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Authors: Robyn Grady

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BOOK: The Wedding Must Go On
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CHAPTER FIVE

T
WO
days later, Roxy and Marla arrived in the red dry plains of Australia’s Outback.

From Sydney they’d flown north to Brisbane to board a small aircraft, which had taken just the two of them into the centre of Queensland. Nate had organised a later private flight for himself and Greg. All very clandestine. Another word that came to Roxy’s mind was
underhanded
. She was still in two minds as to whether she ought to have given in and agreed.

After their Scrabble game and Marla’s admission that she wished those photos and her doubts regarding Greg were somehow a mistake, Roxy had confirmed she’d go along with Nate’s plan—but she was far from comfortable. Whether it was sweet-talking her customers or working his way around her and almost into her bed, Nate was a master manipulator. She only had to think of her parents’ relationship to know a man’s charm—even declarations of love—could be turned on and off to suit. But she wasn’t here to dwell on that.

As the four-wheel-drive transfer vehicle pulled up now outside what would be their lodgings for the next few days, she only hoped that Nate’s faith in his friend was true and well founded, and a happy ending would justify these deceptive means. She could only pray that her friend would
make the right decision for her. And, hey, maybe Marla
would
say ‘I do’ and wear the gorgeous gown specially created for the occasion … the gown that might make that contest deadline after all.

With a hot breeze blowing in her face and a blazing midday sun beating down, Roxy alighted from the vehicle to study the eerily quiet landscape and sprawling, obviously once-grand but presently wholly unglamorous, homestead.

‘I appreciate the surprise,’ Marla said, ‘but when you asked me to push back my plans for California to fit in a girlie escape to a secret location, I expected a tropical island. You know? Lying on some powdery beach, sipping a creamy cocktail.’ She swiped at a noisy fly. ‘Why this place?’

Roxy took in the homestead’s flaky paint then a Frilly lizard scrambling over a bed of dead flowers and tried to make light. Not the Hilton, but didn’t the charm of this old homestead make their trip more … interesting?

‘Didn’t you ever want to experience kangaroos bounding free? The enormous majesty of an Outback sunset?’ She recited a couple of lines from a famous poem about a sun-burned country and sweeping plains. ‘Who knows how long you’ll be in California? This might be your only chance to experience your native country’s true character.’

‘I don’t plan to be gone for ever.’ Ducking, Marla waved away another pea-sized fly. ‘Just long enough to escape for a while. To forget.’

When Marla’s eyes welled and she slid the sunglasses perched atop her head onto her nose to hide the glisten of tears, Roxy tried to swallow the lump swelling in her own throat. Since they’d met in university, she and Marla had been as close as sisters; being an only child from an unstable home, that meant a lot. Too much to lose. And yet here she was jeopardizing that relationship. Then again,
this might pay off in the best way possible and make their friendship even stronger.

Roxy held her swooping stomach. God, how she wished everything about this time were over.

At the same time the vehicle pulled away, the homestead’s screen door squeaked open and a couple in their fifties moved out onto the wide verandah that surrounded the entire length of the house. The silver-haired man wore pressed jeans, a checkered shirt and a warm smile. In a faded printed dress, his beaming wife held onto his arm until the couple was close enough to extend a hand to greet their city guests.

‘I’m Celia Glenrowan,’ the woman said, and Roxy shook her weathered hand after Marla. ‘Welcome to Glenrowan Station.’

‘Celia can show you to your rooms,’ Mr Glenrowan said, filing back hair before placing a battered Akubra square on his head. ‘Then we can have a bite to eat and maybe take a ride around. You girls know how to handle a horse?’

Roxy spoke for them both. ‘I do. I’m sure Marla would love to learn.’

‘We got a couple of real ladies that’ll suit you both just fine,’ Mrs Glenrowan said, heading back to the homestead.

Mr Glenrowan collected the luggage. ‘We’ll keep the stallions for the other guests. Think the man said they liked to ride hard.’

Marla’s brows lifted. ‘There’s other guests?’

‘Due later today,’ Mr Glenrowan replied, following his wife.

Marla murmured to Roxy, ‘As long as it’s not a couple of bad boys on the prowl. Then again, that type usually hit the hot spots—’ she plucked at her blouse ‘—and I don’t mean Simpson Desert hot.’

Roxy hid a cringe as her guilt barometer hit an all-time high. While an unsuspecting Marla headed off after the Glenrowans, she took in another sweeping glance over the gum-tree-studded panorama before folding her sleeves up another turn, saying a quick prayer and following.

The last through that screen door, Roxy was apparently the first to hear the churning rumble filtering in from afar. Cupping a hand over her brow, she squinted through the haze and spied a four-wheel-drive hovering on the shimmering horizon. She didn’t think she or Marla had left anything behind but had their driver spotted something that he was good enough to want to return? Except the approaching vehicle was red whereas theirs had been white—which meant more visitors?

They four were supposed to be the only guests, but Nate and Greg weren’t due for another two hours. Still, as the vehicle rumbled closer Roxy couldn’t shake the feeling that one of its occupants was indeed her accomplice in crime. Perspiration beaded across her forehead and her thoughts began to race.

She and Nate had talked over the phone at length about arrangements, including the fact she’d secured the services of her younger cousin, who was in between jobs and grateful for the opportunity to mind the store for some extra cash. But they hadn’t discussed a plan B should they land here at the same time. She and Marla were meant to be taking a tour around the property when the boys arrived.

Feeling queasy, Roxy stepped back from the door. Greg was in trouble because of his alleged subterfuge. Roxy could make excuses for herself—for this—but was she really any better?

Soon the vehicle pulled up. The driver let the engine run while Greg jumped down from the back seat, overnighter in hand. Having exited the other side, Nate rounded the
tailgate. In such a harsh setting, under such intense circumstances, the sight of him took Roxy’s breath away.

Walking into her shop the other day, he’d cut an impressive figure in a dark, tailored suit. In chinos and a more casual white button-down that night, he’d looked so hot, the sight of him had left her parched. But today—
now—
her every thought, every cell, was drawn to the uncompromising masculine sight of him. She wanted to tell herself that she couldn’t stand the sight of him. But that would be the biggest lie of all.

When a simple chambray shirt, cuffs folded halfway up two tanned forearms, covered
that
broad chest and shoulders, it was transformed into something extraordinary. Watching those light blue jeans hug his thighs as he sauntered around the vehicle left her feeling giddy. By the time a black Akubra was fitted atop dark hair that ruffled in a rippling breeze, her heart was hammering double time up near her throat. Suddenly she was consumed by thoughts of the sensations he’d so effortlessly brought out in her the other night … feelings that had left her boneless, yearning to have him naked, hard and unapologetically close.

Why did he have to be so screwed up about curses and blessings and drag her into the mix?

She watched as Nate took in the bordering straggly gums and a drunken wire fence that disappeared into a drowsy infinity before shaking hands with the driver through the opened window, then saluting him off. A moment later, the vehicle rolled away, churning plumes of red dust in its wake. Roxy’s stomach churned too. Was she meant to stand here, frozen, waiting for Marla to wander out and the bomb to fall? She’d rather dig a hole and disappear for good.

In a deep wry voice, Greg said to Nate, ‘Could you have taken us anywhere more remote?’

‘The idea was to get away.’ Nate moved forward with the gait of a man expecting to step on a landmine any minute. He must feel as anxious as she did.

‘Look, I know you’re worried about the business,’ Greg said, following, ‘but you don’t need me to make that company of yours a success.’

‘That’s one man’s opinion.’ Nate broke into a smile and clapped his buddy on the back. ‘Let’s get these bags inside and see what’s what.’

Roxy shut her eyes as her stomach swooped again. This was the moment. Rather than them run into her here, hiding, better she get her butt out there and face the music now.

At the same time she pushed at the screen door Marla came up behind her and Roxy jumped and swallowed a surprised yelp.

‘Our rooms are gorgeous,’ Marla said. ‘So big and comfy-looking. What’s keeping you?’ She must have seen the dread in her friend’s face and, worried, she lowered her voice. ‘Roxy, what’s wrong? You look ready to faint.’

Roxy held her friend’s shoulders. ‘There’s something I need to tell you. And before I do, I want you to know that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You know that, right?’

At that moment, Marla must have heard the men speaking, recognized the voices, then immediately dismissed it all as imagination because her expression went from worry to alarm to self-reproach in the blink of an eye. But when those voices grew louder, closer, Marla frowned and stepped around Roxy to peer out through the screen door. A heartbeat later, she made a sound as if she’d been kicked in the gut at the same time her knees gave way; Roxy had to dive to hold her friend up before she crumpled to the floor. Together they gazed out as the men strolled
nearer, chatting, laughing, although, to someone in the know, Nate’s body language seemed guarded.

Marla didn’t consult her friend. Rather she straightened and burst through the door. Marla was a deeply feeling person but she could also be steely tough when the situation demanded. It was one of the reasons Roxy respected her so much. And why she was so worried now.

When Greg saw Marla, his smile slipped from his face and his lazy pace ground to a halt at the same time his head slanted to one side, as if looking from a different angle might change what he saw. Carefully he removed his sunglasses and his complexion drained.

Marla spoke first, directly at Greg. ‘What on earth are you up to, sneaking around and following us out here like this? Must have taken some doing, Greg Martin, but if you think this is a way to wheedle back into my life, you’re mistaken.’

Stunned, Greg was slowly shaking his head. ‘Marla? What are you doing here?’ He looked to Roxy, who now stood behind her friend, then Nate, and finally his face filled with dark understanding. His jaw jutting forward, he slotted his sunglasses in his shirt’s top pocket and glared at his friend.

‘You’d better start talking,’ Greg said, ‘and for both our sakes, it’d better be good.’

Nate wasn’t sure how he managed it, but he persuaded everyone to sit calmly around the faded cedar setting, positioned beneath the homestead’s corrugated-iron verandah roof, without having his head torn off. Given the tight line of Marla’s mouth, she didn’t want to share space with Greg, and from the vein pulsing at Greg’s temple, he wasn’t too comfortable being around Nate right now. But the only alternative was grand theft auto of the Glenrowans’ pickup
or finding a willing kangaroo to piggyback home, so the pair held their tempers and listened.

Serenaded by bush birds and fortified by tall glasses of Mrs Glenrowan’s cool lemonade, Nate explained how this situation had come about, starting with his visit to Roxy’s salon. He made clear that Roxy had agreed to this plan only after Marla had announced her trip to California. He also emphasized his belief that to do nothing was sometimes worse than forging ahead with only the best intentions in mind.

He concluded, ‘Marla, you’re understandably hurt by those photos, and Greg had done all he thought he could to apologize and make that hurt up to you. But maybe if you both sit down and talk about it, face to face, something can be resolved, even if it’s only shedding some of these bad feelings before Marla goes to California.’

When Marla quietly groaned and flicked a not entirely repulsed glance Greg’s way, Nate’s hopes lifted. If she was willing to at least listen, that was a start. But then she pushed to her feet, her slim nostrils flared, and she spoke to Roxy.

‘I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for putting me in this position.’ Her eyes began to glisten. ‘After everything we’ve been through together, you do this.’

While Roxy bowed her head, Marla went to move back inside. But then Greg stood too.

‘She only did what she hoped was right,’ he said. ‘Hell, Marla, if we’re talking about friendship, these two are the best. Roxy and Nate have faith in us. Can’t you have a little faith too? Just enough to at least hear me out properly.’ His heart in his eyes, he stepped forward. ‘You’re the person I wanted to share the rest of my life with. I still want that, more than anything.’

Nate held that breath while Roxy bit her lip and Marla
glared at her ex. Little by little, the pain in her expression morphed into something less hostile and more yielding.

‘I guess I know you didn’t do this to hurt me, Roxy,’ Marla said. ‘It’s just so … Well, I never dreamed …’ Gathering herself, she drew up tall. ‘I suppose, given you and Nate went to all this trouble and we’re here, Greg and I could talk.’ When Greg sighed out a smile and tipped forward, Marla put up both her palms. ‘That in no way means I’ve changed my mind. Only that I’m willing to hear anything new you have to say.’ She looked to Roxy. ‘How many days are we here?’

‘Four,’ Roxy said.

Hugging herself, Marla gazed out over the endless plain of red dirt, tufts of Mitchell grass, drooping eucalypts, and muttered, ‘Guess I’d better unpack.’

‘I thought we might go for a swim,’ Nate pitched in. ‘The website shows a great-looking creek nearby.’


If
you can believe a photo on a website.’

BOOK: The Wedding Must Go On
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