Chapter 5
CHAPTER
Elora had always had a feel for places. She stepped into an apartment, house, shop—anywhere, really—and got an immediate sense of good or bad, so when she entered the tiny, self-contained studio attached to the homestead, a surprising sense of peace enveloped her.
Like she’d come home.
Bizarre, because she preferred the bustle of Melbourne to the quiet of a country town, but after she’d dumped her overnight bag in the corner, along with her wheelie suitcase, she slid her arms around her middle and gave herself a hug, like she couldn’t quite believe her luck.
‘This’ll do,’ she murmured, as she walked around the room.
A wrought-iron four-poster bed that looked like it had been designed by an interior decorator—all creams and pale blue pillows, doona and ruffle—dominated the corner opposite a makeshift kitchenette with a toaster, microwave and bar fridge.
As well as the bed and kitchenette, the studio had a leather recliner, a bookcase stacked to overflowing and a huge floral-patterned rug covering the honey oak floorboards.
She opened the door next to the bed to discover a powder room: toilet and handbasin, but no shower. Which meant she’d be using the bathroom in the main homestead to bathe.
A vision of seeing Cruz exiting the bathroom in nothing but a towel popped into her head and she blinked to dispel it. It had been hard enough acting blasé when she’d first laid eyes on him earlier; no point adding to her angst.
Thankfully, he’d been just as eager as her to not talk about what had happened between them last night, but ignoring it wouldn’t make it go away. She had a vivid memory of the sparks they’d created, of how badly she’d wanted to have sex with him.
Her new boss.
Fate had been her friend since she was a kid and she’d believed in it ever since.
Though her parents had moved constantly, she’d rarely been picked on as the new kid in class, she’d had great teachers, and despite a bad bout of the flu in Year Twelve that meant she missed a month of school, she got the ATAR required to enter her preferred university and course.
After finishing her three-year marketing degree, she’d landed a job at a prestigious advertising firm in the CBD and thrived, and when she set out on her own a few years later, they hadn’t begrudged her doing it.
The only time fate had let her down involved crossing paths with Jason at a book launch for one of her clients. Later, he’d told her he shouldn’t have been there that night; it had been a last-minute, spur-of-the-moment decision after his housemate had begged him to go in her stead.
Housemate. Yeah, right. Turns out, Jason’s housemate was a friend with benefits, an arrangement that continued even after he’d started dating Elora.
Prick.
The faster she nailed this job for Kinstead Avocados and paid off her debt to that lying, cheating scumbag, the better.
A knock on the door roused her from her musings, and she opened it, wishing her heart wouldn’t skip a beat every time she laid eyes on Cruz.
‘Ready for that tour?’
‘Sure.’ She stepped out of the studio and closed the door behind her. ‘Will it take long? I want to make a start on updating the farm’s Facebook page and Instagram profile.’
‘About fifteen minutes,’ he said. ‘We’ll take one of the quads.’
‘I’ve never been on a quad bike.’
‘We’ll take it slow. It’s our preferred mode of transport for zipping around the farm and we value safety above all else. Helmets and OPDs.’
‘OPD?’
‘Operator protection device, in case of rollover.’
‘Wow, you’re really selling those death traps.’
He chuckled. ‘Just hang onto me. I won’t let anything happen to you.’
Hang onto him? Great, just what she needed—for her body to be plastered against his.
He must’ve sensed her reticence, because he shot her a smug glance. ‘Don’t worry. It’s not a single-person vehicle. There’s room for you as a passenger.’
That’s not what I’m worried about, she thought and mustered her best blasé expression, like she rode up close and personal with a guy she’d almost jumped every day of the week.
She fell into step beside him as they walked to the nearest shed, about two hundred metres from the homestead.
The pungent smell of diesel hung in the air.
Inside, machinery she didn’t recognise lined the walls in neat rows, with two motorbikes and a quad bike parked near the door.
Helmets of various sizes hung on hooks along one wall and Cruz picked two, then handed her one.
She eyed it dubiously, wondering how it would fit over her head.
Once again, he read her thoughts, demonstrating by putting his on first.
‘These can be tricky,’ he said. ‘Let me know if you need a hand.’
Feeling like an inept city girl, Elora struggled with the helmet for a few moments before sighing. ‘Either my head’s too big or this helmet is too small.’
‘Here. Let me.’
He angled the helmet so it slid onto her head with minimal resistance and she huffed out an exasperated breath.
As he fastened the strap, his knuckles grazed the sensitive skin under her chin and a shiver of something she dare not identify shot through her.
Idiotic, to not label the ‘something’ as lust, but if she acknowledged the underlying attraction that still buzzed within her, she’d be setting herself up for failure, and that wasn’t an option.
This job was too important to risk because she hadn’t had a date since she broke up with Jason six months ago.
‘Thanks,’ she said, stepping away too quickly.
‘You’re awfully jumpy,’ he said. ‘We don’t have to take the quad. We can walk instead and see the rest tomorrow.’
‘I’m good.’ She forced a smile. ‘The thought of helmet hair isn’t too appealing and with the way you jammed that thing onto my head, I’m going to look like a scarecrow when I take it off.’
By his slightly narrowed eyes, he didn’t buy her excuse for a second.
‘I assume you’ll want to take photos as I give you the tour?’
She nodded. ‘My phone has a good camera.’
‘Just tap me on the shoulder if you want to stop, but I’ll try to choose the best vantage points for you regardless.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Okay, then, hop aboard.’
She sat, scooting back as far as she could when Cruz swung his leg over the quad bike. Her seat had two small bars to hold on to, but she didn’t like her chances if they traversed bumpy ground, so she did the sensible thing and wriggled forward a little to wrap her arms around his waist.
He stiffened beneath her hold and turned his head to glance over his shoulder. ‘Comfortable?’
‘Very.’
A lie, and they both knew it.
‘Hang on,’ he said, and she tightened her grip as he started the engine and the quad rumbled to life beneath her.
True to his word, Cruz didn’t take the quad beyond a slow crawl as they meandered between the rows of avocado trees, the fruit hanging ripe and ready for picking.
She tapped him on the shoulder a few times and he stopped, giving her time to take photos and video.
Surprisingly, she didn’t see any workers on the farm.
Then again, despite researching, she didn’t know if avocado trees needed tending all year round or if farms like this only hired seasonal pickers.
They reached the southern perimeter, where a large dam bordered the next property, delineated by a barbed-wire fence.
Cruz killed the engine and swung off the quad before holding out his hand to help her dismount.
As she took it, another frisson of awareness shot through her, and she gritted her teeth.
‘Thought we’d stretch our legs a bit before heading back,’ he said. ‘What do you think so far?’
‘Incredible.’ She brandished her phone. ‘I got some great shots and footage.’
‘Good.’ He stared at the dam and beyond, his expression pensive. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve been out here.’
‘How long?’
‘Just over four months.’ His fingers curled into fists and he thrust them into his pockets. ‘I came back to the farm for my father’s funeral.’
She didn’t want to offer trite condolences, especially when she could see how much his dad’s death affected him. ‘That must’ve been tough.’
‘It was tougher seeing Mum still tethered here until probate for the old man’s will came through.’
The bitterness in his voice alerted her to the kind of relationship he must’ve had with his dad.
While she’d blamed her parents for a lot over the years—labelling her highly strung rather than getting her diagnosed; their self-absorption to the point of excluding her; their nomadic lifestyle—she still saw them twice a year when she flew up to the Gold Coast, where they’d retired, for a week during winter and when they flew to Melbourne for Christmas.
‘I should’ve visited Mum over the last few months, but I got caught up at the restaurant.’ He scowled. ‘I guess that makes me as much of a selfish prick as Dad.’
Self-flagellation didn’t help; she’d done enough of it when she woke up to Jason’s cheating antics. But she didn’t know this guy well enough to give advice, so she settled for changing the subject, determined to banish the haunted shadows scudding across his eyes.
‘If I tell you something, will you promise not to hold it against me?’
Cruz glanced at her. ‘Depends. How bad is this deep, dark secret?’
‘Bad enough, considering where we are.’
‘The farm?’
She nodded. ‘I promise to do the best damn job I can to increase the prominence of your farm.’ She paused for dramatic effect. ‘But I hate avocados.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘What?’
‘You heard me.’ She shuddered. ‘I hate them. Can’t stand their texture or their taste. And having them mushed on toast? Yuck.’
For the first time since they’d dismounted the quad bike, a reluctant smile curved his lips. ‘I’m assuming you didn’t tell my mother the truth when she interviewed you?’
‘Of course not. I’m not a complete idiot.’
He laughed. ‘Why tell me now?’
‘Because you’re an incredible chef with access to fresh produce.’ She gestured at the avocado trees. ‘So I’m assuming at some stage, you’re going to try and ply me with the green stuff.’
‘You assume right. There’s nothing like fresh avocado.’
She held up her hand. ‘I’ll take your word for it.’
Thankfully, he hadn’t lost the smile. ‘Let me get this straight. You’re going to tout the wonders of avocados online while hating them. Isn’t that false advertising?’
‘I’m advertising the farm, not me.’
‘Pity,’ he murmured, his gaze locking on hers, the glimmer of desire in his eyes making her pulse race.
Before she could adjust to his swift change of mood, he swung away and remounted the quad.
‘Come on, we should head back. I need to chat to Mum before she leaves.’
He sounded grouchy after his momentary lapse into flirting, and Elora wouldn’t have been surprised if he left her by the dam. But he waited until she swung up behind him and held on before starting the engine.
They rode in silence the entire way back.