Chapter 6
The sun crept lazily across the horizon, spilling golden light through the gauzy curtains of Brianna’s bedroom.
Unlike most mornings that snapped her to attention with emergencies and appointments, today offered a rare kind of luxury – silence, stillness, and no urgent calls waiting.
No animals in distress. No muddy boots to drag on or panicked owners on the other end of the line.
Just a slow start. And after almost two weeks of working every single day, it was absolute bliss to have rostered herself off – unless there was an absolute emergency, of course.
Sherlock was the first to stir from his bed at the corner of the room, his tail thumping softly against the floorboards as he stretched himself to doggy life. Then, with a cute little growly moan, he padded over to the edge of the bed and let out a low, hopeful whine.
Brianna shifted under the covers with her dark hair fanned across the pillow like silk. ‘I know, mate,’ she murmured, her voice husky from sleep. ‘You want your morning treat.’ She grinned at the way his ears peaked at the word treat. ‘It’s way past our usual breakfast time, huh.’
She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes, blinking against the soft light filling the room.
Outside, birds were already calling to one another from the trees, and the sweet scent of the blooming jasmine bush surrounding the lower corner of the cottage drifted through the open windows.
She tugged on her fluffy robe and padded, blissfully barefoot, into the kitchen.
Grabbing the treats container, she tossed Sherlock a dental chew to tide him over and set about making coffee.
As the machine hissed to life, she leant against the counter, arms crossed, eyes drawn to the window above the sink.
The familiar view greeted her – dew-slick buffalo grass, tinkling wind chimes hung from the canopy of a magnificent crepe myrtle tree, and the gentle rise of hills beyond, stretching towards the horizon like folded green linen.
And then, like clockwork, her thoughts drifted to Hayden, and how she hadn’t heard from him for five days.
She had popped in twice, to check on Bella, Maverick and Diesel – all three horses were doing fabulously, but Hayden had been nowhere to be seen.
On her second visit she’d bumped into Gavin, who’d seemed a little sheepish, compared to his usual demeanour.
But then again, maybe she was seeing things that weren’t even there.
And she knew she should be relieved that her association with Hayden was proving to be purely business, with a spot of friendship thrown in for good measure.
That’s what she wanted, and she needed to keep it that way.
She didn’t want her thoughts to keep drifting to him and his charming ways, not really.
She’d made promises to herself. No distractions.
No complications. Especially not with a man like him.
But there he was, cruising effortlessly through her thoughts anyway.
And in the space between sips of her double-shot coffee, she recalled the way her skin buzzed when their knees had brushed under the pub table, and that quiet moment at his place after the emergency, drinking coffee as the sun lifted off the paddocks.
That had been the last time she’d seen him.
She could still picture the lines around his eyes when he smiled and hear the surprising softness in his voice whenever he said her name, and especially when he shortened it.
‘Mmm.’ It was an involuntary sound that escaped her lips.
Stop this, Brianna Steele, right this very second.
It shouldn’t be going anywhere. It couldn’t.
And yet, here she was, toying with a very stupid idea.
Exhaling a weighty sigh, she moved to the lounge, and Sherlock hopped up beside her like a loyal shadow.
Her phone, discarded on the side table as she’d padded to the kitchen in search of caffeine, buzzed against the timber top.
She quickly picked it up, relieved and happy to find her mum’s name flashing on the screen.
She smiled softly as she accepted the call. ‘Morning, Mum.’
‘Morning, sweetheart. I hope I didn’t wake you?’
‘You didn’t, I’ve been up for half an hour or so. It’s lovely, having my first morning off since I’ve been here.’
‘Well, I won’t keep you long then.’ There was a pause, and Brianna could picture Nina now, probably seated on the back verandah of her Riverstone Ridge homestead, a mug of tea in hand, her gaze fixed on the garden she loved so much. ‘I just had a feeling you might need a voice from home, is all.’
Brianna’s chest squeezed gently at the truth in those words. ‘You always seem to know.’
Nina’s voice grew warmer, softer. ‘How are you going, love? I mean, really going?’
‘I’m good,’ Brianna said, and it wasn’t a lie. Not really. ‘Work’s full on. But I feel … settled. More than I expected to in such a short amount of time.’
‘That’s good.’ Nina didn’t rush her next words. ‘And what about this Hayden fella you mentioned when you first got there; have you had much more to do with him?’
‘Other than checking in on his horses, not really.’ Brianna hesitated, knowing exactly what her mum was getting at. ‘I didn’t mean to come across as though he was a person you should recall.’ Oh, far out, could she sound any more suspicious?
‘Isn’t that just a fancy way of saying he’s someone I fancied, but now I’m not sure, or maybe I do, but I don’t want to?’
A beat passed before Brianna laughed, albeit quietly. ‘Possibly. Most women would agree that he’s an attractive sort of bloke. He’s kind. And sharp. And he’s got this way with animals that feels, well, it feels familiar, you know?’
‘Like someone who sees things the same way as you do.’
Brianna smiled into her phone. ‘Yes. That’s exactly it.’
Nina was quiet for a few seconds, and then she said gently, ‘Just be careful, darling. You’ve got such a good thing going. You’re building something beautiful there, and I’d hate for anyone to steer you off course.’
‘I know.’ Brianna’s hand reached for Sherlock’s soothing coat.
‘I’m sorry to play devil’s advocate.’ Nina inhaled sharply, then exhaled a little slower.
‘I’m not saying don’t feel it, because you can’t control the way your heart pitter-patters around a bloke.
I’m just saying, make sure it’s earned, and after a long while of getting to know someone, that’s all. ’
That advice landed. Deep and true.
Brianna sank back against the cushions, her fingers now lightly brushing Sherlock’s soft ears. ‘Thanks, Mum. I really needed to hear that.’
‘You’re welcome. I’ll always have your back, love.’ Her tone became lighter. ‘Now go enjoy that rare morning off, and give Sherlock a kiss from me and Dad, won’t you.’
‘I will, and say hi to Dad for me, when he gets back from his shift down the station.’ Brianna’s heart squeezed with a wave of homesickness. ‘Love you, lots.’
‘Love you too, sweetheart.’
As the call ended, Brianna stared beyond her window, coffee cradled in her hands, her heart somewhere in between her intentions and the pull of something she wasn’t sure she could resist. But she needed to find a way.
And stay strong. Her mum was right; she didn’t even really know Hayden.
Their connection was surface level. And that was it.
There was no sugar-coating that. She needed to stop trying to.
She decided it was time to give her cottage a bit of a clean, then she would go to the local IGA and grab some fresh food, maybe a nice bunch of flowers to pop in the empty vase in the middle of the four-seater dining table, and then, if she had the time, and she felt like it, after walking Sherlock, she might even try reading one of the books she’d brought with her – she hadn’t read a fiction novel in what felt like forever.
She did all of that, and more. By late afternoon, the warmth of the day had mellowed into a soft gold and she found herself in Molly’s battered ute, bumping down a narrow back road lined with towering gums and bright purple jacarandas.
‘So tell me, Molly, what exactly is this thing again?’ Brianna asked, one hand gripping the overhead handle as the suspension groaned over a pothole.
‘Oh, you know, just a low-key community fundraiser slash bush cook-up slash live-music shindig thingy,’ Molly replied breezily.
‘They hold it biannually, behind the showgrounds. Nothing fancy, just fire pits, damper, a bit of two-stepping if you’re lucky.
’ She glanced sideways for a split second and grimaced at Brianna’s sceptically raised brows.
‘Come on, you said you wanted to meet more locals.’
‘I did,’ Brianna conceded. ‘I just didn’t expect it to happen at some low-key community fundraiser slash bush cook-up slash live-music shindig thingy.’ She couldn’t contain her smirk – Molly always had a witty way of explaining things.
Molly shot her an equally wide grin. ‘Well, trust me, that’s the best place to meet the locals.’
They pulled up to a grassy clearing where people were already milling about, kids running between hay bales, dogs trailing behind utes, and folding tables loaded with everything from homemade chutneys to sausage rolls wrapped in red-and-white-checked napkins.
A four-piece bush band was setting up near a makeshift stage, tuning guitars and arguing about whose amp cable was missing.
One of the members looked like he belonged in ZZ Top, with his long silver beard and banjo in hand.
Stepping out and into the countrified soiree, Brianna felt her tension begin to dissolve.
It was simple. Unpretentious. Honest. Just like this town. Just like Molly had made it out to be.
‘You hungry?’ Molly asked, already marching towards the food tents.
‘Always.’