Outback Dreams (12 page)

‘It's fine.' She heard Monty say. ‘One setback's not going to hold me down. I'm already on the lookout for the next place.'

‘Good for you!' There was a clink of glasses. Faith had a flashback to Monty's table and the expensive bottle of champagne sitting between them. She was suddenly desperate for a drink, but neither she nor Curtis had thought to bring anything.

‘So you're happy to see it then?' Curtis spoke loudly as if this wasn't the first time he'd asked.

Reluctantly, Faith refocused her attention on him. ‘Yes, that's fine.' It didn't matter what movie she'd agreed to see because her mind would be elsewhere.

‘Great.' But Curtis didn't sound that impressed as he took a slug of water.

They sat smiling—not comfortably—at each other for a few long moments. Faith guessed Monty and Ruby were eating because their conversation had paused too. All she could hear was the clink of cutlery against plates.

‘When are you off to Queensland?' she asked, smiling and trying to feign enthusiasm. ‘Will you work on boats there too?'

Curtis shrugged. ‘Not sure. I might pick up some bar work until the picking season really gets going.'

‘I've heard fruit picking is hard slog.'

He leaned across the table and wiggled his bushy eyebrows. ‘Don't you think I'm up to it, sweetheart? I'll have you know this body can do things that would blow your mind.'

Faith managed a laugh and a quick smile. If he'd spoken to her like that last Friday night, shivers of anticipation would have sown goose bumps all across her skin. But knowing all he wanted was a quick tumble between the sheets dimmed his appeal. If she'd met him ten years ago, she might have taken him up on the offer, but now … now she wanted a lot more.

‘Have you worked the orchards before?' she persisted.

More than happy to talk about himself, Curtis linked his hands behind his head and leaned back in his seat like it was a couch. But it wasn't
his
words that claimed her attention.

‘I can't even imagine how hard it must have been having a brother like that.'

Like that?
Faith cringed at Ruby's tone. Trying to look riveted by Curtis, she leaned farther back in her seat, wishing she had some kind of supersonic hearing.

‘You're lucky you're an only child,' Monty replied. Although his tone was light, anyone who knew him as well as Faith could detect it was forced.

Gobsmacked by this admission, her mouth fell open. How had she never known he felt this way? Monty had always been so caring and protective of Will. She shook her head, deciding her ears must have failed her.

‘Will's needs always came first.' Monty continued, his voice rough with emotion. ‘Don't get me wrong, I understand he needed so much more than me, but… My parents never even thought about what was best for me. I hated leaving the farm, moving to Perth.'

Phew. At least Faith knew that much.

‘I know I was only young, but it was like they didn't spare one thought to my future, only Will's. So many times I wished for a normal brother or sister, one I could fight with, have a joke with, one I didn't have to explain to people wherever we went. I know I'm selfish and horrible…'

Monty's voice drifted off and Ruby's came again. ‘You're not horrible. Everything you've said is totally understandable. Just because you want what's best for you doesn't mean…'

But Faith didn't hear what Ruby had to say. Her mind was whirring like an inferno. Why had Monty never told her any of this? She couldn't think of anything he didn't know about her— well, aside from the dreams she'd been having recently—and yet he hadn't shared this massive thing with her. This big ball of resentment lived inside him and she'd never realised. What did that say about their friendship?

She placed her hands on the table and pushed up out of her seat. ‘Back in a moment.' As she headed for the restrooms, she passed the waiter bringing their food, but the last thing she felt like doing was eating.

Rushing into a cubicle, she flicked the lid of the toilet down and sat there, staring blankly at the back of the door.

She thought back to that day she'd told Monty about the Barking Ball, and recalled he hadn't seemed very enthusiastic about supporting an autism charity. Why hadn't she called him on it? She racked her brain for any other clues she might have missed but came up short.

As much as she liked the idea, she couldn't hide away in the restroom all night. Even if this date was only a bit of a fun for Curtis, it was rude to leave him out there waiting while their food got cold. But she wasn't ready to head back to the table and hear more revelations.

Grabbing some toilet paper, she wiped her eyes, then blew her nose and tossed the paper in the bowl. The flush of the toilet masked the sound of someone else entering the bathroom, and when Faith stepped out of her cubicle, there was Ruby.

‘Are you okay?' She sounded genuinely concerned. ‘I saw you rush in here. Are you sick?'

‘Just a headache,' Faith answered tersely, amazed at how easily the lie fell from her lips. Although it wasn't exactly a lie—her head did ache, just not in the migraine-need-a-Panadol kind of way.

Ruby began digging around in her fancy handbag. ‘I've got a painkiller if you like.' Before Faith could concoct an argument, she conjured a green and white packet and popped out two capsules. The easiest thing was to take them and make her escape.

Yet, even after she cupped her hands and gulped water from the taps to swallow the tablets, Ruby didn't go. Faith dried her hands under the automatic dryer, hoping Ruby would get bored and return to Monty.

She didn't. And the moment the room went silent again, she pounced. ‘Monty's been telling me all about your fundraiser. I think it's a lovely thing you're doing. I'd love to help if I can.'

What
? Was it a conversation about the ball and its charity that had led to Monty's confession about Will? Whatever, the idea of working alongside Ruby exacerbated her headache to unbearable proportions.

Catty Faith escaped. ‘Why are you suddenly interested in Monty now?'

Ruby blinked. ‘Excuse me. I'm not sure what you mean.'

Faith sighed, it looked like she was going to have to spell it out. ‘He asked you out when you first came to town and you never even looked twice at him. Suddenly now, when he's going to buy a farm, have land for your precious horses… Now you pay him attention.'

‘You haven't the slightest clue about me, Faith.' Ruby's voice was soft, her tone icy. ‘I know Monty has asked me out before, but the truth is, the time wasn't right. I wasn't ready for a relationship. I'm sorry if that offends you, but that's your problem, not mine.'

Ruby didn't wait for a reply. Clasping her shoulder bag against her side, she turned on her impressive black heels and high-tailed it out of the room, leaving Faith staring into the mirror and wondering how much of her proclamation was true. She blinked at her puffy, red reflection.
Ugh
!

If Monty and Ruby did make a go of it, things would change in Faith's friendship with him. If she didn't at least try and make an effort with Ruby, she could lose Monty altogether.

Psyching herself up to apologise, Faith stepped out of the restroom, but Monty and Ruby were already on their way out. Monty's hand rested intimately against the small of Ruby's back as he opened the restaurant door with his other one. They made the perfect couple.

Faith felt her best friend in the world slipping away, and her mind tortured her with thoughts of what Monty and Ruby might get up to for the rest of the night. Back to the table, she found Curtis halfway through his dinner, mustard stains at the corner of his lips and something yellow caught between his front teeth.

‘Glad you didn't wait,' she said as she slipped into her seat.

‘Too famished,' he replied through a mouthful of food. ‘Dig in. This tucker's great.'

She still wasn't hungry but desperately needed something to distract her thoughts from Monty and Ruby. Taking a mouthful of chicken korma, Faith smiled at Curtis. It was a forced smile, one that felt totally awkward and uncomfortable on her face, but being in such a strop wasn't fair to him when all he'd ever asked of her was a fun night out. ‘Now, you were telling me about fruit picking.'

Two hours later, as Faith sat in a dark theatre shovelling popcorn into her mouth and watching an awful romantic comedy, she wondered why she was putting herself through this hell. She wouldn't watch Jennifer Aniston on the small screen for anyone, and yet here she was suffering through two hours of the woman magnified. She'd bought her own ticket, and Curtis had had the audacity to ask her for a loan so he could buy some munchies as well. Didn't he know it was still the done thing to at least
offer
to pay when you asked a woman on a date? What the hell did he do with his money anyway? Working on crayfish boats wasn't exactly stalking the stock market, but she knew from Monty that they did all right. And Curtis didn't even have to pay rent.

By the time the credits rolled up the screen, Faith could have burst out in song. She turned down Curtis's suggestion that they find a pub still open and floored it back to Bunyip Bay. She was neither surprised nor disappointed when Curtis didn't ask her in or try to kiss her goodnight. As she headed back out to Forrester's Rock, she couldn't help thinking her night would have been much more enjoyable if she'd been with Monty.

The mere idea of more dates with strange men exhausted her—all that effort to dress up and offer stimulating conversation. Maybe she simply wasn't cut out for relationships. Was it time to accept the fact that where men were concerned, she wasn't one of the lucky ladies?

Monty had hoped that Ruby's reason for turning down Curtis' offer was because she'd rather spend some quality time alone with him, but when he asked her back to his place for coffee, she politely declined, making that same excuse about having to get up early and tend to her horses.

Damn her bloody horses! They may have ruined his plans for soft music, a bit of wine and late night conversation, but they would not rob him of what he'd been anticipating all night.

A kiss.

He'd barely tugged his keys out of the ignition before he leapt out and rushed around to open the passenger door. Ruby got out and stood awkwardly in the space between the car and the open door. Garnering courage, he stepped towards her, took hold of the hand that wasn't holding her small bag and caught her gaze. ‘Thanks for a wonderful evening.'

She opened her mouth to respond, but he didn't want to miss the moment or lose his nerve.

Under the glimmer of a streetlamp, he leaned forward, closed his eyes and pressed his lips against hers. They were soft, yes, but strangely cold, and although his lips were hot with desire, there was … nothing.

He'd expected fireworks, explosions, earth shattering sensations, but sadly, he'd experienced more spark the last time he'd eaten a chocolate bar. And he wasn't even that fond of chocolate.

Disappointment clenched in Monty's gut. Maybe it was like watching a movie that everyone had raved about and built up hype. Maybe he'd been expecting too much and just needed to give it time. What was that old adage about practice making perfect?

He pulled back, determined not to let the disappointment show on his face. The woman before him was sweet and beautiful and everything he'd always desired. And it wasn't just her charm and good looks. Quite aside from her loveliness, there was something about Ruby that intrigued him—an air of mystery. Tonight he'd spoken more about himself than he had in a long time; she had a knack for making him talk about things that he normally kept very closely guarded … but now that he thought about it, she'd been reluctant to share anything personal about herself.

Ruby licked her lips, and Monty wondered if she'd felt something more than he had. Her cheeks glowed a sweet shade of red but her eyes gave nothing away. ‘Thank you too. It was lovely. Will I hear from you again?'

‘Yes. Definitely.' He wasn't about to give up on the woman of his dreams simply because their first kiss hadn't blown his socks from here to New York. ‘Stay close to the phone,' he instructed with a smile as he stepped out of the way to let her pass.

‘I'll look forward to it,' she said. Then she leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek before swishing her hips up the garden path.

He palmed his cheek where her lips had been, but damnit, there was still nothing.

Where most women she knew would have nursed a broken heart with chocolate and a soppy movie marathon, Faith spent the weekend watching
Star Wars
—all six of them—with salt and vinegar chips her snack of choice. The movies were as good as comfort food for her. She and Monty used to dress up as Princess Leia and Han Solo and take to the paddocks to defeat the galactic empire. She knew the words of each movie off by heart. Princess Leia had been her favourite fictional heroine as a child, and it was comforting to return to a place she knew so well. A place where things were still how they should be.

Of course she wasn't nursing a broken heart, merely a soul wounded by life's injustices. She had a long reel of questions on permanent replay in her head.

Why did my mother have to die
?
A
favourite whenever she felt like this.

Why does Dad have to be so grumpy all the time
? Another chestnut.

She could understand his ill temper if she'd landed on the couch and hadn't moved, but between movies, she'd kept up her end of the household bargain. She'd collected the eggs, milked Daisy, made lunch and dinner, and kept the never-ending washing churning—all the home duties that drove her insane with the unfairness. And still he'd only glared at her before going on to complain about the damn weather to Ryan. Sometimes she felt as if it were her fault the skies hadn't opened yet, her fault they might have to dry-seed for the first time in years. Did he want her to go out onto the front verandah and do a rain dance?