The Cattleman's Special Delivery (16 page)

* * *

It was the most terrible morning, waiting for the ambulance. Reece stayed in his study, pacing the floor, making phone calls, pacing some more. He felt cold and numb and he wanted to stay that way, at least till the ambulance officers arrived and confirmed the worst.

Jess stayed in the kitchen and baked. She needed to keep busy and she was sure there would be visitors, so she baked the simple staples that Michael had loved—a carrot cake, Anzac biscuits, date loaves, an apple tea cake.

She wouldn’t let herself think. She couldn’t bear to think about poor Michael, so she concentrated on chopping, weighing, stirring, wiping down floury bench tops. She let Rosie have her way with the pots-and-pans cupboard, bashing saucepan lids together, banging on baking tins with a wooden spoon, and the racket was strangely comforting.

Outside, the sun was very hot and bright, which seemed wrong somehow. Surely, it should have been grey and dreary.

CHAPTER TEN

T
HE
dark clouds
rolled in on the day of the funeral, and by the time Jess and Reece arrived back at Warringa the heavy tropical rain was bucketing down.

Jess scooted into the house behind Reece, who was carrying Rosie, doubled over to keep the rain off her, and Jess was reminded of the rainy night she met Reece, when her baby was born. Perhaps it was fitting that it would be raining again now. Before too long, she would have to broach the subject of leaving Warringa.

She and Reece hadn’t talked much over the past few days. Reece had retreated again, which was understandable. He’d kept super busy making arrangements for the funeral and notifying people of Michael’s passing, attending to his regular jobs around the property, as well as taking long rides on horseback, supposedly checking boundaries.

Jess knew he was hurting way more than he let on. He’d been so close to his father, and he was too caring and sensitive not to hurt. She wasn’t surprised that he’d covered his pain with tough armour. And she supposed she didn’t really have the right to comfort him, although she wished she could.

To keep occupied she’d cleaned the house from top to bottom. There was always the chance Reece’s mother might turn up. After all, Michael was her former husband and the father of her sons.

The funeral was held in a little white wooden church in Gidgee Springs, and a surprising number of people packed into the pews and gathered afterwards in the church hall. Reece’s mother had
not
been among the mourners, and as Jess had served afternoon tea she’d battled with murderous thoughts towards the woman who’d caused so much pain.

At least Reece’s brother was there to honour his father and to support Reece. A slightly younger, citified version of Reece, Tony Weston declined to stay at the homestead, claiming he had an important court case in Sydney to hurry back to. Jess had spied him briefly chatting with Reece, so that was something at least. And there were plenty of other people wanting to offer their condolences, so Reece was surrounded by friends from all over the district and beyond.

But now, so quickly, it was over.

Jess was on the veranda at Warringa, damp and shivering slightly, as she waited for Reece to unlock the front door.

‘I guess you’ll need to get Rosie fed and bathed,’ he said as he handed her over. ‘She was very well behaved today, wasn’t she?’

‘She had a great time being passed around and having so many people making a fuss of her.’

‘While her mum slaved in the church hall’s kitchen.’

‘I didn’t mind.’

‘I know you didn’t mind, Jess. You never seem to mind and you were fantastic, and I’m really, really grateful.’

He came to her and dropped a quick kiss on her lips. His lips were cool from the rain and the kiss was more courteous than sexy, so it should
not
have made her skin burn, but it was the first physical contact between them in days. Now he shrugged out of his suit coat and tossed it over the back of a lounge chair and began to undo his tie.

As usual, Jess couldn’t tear her eyes from him. There was something so very masculine and sigh-worthy about the way he stretched his neck as he loosened the tie’s knot and then released the top button on his shirt.

He was, of course, oblivious to her small swoon.

‘I’m going to shift a mob of cattle out of the bottom paddock near the creek,’ he said.

‘Now, Reece? But it’s pouring.’

He smiled. ‘That’s why I have to shift them. If it keeps raining like this all night, the creek might come up and flood that paddock.’

‘Can it flood so quickly?’

‘It wouldn’t be the first time.’

* * *

It was completely dark by the time he got back. Jess had bathed and fed Rosie and settled her to sleep to the lullaby sounds of the rain drumming on the iron roof. Tonight it was even louder than on the night Rosie was born.

Then she put a chicken casserole she’d made a couple of days earlier into the oven to reheat, and, while she waited for Reece, she went to her room and opened her wardrobe. She supposed she should start planning the best way to pack up her clothes and all Rosie’s things.

She felt sick at the thought. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to leave, and she and Reece hadn’t talked about it yet, but the depressing fact was, her job here was finished. Reece had only employed her because he’d needed someone to help care for his father.

Now, sadly, there was no valid reason for her to stay. Perhaps, if she hadn’t slept with Reece, she might have stayed on as his housekeeper, but they’d complicated things, and he hadn’t bothered with a housekeeper before she came. She didn’t fancy staying on as some kind of ‘kept woman’, and she still had her debts hanging over her head. So there was no point in dragging out the inevitable.

* * *

Reece arrived in the kitchen, showered and changed, just as Jess was taking the casserole out of the oven.

‘That smells sensational. Perfect for a cool, rainy night.’

‘It’s one of my favourite recipes,’ she admitted. ‘I’m sure you’ve had it before.’

He came over and stood close to her. She was conscious of the warmth of him by her shoulder, watching as she lifted the lid, releasing the aromas of chicken and garlic and herbs.

‘We had this on that first night in Cairns,’ he said. ‘Remember?’

‘Oh, yes, of course.’ It was the night the repossession guys arrived. A night she’d much rather forget, except that Reece’s company and their dinner conversation had been so very, very pleasant.

‘We fantasised about a holiday in New York,’ she said as she ladled food onto plates.

‘So we did. Winter in Manhattan.’

Jess didn’t return his smile. The fantasy was more alluring than ever now, possibly because she knew with certainty it could never happen. To her dismay, her eyes welled with tears and she was struggling not to cry.

Keeping her face averted, she concentrated fiercely on dishing up their meal, and by the time they were seated she’d managed to resurrect a half-mast smile. ‘So how are your cattle?’ she asked brightly. ‘Are they all safely away from the creek?’

‘Yep. I think they should be fine.’

‘I still find it hard to believe the creek could come up so quickly.’

‘Actually, it’s amazing how fast it can happen. It all depends on how much rain has already fallen further to the north.’

‘Does the gorge fill up as well?’

‘Everything can flood. The roads can be cut.’

‘Are you saying that I could be stranded here?’

Reece gave a shrugging smile. ‘Why do you think we have such a big pantry and cold room?’

Something in her expression must have alerted him. He put down his knife and fork, his face suddenly wary. ‘Are you planning to leave soon?’

Jess’s food went down too quickly and she had to swallow again before she could answer. ‘I imagine I’ll have to go, Reece. You employed me to help keep an eye on Michael.’

‘But we both know you’ve done so much more than that—with the house and—and everything.’

‘Well, yes. I’ve loved working here. In many ways, it’s the best job I’ve ever had. I suppose I could stay on for a week or two.’
If you keep paying me.
Missing so little as a week’s wages would cause a dangerous hiccup in her repayments
.

‘A week or two?’

She didn’t like to suggest that she could stay until he was feeling calmer.

‘I—I’ll need to find another job.’

Reece’s jaw tightened. ‘Of course.’

She’d never seen such hardness in his face. ‘Maybe tonight’s not the night to talk about this.’

‘Why not?’

His scowl reminded her so much of Michael she wanted to cry. ‘Are you angry?’

‘Why should I be angry?’

This was going nowhere. Jess knew it was futile to try to discuss how either of them really felt about her leaving. Those issues were emotional and her employment was a business matter. Besides, on the emotional front they’d made promises to each other. No strings. No ties. No expectations.

Her task was clear. She had to convince Reece that she wanted to leave Warringa, even though it would almost destroy her to walk away from him.

Oh, help.

Her fork clattered from her suddenly nerveless fingers as the painful realisation struck home. She
loved
Reece.

She didn’t just lust after him. She loved everything about him—who he was, how he behaved, how his mind worked, even where he lived.

Her romance with Alan had been a youthful whirlwind—the whole ‘marry in haste and repent at leisure’ scenario.

Her relationship with Reece was different in every way. She knew him inside out. She’d lived with him for eight long weeks and she felt intimately connected to him on so many levels. They were linked by all those strings they’d claimed didn’t exist.

She loved Reece through and through, but she wasn’t in a position to do anything about it.

Reece was frowning at her now. ‘I won’t try to keep you here, Jess. Not if you want to leave. I know you said that you have to go. You have plans...’

Yes...she had plans to find a new job, and to keep chipping away the debts she’d inherited. She had plans to one day be free of her most pressing problems and to eventually find a nice little cottage with a garden for Rosie to play in, a kindergarten nearby.

‘Jess.’

She jumped as Reece’s warm hand closed over hers.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked gently.

Of course she wasn’t OK. She was falling apart at the thought of leaving here. Leaving him.

‘Hey.’ His harshness had melted, and now the hint of a smile warmed his eyes as he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

She stared at his hand covering hers, suntanned and tough, familiar. His thumbnail was slightly frayed and she felt an impulse to kiss it, to feel that jagged edge drag against her lips.

‘You know you don’t
have
to go.’

This was so hard. She so,
so
wanted to stay. This man and his home were her versions of paradise. She would stay in a heartbeat if he wanted her to, and if she didn’t have such a huge mountain of debt.

It killed her that Reece was being gentle and concerned now. She’d found it easier to be strong when he was angry with her.

‘You wouldn’t have to stay on as my housekeeper,’ he said next, and his dark eyes shimmered with all kinds of emotions. ‘You could stay here—’

He stopped, and swallowed awkwardly.

What was he trying to say?

‘A live-in lover?’ Jess suggested, and, despite the longing that coiled tight and hot inside her, she forced her voice to remain cool.

‘As my wife.’

His wife?
She gasped as the floor seemed to give way beneath her. This was the last thing she’d expected.

It seemed too big to take in.

Too wonderful.

Too perfect.

If only...

If only she were free. If only she weren’t buried beneath those debts. Reece would be shocked if he knew how much she still owed. She couldn’t possibly ask him to take on her financial burden.

Her mouth twisted out of shape as she tried to find a way to answer him. ‘I—I’m so sorry, Reece.’

His chair scraped on the floor as he rose abruptly. ‘Of course,’ he said tightly. ‘Don’t worry. I understand.’

But you don’t.

He looked terrible and raw and Jess’s throat burned with welling tears. She knew Reece would assume she didn’t love him or his lifestyle. He couldn’t trust any woman to like it out here.

Oh, God. If only she could explain, but how could she tell him about the debts without implying that she needed his help to pay them? The debts were her problem. She’d inherited them from Alan, and she’d inherited a streak of independence from her mother, and there was no way she could drag the financial troubles from her first husband into a brand-new marriage.

Miserably, she watched the tense angle of Reece’s shoulders as he stood at the sink, now with his back stiffly to her.

‘If we can get across the creek, you’ll want to leave first thing in the morning.’ He spoke matter-of-factly, without emotion.

So soon?

‘I’ll drive you to Cairns.’

‘No, I wouldn’t expect you to do that. I’ll get a bus from Gidgee Springs.’

He turned, his face unrecognisably stony and cold. ‘If that’s what you want.’

Jess found it too painful to look at him and she dropped her gaze to his plate where the chicken and sauces were cooling and beginning to congeal.

To her surprise, he sat down again and picked up his knife and fork as if nothing had happened.

* * *

Reece ate without tasting the food, determined to hold himself together. He couldn’t believe he’d been so freaking stupid as to ask Jess to marry him.

Where the hell had
that
come from?

He’d had no intention of proposing to her. What was the point? He’d known from the start that she’d never planned to stay here, and he had enough history behind him to know better. He and Jess had even talked about it and they’d set boundaries. Nice, clear, safe boundaries with no sentimentality or emotion.