy had died of a brain tumour? Oh, poor Tammy! Keira abandoned her sandwich.

‘I told Jason that's not the truth.' His lips twisted. ‘I know because I asked her doctor at the time.'

So he'd thought…

Her heart burned. She curled her hands into the sand. She ached to go to him to put her arms around him and offer whatever comfort she could. She suspected, though, that he wouldn't welcome her sympathy, so she stayed where she was.

‘Is that why you and Tammy moved back here from the city?'

He shook his head. ‘We moved back here six months before she was diagnosed.'

She cocked her head to one side. ‘You know, I can't imagine you in the city.'

One corner of his mouth kicked up, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. ‘It was Tammy's dream to live there. We moved
not long after we were married.' He paused. ‘It wasn't my cup of tea.'

She digested that silently. From the expression on his face, he'd loathed it. ‘How long did you live there?'

‘Nearly eleven years.'

She straightened and gaped at him. ‘You…
you
…lived in the city for nearly eleven years?' To her he seemed as elemental as the gum trees up there on the bank. He seemed an extension of the landscape. Eleven years in the city. Wow! ‘What did you
do
there?'

‘I was apprenticed to a motor mechanic not long after we arrived. I like tinkering with engines, and it's a handy trade to have when you're living on the land.'

So even in the city he'd always had one eye trained on Candlebark?

His lips tightened. ‘Moving to the city seemed the least I could do in the circumstances. As you can imagine, our parents were less than pleased when they found out we were expecting a baby. It felt good to get away. And Tammy and me…we were best friends from our first day in kindergarten. I pulled her plait and made her cry. She kicked my shin and made
me
cry.'

He looked suddenly young, as if this was one memory that couldn't hurt him. Keira smiled. ‘Sounds like the basis of a lasting friendship to me.'

One corner of his mouth lifted. ‘I can't remember a time when she wasn't a part of my life.' The smile faded. ‘So I thought when we married… But I was wrong. We wanted different things from life.'

She wanted to tell him that these things happened, that he and Tammy had been too young, but the sudden darkness in his eyes kept her quiet.

‘Dad was having some health issues, and we moved back so I could help him out for a bit. We rented a place in town. There was plenty of room at the homestead, but…'

‘You wanted your own place,' she finished for him.

‘I couldn't believe what bad shape Candlebark was in, and I knew Tammy would go stir crazy out here with me in the fields from sunrise to sunset. At least living in town she could visit her parents and friends.' He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘She went stir crazy anyway. She wanted to return to the city almost immediately. I didn't. Our marriage only lasted another three months.'