Nineteen
‘I’m surprised you didn’t jump the fence.’ Dex grinned at Bree while rocking in his chair.
It didn’t stop Ryder from scowling at her. ‘I bet you were thinking about it.’
She hated how Ryder could read her so well. So what if she had contemplated jumping the fence. She normally would have. If caught, she would’ve made some lame excuse about searching for cattle or her dog had run off.
‘But you heard those shots…’ Ryder let the obvious hang in the air.
‘And got my sweet arse out of there.’ It’s why she was here. The cupcakes were a bonus she hadn’t expected. ‘Have you spoken to the police today?’
Ryder nodded. ‘They found Jack Price’s real passport in the suitcase lining and Marcus has got Porter working on the case full-time.’
‘Good. That’ll make Charlie happy.’
‘How is Charlie today?’ Ryder’s swapped his scowl for a look of concern. It was obvious how much Ryder cared for her grandfather.
‘Charlie is having a rest day, watching black-and-white Western movies in bed, while eating his favourite snacks. I doubt Pop will need dinner, and neither will I if I keep eating these cupcakes.’ She closed the lid and pushed the box across the table towards Ryder.
‘I’ll stash them in our fridge for later.’ Ryder got out a large marker and wrote: Bree’s Cupcakes. Do not touch unless you want to lose your fingers! The definitive stabbing motion he made for the exclamation mark on the box showed he meant business.
Dammmn, that’s hot! ‘That’s subtle, cupcake.’
‘Ash and Cap would wolf them down in a second if they saw them.’
She tilted her head as she watched him put the box into their fridge. The view of his arse in those jeans was delectable.
But this was Ryder. And that was a no-go!
‘As we’re waiting for the sunlight to disappear, so we can do the sneaky fence hopping—’
‘You’re staying.’ Ryder slammed the fridge shut, as if making the decision final.
‘You need me to show you where that irrigation pipe is. Look, cupcake, consider it my reward for actually listening to you for once, by not jumping the fence in broad daylight. Instead, here I am, informing management of what’s going on like a good little girl.’ They’d better not pat her on the head, or she’d have some stern words to spill.
Ryder narrowed his eyes at her. ‘If you really want to be a good girl,’ he said to the bad girl, ‘we’d like you to do the cattle draft calls.’
And there it was. She’d been waiting for this.
‘We could really use your help, Bree,’ pleaded Dex from the far end of the table.
‘That’s Charlie’s job. I’ve retired from the pound.’
‘We know,’ said Ryder. ‘But Charlie told me, only yesterday, that you do a much better job at the drafting calls than him.’
She was not taking this away from Charlie. That old man loved being a stockman. It was the reason he jumped out of bed in the mornings, to play stockman on a cattle station—except for today. ‘I don’t work for you boys.’
‘But I’ll pay you for your time, and I’m hoping you might know of a young jackeroo to run the pound and do some other jobs around the place.’
She arched an eyebrow.
It was time they got help. A cattle station of this size, when in full operation, should have over a dozen full-time staff—ringers, station hands, stockmen, fencers, bore runners, feed-lot handlers and more. ‘That’s a really good idea, guys.’
Ryder and Dex looked at her in disbelief at the rare compliment.
‘As much as you boys think you’re sun-fuelled Supermen, immune to kryptonite, as station owners you have other responsibilities to focus on than dealing with daily menial tasks.’
Plus, if they got someone in, it would save her shins, sinuses, and her sanity from manning those drafting gates.
‘Where would they camp?’ Dex asked.
‘You could lend them your old tent you used to live in. Wait, I burnt that in my cauldron, in some midnight ritual to the gods.’
‘Witch.’ Dex grinned at her as he rocked in his chair.
‘You could use the ringers’ rooms.’ She pointed to the open door. ‘It’s the structure at the far the end of the stables.’
‘I haven’t gone in there yet,’ said Dex.
‘Me neither.’ With hands on his denim hips, Ryder surveyed the area through the open door. His silhouette was strong, his hands even stronger as they rested on those hips.
How could the view of a tall and broody male, simply walking with those sturdy thighs and hips, become so sexy?
‘How many rooms are there?’ Ryder slid into his seat at the table, directly opposite her.
She had to clear her throat and look away from him, and if those cupcakes were still on the table, she’d be eating her feelings right about now. ‘Six. You can bunk two per room, four if you push it. One room has space for six. It’d need a good airing out. But there’s a communal bathroom, laundry, and a main dining room where they can cook their meals.’
‘Didn’t you have a station cook?’
‘Only a muster cook. The ringers were only here for the musters. Most of them had their own horses, which is why they put the ringers’ rooms by the stables. I can ask the Station Hand for any recommendations. He gets hit up all the time.’
‘But I heard you do, too, with the station’s email.’
‘That is now under your control.’ It was their station, not hers. ‘My turn… So, are you going to tell me what you were discussing about the murder?’
Ryder and Dex both shared a look.
‘I know Charlie’s side better than anyone. I can help.’ She had to help.
‘Yeah, but…’ Dex winced as he looked at Ryder, who was shuffling the papers back into the folder.
‘Hey, that’s my great-uncle you’re discussing.’ She pointed to the photo Ryder was putting away.
‘You said you’d never met the man.’
She gritted her teeth at Ryder steepling his fingers together. Who put Ryder in charge?
‘Tell me the real reason why, Bree.’
‘I want Charlie to find those answers.’
‘We all want that,’ said Dex, sitting straighter in his seat.
But it wasn’t Dex she needed to get past, it was Captain Cupcake himself. And if she didn’t fess up, Ryder would keep digging until he got the answer he was looking for.
Fine .
She sat back, picking at the lint from her workpants. ‘I’ve been feeling guilty for not believing Charlie about Harry.’ It had been eating at her ever since they’d found those bodies in the cave. What’s worse, she’d never believed her grandfather, calling it an unhealthy obsession ever since they’d found her great-uncle’s car in the Stoneys.
She lifted her eyes and bared her soul to the man seated opposite. ‘This is my way of making it up to Charlie for not believing in him, and for my lack of support.’ At first, she’d shaken it off as the ramblings of an old man needing to tick some boxes in his sunset phase of life.
How wrong she had been.
Ryder nodded at her. No smirk. No sneer or jeer like she’d expected. ‘Thank you for your honesty. But you have to be brutally honest with us.’
‘Always.’ That was a no-brainer. Even if some people never believed her, she never lied. She just played with the truth.
‘It doesn’t go anywhere, what we discuss.’ Dex dropped his two-cents’ worth.
She’d kind of forgotten he was even sitting at the table, interrupting her negotiations with the dark, broody, bearded enemy. ‘Does that include your pillow talk with Nurse Kitty? Where is Sophie? Out shooting something with her camera?’
‘Night shift at the hospital.’ Dex sat back, sheepishly. ‘Besides, I’m not telling Sophie anything unless she asks.’
The corners of her lips curved. She knew that game well and played it that way all the time.
‘No. I know that smile, Bree, and I am not having any of that.’ Ryder stabbed his thick finger at the table. ‘If you want to be a part of this, Bree, you’ll tell us the whole truth and not keep anything back. I want all your cards on the table.’
‘Does that go for you, too?’ Because Ryder rarely showed his hand, and he was asking an awful lot of someone who didn’t like to share her secrets.
Ryder gave an affirmative no-nonsense nod. ‘And I want you to agree to no sneaky side missions where you run off, following some hidden agenda. If we do this, we do it together. Or we don’t do it at all.’
‘O-kay! ’ She flung her hands in the air in frustration. ‘What more to do you want from me? Do you need me to sign a contract in blood, for you to file at some disciplinary court specially convened for wayward women?’
Ryder grinned at her as if he’d won that round.
She should’ve been ticked at agreeing to working with the enemy, but she was doing this for Charlie. And Ryder knew it. Well played, Ryder, well played.