Mountain Ash (17 page)

But she was hesitating – as though she wanted to jump forwards into his arms but her head was telling her to hold back. Well, bugger her head. He wanted her to lead with her heart. He took hold of her hand, whirled her into his arms and danced his way out onto the lawn.

By the time they'd laughed and scooted through a dozen bush dances or more, he could hear Wal calling across the grass, ‘Hey, young Nate? Give an old man a lift, will ya?' Breathless, Nate and Ash pulled up in front of a grinning Wal. ‘Having fun, are we?' said the older man.

‘Sure am.' Nate dropped a kiss on Ash's head, hoping she wouldn't notice. By the way she snuggled right back into his arms, she'd noticed all right, and she
hadn't
run shrieking from his embrace. He was making progress.

‘I'm ready when you lot are, then.'

Nate frowned at his mate, hoping he'd get the message to bugger off for a while longer. But Wal was either purposely misunderstanding or he had no idea. The old fella was waggling his eyebrows like they were worms and mumbling something about trouble at three o'clock, when over Ash's head Nate spotted Beryl Beaton homing in on them.

‘Shit. Time to go.' And things had been going so well.

‘I'll say,' said Wal, already on the move.

‘What?' Ash was looking sideways at the bush band still making their calls, like she wanted to drag him back into the fray. He would have loved nothing more, but duty – saving Wal – called.

‘Let's go find another party.' He winked at Ash, nodded towards Beryl.

A wicked grin crossed her face. She grabbed hold of a fleeing Wallace and smacked a kiss on his lips. ‘You're mine now. You're taken.'

Beryl made it to them just as Ash hooked her arms around both men. Talking loud enough for the quilting teacher to hear, she said, ‘Wal, love, out of the two of you, you're the best kisser. I think I need a few more of those – c'mon.'

The older man blushed, mumbled something incoherent and allowed himself to be dragged up the street.

Nate looked back over his shoulder. Beryl's mouth was so wide open it was a wonder she wasn't catching flies. He then looked down at a laughing Ash who, with both men's hands tucked tight in hers, was trying to plant another kiss on the older man's cheek.

‘You owe me, Wallace,' she was saying.

There was no doubt about it. This woman was awesome.

They rocked into the showgrounds to find a semi-naked Stacey running towards them, yelling at the top of her voice, ‘Ashie! Ashie! There's a raft race. We've got an hour. You have to help me make a boat!'

Jodie rolled her eyes and yelled back, ‘Where are the other two? Can't they help?'

Stacey came panting up to the ute window. ‘They're drunk. In the river. Somewhere.'

‘Shit,' said Nate. ‘They haven't drowned, have they?'

‘Nah,' said Stace. ‘We wouldn't be so lucky. They're sitting on deck chairs spraying anyone who comes past with water. They forced someone to give them a pump, damn it.'

Jodie couldn't help but laugh. Ange and Mel certainly had ways and means of getting what they wanted. A bit like the man sitting next to her, his thigh burning like the midday desert sun against hers. She was sure she'd feel the heat for weeks. And by
the way that leg stayed glued to her side no matter how she tried to surreptitiously shift it, she had a fair idea where Cowboy Nate wanted to take this. Dancing her ragged was fine – it had been so much fun – but he wasn't getting
it.
Not while she was sober and standing upright.

‘What happened to the other girls?' asked Jodie. They'd met up with some more girls from home earlier the night before and given them their T-shirts, but Jodie hadn't seen any of them since.

Stace waved a hand. ‘Oh, they're around somewhere. But they're not interested in making anything. They're watching the end of the parade and then there's the rodeo.'

‘Where's Randall?'

‘Gone. He was waaaaay too shy. He couldn't give the kiss of life let alone handle a lover like me. We need to make a ship on our own.'

Wal leaned forwards. ‘So is it a ship or a raft you'll be wanting?'

Stace blinked at him. ‘Either'll do, I reckon.'

And so started the quest to find stuff to make a floating pontoon. Nate and Wal entered into the endeavour with gusto, Nate taking every opportunity to be by Jodie's side.

‘C'mon, Ash, help me steal these rubbish bins.'

‘You can't do that,' she said in mock horror, knowing full well half the camping area was doing the exact same thing.

‘They've got plenty. We'll give them back after the race.' He gave a wicked grin that turned her insides upside down and inside out. Oh God help me.

Finally, after copious drinks, numerous false starts and other calamities, like Jodie falling into the river, they had a raft.

‘I think it's ready to win,' said Wal, looking with pride at the rough-built boat. Two 44-gallon drums made the thing float.
Two fence posts held the drums together. Some 20-litre drums rescued from the next door's rubbish tip performed extra flotation in the middle of the raft to hold up an Esky ready to be filled with drinks. (Or an outboard motor, if Wal could find one. Stacey was hoping he didn't because it would mean cutting out the bottom of her beloved cooler box.) ‘What do we get for winning?' Wal asked.

‘Two slabs of rum,' said Stace. ‘Although I negotiated with the bottle shop that in the event of us winning, and seeing at that time we were an all-girl crew, we could have Vodka Cruisers instead.' She looked rather proud of herself.

‘And seeing we're all in this together?' asked Nate, throwing his arm around Jodie. She couldn't bring herself to shrug it off. It felt great. He also made it sound like a team effort. Like they were a couple, and that sounded so good too.
Stop it! I'm like a desperate and dateless single mother.

‘We'll take half each,' said Stace. ‘Half rum, half vodka. Deal?'

‘Deal,' said Wal. ‘I'll drink the rum if Nate here won't.'

‘I thought your liver was taking a sabbatical?' said Jodie.

Nate gave a half laugh. ‘As if.'

‘I think dealing with Beryl is enough of an excuse,' said Wal, blushing.

‘Fair enough.' Jodie noted that while he was laughing, Nate kept his arm around her body, just dropping his clasp to her waist.

Stace was quick on the uptake too, which was surprising considering the amount of liquor she must have consumed during the day. Her eyes glinted mischievously as she watched Nate's fingers walk their way across Jodie's hip to rest possessively there.

‘Ashie? I need a hand. That's if Nate can spare any part of your body.'

Jodie blushed and wiggled out of Nate's grasp. She followed Stace over to her ute. ‘Mate,' said Stace, suddenly serious. ‘I need to go home pretty early tomorrow. I've picked up an extra shift tomorrow night.'

Stace was a workaholic. She could never say no to the extra money.

‘Mel and Ange are catching a ride home with the other girls, but I thought you wouldn't mind heading off by about eight or nine o'clock? To get back to Milly?'

Christ. Milly. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten about her daughter. For a few precious hours she'd been young and free again, not thirty-two and a single mother.

As she nodded in agreement to leaving earlier than they'd planned, she glanced across at Cowboy Nate. He was leaning against a gum tree, slim hips, well-filled-out chest, square shoulders, hat drawn down over sky-blue eyes. Thoughts flitted through her mind. Dangerous thoughts such as ‘I wonder what he'd be like in bed' were squashed by visions of a seven-year-old's face. A running, dancing, skipping little scrap of a girl. And another cowboy riding away somewhere to the north out near Augathella. What had Nate said earlier? ‘I don't do staying in one place well … Home isn't a definitive place for me …' It was probably just as well they were leaving early.

‘Ashie? Are you okay?' Stace was rubbing Jodie's arm, looking worried. ‘You look like you've seen a ghost.'

‘Maybe I have,' she said, taking a regretful glance at the man who seemed to be holding up the blue gum. They were alike, the wood and him. Maybe if you peeled back the layers, stripped past the candlebark, you would find a solid core.
A trunk that didn't bend and sway with the wind and the seasons. A solid circle of age rings that wasn't rotten and crumbling deep inside its centre. But who could take the chance of finding out? Certainly not her. Certainly not a single mother. The thought of her daughter waiting at home for her had been like a dowsing with icy-cold water. She needed to hang on to what was offered. Alex and security. Alex and solid arity. Alex and safety.

But Stacey wasn't on the same wavelength. She'd followed Jodie's gaze and was now casting the same assessing glance over Nate. ‘He sure is delicious,' she said. ‘Not my type, but yum all the same.' She peered at Jodie as if she was working out just how much to say. ‘Ashie, forget Alex. Live a little. Just for one night. I can give you my shirt?'

Jodie started to laugh, taking in Stace's now really grubby top. You could just make out the
Cowboy hunting, I'm all for jumping
… but the tiny little letters of
your bones
were all but blackened out by a swipe of grease.

‘It'd be nice, but Stace, I've
got
to think of Alex.' And Milly, she silently added. However, the man standing by the tree kept drawing her eye. A visceral feeling. Non-definable. It was just there. And the man obviously was feeling something himself. He kept glancing her way to check that she was still there.

Stacey was waving a finger. ‘Stuff Alex, Ash. You're here. He's there. You're not in a relationship …' At Jodie's withering glance she amended, ‘Well, technically anyway. Officially you've only been out with him once. And there's no ring on your finger, is there?' No doubt she saw the indecision that was wavering on Jodie's face as she stared at the hunky male standing close by. Just for one night. Would it hurt to live a little with the man who'd spent the afternoon
sewing
with her followed by a morning
dancing
with her to get her attention? Who looked after the old bloke like a son would do? A man who had made such an impression on her that she was aware of his very essence reaching out to her from twenty yards away? Shit, shit, shit.

‘C'mon,' said Stace, hauling at her hand. ‘We'd better grab another drink and do this raft thing. But promise me you'll keep an open mind. You just never know what might happen.'

That's what Jodie was afraid of.

They walked back to the men, then Stacey peeled off and headed to the drinks. Nate watched Jodie come towards him and called out, ‘Everything okay?' That was another thing she liked about him. He asked like he really
cared
.

She made it to his side just as a loudspeaker broke out above their heads. ‘In twenty minutes' time it's the annual Riverton Rule-less Raft Race. Could all competitors make their way down to the river with their rafts? A lot of thought and effort has gone into making these boats over the past year …'

Past
year?!
Nate and Jodie looked at each other in horror. Over at the raft Stace was completely oblivious, so intent was she on stocking the Esky in ‘the boat'. Wal was nowhere to be seen.

‘We are
so
not going to win this,' said Jodie, laughing.

‘It's not about the winning,' said Nate, hauling her towards the raft. ‘So long as you have fun competing.' Jodie shot a glance at the man as she grabbed hold of one rim of a 44-gallon drum, ready to lift. On first impressions he'd looked like a ‘win at all costs and grin about it' kind of bloke. Like Rhys had been. That man
had
to win, or he sulked for a week. Maybe – just maybe – Nate was more laid back than that. Another chalk mark in his favour. Inside, Jodie was fighting a losing battle. And the man even
smelled
good. She took another sniff of the air surrounding him. Lynx Africa, Stacey had earlier advised her (and she'd know,
considering the number of blokes she'd had through her bed). It suited him. A hunting leopard with a pussy-cat-dozy look on his face. Beneath a western-cowboy exterior lay depths of danger just waiting to be explored. Dare she?

‘Sure it's about the winning,' scoffed Stace, slamming down the lid on the Esky. She sat on the moulded plastic to get it to shut. Wal appeared red-faced and puffing, dragging an outboard motor towards them from the direction of the tip next door.

Nate ran to help the older man. ‘Seriously?' he said.

‘Seriously,' confirmed Wal. ‘Stace, cut a hole in the Esky. We've got more horsepower.'

Stacey jumped up and held out her arms. ‘No way. You aren't cutting into my favourite cooler! Where did you get that thing anyway? If it's off the tip it won't even work!'

‘I traded it for my quilt sampler,' said Wal. ‘You want to win the grog?'

As one they all turned and looked next door. A wizened old man with dreadlocks was waving from beside a battered old tinny boat. In his hands was a wad of fabric. Heavens, thought Jodie. Wal really wanted that liquor.

Stace swung back to Wal and considered the options for a moment. Then moved aside.

Ten minutes later they had the outboard planted and hidden in the Esky. A tarp roped to the underside covered the bottom leg of the motor. Using baling twine, Stace had lashed a half-open 20-litre drum at the front of the raft. In this she'd stashed ice and drinks. A quarter of her original haul but it would do for the time they were on the water, Jodie was positive. They couldn't consume that much liquor in half an hour, could they?

‘
Go Riverton Rovers
,' came the yells from the shore.

‘
Go the Cowgirls!
' This was from Ange, Mel and friends, who were staggering along the riverbank trying to keep up with the rafts.

A flotilla of other contenders in the race had been left far behind, for all pretence of oar power had departed as the local Riverton football team, also equipped with an outboard motor, battled it out to beat Nate, Jodie, Stace and Wal. Outboards were revving and good-natured abuse was flying as both parties struggled against the laws of physics to win the race. The Rovers' raft was made from a Mini-Minor floating on drums that sat in the place of wheels. It would have worked okay, except for the overload of male bodies stuffed into it. There were even two blokes crouched in the boot. The raft was currently wallowing over near the bank, the boys unable to coax it to return to the middle of the river.

Back on Stacey's raft, things were going great guns: the finish line, a bunting of flags strung across the river, was in sight. Jodie was paddling for her life. The outboard was roaring flat out with Nate at the helm. It had been a long trip up the river, and the makeshift Esky was now empty. Jodie herself had consumed three UDLs and her mind was pleasantly floating around like a fluffy cloud on a bright and sunny day.

‘We're gunna win!' yelled Stace, as she threw the last empty can at the Rovers.

Then disaster struck. The outboard ground to a sudden halt, causing them all to clutch at the nearest prop to keep themselves on the raft. Jodie missed her grip on the rail of wood she was sitting on and just happened to find the solid arms of Nate. He grabbed hold of her with one strong hand while frantically looking to see what the problem was. Jodie snagged a quick
glance past his solid bulk, trying not to think about the hard male flesh holding her onto the boat. A trailing piece of twine had obviously entangled itself around the rudder. Shit.