Chapter 25
Twenty-five
Taryn woke to the distant clink of glass. For a moment, she just lay there, staring at the ceiling, confused by the softness beneath her.
Black sheets. In a room that was too quiet.
Finn’s bed!
Her pulse ticked hard.
She was alone. And fully dressed.
Taryn swung her legs over the edge, the hardwood floor cool under her bare feet. The air smelled of citrus and something else… Tomatoes, basil and other herbs?
She followed it out of the room, hearing someone humming.
In the kitchen, a redhead stood barefoot at the bench by the sinks. Well, as close as she could get with that round belly, elbow-deep in a basket of fresh produce. Food filled jars lined the bench as she moved with practised ease, stacking things into the pantry like she belonged.
The woman looked up as she put some jars away. ‘Morning,’ she said, casually turning to slice a mango sitting on the counter, with an exceptionally sharp knife. ‘Well, you don’t look nearly as scary as Finn made you sound.’
‘Who are you?’
‘Bree.’ The woman angled the knife expertly and sliced the mango onto a plate of other cut fruit.
‘Finn’s ex-wife.’
‘Well, that depends on who you ask. Some days I’m just the town scandal with a Kombi van, or the anvil-bashing blacksmith having a bad hair day.’
‘Right.’ Oh, she was awake now.
‘I know who you are, too. The Fed. Fresh from Canberra, sent out here to sniff out cronyism and burn down the cowboy outfit my ex-husband has built.’
Bree sliced into another mango with surgical precision, as her eyes flicked back to Taryn with lazy amusement. ‘So, what’s your story, buttons?’
Taryn tilted her head. ‘What did you call me?’
‘Buttons.’ Bree didn’t miss a beat. ‘I heard you arrived in stiff collars and shiny shoes. All tightly stitched and highly strung. Besides,’ she added, with a grin, ‘we both know I’m gonna be pushing your buttons for sport. So, I may as well label the target.’
Taryn arched a brow. ‘And if I push back?’
‘Then we’re gonna get along just fine.’ Bree handed Taryn the bowl of sliced fruit and a coffee. ‘And, if you’re lucky, some man may show up and save you the trouble.’
‘I don’t need a man to save me.’ But her stomach growled at the bowl of fragrant fruit and coffee that didn’t smell like mud.
‘Well, kudos to you, buttons,’ Bree drawled. ‘But just so we’re clear, I didn’t need one to save me either. I only got married because I needed someone to reach the top shelf.’
Taryn snorted on a mouthful of coffee to grin. ‘Does your husband know you say that?’
‘Of course he does. Ryder thinks it’s romantic.’ Bree grinned. ‘Now sit and let that brain of yours wake up.’
‘I’m awake.’ But she was hungry.
The pineapple was so sweet it nearly rewired her tastebuds.
Yet the flavour was pure summer—sunlight and sugar, dragging up memories she hadn’t touched in years, from a time of bare feet on warm tiles.
Her cousin’s giggle matching her grandfather’s laugh that echoed along the verandah, as the soft brush of a breeze carried the scents of cut grass and summer fruits ripening on trees.
Now, as a grown-up, she sat barefoot at Finn’s plain table, the tiles beneath her toes warmed by the morning. Outside, the scrublands shimmered gold, bathed in that quiet hush of early light that made the whole world feel magical.
‘This fruit is fabulous.’ She glanced back at the kitchen bench full of assorted fruits and vegetables that Bree was packing away. ‘Is this why Finn calls you the food fairy?’
‘Can’t have the man starve. And this way I get to check on him.
’ Bree unloaded another set of jars on the counter with a thud beside the beefy tomatoes, capsicums, and a loaf of bread.
‘Don’t worry, it’s all organically grown.
I’ve got more bloody zucchinis than I know what to do with.
Might as well offload them before they form a union. ’
Taryn rushed forward. ‘Here, let me help—’
‘Nope.’ Bree waved her off from behind the kitchen counter as she lifted a cabbage from a box, filled with more fruit and vegetables.
‘I ran away from home this morning purely because my husband, his brothers, and half the bloody station’s stockmen, were following me around with pillows and teacups like I’m about to drop the royal heir.
If one more man tries to tie my boots for me, I’m gonna set fire to a hay bale and blame it on the hormones. ’
‘Okay then…’ Taryn backed away from the heavily pregnant woman. ‘Izzy said she was having canning lessons with you.’
‘That we did.’ Bree popped the lid off a jar of chutney, gave it a sniff, and nodded like she’d just solved a crime. ‘Can’t beat your own recipe, and that little canning session made me realise how starved I am.’
‘Huh?’ When there was food everywhere.
‘For news and gossip. Simple chatter on anything and everything that does not involve my pregnancy or baby talk.’
Bree then turned to face Taryn, setting the pickle jar down carefully. ‘So tell me, buttons. Did you really come here for an audit? Or was it an excuse to escape the Canberra weather?’
Silence bloomed.
And for a second—just one—Taryn felt caught without her armour, facing a heavily pregnant woman who saw everything.
‘Do you always interrogate barefoot?’ A feeble attempt to get the conversation back on track, but the redhead ruled the room. How was that possible?
Bree smirked. ‘Only for those who need it.’
‘And you’re here to help Finn. Your ex?’
‘I don’t know where Finn is.’ Bree shrugged, slicing more mango for herself. ‘But I do know he’ll panic when he learns that we’re in the same room together, praying he’ll still have a house left when the dust clears.’
A flicker of a grin crossed Taryn’s face as she lifted her coffee. ‘It might be smarter to start boarding up the windows for safety reasons first.’
Bree gave a bark of laughter as she pointed at Taryn with the mango knife. ‘Careful, buttons. Keep that up and I might actually like you.’
Bree washed her mango-sticky hands in the sink, dried them on a tea towel, then rested one on her belly with a dramatic sigh.
‘But because you aren’t going to pander to me in my delicate condition—and honestly, who calls it delicate when I’m the size of a prize heifer trying to smuggle a bloody watermelon?
I’m gonna let you have the floor. Ask what you want.
But be quick, you’ve only got a few minutes before the cavalry arrives. ’
Taryn peered out the window at the empty drive. There was no sign of Finn’s troopy. But beside the old police wagon stood a surprisingly bright yellow vintage Kombi van. ‘What cavalry?’
‘You’ll see soon enough. Oh, and this is the part where I promise to be brutally honest.’ Bree smiled sweetly, tapping at her bare wrist. ‘Tick-tock.’
Taryn leaned her hip against the counter. ‘Alright. You found Cowboy Craig for Finn. You found the land for the Stock Squad’s quarantine station. Did you also find Izzy to be their lawyer?’
‘Einstein was my lawyer first, told Finn that.’
‘And you found Stone?’
‘Pebbles, yeah.’
‘Do you say that to Stone’s face?’
‘Hello, buttons.’
Taryn should have frowned, instead she laughed.
‘And to finish your next question—’
‘Am I that obvious?’
Again, another one of those knowing grins as the redhead’s green eyes sparkled. ‘When Finn said he’d need a pilot, I told him Pebbles would be perfect for the job. Turned out I was right, huh?’ Bree took a bite of sliced rockmelon.
‘So, you run the local stock brand register?’
Bree rolled her eyes. ‘Why ask questions when you already know the answers? You know my family has been making stock brands in this area for generations. Come on, you can do better than that. Dig deep, buttons.’
‘Fine. Did you know about the Spinifex Highway?’
‘I’m a long-time local. And every local knows that highway. Aren’t you going to mention cronyism?’ Bree shot back. ‘Oh wait, I dropped that word already.’
Taryn’s eyes flared. ‘Why do you think that?’
‘It’s what I’d be thinking if I were in your shoes, even though I can’t remember the last time I slipped on my own socks.’ She peered over her enormous belly to wriggle her toes. ‘Do you think it’s too late for a pedicure?’
‘Um… How far along are you?’
‘I’m overdue. So says the doctor.’
‘What do you mean?’ The tingly sense of worry started creeping up her spine.
‘Yep, any day now.’ Bree patted her belly tenderly, while surprisingly calm. ‘Keep going, we haven’t got long to finish this conversation.’
‘I heard a rumour…’ Yet Taryn didn’t want to say it.
‘About Finn, huh?’
Taryn nodded.
‘With you staying at the pub, you would’ve heard about Finn drinking a fair bit a while back. And if you were looking for reasons to shut them down, you would have zoned in on that.’
Of course she had. ‘Is it true?’
‘Finn has been through hell. But he does not drink alone. He may not talk to people when he drinks, like in the pub, but he’ll only drink spirits when in the company of others.’
‘Why?’
‘His father drank alone and caused trouble, and Finn won’t do that. Besides, you’re in Finn’s house. You’re a nosy Fed, you would’ve noticed he’s only got a few beers in the fridge, that’s it.’
‘But you just said you’re here to check up on him, playing food fairy.’
‘So Finn doesn’t starve and keeps out of trouble.’
‘I still don’t get it. You’re divorced, right?’
‘Look, Finn may be my ex-husband, but I’ve known him for a very long time. He’s still part of my family, and we trust each other.’ She held eye contact with Taryn to make a point.
Then Bree glanced up at the empty drive through the window, as if waiting for someone. ‘So which rumour do you want to know first?’
‘That it was you who called Finn to Elsie Creek. You were accused of cattle rustling.’
‘Correct.’
‘And Finn stayed here for—’
‘No. Not for me.’ The redhead shook her head. ‘That rumour is not true. But we’re both here for the same reasons.’
Taryn didn’t get it.
‘Next question.’
But with her next question she hesitated. ‘I don’t know if I should…’