Man Drought (18 page)

‘That must have been tough.’

He shrugged; Serena’s decision to go hadn’t been the toughest bit. ‘It’s not one of my best memories, but I’m glad she had the guts to leave. If there’s one thing I never wanted, it was to marry someone who didn’t find happiness in the same things I did. We should never have gotten together in the first place.’

Having said enough on the subject, he walked further into the house, heading to the phone hanging on the kitchen wall.

Whether Imogen’s curiosity was satisfied or whether she simply wasn’t that interested in his past, he didn’t know, but she let the topic go and stayed silent while he dialled Charlie’s number.

The phone rang out and Gibson wondered if he dialled the wrong number in haste. He tried again without success. Charlie didn’t have a mobile, and he didn’t have voicemail or an answering machine at home either, so their options were slim. He hung up and shook his head at Imogen. ‘He’s not answering. Might be running late but already on his way. Want a coffee while we wait?’

‘Sure.’ But her smile didn’t reach her eyes. She looked nervous, as if she were scared he might try to seduce her while they were alone.

He liked to think he was a man with impeccable restraint, but the way he’d acted in his ute showed otherwise. ‘Or we could just head out and start the tour. Charlie knows this place better than me anyway. He’ll find us.’

‘Yes. Good idea.’ She’d already turned and headed for the front door.

He found her on the verandah, tugging her boots back onto pink-socked feet and at the same time inhaling deeply. Her eyes were closed and a kooky grin stretched across her face. ‘What are you doing?’

She blushed a little. ‘Trying to imprint this smell on my memory.’

‘You like it?’ Instinctively, he sniffed too. All he could smell was the sheep manure he’d thrown on the garden beds last week, and the stink of the chicken coop mixed with early-morning heat. Smells he took for granted; smells his mother and Serena called ‘farmyard’ before turning up their noses and rushing inside to douse themselves in perfume.

‘Definitely.’ She nodded. ‘It’s one of the many reasons I’m happy to be back in the bush. The fresh smells motivate me to get up and exercise in the morning and I’m never disappointed. In the city, I hated it; here, I’m desperate to get up and out. Only yesterday I saw a kangaroo bound across the road on my morning run.’ Lifting a hand, Imogen shaded her eyes from the blazing sun and surveyed the land just past the picket fence. ‘Where to first, Farmer Black?’

‘Back inside the house to bed,’ was his first thought, but damn, if they had any chance at friendship, he needed to drag his mind out of the gutter and keep it out. He swallowed, knowing this wouldn’t be an easy task. Everything about her surprised and refreshed him. ‘We’ll go get the quad bike from the shed. When Charlie does turn up, he’ll need the ute to find us. I don’t trust that piece of shit he calls a car on the farm terrain.’

With the dogs at their heels, they walked to the shed that housed the majority of his machinery.

‘Do we need helmets?’ Imogen asked when she eyed the red four-wheeler he planned on taking out.

‘Nope.’ He shook his head. ‘We’re tough in the bush. Besides, I promise to go gentle.’

She raised one eyebrow at what he realised may have had an
insinuating tone. He couldn’t help himself – when dealing with an attractive woman, what man wouldn’t throw in a little flirt?

Still, he inwardly kicked himself and wondered where the hell Charlie had got to. It’d be easier to be normal – or at least restrained – with him buzzing about.

‘Thanks,’ she said eventually. ‘Let’s get going, then.’ That had to be the best idea anyone had suggested all day. Once he focused on showing her round the property, they’d both be distracted by the need to work out an agenda for her silly weekend, and not by another kind of need altogether. He stepped up close to the bike and swung his leg over, settling into position.

Climbing on the back of the quad bike, Imogen didn’t know if she trusted herself sitting so close to Gibson, but he appeared to have no qualms and she didn’t want to put any ideas into his head.

Taking a breath to keep her hormones under control, she positioned herself behind him, unsure whether to rest her hands on the back of the seat or wrap her arms round his middle. Her fingers twitched and her ovaries quivered at the mere thought of touching his muscled midriff again, so she clamped her fingers onto the seat behind her and prayed he’d stay true to his promise to ride gently.
Where the hell was Charlie?
Damn his tardiness and the fact it had forced Gibson to leave him the ute. If they were in there now, at least there’d be a gearstick between them … not that it had proven much of an obstacle last time.

Where Gibson was concerned, her hormones took on a life of their own – and she didn’t like it one little bit.

‘You ready?’ He twisted his neck to look at her, and his tone said this wasn’t the first time he’d asked.

She tried to answer in the affirmative, but when sound struggled
to make it past her tonsils, she nodded. He smiled, faced forward again, turned the key in the bike’s ignition, revved a little and took off.

He rode fast over bumpy terrain, through rocky paddocks, ditches and dips, but she kept her grip tight on the back of the seat, refusing to give in, no matter how dangerous the track or how much of an argument her hormones offered.

It took a while, but eventually her racing heart slowed to a normal beat, her nostrils focused more on the smells of the land than the manly aroma in front of them, and she started to make mental notes about Roseglen. He rode to the furthest part of the property before killing the ignition and asking if she’d like to stretch her legs.

‘Sure.’ Standing and stretching out her fingers, which stung from being so tightly curled, Imogen took the chance to look around her. ‘Wow.’

They were at a high part of the property. The paddocks of Gibson’s farm stretched out for kilometres in front of them, and in the distance she could just make out the town.

Gibson grinned, straightening up after getting off the bike himself. ‘Impressive, isn’t it?’

‘Will it be impossible to get everyone up here for a look?’

‘Tricky, but not impossible.’

She took another few moments to stare out across the horizon.

‘It’s our unofficial lookout,’ he explained, pride oozing from every word. ‘The top of this hill is not only the highest point of Roseglen, it’s also the highest in the region.’

She well believed it. From what she’d seen so far, there was barely a speed bump in the flats surrounding Gibson’s Find.

‘We could try to get your city girls to hike out here, of course, but it’s unlikely that many of them would make it.’

She folded her arms. ‘Well, if we can’t bring everyone up here, what else does Roseglen have to offer?’

‘You mean aside from my four-poster bed?’

Her knees quivered, but he uttered this question as if he hadn’t meant anything suggestive, so she pretended she wasn’t at all affected.
Who needs a bed when we’re the only souls around for miles?

‘Aside from that,’ she said, banishing that unhelpful thought.

He cleared his throat. ‘We’re the second biggest farm in the region. Where many others have suffered from the drought, we’ve managed to maintain our crop yields and continue to produce good quality merino sheep. If the weather’s still warm, I have the pool, and if you’re lucky, we may have a few lambs by then. In my experience, women like lambs.’ He shrugged. ‘But, if you’ve had plenty of other offers …?’

He damn well knew she hadn’t. She rolled her eyes at his sexist generalisation. No way would she admit she loved the idea of tiny lambs and their soft, still snow-white wool. ‘See, you hate the idea of a matchmaking weekend.’

‘Hate’s a strong word,’ he said, rocking back on his heels. ‘I love your enthusiasm and I’m sure you’re sincere about wanting to revive the area, but I’m a bit of a cynic and I don’t have high hopes for its success.’

She sighed, taking another long look at the simply splendid view, trying not to think about how perfect his place was for her requirements. ‘So you don’t have ulterior motives? You won’t sabotage the weekend and make me look like a total failure?’

He stepped towards her and her heart froze. For a second, she wondered if he was going to touch her, but he shoved his hands in his pockets and stopped short of invading her personal space. ‘I don’t want you to fail, Imogen. I promise. Charlie said most of the blokes who have suitable farms registered for the weekend – and that makes them ineligible.’

She nodded.

‘I guarantee I won’t be registering, and despite what you think of me, I’m really quite a nice guy. I’d like to help you if I can.’

He had no idea what she thought of him, or rather, how conflicting her many thoughts were. ‘Thank you.’

‘Great. Now that’s settled, do you want to tell me exactly what you need from me, or shall we finish the tour first?’

The view was too perfect to leave just yet, and she didn’t trust herself back on the bike either, not after he’d shown her his softer side. ‘Let’s sit.’ Without waiting for him, she plonked down on a patch of surprisingly green grass and stretched out her legs.

He strode back to the quad bike, retrieved a bottle of water and came to sit beside her. Proving God had bestowed him with some gentlemanly genes as well as the excess of good-looking ones, he offered her the bottle first. She drank it down greedily, desperate for water to not only quench her thirst but also cool her body temp. When she handed the bottle back, he drank quickly and then spoke, ‘What time will your ladies come out here?’

She rattled off her plans for Saturday morning, which included a stroll down the main street. ‘Pauli will make a gourmet picnic for everyone and we’ll bring it out here mid-morning. The blokes will make their own way, but Tom’s going to drive the community bus for the girls. Is there a good spot for a picnic, aside from up here?’

He nodded. ‘The yard in front of the shearing shed’s as good as any. There are a few trees, and if it’s too hot or raining, we can eat inside. I’ll even hose the shed down before you bring your ladies.’

‘Thanks. That sounds perfect.’

‘So what else will be on the agenda, aside from lunch?’ he asked.

‘If you agree and don’t think it’s too difficult,’ she began, picking up a leaf off the ground and twisting it between her fingers, ‘I’d like to offer some real farming experiences. Maybe they could try to drive a tractor, have a go on the quad bike … Charlie mentioned the possibility of getting a few sheep in and demonstrating some shearing.’

She bit her lip, resisting making any further suggestions while she waited for his reaction. Running the farm entirely on his own made Gibson a busy man and she didn’t want to push her luck.

‘I think we can manage all that,’ he said. ‘I’m guessing that they’ll be back in town for the evening.’

‘Yes. That’ll be a less formal get-to-know-each-other night than the Friday. Pauli has planned a special menu and Just a Bunch of Cowgirls are playing.’

‘Wow.’ He didn’t hide his surprise. The Cowgirls were an up-and-coming band, currently garnering loads of positive publicity. ‘You’re really going all out.’

She shrugged, inwardly pleased at his approval. ‘Jenna’s got a friend with contacts. The Cowgirls are passionate about reviving outback towns and they see this as a very good cause.’

‘That’s great. Maybe you’ll prove me wrong about this venture.’

‘Maybe. Now, tell me, did you always want to be farmer?’ It had been something she’d been wondering – not specifically about him, but also about the other young farmers in the region.

‘Yep. Always.’ The grin that stretched across his face told her this was the absolute truth. ‘I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to be outside, chasing sheep, digging up dirt. I helped Dad fix my first fence at five years old and knew then that this was my calling. That probably sounds cheesy.’

‘Not at all. Was your dad the same?’

‘Yeah, at least he used to be. Mum’s continual whinging about the life of a farmer’s wife got him down. She’s much happier in the city and he puts up with it.’

‘Your mum didn’t like it out here?’

‘Nope. The moment Paris got married and moved away, Mum started making plans to follow. When I got engaged, she badgered Dad into handing the farm over to me, and he took early retirement. I know he misses the farm but he’s thrown himself into other
things. Me? I don’t think I could be happy anywhere but here.’ He took a breath. ‘Sorry, I’m probably boring you senseless. How’d you get into the hospitality business? Was that a calling too?’

‘You’re not boring me at all.’ But maybe he didn’t want to talk about himself anymore. ‘I had no idea what I wanted to do when I left school. I read a brochure on a hospitality course and thought it sounded fun. I liked the social aspect. So I went to TAFE and got a job at the wine bar. I finished the course and stayed there. It’s a pretty straightforward story, really.’

‘Did you like it?’

‘I did for a while, but the last few years felt like I was putting my everything in and not getting anything out. I worked so hard, but for what? I always harboured this dream of having my own restaurant or cafe one day.’

‘What did Jamie think about that? Were you working towards it?’

A lump landed in her throat. She realised she’d never even told Jamie. His career had always been their primary focus and they’d wanted to start a family, so she didn’t see how becoming a businesswoman would ever work. Knowing this, she’d never raised it – it was one of those pie-in-the-sky fantasies, like winning Lotto and moving to Hawaii or something.

As if sensing her discomfort, Gibson glanced at his watch, reminding her they both had jobs to get back to.

‘It was always something to look forward to in the future,’ she lied, then pushed herself up off the ground. ‘I guess we’d better move on.’

‘Yeah.’ He echoed her action. ‘I’ve got grumpy, pregnant sheep to check on. In fact, you can help me on our way back.’

‘Oh, can I now?’

He laughed at her fake incredulity, and for some reason the ride down the hill wasn’t as torturous to her libido as the ride up had
been. She was still aware of Gibson’s fabulous body only centimetres from her own, the muscles of his thighs moving against the fabric of his jeans, but she wasn’t so on edge. The easiness of their conversation made her begin to think she really might have found a friend.