Никки Логан – Seven-Day Love Story (страница 2)

‘And they’re a pack now. Splitting them up is not an option.’

‘You may not have a choice, Ms Morrow.’

A double shot of alarm surged through her. Of course he knew her name—he was from the Shire, and she’d included her details on the registrations. But the thought that he might be leaving here today with one of her four-legged kids chained up in his vehicle … Her chest rose and fell with tight, sudden pain.

‘Please don’t take them.’ It galled her to beg, but the alternative was unthinkable.

‘I can see that you have them well trained,’ he said. ‘That’s a positive in your favour. And you have been very honest in declaring them.’ That broad brow crinkled as his dark eyebrows lowered in concentration. He slid his glance to the materials lying piled a few feet away. ‘What’s all this for?’

Panic bubbled up further and disguised itself as frustration. ‘Is that in breach of something, too?’

He smiled, utterly bemused. ‘No. I’m just thinking …’ He wandered over to the old aviary in the shade of an ancient gum tree. A giant corrella blinked at him from the high perch and a possum peered suspiciously out of a nest-box in the corner. On the ground, a bandicoot picked off the corrella’s cast-off food scraps. ‘You have quite a little zoo going here.’

Jayne stared at him, wondering what to say. ‘More of a halfway house. The plan is for most of these guys to go back to the bush when they’re rehabilitated.’

He turned back to her. ‘You have a carer’s licence?’

Her heart sank. ‘I wasn’t aware I needed one.’

That smile dissolved rapidly into a thin line. He stared at her hard, his mind ticking over visibly in his expressive blue eyes. ‘If you’re dabbling in wildlife rehab, yes, you’ll definitely need one. But it will also solve your dog dilemma. A licence provides for more than three dogs, provided at least one of them is being rehabbed.’

The first genuine glimpse of hope burst into life deep inside her. ‘Oh! But they all are. How do I apply?’

‘You just fill out a form at the Shire office and pay the licence fee.’

The flicker extinguished in a gush of sudden dread. ‘Is it not available online?’

His deep chuckle worked its way under her skin. ‘Welcome to Banjo’s Ridge. Hard copy and carbon-copy triplicate—the old-fashioned way.’

She didn’t have a hope of stopping the fingers of her right hand compulsively touching her thumb. They did it of their own accord, over and over in order, bringing their odd, cell-deep comfort. The best she could do was tuck her whole hand out of view.

Those extraordinary eyes followed the brief move.

‘Tell you what,’ he said, his tone changing instantly to the overly loud one she’d used at her book signings when particularly frail fans queued up for her signature. ‘I’ll bring the form back out to you on my rounds tomorrow. We’ll get you all signed up.’

It meant him coming back, but it saved her the agony of a trip into town. Even if town consisted of only one hundred and thirty-two people. And only a third of them around at any one time. Thoughts of gift horses flitted through her mind.

‘That would be kind. Thank you.’ She took a breath. ‘What time?’

She turned to walk towards the house. He took the not so subtle hint and followed her. ‘I couldn’t say. I’m rostered first thing, so it will be in the morning some time—whenever I’m out this way. That’s the best I can do.’

Oh, lovely. A surprise visit. Nothing she liked more. Her finger-counting started over. ‘Yes, that will be good. Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ She turned from him stiffly and retreated to the house, calling the yipping dogs with her.

Todd lifted his eyebrows as he watched her go. Not the friendliest of locals. But then she wasn’t local. She’d only been in the Queensland hinterland a short time, judging by that accent. A pretty young American woman living alone had a way of standing out, but for all the townsfolk had to say about her no one seemed to know much other than her cracking impersonation of Greta Garbo. I want to be alone.

Yep. He got that loud and clear.

‘So … guess I’ll be going!’ he called pointlessly at the cottage door which had closed quietly in his face, then shook his head and turned to walk around to the front of the house.

Possibly the touchiest woman he’d ever met, and certainly the most unwelcoming. It would never fly on this mountain. Neighbours needed each other. If she was being that cool to him—practically the law out here—he could bet there wasn’t a single family this side of the ridge that would drop in to see if she needed anything in an emergency. Gorgeous or not.

And she most definitely was.

That ghost of an almost-smile stuck in his mind. Hair like spun gold. And the most unusual grey eyes, with a bit of every other colour in them. Fine pointed chin, smooth, pale skin. Soft, small lips. Everything about her seemed … refined. There was no one like her on this ridge.

Todd climbed into his truck and buckled up. He saw the tiniest shimmy in curtains that told him she was still watching. Waiting for him to go.

Nope, absolutely no one like her.

Never mind; he had bigger fish to fry than a recalcitrant licence-breacher. Old Tom Hardy had reported seeing that black panther in his far paddock again—claimed to have a footprint this time.

The fact he’d swung by Miss Prickly’s refuge first said a lot about his belief in a mythical wildcat down on the Hardy farm. Still, it kept him busy. And in a town where there was barely enough cause to have even a part-time ranger, busy was a rarity. When he’d settled in Banjo’s Ridge he’d been looking for a fresh start. A slow-motion kind of existence. Anything as long as it was different from his life in the city.

Mythical black panthers and enigmatic mystery women certainly qualified.

CHAPTER TWO

Saturday

JAYNE’S heart hammered hard enough to break a rib, but she couldn’t break free of the jumbled mess of images. They no longer played out like grim movies in her mind, but the disturbing montage had a way of leaking, unwanted, into her dreams.

They saturated her with old feelings: suspicion, self-doubt, the dark, clawing fear she’d lived with for two years. No matter how hard she worked during the day to keep them at bay, they simply waited for night—and her eyelids—to fall.

The cold, wet nose of reality helped draw her back. She cracked one eye open and stared into deep black gems. Her hand slid out and curled around silken ears.

‘Ollie …’

Satisfied his work was done, Oliver padded back out of Jayne’s bedroom on a gentle click-clack of claws, leaving her to rise unassisted. His job was pulling her out of a nightmare. Her job was pulling herself out of bed. The place she could easily spend the entire day if she hadn’t promised herself she wouldn’t do that any more.

She showered and dressed in super-quick time, not prepared to take any chances. If there was going to be a stranger hanging around the place she wanted to be as prepared as possible. Her eyes flicked habitually to the small sports bag behind the front door. Spare keys, passport, cash, clean underwear. It sat gathering dust except for those bleak times she scrabbled through the contents obsessively, to make sure everything was still there for when she needed it.

If she needed it.

‘Breakfast!’ Four dogs came running as she clanked their bowls together loudly. It was the one time of the day Ollie showed he had more to his personality than cautious regard. Then she set to chopping fresh fruit and veg for her rehab critters.

Her own breakfast was a more leisurely affair. A treat to herself out on the back veranda, served on real china with tea from a teapot, amid the sweet perfume of native jasmine with the mid-morning sun to warm her. She used the ritual to force herself to slow down, to remember where she was, how anonymous she now was. How safe.

‘Good morning.’

Ollie went berserk inside, but Dougal, Jaz and Fergus came galloping around the house and careened with enthusiasm into the man who’d appeared silently at the side of the veranda. Jayne’s pulse leapt painfully in her throat and she lifted a shaky hand to it, clattering her teacup noisily into its saucer. She used the brief moment as he rough-housed with the dogs to recover.

Then he straightened and met her eyes. ‘I’ve startled you again. My apologies.’

Her voice failed her the first time. She cleared her throat quietly, then tried again. ‘No. It’s fine. I was a thousand miles away. I didn’t hear your car.’

She stared at all six feet plus of him, standing spread-footed on her land like a giant eucalypt rooting itself into the earth. Her fluttering heart took its time settling in her breast, and she forced her voice to fill the silent void. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee? Tea?’

He smiled and rummaged in his jacket pockets while the smaller dogs darted around his feet like skimper-fish on a reef. ‘I should get these forms back to town as soon as possible. Thank you, though.’