Outback Sisters (28 page)

‘I'll clean up here then,' Angus offered, as he dumped his fork in his empty bowl.

‘You sure?'

‘Yep, least I can do after you fed me. Go work. And try not to stay up too late. You're no use to me if you're burning the candle at both ends.'

‘Thanks.' Logan finished his last mouthful, pushed back his seat, dumped his bowl in the sink and escaped into his bedroom. As he shut the door behind him, he saw the book that had arrived in yesterday's post. It was Ruth Park's
The Harp in the South
, which he'd ordered to replace the copy he'd left in his hotel room in Broome. One of his favourite books of all time, he could not be without it. And as he picked it up now and flicked through the pages an idea came to him.

He wondered … had Frankie read it?

Ten days since Frankie had last seen Logan. That's if she was counting. Which of course she was. Although you could barely call their goodbye on the Sunday after the wedding talking to each other. It had been awkward between Simone and Logan, and Frankie and Angus had just kind of hung on the sidelines looking uncomfortable. Lifting her hand to wave farewell had physically pained her, because she'd wanted to do so much more.

Ten days! If she didn't see or hear from him soon, she wouldn't be safe to work in the café. Her stomach was a constant knot of anticipation, wondering if this would be the day he'd make contact. She only half-heartedly listened to customers when they gave her their orders, for she always had one ear cocked to the phone on the wall. It was the only phone listed under her name in the White Pages. She didn't have a home phone and she'd never seen the point of listing her mobile number—anyone she wanted to call her had her number. Until now.

She'd even searched for him on Rural Matchmakers, but he must have taken down his profile when he'd started seeing Simone. And he didn't appear to have a Facebook account. In this day and age! It was infuriating. If she ever did see or talk to him again she would give him what for about that.

Two more days. If he hadn't called or emailed or
anything
by the weekend, she would sneak his number off her sister's phone. Which could be tricky considering they hadn't seen much of each other either this last week and a bit. Frankie felt guilty every time she looked at Simone, so she'd been making excuses about being busy. She missed her though, and her nieces, so she'd have to work out some way forward with Logan and her family.

That's if he hadn't changed his mind.

Her hands froze over the carrot cake she'd been icing on autopilot. Could that be why he hadn't made contact?
Argh
. That thought shouldn't have left her so bereft when she'd barely known him a month and kissed him only twice, but it did. It made her whole body feel achy and flu-ish. Panic set her heart racing.

She put down the spatula and leaned back against the counter, hoping neither of her staff had noticed her little turn. But they were both busy—Stacey at the counter with a customer and Monique waiting on a table.

‘I'm just going out the back for some fresh air,' she called through to Stacey, who waved her hand in acknowledgement and kept chatting to the customer.

Frankie pushed open the rear door of the kitchen and escaped into their little courtyard, inhaling the fresh mid-morning air in gulps. She felt like crying at the injustice of her situation but if she started, she might not be able to stop and the girls would need her when the lunch rush hit.

The door opened behind her and she straightened quickly, not wanting to be caught in such a state.

‘What are you doing out here?' said Simone, stepping out to join her. The girls must have directed her through.

‘I felt a little queasy,' Frankie lied, putting a hand against her stomach to enhance the excuse. ‘Thought some fresh air might help.'

Simone made a face and rubbed her tummy at the same time. ‘Must be something going around. I feel a little off this morning too.'

Frankie frowned. ‘What are
you
doing here?'

‘And it's nice to see you too.' Simone held out a bunch of envelopes, most of which looked like bills, and one slightly bigger package. ‘I stopped in at the post office and thought I'd bring you your post. Feels like we've hardly spoken this last week.'

‘I've been busy.' Frankie took the post, hoping her sister wouldn't ask her exactly what had been keeping her occupied.

‘So you've said. I need you to come over and play mediator between Harriet and me.' Simone sighed and Frankie noticed her eyes looked bloodshot, as if she'd been crying or not sleeping well. ‘All we seem to do is scream at each other lately.'

‘How about I bring dinner round tomorrow night. That's if you're not already busy?'

Simone put her index finger against her chin as if in deep thought. ‘Let me see … because I have such an active social life … Nope. Nothing comes to mind. Dinner would be lovely.'

Frankie smiled. ‘It's a date.' And then she glanced down at the envelopes in her hand. Yep, mostly bills as predicted, but she had no idea what the package was. It felt like a book but she hadn't ordered anything recently.

‘What's that?' Simone nodded towards the package.

‘Not sure.' Frankie slid her finger under the flap to open it. She pulled out a book—
The Harp in the South
by Ruth Park. There was no note.

‘You and your books,' Simone said, shaking her head as Frankie flicked open the first page.

Her heart slammed up into her throat and she snapped the book shut, hoping Simone hadn't seen.

‘What is it?' Simone asked.

‘Just something I ordered a while back.' She hugged the book to her chest, warmth rushing through her at the knowledge Logan had sent it. There'd been no time to read the inscription, but she'd caught his name at the bottom. ‘Been meaning to read it for ages.'

‘I don't know how you find the time to read,' Simone said. ‘Anyway, I'm on Meals on Wheels delivery today, so gotta fly. See you tomorrow night.' She leaned forward and kissed her sister on the cheek.

‘Yep,' Frankie managed, barely able to contain her excitement as she watched Simone head back into the kitchen. She waited a good five seconds after the door had shut behind her and then peeled back the cover of the book again.

Frankie—hope you haven't got it yet. Can't wait to talk about it with you. Logan x

And then a phone number and an email address. Oh hallelujah, God! She did a little jig around the courtyard, in a much better mood than when she'd come out. Only problem was that now she had hours ahead of her before she could call him as she couldn't risk doing so at the café where anyone might hear.

But she could send a text message. Grinning, she slipped her phone out of her apron pocket, opened the book and copied his details into her phone, saving them as
LK
rather than
Logan Knight
. Then, she sent a message:
Got the book. Thank you. Will call you tonight. Frankie x

With a little sigh, she slid the novel back into its packaging and then went inside and tucked it into the bottom of her bag. She floated on air for the rest of the day with the knowledge that it was there.

* * *

Logan's phone started ringing in his pocket as he placed the lasagne on the table. ‘Help yourself,' he said to Angus, who had just sat down. ‘This is an important phone call. Gotta take it.'

And then he hurried down the hallway to his bedroom and shut the door behind him before swiping his finger across the screen to answer the phone. ‘Frankie!'

‘Hey there.'

He took two strides to his bed and fell down on top of it, so damn pleased to hear her voice. ‘How are you?'

‘I'm good now,' she said, ‘but I've been going insane since the wedding.'

He grinned. ‘Me too. Can't stop thinking about you. I think Angus is getting suspicious that something is up.'

‘I've barely been able to look at Simone. I feel so guilty for even thinking about you but …'

‘I know,' he said when her voice trailed off. ‘We'll work it out. But let's not worry about it now. I just want to talk to you.'

‘Me too,' she whispered as if someone might be in earshot.

‘Where are you?' he asked.

‘At home.'

‘Then why are you whispering?' he whispered.

‘I don't know.' She laughed and it sounded so beautiful that he racked his brain for jokes to tell her so he could hear it again. ‘There's no-one here to eavesdrop except my cats.'

‘How are Fred and George?' She'd told him about her kittens the night they made the cakes. They sounded like little rascals.

‘George is climbing up the curtains in my living room and—youch!' she yelped. ‘Get down! Fred was climbing up my leg. They think their dinner is more important than talking to you.'

‘You'd better feed them. I don't want them to eat you.' If anyone was going to feast on her he wanted it to be him, but he swallowed that thought. He didn't think they were quite at the phone-sex stage of their relationship just yet.

‘I will.' Although he hadn't seen her house, he imagined her walking down a small corridor into a warm kitchen swimming with cookbooks and cooking paraphernalia. ‘Thanks for the book.'

‘Have you read it?' he asked as he heard a clatter in the background, followed by what he guessed to be the shaking of cat biscuits into bowls.

‘Nope. I told you, I'm way behind on my Aussie fiction.'

‘Well, Ruth Park isn't everyone's cup of tea but if you like that one, I've got plenty more you can borrow.' Logan repositioned himself on the bed, back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him.

‘That'd be great. How was your day?'

‘Ah you know … same old, same old. Angus and I are checking all the machinery over before harvest and I had to make some phone calls this arvo to line up some interviews for next week.'

‘You sound busy.'

‘No more than you, I suppose. How's the café? Had any interesting characters come in lately?' Another thing they'd talked about that night. He'd said she should write a book with the stories she'd told him.

‘Actually, yes. One lady was travelling through town in her caravan and she brought her dog inside the café.'

‘Oh yeah?'

She chuckled. ‘It was a Great Dane and when I told her she'd have to leave him tied up outside and I could bring him out a bowl of water, she accused me of discrimination—saying that I let people bring their toddlers in and that the dog was her fur baby.'

‘What? That's insane. People are crazy.'

‘I know. You must meet a fair few loonies in your job too.'

‘Nah, mostly people want to suck up to me,' he admitted. ‘They're scared of what I'll write about them if they don't.'

‘What would you write about me?' she asked.

‘Now that's easy.' He cleared his throat and then spoke in a deep voice. ‘Headline: Sexy red-headed café owner makes rural journalist hot under the collar, and not just because she's a red-hot cook.'

‘Isn't that a bit too long for a headline?' she said, her tone amused.

‘Stuff the headline. Nothing I'd write about you would do you justice anyway.'

‘You're making me blush.'

‘That I'd like to see,' he said, muscles all over his body tightening at this confession. ‘You busy on Sunday?'

She was quiet a moment, then, ‘I think this is where I'm supposed to play hard to get, but I hate games, so no, I'm not busy.'

He laughed. ‘Good. I've got to go up to Carnarvon next week for a story. I was thinking if I head up on Sunday we could meet in Geraldton for lunch.'

‘That sounds … great. Where are we going?'

He racked his brain but couldn't think of any café or restaurant half as good as hers and he wanted their first date to be special. ‘It's a surprise. I'll text you details of where to meet me.'

‘Sounds mysterious. But I can't wait.'

‘Me neither.'

They talked for the next few hours without any pause. Frankie ate some quiche she'd brought home from the café while they chatted, but Logan didn't bother sneaking out for lasagne; just listening to Frankie satisfied him enough. In fact, he could have talked all night long, but just before eleven, he said, ‘I suppose I'd better let you go and get some rest. Don't want you falling asleep in the soup tomorrow.'

She sighed. ‘Yes, I suppose you're right.'

But neither of them seemed inclined to hang up.

‘Sunday,' he said after the first moment's silence in over three hours.

‘Yes, Sunday.' It sounded like she was smiling and that made him smile.

‘But I'll talk to you tomorrow.' It was a promise, not a question.

‘I'll look forward to it,' she replied and then they finally disconnected.

Logan put his phone down on his bedside table and stretched out on the bed. He could not remember the last time he'd talked to a woman on the phone for that long. Hell, he couldn't remember the last time he'd talked to a woman
in person
for that long—well, aside from Frankie, the night before the wedding.

And he couldn't wait to talk to her again.

‘Mum? Are you awake?'

At the light pressure on her arm and Grace's voice above her, Simone opened her eyes and then blinked at her daughter. Her head felt muzzy as she tried to sit up from the couch, where she'd been lying since just after lunch. ‘What time is it?'

‘Just after four,' Grace said, sitting down next to Simone. ‘Are you okay? You don't look very well.' Grace raised her hand and placed it on her mother's head as Simone had done to her so many times when she was sick.