ONE
One
Bel Buckley stifled a sigh as a car pulled up at the bowsers. Just when I was getting to the exciting part . She hated when her work life got in the way of her reading life. The latest book in Alison Gatsby’s Lexington Millionaires series had finally come out and Bel was desperate to start reading it. She’d promised herself she’d wait until she got home from work so she could settle into bed with a glass of wine and devour, uninterrupted, the whole book in one sitting, only the temptation was too strong … like the jawline of Jax Lexington, who posed shirtless on the front cover, lazily resting one hip against the side of a very expensive sports car, a pair of dark sunglasses resting low on his perfect Roman nose as he stared straight into her soul.
‘Bel! I ain’t got all day!’ an impatient voice bellowed from outside, snapping her out of her daydream in an instant as she quickly hit the button to activate the pump. She gave one last, disheartened glance at the cover and slid the book under the front counter. She pushed her thick-rimmed glasses back up her nose as she waited for Bill Matheson to finish filling up his battered old ute.
Bel watched his faithful old kelpie, Meg, drop her head over the side of the ute while Bill meandered across to the fridge and selected his usual sixpack of beer, then a packet of cashews, a Take 5 magazine and a bag of dog treats before heading to the counter, where Bel was already ripping off his five dollars’ worth of scratchies.
‘Any sign of that rain they said was coming?’ Bel asked after informing him of the total. She listened to his usual rant about bloody government taxes and greedy politicians in bed with fuel companies for the billionth time—it was the same thing, like a record playing on repeat, every single Tuesday.
‘Nope. Won’t rain till the twenty-sixth.’
‘I hope not. There’ll be a lot of unhappy people around here if it does.’ Surely even Mother Nature wouldn’t dare risk the wrath of Larkin Buckley, bridezilla incarnate.
Bill shrugged one skinny shoulder beneath his dusty flannelette shirt—she was pretty sure it was his only shirt, as he wore it into town every week. It had a small rip underneath the front pocket. ‘Rain don’t care who it upsets.’
‘See you next week, Bill,’ she called out after him.
‘Maybe. Unless I’m dead.’
She should be used to his usual farewell, but it still made her wince every time he said it. She had no idea how old he was, but one day he wouldn’t be in on a Tuesday, and she wasn’t sure she was going to be ready to cope with that day. As grumpy as he was, she’d grown fond of him. Underneath that gruff exterior was a kind man. He never left his farm without Meg and always bought her treats, and after he stopped in to get his fuel he would drop in at the nursing home to sit with his former neighbour, Mary, who had gone into care twelve months earlier. He always made sure to bring her a Take 5 magazine so she could do her puzzles.
Bel listened to the ute drive away and heard her phone ping: ‘I hope you’re all wearing your shoes in!’ She groaned and reached for her book only for the door to open and set off the jingle of bells. She placed the book on the counter with exaggerated patience. Couldn’t she get just one minute of peace and quiet?
‘And no lollipops. I need to talk to Aunt Bel for a minute.’
Bel’s irritation passed and she smiled at the woman and toddler who entered. Then she walked around the counter, snagging a wrapped lollipop from its jar and slipping it into the little girl’s hand. ‘Shh,’ she said with an exaggerated wink, getting a conspiratorial nod in return.
‘Mabel Rose Buckley!’ Emma said, causing Bel to straighten and narrow her eyes. Emma was the only person who ever called her by her full name and lived, and that was only due to the fact they’d been best friends since childhood.
‘Oh, come on, you and I both know Lucy would have used that cheeky grin to get a lollipop out of one of us before you left anyway.’
‘I know which one of us that would be.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t make such irresistible children.’ Bel watched Lucy’s cherub-like face smiling around the lollipop as she settled herself comfortably on the chair behind the counter.
‘Come over at dinnertime and tell me how irresistible they are then,’ Emma said. ‘Which reminds me, come over tonight. You haven’t been over for ages.’
‘I can’t. I have a date tonight,’ Bel said.
‘What! When? With who?’ her friend asked, staring at her.
‘With Jax Lexington,’ Bel said, wiggling her eyebrows as she leaned an elbow on the counter and gave her book a gentle pat.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ Emma snapped. ‘I thought you’d found someone.’
‘It’s the one I’ve been waiting six weeks for. There was a hold-up in the pre-orders. I told you about it,’ Bel prodded.
‘Yes, I know. You’ve been complaining about nothing else. I seriously worry about you, you know.’
‘I don’t know why. I’m perfectly happy.’ Bel tucked a stray strand that had fallen out of the messy bun she’d pulled her hair into on her way out the door that morning.
‘Sure you are.’
Okay, so maybe that was a slight exaggeration. She may not be perfectly happy … but she wasn’t un happy. She was embracing positivity and abundance this year. It had all started with a book, titled Mindfulness and Manifesting a New You—Love, Wealth and Career . She’d been drawn to the book while she’d been browsing in the bookshop, waiting for Larkin to buy napkins for the wedding. The self-help aisle wasn’t one she normally ventured down, but that day the bright gold and pink cover had caught her eye. New year, new me, she reminded herself.
And it wasn’t as though she didn’t want to find some nice guy to go out on a date with but come on—this was Wessex. In the middle of nowhere and the back of beyond. The pickings were pretty slim at best. Hence the need to take drastic action with the whole manifesting thing.
Bel pulled herself up. That wasn’t the kind of energy to be putting out there. She took a breath, remembering her list . Trust in the universe.
‘Your fictional boyfriend isn’t going to keep you warm in bed at night.’
‘Clearly you haven’t read any of these books,’ Bel said dryly.
‘I’m being serious, Bel. You need to start looking for a real man.’
‘And where do you suppose I start looking? It’s easy for you, Miss I-married-my-high-school-sweetheart. You got the last eligible male within a hundred kilometres who still has all his own teeth.’
‘There are lots of eligible men around,’ Emma said.
‘Like who?’
‘Well … there’s … Terry O’Shea,’ she said.
‘He’s in prison.’
‘Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. Well, what about his brother—Mitch?’
‘He’s in prison too—remember? They were both in the tow truck dragging the ATM down the main street.’ To their house … where the police found it after following the scrape marks down the road. Not the brightest gene pool, clearly.
‘Tex … whatever his name is. You know the one who works at Stumpy Richardson’s workshop.’
‘The one who got Kylie Smith pregnant and already has a baby with her older sister?’
‘He did? How come I didn’t hear about that?’
‘Because you don’t work in Dwyers’ general store and hear all the gossip.’
‘Wow. I’m really out of the loop.’
The bell dinged as the door opened and both women turned to see the newcomer. Emma gasped, drawing his attention.
‘Emma. Bel,’ he said, nodding briefly at them before heading for the aisle of groceries the small store stocked.
‘Dean Preston,’ Emma said in a loud side whisper. Her eyes lit up as she swung back around and stared at Bel with growing excitement.
‘Absolutely not,’ Bel hissed back, horrified.
‘Why not?’
‘Are you kidding me? He made my life a living hell in primary and high school.’
‘That was a hundred years ago.’
‘Still not long enough to forget,’ Bel snapped. Dean Preston’s return to town a few months earlier had only been the topic of general conversation for a few days, which said a lot for how boring the bloke must be now. There was absolutely nothing of interest for anyone to gossip about.
‘I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner,’ Emma said, ignoring her friend’s warning glare. ‘He’s perfect.’
‘He’s not perfect.’
‘Did you see his butt in those jeans? When did that happen?’
Bel rolled her eyes. ‘Would you keep your voice down?’ she said in a low voice as she tried to keep an eye on the man in question, praying he was far enough away not to overhear. A nice butt in jeans wasn’t exactly an oddity around here—jeans were, after all, the main wardrobe staple of the majority of the population, although Bel could admit that some men wore them a little better than others. Dean Preston was possibly one of those men. His dark brown hair was a little long around the ears and on the top, a clear testament to the fact he was too snowed under to have found time for a haircut recently, and his dark beard was probably not grown as any kind of fashion statement but because it was easier than shaving every day.
‘Ask him out.’
‘What?’ Bel immediately clamped her lips closed as her voice almost echoed off the walls. ‘You are out of your freaking mind,’ she added in a hushed but furious tone.
‘Everything okay?’
Both women immediately straightened. ‘Yep, fine. I haven’t seen you around in ages, Dean. How have you been?’ Emma asked sweetly, ignoring Bel’s warning glance.
‘Yeah. You know. Working, sleeping … working.’
‘Oh yeah, I hear ya. Craig’s the same. Sometimes I almost forget I’m married, I haven’t seen him in so long.’
‘How’s he doing?’
‘Yeah good, he’s still doing the mine thing. Just for a couple more years, we hope. Then he’ll be back to full-time farmer.’
‘Gotcha. I did it for a while. Must be tough with kids, though.’
‘It can be, but I’ve been a farmer’s wife for a long time now. I’m kind of used to being a single mum,’ she said with an easy grin that would fool most people. Bel knew she was covering up the stress of the bad years of battling to hold on to their property. It was still a struggle with Craig having to work away and still see to the farm when he was back.
‘So what about you?’ Emma asked. ‘Are you married? Divorced?’
‘Gay?’ Bel piped up.
Dean eyed her oddly before looking back at Emma. ‘None of the above,’ he said.
‘So, single?’ Emma prodded.
‘I guess so.’
‘You guess so? What’s to guess about it? You either are or you’re not,’ Bel said with a slight scoff before realising she wasn’t even interested in his answer. She slid her old glasses back up her nose. I really need to get new glasses.
‘I am,’ he said, looking at Bel with a frown.
She pulled a slight face and reached out for the milk and bread he held. ‘Is that all you’re after today?’
He seemed slightly distracted as he nodded and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. She rang up the items and waited for him to tap his card.
‘It was nice to see you again, Dean,’ Emma said.
‘Yeah. You too. Say g’day to Craig for me.’
As soon as the door shut behind him, Emma grabbed Bel’s hand and gave a strangled squeal. ‘He’s perfect!’
‘A perfect dick ,’ Bel replied, shaking off her friend’s grip.
‘He is not.’
‘Are you forgetting the time he stuck chewing gum in my hair?’
‘We were ten, Bel.’
‘Give him time,’ Bel said, her eyes following his vehicle as he drove away. ‘A leopard doesn’t change his spots.’
‘Okay, David Attenborough,’ Emma said making fun of her. ‘Once you realise he’s not that kid you remember, you’ll see.’
‘I’ll date Bill Matheson first,’ she said, crossing her arms defiantly.
‘Now there’s an image I won’t be able to unsee for a while,’ Emma said, holding her hand out as she waited for her daughter to climb back down off the chair. ‘Tomorrow night, dinner at my place. No excuses.’
‘Fine,’ Bel agreed. She’d have tonight to read. She sent a longing look at the book on the counter and felt her resolve stiffen. Until she found a man who could make her quiver and swoon the way Jax did, she was happy to stay single. Dean Preston crossed her mind quickly and she gave a small chuckle. If he was her only option, her heart was more than safe.
In the midst of the masquerade ball’s opulent splendour, the air crackled with anticipation and hidden desires. Masks concealed identities while whispers of intrigue danced around the room like a forbidden waltz. Jax moved through the crowd with the grace of a predator stalking its prey.
Then, through the crowd, he saw her—Corrine—her eyes wide with fear, cornered by a man wearing a leering jester’s mask. With a silent promise in his heart, he stepped forward, a dark and enigmatic figure. In one swift motion, he whisked her away from her tormentor, his touch gentle yet possessive as he guided her through the maze of dancers.
Finding sanctuary in a secluded alcove, they were sheltered from the prying eyes of the ballroom. Alone in their hidden haven, their masks fell away, revealing the raw vulnerability beneath.
Their eyes met, sparking a firestorm of desire that consumed them both. Without a word, Jax drew her close, his lips capturing hers in a hungry kiss that left them both gasping for air. The world around them faded into oblivion as they surrendered to the intoxicating passion that pulsed between them.
Clothes were torn at with urgency, each touch igniting a wildfire of sensation that threatened to consume them whole. In the flickering candlelight, their bodies moved as one, a symphony of longing and pleasure that echoed through the night.
And as the masquerade ball raged on, they surrendered to the undeniable pull of fate, their love transcending the boundaries of time and space.
Bel closed her eyes and gave a small sigh as she hugged the open book to her chest. ‘Oh, Jax,’ she whispered as she immersed herself back in the world where Jax was always there to save the day and be the kind of hero every woman dreamed of finding.
Bel set up her phone on her desk and did a quick check behind her to make sure there was nothing embarrassing that might show up in the video. It was her worst nightmare that she would post a video on her BookTok account and have viewers pointing out something she’d missed, like that horrific video of the woman in a Zoom meeting with a massive dildo in plain view on the bookcase behind her. Of course, that was an extreme example. Bel was more concerned it would be something awkward like a pair of undies or a bra, which, to her mind, would be bad enough.
Happy that everything was as it was meant to be, she began filming.
She’d fallen into the whole social media thing by accident. She’d always followed her favourite authors and was part of a reviewers’ network within the romance readers’ circle, but making her own videos was not something she’d ever thought she’d be doing. Then one day, after reading a book that had angered her so intensely because it had been such a blatant copy of her most-loved series—and a completely crap-house one at that—she’d decided to have a rant, as you do. It probably hadn’t been the best idea after a few glasses of wine, but then again, had she not had that Dutch courage under her belt, she most likely wouldn’t have ever posted the video, which went viral and ended up earning her a rather hefty following on social media. Her new side hustle also earned her a small income, thanks to display advertising and affiliate marketing.
She loved her little romance community. She’d made so many friends over the last few years; this was the one place she could be herself in, talking about books to her heart’s content, surrounded by other romance readers and book lovers.
Not that she didn’t talk about her books to Emma. She did. A lot. But Emma had never gotten into romances the way Bel had and she knew her best friend was only humouring her when she let Bel rave on about one of her recent reads. Since starting her channel, though, Bel no longer felt like she’d burst if she didn’t tell someone about the exciting books she’d found. She had an outlet.
She hit the record button and she was in another world—her favourite one.