The House On Burra Burra Lane (5 page)

Sammy giggled. ‘Is this for real?’

‘People followed him, or found him. They settled, happy to share his goods. Until one day he swallowed so much beer he fell down and never got up.’

‘Swallow’s Fall,’ Sammy said, grinning in the dark.

The Bushman’s Clock had a snug ambience. Not because of its size, which was cavernous, just by atmosphere. A roaring fire, some armchairs in the family dining area and the expected tables and chairs in the bar. Next to the bar was a humungous twisted-metal kookaburra sitting beneath a big station clock.

Sammy felt exposed walking through with Ethan. She didn’t recognise anyone, but most lifted a hand in gesture to their vet.

‘What will you drink?’ Ethan turned at the bar, sliding a hand into his back pocket and producing a wallet.

‘I’m buying the first round, remember?’ If she let him buy, it might look like a date.

‘No. I’ll get them.’

A man came up behind the bar, dressed in fancy black: trim and narrow with a pencil-straight tie and a waistcoat.

‘Frank,’ Ethan said, ‘this is Samantha Walker.’ He turned to Sammy. ‘This is Kookaburra’s owner, Fast Frank.’

‘The Burra Burra Lane lady herself.’ Fast Frank nodded at Sammy, tipped an imaginary hat. ‘Good to meet you. How’s it going? Doing okay? Not too much for you yet?’

Ethan cleared his throat as he took money out of his wallet.

Fast Frank shot him a glance. ‘Just asking, Ethan. Just asking.’ He turned to Sammy with raised eyebrows. ‘So you’re settling in?’

Sammy smiled at the intense interest, and at her own sense of prowess. ‘Okay so far.’

Her house was the only one on Burra Burra Lane. A five minute drive from All Seasons Road and Ethan’s surgery, and a perfect fifteen minute drive to the hardware store on Main Street. She tapped the bar. ‘I’ll have a beer please, Frank.’

‘Coming right up, Miss Walker.’

‘Call me Sammy.’

It would be good to do some people-watching as she found her spot in this new environment, but one glance over her shoulder told her she was of more interest than she’d like to be. She’d stay close to Ethan. Not too close, just next to him.

‘Young lady, get yourself over here where I can see you.’

‘That’s Grandy,’ Ethan said. ‘You’d better go.’

Sammy turned to an old man who had to be close to ninety. He must have been a strapping young man because his length swallowed up the chair he sat in. He’d stamped his boots on the floor in a proprietary manner and he had a cane between his long thighs. It was the aura of town commander that dragged Sammy, and her nerves, forwards.

A spectacular young woman sat next to Grandy. She had sleek blonde hair which she stroked from her face with pale hands and manicured nails in a glossy crimson varnish.

‘I’m Grandy Morelly.’ He placed his hands on top of his cane. ‘And this here’s m’granddaughter, Julia Morelly. Foolish young time waster but the only grandchild still in town, so I have to put up with her nonsense.’

Sammy wasn’t sure whether to show surprise or sympathy. Julia certainly demanded attention. Her looks fitted wine bar living, not the country.

‘There’s a tab running on you,’ Grandy said. ‘We’re trying to figure out how long you’ll stay.’

A bet
? Sammy swallowed. Is that why Fast Frank had been interested? Did he have a bet down? Presumably this was a normal country town exercise, so she didn’t respond with anything but a smile.
Did Ethan have a bet down?

‘You’re slight, but I’ve given you the year.’

‘The whole year?’ Sammy enquired politely.

‘Some only gave you three months.’ Grandy winked. ‘What are you doing with Ethan?’

Her breath caught. ‘I’m not doing anything with him. He’s my builder.’

‘Ethan,’ Julia said, her gaze turning dark and dreamy, as though she was thinking of long evenings full of steamy passion. ‘If I was animal inclined, I’d probably get a dog or some birds.’

‘Sit still, Julia,’ Grandy said, his tone disgruntled. ‘Ethan isn’t for you, he’d swallow you up with one sentence, you foolish girl.’

Julia gave a slight pout.

‘Got twenty acres attached to the side of your property, young Walker. The fence is coming down in sections but I tell you what I’ll do.’ Grandy stomped his cane on the floor. ‘I’ll fix it and won’t charge you your share.’

‘That’s very kind of you.’

‘Grandy. If it’s your land, it’s your fence.’

‘Shut up, Julia, I’m doing business here. Keep your red mouth closed.’

Julia grimaced, sat back and studied her nails.

‘You can take it as a welcome, and if Ethan’s working on your property, it’ll be all wool and a yard wide.’

‘Thanks, I think.’

‘Authentic. Trustworthy. Job well done,’ Grandy explained.

‘Grandy.’ Ethan slipped into the conversation. He held two beers. ‘Julia.’

Sammy glanced from one to the other. Ethan looked away but Julia perked up, thrusting her chest forwards as she smiled.

The men didn’t seem to notice anything unusual about Julia’s highly-fragranced flirting but Sammy was acutely aware of her own body, her skin prickling beneath her clothes as though ticking her off for not dressing sexily. For not possessing feminine wiles. That’s what Oliver had believed too. She shook those thoughts away, she had no need to worry about her lack of refinement here. How would a sexy demeanour and manicured nails help clear the kitchen garden? She’d given up on chic, had dedicated a whole morning to packing her city clothes in a box, now stowed at the back of her wardrobe. This evening she’d showered and changed into her designer brown jeans and a bluebell-coloured jumper, both expensive items three months ago but now used for ‘best’ around town. Ethan had washed up in the laundry and looked as he usually did. He wore a long sleeved shirt, jeans, and a brown oilskin full-length coat which made him look like an iconic bushman hero.

‘Shall we sit by the fire?’ Ethan asked Sammy, moving towards a table that was sufficiently cosy to worry her.

He pulled out a chair for her then took a seat opposite. ‘Don’t be overwhelmed by Grandy.’ He lifted his glass. ‘He’s eighty eight in the shade, got the attitude of a bulldog and a mouth on him like a wharfie.’

Sammy stifled a grin, and sat.

Ethan smiled, sipped his beer. ‘Do you want something to eat?’

‘No thanks.’ If they had something to eat, it would definitely look like a date. ‘I hear there’s a tab running on me.’

Ethan narrowed his gaze. ‘Grandy told you about that?’

‘Yep. Said he gave me the year, but some thought three months.’

‘And what’s your take on it?’

‘They’ll all lose, I’m staying. Do you have a bet placed on me?’

He looked startled for a moment, but she was happy to keep the conversation flowing around something trivial, like how many people were making assumptions about her.

‘I don’t get involved with high stake gambling, Miss Walker.’ He drew his eyebrows together. ‘It’s dangerous and addictive.’

That earned him a smile. ‘Didn’t think you would. You’re the capable, dependable type.’ She wasn’t sure if he was amused or disgruntled by that. ‘Still manly enough to catch rodents of course. I wasn’t questioning that.’

Silence settled between them—apart from the hum of conversation, the odd laugh from larger groups, and the crackle of firewood as it split in the heat.

‘How come you’re a vet
and
a carpenter?’ Sammy asked.

‘How come you’re here alone and an artist?’

She paused. ‘Don’t you like personal questions?’

‘Do you?’

She flavoured her response with a grin. ‘We’ll stick to business. What’s the going price for a piece of four-by-two and how many will I need?’

He put his glass down and leaned forwards to the table, elbows rested on the polished wood. ‘I always loved working with wood and animals. I left school early though, but when I was seventeen I was apprenticed to a carpenter in the city who made me study for some qualifications. I liked it, suddenly found an aptitude for learning that hadn’t been there before. I wanted to see how far I could take myself, and trained as a vet. What about you?’

‘Me?’ She straightened in her chair, still trying to take all that in. He was a city boy then, she hadn’t expected that.

‘Do you only do the fashion stuff, or do you draw in other genres?’

‘I love portraiture, landscapes too. I work in pencil—lead or colour. I like to layer, getting depth and precision until it looks like a painting.’

‘Do you sell this work?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t have time anymore. I need to bring money in faster.’

‘I’d like to see some of your other work. Unless that’s too personal?’

‘It’s not. You can see it.’

The chatter of the room invaded again. They appeared to have come to the end of that conversation. Sammy was glad she hadn’t had to answer his question on why she was here alone.

She lifted her beer. ‘Do you have any sick animals in your surgery right now?’

Ethan nodded. ‘Usually have one or two.’

‘What have you got?’ She imagined big metal pens out the back to enclose the bulls.

‘A guinea pig and a rabbit.’

She spluttered a laugh.

He smiled, and it reached his companionable gaze. He unfurled and leaned back in his chair.

‘Sorry,’ she said, still smiling. ‘I expected a bull, not a bunny-wabbit.’

His cheeks turned a slightly ruddy colour. ‘They belong to Miss Wendy Jones. Wendy’s seven and she’s on holiday, nobody to look after Missy and Buster so I said I would.’

Sammy tilted her face. ‘That’s so sweet. Can I visit them sometime?’

A frown appeared on his brow. ‘Sure. I’ll even let you feed my horses.’

‘Ah, big powerful beasts. That’s more in your line, isn’t it?’

‘Not all the time.’ He picked up his beer. ‘I like rats too.’

Her laugh tasted better than the beer. ‘Touché.’ She clinked her glass against his. Her smile was warming her cheeks more than the fire at their side.

She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Should I introduce myself to people?’ Most people in the bar were dressed low-key, like Sammy, and their interest in her seemed to have waned a little.

‘No need,’ Ethan said. ‘They’ve seen you now, they’ll make themselves known in town.’

‘That’s a relief. I don’t like lots of people all at once.’

‘You’re shy.’

‘No I’m not.’ She laughed that away with a twist of her mouth.

‘What are you then?’

‘Adept at learning how to feed horses, how many do you have?’

‘Six. Rescued one, then people led me to others. I couldn’t leave them where I found them. At the moment they’re paddocked on Grandy’s land, close to my surgery and an old stable I’m fixing up.’

‘Do you find homes for them?’

‘Occasionally. Most of them came from the racetrack, they just want a quiet life.’

‘You’re all-round capable, Dr Granger.’

He didn’t answer straight away, he watched her. ‘And what are you, Miss Walker?’

‘Stubborn, happy, occasionally petulant, and I need to keep focussed in order to feel thoroughly useful to myself.’ They were her own traits, not those given by others, and it was easy to belittle herself with a bit of humour in front of him. ‘Hadn’t you noticed any of that?’

‘I had.’ The blue of his gaze swamped her suddenly. ‘And more.’

She got a little tangled in his apparent perception. ‘I’m hoping you won’t get disillusioned before you’ve at least fixed the shed wall.’

‘I won’t, I recognise a damsel in distress when I see one.’

Sammy put her glass down. ‘Well, if you’d return me to my castle, I’d be grateful.’

‘Are you tired working this way?’

‘No, but I like to pace myself.’

‘And you’re not comfortable having a beer with me in this strange place.’

For a second she wondered where the conversation would have gone if it had been a question. ‘I just want to go to bed, Ethan.’

She stood too quickly and had to grab the back of her chair before it fell. She was unsure if it was humour or need in his eyes but his gaze was deep and the trail of it smouldered through her. This was too cosy and she’d just mentioned the word
bed
as though inviting him into it.

The night air swiftly cooled her embarrassment. Ethan opened the passenger door of the ute then walked around to the driver’s side.

‘It’s a beautiful evening, isn’t it?’ he asked as he eased into the cab.

‘Yes.’

He fired the engine, and turned up the heater. ‘Are you warm enough?’

Sammy nodded then spoke, in case he didn’t see it in the dark. ‘Yes.’

He flicked the headlights on. ‘Well then, let’s get you to bed.’

Surprise shot through her system like hot steam, along with the sexy exhilaration she’d experienced when she’d first met him. She grasped her hands on her lap and closed her eyes, aware of every inch of her skin—and the tips of her breasts nudging her clothing. She breathed deeply but couldn’t find any words to respond.

It was a quick but silent drive, punctured only by her vivid imagination.

The beam of the headlights highlighted her gate, the roughly packed driveway and the long grass.

He pulled up outside her house. ‘Have you got your key?’

‘I don’t lock the door,’ she told him quietly as she undid her seatbelt.

He turned to his door, as though to leave his seat.

She reached out, her fingertips touching his thigh. ‘You don’t need to get out. I’m fine.’

‘Don’t you want me to see you inside?’ he asked, looking back at her. ‘And hear my response to the going to bed suggestion?’

She fought for judgement above the emotive responses firing through her. Was his tone a low, mellow amusement, or was he seriously saying he was ready to take her to bed?

She needed informality, not complication. She was nowhere near ready for this. There were things to forget, things to shake away. A casual fling was not on her agenda, and she hadn’t given any serious thought to an actual relationship but he’d hinted … twice now. She had to put a stop to this. ‘It wasn’t a suggestion.’

He turned in his seat, covered her hand with his. ‘It’s all right. I apologise. I was making a joke but it wasn’t a good one. I’m sorry.’