Jilted (12 page)

This was also useful in his efforts to ignore the advances of Lauren Simpson. Since he’d fled two Sundays ago, she’d been like a persistent fly at a barbecue, hovering about him as if he were a piece of prize steak. Apart from phoning every day, she’d been waiting in town each time he dropped Lucy off, suggesting they get a drink while he waited. Aside from the fact he needed to stay
off the grog, he came up with a number of creative excuses to politely decline.

Yet part of him wished he could accept her offers. Once upon a time he’d craved a woman to love, to come home to, to have a family with. He loved kids. Flynn used to spend ram sales and country shows hanging with any little taggers-on, offering piggyback rides and dizzy-whizzies. But he’d completely retreated from such activities after Ellie left. And then when his dad was killed, he’d been forced back into the business side of farming, unable to mess about. But the desire to have a child of his own hadn’t left him like Ellie, or died like his dad. The problem was finding a woman to have children with. And while he dealt with many eligible women – an agronomist, his auctioneer, a number of female farmers, as well as the gorgeous girls he met at football games and social events – he just didn’t feel enough for any of them to take things further than a quick roll in the hay. He didn’t feel anything like the attraction he’d experienced the three brief times he’d been with Ellie since her return. An attraction that pissed him off and burned like a spotting bushfire. But even if he were willing to forget what Ellie had done, she now led a glamorous life in Sydney and he would never leave Hope.

What the?
Shaking his head at the crazy thought, he nicked his chin on his razor and cursed. The last thing he needed on sale day – today – was to have little red spots all over his jawline. And the last thing he needed at all was to start thinking he and Ellie had any sort of chance together. There were some things that just couldn’t happen. He ran the tap and washed the cut.

A knock sounded at his front door, and whoever it was let themselves in before he could call out. He knew it would be his mum come to talk about the catering. Every second year Black Stump had the CWA provide the sale food as a fundraiser. The other years,
Mum and Gran, and Lucy if she was in the mood for helping, did it themselves.

Satisfied he had a smooth face and didn’t look like Edward Scissorhands, Flynn laid his razor on the vanity. He ran some water through his hair with his fingers and stepped into the hallway, whistling as if he hadn’t just spent the last half an hour pondering women and their future in his life.

‘Have you eaten breakfast?’ his mum asked as Flynn entered the kitchen. She had the kettle on and the fridge open.

‘I had a bowl of cereal.’ He strode to his boots at the back door and stooped to tug them on. ‘And I’ll sample some of your scrumptious cuisine later.’

‘Flynn,’ his mum sighed, ‘Froot Loops aren’t food, and you know you won’t have time to stop and eat something later. You know we’re going to draw a crowd today. You’ve done such a brilliant job with the SAMMs.’

Flynn couldn’t help but smile at the compliment.

‘Your dad would have been proud. He was man enough to admit when he made an error of judgement. We’re both proud of what you’ve done to ensure the continued success of Black Stump.’ She walked over and embraced him.

Flynn’s eyes watered. ‘Thanks Mum, but I wish I could have convinced him before he died. I felt such a prick going against his wishes when he was no longer here to argue for them. Thanks for trusting me.’

She pulled back and looked in his eyes. ‘Of course I trust you, darling. I know that whatever you put your mind to, you’ll succeed.’ She paused a second, then, ‘Flynn, I …’

He cut her off. The ponderous look in her eyes told him she was about to launch on her favourite topic of late. Happiness, and how she wanted him to find it. Another thing he didn’t need was a
lecture on how to live his life. ‘Sorry Mum, it’s getting on. I better get things rolling.’

Out of the house, he relished the hard labour that needed to be done. The sale was due to start at one. He had to put straw in the pens and then he and Rodger, his kelpie, and a couple of workers had the arduous task of collecting the rams from the yards. Potential buyers and company reps usually began to arrive a few hours before the auction kicked off. He needed to be on hand to schmooze – as Lucy liked to put it – and discuss the catalogue with anyone who wanted to chat.

Luckily the auctioneer – the young and extremely efficient Hannah Edwards – had done his last few sales. She was familiar with Black Stump and its genetics, and wouldn’t need to take up much of his time beforehand. Not everyone approved of a girl with the hammer, but Hannah ran a clean, quick auction, ensuring plenty of time at the end for a good Aussie piss-up, where the buyers tried to get some of their money back in the form of beer. For this reason, most of the farmers had learnt to accommodate her. Flynn was confident that with Hannah’s auctioneering, his preparation and his mum’s catering, the day would be a success.

Later, feeling good about the way the sale had gone, Flynn glanced towards the catering tent. The crowd was dwindling around the sheep pens now and following the aromas of the delights whipped up by his girls. His stomach growled at the thought. He just needed a quick word with Hannah and then he’d be there too, ensuring everyone was happy, well fed and offered a beer if they desired one.

But his plan was interrupted when a group parted and a woman emerged, a pristine white apron tied around her tiny waist and a
platter of food balanced on one hand.
Lauren
. What the hell was she doing here? Not to buy sheep, that much was true. Flynn was about to march up to her when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

‘Great result, son,’ came his mum’s voice.

He cleared his throat and turned to her. She wore a wide smile and an apron identical to Lauren’s. She spoke before he could.

‘She’s a gem, isn’t she?’ Her eyes trained to where Lauren was wooing the sale-goers with friendly banter and good food.

‘Umm …’ He couldn’t exactly tell his mum that Lauren was more of a pest.

‘We ran into each other in the Co-op the other day. I was in a bit of a tizz about how much I needed to organise.’

Flynn raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t recall a day in his life when his mother had been in a tizz. Even at his father’s funeral, she’d been cool, calm and collected. Unnervingly so.

Ignoring his sceptical expression, Karina continued. ‘I told her about the ram sale and she offered to give up her day off to help Granny and I. I didn’t want Lucy taking more time out from study this close to exams. I mean, the play’s distraction enough.’

‘No, course not.’ He couldn’t argue with that. But Lauren?

‘You should go over and thank her,’ Karina finished with a gentle but firm, guiding touch on his arm. He knew matchmaking when he saw it and he wished to hell she wouldn’t bother. Lauren needed little encouragement.

Even though it was the last thing he fancied doing, Flynn decided it best to get the conversation over and done with. He waited until the last piece of food had been taken from Lauren’s platter and caught her on her way back to the trestle tables.

‘Hi Lauren.’ It was the first time
he’d
approached
her
since that close-call night.

She glanced up, her pale green eyes widening as if she were surprised to see him. ‘Flynn?’

He bristled at her velvet tone. ‘Mum says you offered to help. Thanks.’

‘Not a problem. I love being out on farms and the atmosphere on these days is amazing.’ She gestured around at the jovial farmers, Akubras on their heads, bellies bouncing up and down as they guzzled grog and laughed and chatted. ‘I’d rather be here than just vacuuming at my place.’

‘Fair enough, but I …’

She broke in, ‘Look Flynn, you don’t have to worry about me wanting anything out of this, or you giving me the wrong idea. I’m doing it because I want to help and I enjoy it. And I thought it might be the only way to get you to talk to me.’

He opened his mouth to lay it straight, to tell her he was sorry, that he just wasn’t interested, but she held up her hand.

‘You’re gorgeous, Flynn Quartermaine – inside and definitely out.’ She winked and looked him up and down suggestively. ‘I’m sorry for egging you on with alcohol the other night, but I really, really like you. I know you think coming back to my place was a mistake, and since you do, I’m glad we didn’t actually do the deed. But I hate that you won’t talk to me, or even look me in the eye. We’ve got Rats and Whitney’s wedding in a couple of weeks – how will it look if the best man and maid of honour can’t even look at each other?’

He saw the pain in her eyes and realised how hard it was for her to have this conversation. Hell, he knew all there was to know about unrequited affection – he could write the
For Dummies
book on it.

‘You’re right. And I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Avoiding you was childish and I really have no excuse.’

She shrugged. ‘I caught you on a bad night. I know that. You weren’t yourself and I took advantage of that. Will you forgive me?’

He suddenly saw a whole new side to Lauren. ‘Forgive you for what?’

‘Thank you.’ Her grin lit up her whole face. Faint freckles danced on her full cheeks. ‘I promise not to stalk you anymore.’

‘In that case,’ he gestured to the platter in her hand, ‘let me refill that and you go get yourself a drink. Don’t want the word getting around that we’re tyrants here at Black Stump.’

She smiled and let him take the tray. As she sidled off to the beverage table he hoped some young farmer from the surrounding shires would notice her and strike up a conversation. She’d no doubt make a devoted partner for someone one day.

After finding Hannah and going through the sales of the day, Flynn cracked open a celebratory can of Coke and started doing the rounds. Days like these were good for catching up on the region’s gossip – not stuff his mum would be interested in, like who was marrying who and having whose babies, but important things, like which farms were changing hands.

The night was a long but good one. The next time Flynn clapped eyes on Lauren she had her arms up to their elbows in the sink, scrubbing away.

‘Is she still here?’ he whispered to his mum as she approached.

‘Yep.’ Karina’s smile told him how happy she was with Lauren. ‘She’s surprised me that girl. A real hard worker, don’t know how we’d have gotten through the day without her.’

Flynn frowned and watched Lauren from a distance. Could it be he’d misjudged her?

Chapter Ten

The best thing about staying sober at a ram sale, Flynn reflected as he cleaned up his breakfast dishes, was not waking up with a hangover the next morning. This way he’d have a clear head for writing up his notes
and
be on top form for football this afternoon.

He whistled as he washed, contemplating Black Stump’s best ram sale in recorded history. He couldn’t deny that growing the farm gave him a certain buzz. His dad had been a great farmer – one of the best around, locals liked to say – and he wanted to make him proud. He wanted to make his mark as a farmer, and he hoped that one day this is what people would think of when they heard the name Flynn Quartermaine – not the last baby born at Hope Junction Hospital, or his Grand Final streak, or that other thing he’d rather forget. His farming ideas were a bit modern for some, but they weren’t crazy or harebrained. They were real good money earners, and yesterday’s outcome proved this.

Maybe that was enough, Flynn thought. Maybe living and working on the land was all he needed to feel good about himself and enjoy life.

He stacked the crockery to dry on the side of the sink, grabbed his wallet and keys and left the cottage. He stopped his ute to check in on the women in his life, seeing if they needed anything from town. Surprisingly, Lucy was already awake – actually up and dressed. When he entered the homestead, he found her lounging in front of the telly, her feet on the coffee table, black nail polish drying on her toes. One arm was outstretched as she flicked channels distractedly.

Flynn waved at her – receiving no response – then addressed his mum, who was sorting washing on the big kitchen table.

‘I can’t understand where they all go.’ She threw a single bright pink sock in his general direction.

He smiled. ‘I’m popping into town. Can I get you anything?’

Karina shook her head as she held up a tablecloth and started folding. He was surprised she didn’t iron it; she was usually meticulous with that sort of stuff. Dad always called her his domestic goddess. ‘Nope, but please take her off my hands.’ She angled her head towards the loungeroom. ‘I’m going to throttle her in a minute.’

‘What’s up her bum?’ Flynn smiled, knowing his mum wouldn’t take kindly to his phrasing.

‘Who knows? She’s been a grouch ever since she came back from theatre practice on Thursday. If you can get her to tell you why, you’re more woman than me.’

‘That I sincerely doubt.’

‘Would you two stop talking about me like I’m not here?’ Lucy grumbled loudly and turned the television off with a theatrical swish. Flynn didn’t love the idea of Lucy spending time acting – since Ellie had made a life without him on the screen, he’d soured
towards the profession – but he had to admit the pastime fit her to a tee.

‘So, you coming or not?’ he asked.

‘If you
insist
.’ Lucy trudged to the door and slipped her feet into her fancy thongs. She stormed out to the ute, arms crossed over her chest and her face contorted in the perfect scowl.

‘Didn’t Mum ever read you that story about the boy who made faces? You know, the one where the wind changed?’ Flynn turned the key in the ignition; Lucy didn’t reply. Fair enough. As he swung the car onto the long gravel drive, he turned AC/DC up loud. He knew Lucy couldn’t stand this band. And sure enough, before they’d even reached their property boundary, she’d huffed, puffed, uncrossed her arms, crossed them again, and then leaned over to turn the music off. He watched all this out of the corner of his eye and did his damn best not to smirk. She glared at him.