Life Support: Escape to the Country (14 page)

Tom’s expression told her he had no idea what she was talking about. Should she tell him? She opened her mouth to tell him when his phone chirped. He ignored it, but the moment between them evaporated. The phone kept ringing.

“You should check that,” she said, stepping away and attempting to catch her breath. “It might be Ruby.”

It was.

Five minutes later after he’d chatted to Ruby and been reassured by Christine that their daughter was sleepy but fine, he said good night. He served the meal but something was wrong. The connection between them was shattered and Emma had no idea how to fix it. What had caused him to turn from hot to cold in a heartbeat? Had Christine said something? Or Ruby maybe? And what was it with his mood swings?

He placed the plates on the table and sat opposite her. Holding his wine aloft, he gave a smile, which didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Here’s cheers. Bon appetit.”

“Cheers.”

While they ate, Tom chatted about his plans for Lexton Downs and slowly his mood defrosted. By the time he’d spoken about his mum, his sister and her life in the UK, and his relationship with Christine and Rick, he was almost back to normal again. Emma let the food, the music, the warmth, and the candles lull her into a relaxed state. Had she imagined his cold behavior earlier?

“Ruby’s a gorgeous little girl,” she said, setting her knife and fork down on the plate. “How would she feel about us having dinner together?”

Tom dropped his knife and she thought she might have imagined it, but his face appeared to darken slightly. “I don’t want Ruby to know about us having dinner.”

A sudden burst of irritation fizzed within her. What was it with men and secrets?

“Why? Do you think she’d have a problem seeing you with another woman other than her mother?”

Tom ran a hand across his jaw. “She’s still young and it might get confusing for her.” He hadn’t answered her question.

“Are you kidding? She’s nearly six and already has a stepfamily. I’m pretty sure she’s more resilient than you’re giving her credit for. Look how well she coped today with the fall, the ambulance, the hospital, everything.”

“I don’t want her to see me bringing a string of different women home.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “
Has
there been a string of women?” She pointed at the candles, her empty plate, indicated the music playing softly in the background. “Do you do this for every woman you invite for dinner?”

Tom scowled. “No.”

“But it doesn’t mean there haven’t been
other
women.”

“None I want Ruby to meet. Someone once advised me never to go on a second date with a woman unless I plan to marry her.”

Emma forced a laugh. Surely he was joking. “So in the meantime you plan to date every single female in Birrangulla once?”

“No. But I haven’t met a woman who’s made me want a second date yet.” He scooped up their plates and took them to the sink.

Emma crossed her arms and stared at his back. “Well, at least I know where I stand,” she muttered.

Emma was in a deep dreamless sleep when her phone rang. She grabbed it and grunted a groggy greeting that she hoped sounded something like hello.

“Good morning. You awake?” It was Tom, sounding far too chirpy.

She hadn’t spoken to him since their disastrous dinner date two weeks earlier. They’d started the night off well. It had peaked when he kissed her, then it had plummeted to the ground like a fizzed-out firecracker the moment Christine had called. Emma had forced her way through the pork belly and sticky date pudding dessert before claiming tiredness as her reason for leaving so early. She was glad she hadn’t finished her one glass of wine and was able to drive home without worrying that she was over the legal blood alcohol limit. She pictured him lying in bed on the other end of the phone and despite her confusion about the mixed messages he was sending, she felt a shift in her heart and a fluttering in her chest.

“So,
are
you awake?” he repeated.

She was instantly alert. Why was he calling?

“I am now,” she said, shifting position under the covers and half sitting up. She rubbed at her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh.” She relaxed back against the pillow.

“Want to come out and milk the cows with me?”

The proposition was delivered in a laid-back, no-pressure kind of way, but Emma couldn’t help but feel there was more to it. A flurry of butterflies lifted off.

“When?”

“Now.”

She rubbed her eyes again and squinted at the red numbers on the digital clock beside the bed. What the hell? No way.

“It’s four thirty in the morning! On my day off.”

She hated getting up early when she wasn’t rostered on an early shift. Getting out of bed now sounded like torture considering it was probably freezing outside.

Tom gave a throaty laugh that did something to her insides. She burrowed deeper under her blankets.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

“I’m sure I’ll survive.”

“Have you ever milked a cow?”

“No. And I don’t see any reason to learn now.”

“An extra pair of hands would be welcome. Between us we could get them milked in half the time.”

“Ah, so you have an ulterior motive,” she teased. “I’m sure you’ve coped perfectly well without me in the past. The closest I’ve ever come to a cow was the last time I bought milk at the supermarket. I’m sure I’d be more of a hindrance than a help.”

“I’m happy to teach you.”

“And as I said, I’m happy to pass up that offer.”

Tom chuckled again. “Suit yourself. But I’m telling you, you’re missing out.”

Emma hung up and lay back in bed, tugging the covers tighter around her body. Oddly enough, she felt like she was missing out. She lay there a minute, sighed, rolled over and rolled back again. It was pointless. There was no way she’d be able to fall back to sleep. Giving in, she got dressed, dragging on the clothes she’d left lying on the floor the night before. Grabbing a thick coat and gloves she quietly let herself out of her parents’ house to head to Lexton Downs. And Tom.

Her decision was made. She was going to give him another chance.

*

The still dark blue sky stretched endlessly above her without a cloud in sight as she drove the twenty minutes from Birrangulla to Lexton Downs. A white half-moon hung in the west and in the east, a tiny golden orb began to glow. It was going to be another perfect spring day.

When she arrived, her car headlights picked Tom out, perched on the gate that led to the dairy, oozing sexuality. He looked relaxed, graceful, and better-looking than ever, sitting with the heels of his boots tucked beneath him and his hands loosely clutching the metal gate either side of his thighs. His hair was still damp from the shower and he was clean-shaven.

Emma’s emotions were a scrambled mess and her nerve endings were on fire. Even though she’d said she wasn’t coming, he was obviously expecting her. She ran her tongue over dry lips. Maybe saying yes was a mistake. Every time she was in Tom’s company, she was like a hormone-fueled teenager. All she could ever think about was his lips on hers again. She sucked in a breath and tried to kick-start her stalled brain. The deep-down unsettling truth was, as much as she didn’t want to be one of his “string of women,” if he so much as directed another of his smiles her way, she’d fall straight into his arms and kiss him again. She couldn’t help herself.

Kookaburras screeched a welcome chorus as she got out of her car. Pulling on her gloves, she tried not to stare at him, but failed miserably. Glancing around, she inhaled deeply, smelling nothing except fresh, cold country air. The pull of his blue eyes tugged at her and she finally looked up, straight into his gaze, feeling the full weight of his appraisal.

“Good morning.”

Two simple words and she was blushing. “Good morning,” she stammered, stubbing the toe of her gumboot into the damp ground. She cleared her throat. “How did you know I’d come?”

One side of his mouth curled upward in a grin, showing off the dimple in his cheek. “Lucky guess.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. 

He smiled. “I saw the dust from your car. Figured it would be you. Who else would be out this early?”

“Of course.”

“Besides, I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist seeing me again.”

“Is that so?” She met his gaze head on and almost burst out laughing at the expression on his face. Were they canary feathers poking out of his mouth?

He adjusted the hat on his head. “I’m irresistible.”

She arched an eyebrow. “I came to see the cows, not you,” she said, hands on hips, returning his grin with one of her own.

“Is that right?”

She nodded. “Yep.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to make it worth your while coming out here.”

She shivered as she tried to tamp down the emotions building inside her. It was a losing battle.

He jumped down from the gate and took a step toward her, his face filled with genuine concern. “Are you cold?”

She shook her head. “It’s okay, thanks. My coat is in the car.”

He unlatched the chain and held one arm out. “Let’s go.”

She grabbed her coat and her feet overtook her brain as she chased after him all the way to the dairy.

*

When Tom had suggested they milk cows, Emma hadn’t pictured herself trying to avoid slipping on wet mud and manure-splattered concrete. She’d envisioned sitting calmly in a cozy barn filled with sweet-smelling straw, propped on a stool with a cow and bucket in front of her. As she learned, that was about the furthest thing from the actual milking process. Her romanticized view of farm life, and cows, dissolved after the first five minutes.

It was close to nine o’clock by the time they’d finished hosing and sweeping out the yards and the cows had been returned to the paddock. They’d worked well together and Emma had been pleased when Tom praised her for being a quick learner. As it turned out, he had needed her help, as one of the regular milkers was off sick.

“Want to join me for breakfast?” Tom asked when her stomach growled loudly.

She clamped her hands over her belly as it grumbled again. It was an easy decision. She was famished. “Deal.”

She followed Tom to his place behind the stables on autopilot. After kicking off her muddy gumboots she brushed past him through the front door, screwing up her nose in disgust.

“Don’t give me that look,” he said, punching her lightly on the arm. “You don’t exactly smell like roses either.”

Emma lifted her jumper to her nose, sniffed deeply and gagged. “I smell like crap.”

“Hop in the shower while I turn the heater on and get something ready for us to eat.”

Emma looked dismally down at her dirty jeans. They were stained in mud and cow dung. “You should have warned me I’d need a change of clothes.”

“Take them off and I’ll run them through the washing machine with mine. I’ll grab you a shirt and some sweatpants to put on after your shower.”

She swallowed. Now that they were back inside and her body was slowly warming up, every pore was suddenly wide-awake again and aware of his nearness.

He pointed to the bathroom. “Chuck your clothes out the door when you’re undressed.”

Inside the bathroom she quickly stripped. Opening the door a crack, she threw her stinking clothes on the floor and shut the door, this time turning the lock. She cranked up the hot water and stepped under the steaming flow.

Ten minutes later she stepped out of the shower smelling of Tom’s body wash. Wrapping herself in an oversized bath towel, she checked herself in the mirror. Her legs were bare, but the towel was long and covered her backside. Not surprisingly, there was no hairdryer hiding under the sink, so she fluffed her hair with her fingers and let it fall loose and long down her back.

Tom had left one of his checked flannel shirts hanging on the door handle. A pair of gray sweatpants sat neatly folded on the floor. They were going to swim on her but she grabbed the clean clothes gratefully and ducked back into the bathroom. She buttoned up the shirt, glad it was large enough it skimmed rather than outlined the shape of her body. The soft material was warm against her skin and smelled of Tom’s aftershave. The tracksuit pants were so long she had to roll them up four times and yet they still dragged on the floor. She must look like a kid playing dress-ups, but at least she was warm and smelled clean.

Back in the living room there was no sign of Tom, or her dirty clothes. She stood in front of the heater, warming her hands. His bedroom door was open and she forced her eyes away from the inviting pile of pillows that adorned his timber sleigh bed. She was exhausted but she supposed getting up hours before the birds and doing manual labor would do that.

“Looking good.”

Emma spun around so fast she nearly tripped over.

He stepped over and tweaked the collar of the shirt, straightening it, and catching her loose hair in his hand. He inhaled deeply. “And you smell good too.”

“The shirt’s a little big.”

“It looks perfect.”

She let out a little laugh, flustered by his compliments. She wasn’t imagining it. An undercurrent of suggestiveness draped every word and action.

His eyes darkened as he leaned closer. “I wouldn’t have thought seeing you in my clothes would be so sexy.”

Her heart almost stopped when his finger grazed the sensitive skin at her neck. His hand settled on her shoulder and squeezed once, twice. She cleared her throat and tried to swallow. If only he would kiss her.

The microwave pinged and he dropped his hand. Disappointment surged through her.

“I hope you like porridge.”

She scrunched up her nose. “To be honest, I’m not a fan.”

He removed a large bowl from the microwave and stirred it before adding a dash of milk and stirring it again.

“You haven’t tried
my
porridge. I’ll make it sweet and I promise you’ll love it.” He drizzled honey onto the hot oats and added a spoonful of sugar and another dash of milk. “Straight from the cows we milked this morning,” he said. “Here, try this.” He held the spoon out for her, but when she went to take it, he shook his head. “Open your mouth,” he instructed.

She obeyed, closing her lips slowly around the spoon. She kept her eyes on his and knew she wasn’t misreading anything. A shiver of anticipation raced through her.

“That’s amazing,” she whispered.

“I told you it would be.”

She swallowed another mouthful.

“Are you glad you came out here now?”

She nodded, lost for words.

His eyes darkened before he hurriedly dropped the spoon in the bowl and stood. “I need a shower. Don’t move.”

She had no intention of going anywhere.