Outback Dreams (6 page)

‘No thanks.' Trying to sound normal, she averted her gaze from Monty's sculpted back and took a quick breath. ‘I'd better get back to the farm. They'll be worried about me.' More like worried she wouldn't have lunch on the table.

‘Okay.'

‘Yes. All right.' She licked her lips, which felt parched—had to be the effect of the alcohol. ‘I'll just grab a glass of water and be off.'

Before she could source a glass, Monty handed her a full one. In his other hand he proffered a tube of Berocca. ‘Want one of these too?'

‘No thanks.' The Berocca would take too long to fizz, but she smiled, her nerves settling at Monty's normalness. He'd always looked out for her. She adjusted her backpack on her shoulder and waved. ‘Thanks for the bed. I'll see ya later.'

‘Wait a sec.' Monty turned away from his cooking and held his arms wide open. ‘Aren't you going to wish me luck for today?'

She stilled, racking her brain for why he needed luck, all the while her crazy errant nerve ends dancing the cha-cha at the thought of falling into his arms.

How much did I drink last night?

He shook his head, laughed a little. ‘Geez, your head must be pounding. You can't remember what's happening today?'

‘Sorry.' She rubbed her forehead. ‘Clue?'

He snorted, but she detected genuine hurt behind feigned humour. ‘I've got my appointment with the bank.'

‘Oh, God damn!' She wanted to smack herself up the side of her head; instead she rushed forward and fulfilled her half of the hug. ‘Of course. I knew that.' Pulling back, she looked into his eyes. ‘How d'you feel?'

‘Good. I was up late going over my paperwork, but I'm in a good position and my calculations look positive.'

‘Of course they do. You're awesome,' she said, smiling as she repeated his words of the day before.

‘I want this so badly, Faith.' The expression on his face said it all.

‘I know you do.'

‘You think a suit and tie is going over the top?'

She shook her head. ‘No. You want to look like you mean business. Do you want me to go with you?'

‘No, but thanks. I've been working towards this for ten years. I can do it.'

A lump formed in Faith's throat at Monty's steely determination. She hugged him again so he wouldn't notice her getting all girly and tearing up. ‘Go get 'em, buddy.'

‘Am I interrupting anything?' Adam's voice startled Faith. She'd forgotten he'd also stayed the night.

‘No, course not,' Monty said over the top of her head.

‘Just wishing Monty luck for his appointment.' She pulled out of his arms and spun around. Like Monty, Adam wore only trousers—faded Wrangler jeans in his case—and he had shower-damp hair too, but Faith's heart didn't threaten cardiac arrest at the sight of him bare-chested. Which meant the alcohol wasn't to blame for her reaction.
Oh. No.

‘Oh, yeah, the big bank meeting.' Adam nodded. ‘You'll be great.'

Monty grinned. ‘Thanks, mate. Can I get you some breakfast before you go?'

‘Yes, please.' Patting his six-pack abs, Adam crossed the room and bent down to his bag on the floor. He pulled out a t-shirt, yanked it over his head and took a chair.

Faith stared at him, desperate to feel something at the sight of his upper arm muscles contracting as he reached across the table for yesterday's
Sunday Times
. But … nothing. Absolutely
nothing
. That had also been the problem ten years ago when she and Adam had attempted a relationship. On the surface, Adam was a good-looking guy, so good-looking in fact that he'd once been hunted by
Cleo
magazine to be one of their Bachelors of the Year. But where he and Faith were concerned, there was absolutely no spark. Their break-up had been a mutual decision.

Maybe that's why her fluttery libido didn't react to his near-nakedness now. Prior knowledge overruled good looks. But that didn't account for why her knees were suddenly knocking at the sight of Monty. It had to be because she'd told all those women she was dating him. See what kind of trouble came of lying?

Argh. I've got to get out of here.

Hopefully, once her head was clear and the alumnae party faded to a distant memory, she'd be able to look at Monty again— clothed or not—without getting all hot under the collar.

‘Faith?' Monty's concerned voice jolted her from her reverie. ‘Are you okay?'

‘Sure. Why wouldn't I be?'

‘It was like you were in a trance or something,' Adam said as he poured himself a mug of coffee.

‘Nope.' She forced a smile. ‘I'm absolutely fine, just thinking of all I need to get done today. I'll see you guys soon.'

Normally, she'd have pecked each of them on the cheek, but today she decided it might be safer not to. Hauling her backpack up onto her shoulder again, she took two steps backwards out of the kitchen and all but ran from the house.

When Faith walked into the house at Forrester's Rock fifteen minutes later, she'd have been forgiven for thinking a tornado had whirled through over the weekend. Her dad and brother were nowhere to be seen, but they'd left their mark in every nook and cranny. On the way from the front door through to her bedroom, she began Operation Clean-up, stooping to collect empty soft drink cans, Mars Bar wrappers and socks that were so far gone they should have been incinerated.

As she tossed all her loot in the kitchen bin, her heart rate accelerated for reasons entirely different from why it had spiked in Monty's house. Dishes were piled skyscraper-high in the sink, and the cereal bowls were still on the table. She flung her backpack on the floor, shoved her sleeves up to her elbows and turned the tap on full blast.

Who do they think I am? Cinder-bloody-rella?

It hadn't always been this way. When her mum was alive, they'd all been expected to pull their weight, but somehow, in the months after she'd died, the routine of helping each other had slowly slipped beyond repair. Faith had become the go-to girl for cooking and cleaning. The cooking she actually enjoyed, but no one liked being treated like a slave.

When the sink was full of soapy water, she clicked her iPod into the dock in the lounge room and switched it to shuffle. Cleaning could be almost bearable with her favourite tunes turned up loud, and she hoped today they'd help drown out her grumpiness. As she washed the dishes and polished the kitchen so it sparkled, while she ran the vacuum cleaner round the house, opened the windows to air the joint, threw a load of washing on and mopped the hard floors, she vowed that her home life was going to change.

‘There.' Three hours later, hands on her hips, she stood back and assessed her work. The house looked fabulous, and she felt good about what she'd achieved, but knowing her “housemates” would barely notice—never mind thank her—dampened the joy. She'd tried not to think too much about Monty while she'd worked, but now she glanced at her watch. It was almost midday—which accounted for the racket her empty belly was making—and his appointment was scheduled for just after lunch. She bit her lip, hoping like crazy he got the loan.

The vacuum and other cleaning supplies tucked away in the laundry, Faith headed for the fridge. She pulled a loaf of bread out of the freezer and was about to defrost the lot for sandwiches when she thought again.

Already anticipating the look on her dad and Ryan's faces, she smiled and proceeded to make herself the best darn sandwich ever. She grated every type of vegetable she could find, sliced some ham and cheese and then threw it all together to form something she probably wouldn't be able to get her mouth around. She set her lunch on a plate, grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge and laid them both on the table, before quickly tidying her mess. At the last moment, just before her bum landed on the chair, she decided she wouldn't throw them totally in the deep end.

Retrieving the still mostly frozen loaf of bread, the margarine, the ham and cheese, she put them in a row on the bench. There. Let them make their own gourmet lunch.

As she sat and took the first mouth-watering bite, she contemplated her fundraising pledge. She'd need to talk to the Shire about using the Memorial Hall, or maybe someone's shearing shed would work better. Then there'd be sponsors to solicit, catering to organise, tickets to print, invitations, prizes—everyone loved prizes at things like this—decorations, and she should contact the charity soon and discuss her plans with them. Not to mention set a date. Her mind whirled with ideas. Not wanting to forget a single one, she left her sandwich and went to the study, where she located an old roll of butcher's paper that had been there since she and Ryan were kids and liked to scribble away rainy afternoons. She ripped off a poster-sized piece, dug for markers in the bottom of a drawer and carried it all back to the kitchen table. It felt good to finally have something to sink her teeth into. Something productive that would have positive effects well beyond the realms of Forrester's Rock.

She was deep into an impressive mind map of every area that needed to be organised when the front door slammed and boots pounded down the hallway towards her. Cringing, she imagined the mud marks on her clean floors.

‘Once upon a time you guys took your boots off on the verandah,' she yelled, and then sighed under her breath. ‘Once upon a time a lot of things were different around here.'

Ryan appeared in the doorway, grinned the smile that let him get away with anything and everything with the ladies and said, ‘And then what would you do with your time?'

Faith tightened her grip on a thick, black marker, restraining herself from throwing it at him. She knew he didn't mean any harm, but she was sick of being taken for granted.

‘Nice of you to join us again,' Ryan continued, crossing the floor and pulling out a chair. ‘How was Perth?'

Before Faith had a chance to answer, her father entered the kitchen. He took one look at her chart on the table and frowned. ‘Where's lunch?'

She gestured to the bench where the basic ingredients for a sandwich were laid out. ‘Right there, Dad.' Daringly, she took a bite of her own barely touched lunch and waited.

Frank raised his eyebrows. Ryan turned his head and his eyes widened as he took in the spread of ingredients. Both of them appeared speechless. Hiding her smirk behind her sandwich, Faith took another bite.

‘You expect us to make it?' Ryan finally asked.

Keeping a straight face, she nodded. ‘I've been quite busy this morning but it's all there, ready to throw together.'

Shaking his head, Ryan made a noise—she wasn't sure whether it was amusement or annoyance—but then he washed his hands and started assembling bread and cheese.

Her dad, however, turned his glare on her. ‘Is something wrong?'

‘Actually, it's never been better. I had an awesome weekend in Perth, and I've decided it's time to do something important with my life. To start with, I'm organising a big ball in town to fundraise for dogs for autistic kids. Kids like Will Montgomery was.'

She'd added that last bit because she knew they both had a soft spot for Monty's brother.

Silence reigned until Ryan scraped a chair across the tiles as he sat down. He wrapped his mouth around a chunky cheese sandwich made with still-frozen bread and winced as he bit in, then looked at her as if she'd changed into an alligator right before his eyes.

‘And how much time will this fundraising malarkey take up?' grunted her dad. ‘Are we going to be expected to make our own lunch every day? What about dinner?'

She swallowed. Thinking about standing up for herself was one thing, but actually doing so…

‘Well?' Frank spoke calmly but there was thunder in his eyes.

‘Sometimes.' She nodded, garnering courage. ‘And I don't think it's too much to ask. I never asked to be a slave to you two, but somehow that's what I've become. My life is slipping away while I cook scones and stews and God knows what else for you. Well, I'm sorry, but I'm taking it back. If you won't let me take on some actual farm work, then I'm going to look for something else. A job outside of Forrester's Rock.'

Frank and Ryan gaped at her.

Needing to fill the silence, she continued, ‘Just think about it. If you respected my wishes to be part of this place, then I might be too busy to look elsewhere. But I'm not. I'm bored senseless. Mum may have done everything for you, but I'm fed up. You need to learn how to look after yourselves.'

Tears pooling at the corners of her eyes, Faith gathered up her piece of paper and her pens and stormed to her bedroom.

She let the things in her arms fall to the floor then collapsed onto the bed as the tears spilled freely. How unfair that she should be made to feel guilty for doing something for herself. She rolled over and stared at the photo of her gorgeous mum on her bedside table. In many ways, Faith looked like Cassie, although her mum had always managed to seem more glamorous—one of those farmers' wives who could make checked shirts, Levis and cowboy boots look feminine. Cassie rarely wore Blundies, preferring to order her boots from a catalogue, where she could ‘get a bit of style' as she put it.

Faith sighed. ‘Did you ever feel like this, Mum?'

Maybe she had. Maybe that's why she'd been so gung-ho about Faith studying something other than agricultural sciences. Maybe she'd wanted more for her than to end up a farmer's wife. Damnit, why hadn't she listened?

‘And damnit, why did you have to go and get sick?'

Of course there was no answer to this question, and before Faith could remember this, a knock sounded on her bedroom door. Ryan didn't wait for her to reply, but the look of concern she saw on his face surprised her.

‘You okay, sis?' He hung back awkwardly in the doorway. ‘Dad's gone back out to work, but I wanted to check on you first. I'm sorry if we've been jerks. We didn't think.'