Outback Sisters (3 page)

Technically it had been Harriet and Grace that had started the ball rolling, but Frankie didn't bother to point this out. It took a great deal of energy to argue with Simone. She glanced around the kitchen—the mess would still be there in the morning and if she got up early, she could deal with it then.

Less than five minutes later she was letting herself into Simone's eternally chaotic house with a cardboard box full of leftover cake. ‘Hello?' she called, as she made her way through the trail of shoes and magazines and quirky doorstops that littered the hallway of the 1950s fibro cottage.

‘In here!' Simone yelled from her bedroom.

Frankie found her older sister and two nieces crowded around Simone's tiny but cluttered desk, staring intently at her laptop. She rested the cake box precariously on the top of a dresser.

‘Have a read of what they've said about me. And would you look at the photo they used? It looks nothing like me. It's over five years old, from before these two turned into monsters and I got wrinkles. No wonder he wants to meet me,' Simone said, springing from her stool and turning to her open wardrobe. ‘And then you can help me pick a dress.'

Lord, that could take a while
. Frankie glanced over at her sister's collection of outfits. Unlike her, Simone never threw anything out. She still wore things that had been in fashion ten years ago and somehow always managed to look fabulous. And wrinkles? You'd need a magnifying glass to see them, if there were any. Simone had a whimsical, unique style that Frankie had always been a little jealous and a lot in awe of. In contrast, her own wardrobe consisted mostly of skinny jeans, knee-high boots and practical shirts. The very few dresses she owned always made her feel silly when she wore them.

Sixteen-year-old Harriet and thirteen-year-old Grace stepped aside to make room for Frankie. She sat on the wobbly wooden stool and looked at the screen, which showed Simone's profile on
RuralMatchmakers.com.au
. ‘Oh, I read about this site in
The West
only a few weeks ago. Apparently it's had a lot of success helping isolated farmers find love,' she commented before starting to read.

‘I'm not sure any farmer—isolated or otherwise—wants to put up with my crap.'

Frankie chose not to respond and started to read. Within a few seconds she was in hysterics.

‘
Body type
,' she read aloud, ‘
feminine and curvaceous, breasts to rival Barbie but the rest of me in much better proportion
. What the hell?'

‘Don't!' Simone shrieked. ‘I shudder to think what kind of man that profile has attracted, but then I looked at this Logan's profile and read some of his messages and he seems normal enough.'

Normal? Frankie thought of how she'd felt the moment Logan had walked into the café and then moments later when he'd kissed her. Nope, he wasn't normal at all.

‘Where's his profile?'

Harriet leaned across the screen and after a few clicks of the mouse, Logan's photo loomed large in front of them. Frankie's heart rate spiked at the sight of his boyish but irresistible grin and she had to close her eyes a moment to settle it. When she opened them again, she barely glanced at the photo, scrolling lower to read all about him.

He was apparently thirty years old, so almost smack bang in the middle of her and Simone. His height had him at over six foot but she could have guessed that from the way he'd had to stoop to kiss her and he hadn't lied about his body type—he was fit, well built and healthy. He didn't smoke, and only drank ‘on occasion'. She wondered if that was a lie as most farmers she knew had at least a couple of beers at the end of a hard day. But if a little white lie was the biggest fault she could find, well … maybe she would sign up to this site after all.

‘See, he's a Leo and Mum's Libran.' Harriet pointed at the screen. ‘That makes them perfect for each other.'

Frankie raised her eyebrows. Simone was into all that new-age stuff and it seemed to have rubbed off on her daughters, but Frankie thought it all a load of manure.

‘It says he's a journalist?' she said, reading further.

‘Yep.' Grace nodded, twisting her long golden hair around her index finger. Both of Simone's daughters had luckily missed the family ginger gene and were blessed with golden hair like their father. ‘He's a rural journalist. We checked out some of his articles and—'

‘He's very prolific,' interrupted Harriet. ‘But he also still works on his family's crop and sheep station in Mingenew when they need him.'

Frankie wondered who ‘they' were.

‘It's not far,' Grace added. ‘We only responded to people within a couple of hours' drive. Harriet said long-distance relationships never work.'

‘Because Harriet knows so much about relationships,' Simone said sarcastically as she discarded yet another outfit on the bed.

Harriet glared at her mother. ‘Well, I'm the only one in this room currently in a relationship.'

‘Touché.' Frankie wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

‘What about this?' Simone held up a cute white dress scattered with black stars. It was ruched from bodice to hip and finished just above the knee. It also had a very low neckline, which would show off her enviable cleavage. Not quite Barbie, but still …

Frankie swallowed. ‘I think it's perfect.'

With a nervous smile, Simone stripped down to her underwear—a black, lacy bra with matching G-string. She always wore sexy lingerie, despite moaning about nobody ever getting to see it. Frankie couldn't help but wonder if Logan would be the exception to that rule and her chest tightened at the thought. Having experienced the magic of his lips, Frankie couldn't help her jealousy, despite knowing how ridiculous it was to feel this way about a man she'd just met.

Stepping into the dress, Simone yanked it up over her boobs, slipped her arms into the tiny sleeves and then spun around. ‘Can someone do me up?'

Harriet stepped forward and tugged up the zip. ‘You look hot, Mum,' she said, a rare tone of approval in her voice.

‘You do,' Frankie had to agree. She didn't know anyone else who could get away with a white dress and black underthings, but on Simone the tiny glimpse of dark lace was incredibly seductive. Sometimes she wondered why some guy hadn't snapped her sister up already, but deep down, Frankie knew it was because no-one had come along who measured up to Jason.

Ignoring their compliments, Simone asked, ‘What shoes should I wear?'

The next few minutes were taken up searching through Simone's massive shoe collection. They finally came to a decision, choosing a pair of strappy silver heels.

When Simone rushed off to the bathroom to ‘do something about my hair and make-up', Harriet plonked herself down on the bed to grill Frankie.

‘So Aunty Eff, is he really as good-looking as in his photo?'

‘Oh … yes, like you wouldn't be—' Frankie caught herself gushing about Logan and remembered her place. ‘But it doesn't matter what he looks like, pretending to be your mum was very irresponsible—you don't know what kind of people are lurking out there on the internet.'

‘We've done cyber safety at school,' Harriet said with a wave of her hand. ‘And we weren't stupid.'

Not in the mood to argue with her niece, Frankie decided she'd fulfilled her responsibilities by mentioning the issue. Then, telling herself she was looking out for Simone, she went back to scrutinising Logan's profile. In addition to playing footy, reading, rock-climbing and canoeing—all that physical activity accounted for his lovely body—he also listed baking as a hobby. Interesting; an all-rounder indeed. And apparently he
did
have a brother—she'd have to get Simone to enquire after him.

‘Can you stay with the girls while I'm out?' Simone asked on her return to the bedroom. ‘I doubt I'll be long and anyway, you can be on call if I need you to check any information about this guy.'

Frankie nodded—it wasn't like she had any better options—and it was always fun hanging out with her nieces. Reading on the couch had seemed an appealing Friday night option less than an hour ago, but now she felt that her favourite pastime wouldn't cut the mustard.

Simone plucked her handbag from where it hung on the end of the bed. Then she took a deep breath and looked at each of them. ‘Are you sure I look okay?'

‘Gorgeous, Mum.' This from Grace.

‘Stop fishing for compliments and get the hell to this date,' Harriet ordered.

‘Watch your tongue, young lady.' Simone pointed a finger at her. ‘And be good for Frank.'

‘You look amazing, Simmo. Have fun.' Frankie summoned a smile as she tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. ‘Can't wait to hear all about it.'

Frankie, Harriet and Grace followed Simone to the door and stood on the porch like nervous parents as she climbed into her beaten-up old Pajero.

‘Oh bugger, I haven't organised dinner yet,' Simone called, leaning out of the driver's-side window.

‘Don't worry about us, just go,' Harriet hollered.

Frankie nodded. ‘Yes, go. I'll whip something up for them.'

A man like Logan Knight should not be kept waiting.

With a final wave, Simone reversed her car out of the driveway and started in the direction of the main street. Frankie shook her head, not wanting to think about whether Logan would kiss her sister hello in the manner he'd kissed her earlier.

‘Did I see a cake box?' Grace asked, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

Frankie reached out and ruffled her youngest niece's hair. ‘Sure did, my sweet. I'll go get it.' Normally she'd have gone to the effort of making her nieces something healthy for dinner, but for some reason she couldn't summon the energy, so they sat down on the couch together and ate cake right from the box. At least, she and Grace did. Harriet moaned about getting fat and grabbed an apple from the kitchen instead.

‘You ought to be careful,' she said to Grace when she joined them again. ‘Boys don't like fat chicks and if you keep eating junk food the way you do, you'll be the size of a house.'

‘Harriet,' Frankie warned. Neither of the girls were fat and this was a ridiculous conversation.

‘There's this thing called exercise,' Grace snapped back. ‘Of course you wouldn't know about that because the only thing you ever exercise is your tongue.'

Harriet's mouth dropped open and her eyes narrowed at her sister. It wasn't like Grace to stand up for herself and Frankie couldn't help but silently commend her; still, she didn't want to end up umpiring her nieces' bickering all night, so she distracted them.

‘What made you two decide to sign your mum up for Rural Matchmakers?'

‘Adam and Stella's wedding,' Grace said, dumping her fork into the cake box.

‘She'll look like a sad case if she goes alone,' Harriet added, picking up her iPhone and staring at the screen. It was a miracle she'd lasted this long without checking Facebook or Snapchat.

‘What about me? You don't have a problem with
me
going to the wedding solo?'

‘Oh, Aunty Eff,' Grace said, leaning in to hug her. ‘You're so hot and young, you'll pick up some gorgeous guy on the dance floor.'

Hah! The optimism of youth.
‘Your mum's not that much older than me,' Frankie said, feeling as if she should stick up for her sister.

‘Ah … seven years.' Harriet looked up from social media and the expression on her face said she thought that time period a lifetime—and Frankie supposed it was almost half of Harriet's.

Frankie couldn't help but laugh. If she couldn't be at the pub with Logan, she could think of no place she'd rather be than hanging out with her nieces.

* * *

Of all the ridiculous things her sister and daughters had made her do, going on a blind date with a stranger off the internet was up there at the top, thought Simone as she pushed open the door of The Palace. And she was about to do it in full view of half the town; in lieu of any other nightlife in Bunyip Bay, this was where everyone between the ages of eighteen and eighty congregated on Friday nights. What kind of fool did that make her?

An optimistic one, that's what, because the moment she'd seen Logan Knight's photo on her computer screen, her lady bits had hijacked her brain, reminding her of her non-existent sex life. If Logan looked half as good in person as he did in his profile picture, she was going to give this her best shot. She owed it to herself and to her daughters, who, she had to admit, had their hearts in the right place when they'd signed her up for online dating. He'd have to be a nice person as well, of course—she wasn't about to jump into bed with a nasty pastie.

As she stepped inside the pub, the familiar smell of beer, cheap perfumes and greasy food wafted over her. The greasy-food aroma had always perplexed her because the food here was uniformly good. Liam, the publican, took pride in his establishment and he was fussy about what came out of the kitchen. Classic rock burst from the surround-sound stereo because that was Liam's favourite music. He'd had a jukebox for about five minutes a few years ago, but when drunk folk started selecting the Spice Girls and One Direction, he'd sold it cheap on Gumtree. There was usually a pool game to join if you so desired and rarely did things get rowdy. These days, especially with English hottie Drew Noble as police sergeant, people thought twice before putting a foot out of line.

‘Hi Simmo, can I get you a drink?'

She smiled at Drew, who'd appeared beside her.
Speak of the devil.

‘Would you like to join Rubes and me for dinner?' he added, gesturing to a table in the dining area. He'd been in Australia less than a year but had already become accustomed to the Aussie practice of nicknaming everyone.