Outback Dreams (8 page)

He caught her looking and scowled. ‘Don't know why you care about boots in the house when you've gone on a cleaning strike anyway.'

She opened her mouth to tell him she hadn't gone on a cleaning strike, not even close, but closed it again. Anything she said would only rile him up. Why couldn't the man be reasonable for five seconds? She hated that the only time they came close to having a conversation, they fought. Deciding it was safer to just bite her tongue, she blinked away the threatening tears and turned back to the task at hand. Without asking her father, she cooked him breakfast as well, but by the time she'd served their plates high with fried eggs and bacon, she'd lost her appetite.

Once upon a time, her daddy had adored her, but it seemed those days were over. If things didn't get better between them soon, she'd be forced to leave, whether she found another job or not.

‘After I've tidied the house, milked Daisy, done some washing and collected the eggs'—this for Frank's sake, to show she hadn't completely turned her back on them—‘I'm going into town to the post office and to run some errands. Either of you need anything while I'm there?' She only looked at Ryan, unable to bear the wrath in her dad's eyes. A girl could take only so much hostility.

‘More Coke please. I drank the last can last night,' Ryan said.

Frank said nothing.

She nodded and started to clean up.

A few moments of silence later, Ryan spoke again. ‘Are we still on for tonight?'

‘Yes. Definitely.' Despite the weird dreams about Monty, Faith had been looking forward to this night out all week. It sounded as if he'd invited every guy within a hundred-kilometre radius, and she planned to be prepared. She'd decided on an all-over overhaul. How would men ever take her femininity seriously if she kept dressing like one of the boys? After an evening spent virtual window-shopping, she'd ordered some new clothes from an online fashion store that promised speedy delivery. She was desperately hoping they'd turn up at the post office today.

‘Earth to Faith?' Ryan's words caught her off guard.

Before she could answer, her dad griped again. ‘Don't expect to get a sensible word out of her, she's too busy thinking up airy-fairy plans. Some of us have real jobs to do.' Leaving his empty plate in front of him, Frank pushed his seat away from the table and stormed out of the kitchen and down the hall.

Faith looked to Ryan. ‘So I guess your talking to him hasn't worked yet?'

Ryan sighed and shook his head. ‘Nope. He wouldn't even let me broach the subject. But he'll come round. He just doesn't know how to handle this new stand-up-for-herself Faith. Personally, I like her.' With those parting words, Ryan gave her an unexpected hug, swiped the last piece of bacon off his plate and followed their father.

Faith cleaned the kitchen on autopilot before heading into town.

As she turned her four-wheel drive into the main street, she waved at a couple of people as they drove past. A trip to town was never quick—there was always someone-or-other to catch up with—but that was part of the appeal. She parked outside the post office, desperate to see if her new clothes had arrived and also if Dogs for Autism had sent the information she'd requested. She scored on both counts and tried not to jiggle too much with excitement as she carried her packages back to the car.

The fundraiser information excited her, but it was the box from the clothing company that really roused her interest. Using her car key, she sliced through the outer packaging and gasped at the material inside. Eek! Had she gone over the top? She couldn't remember the last time she'd worn an actual dress. She hadn't even worn one to her year-twelve formal, instead causing a stir by turning up in a manly tuxedo. There were a couple of photos of her as a toddler wearing pretty sundresses, but her mum had soon learnt there wasn't much point in putting Faith in such clothes.

For someone whose usual wardrobe consisted of jeans and a t-shirt, the magenta cocktail dress freaked her a little. Ordering it was one thing, but could she really wear it at the local pub? Her stomach flipped at the thought. She could imagine the widened eyes of the locals as she marched across to the bar wearing this scrap of material and the boots she'd bought for the alumnae party. The thought overwhelmed her for only a moment before she realised that was exactly the type of reaction she was hoping for. Lord knew the reaction she'd been getting for the last ten years wasn't doing her any favours.

Faith closed the lid and put the box aside. She couldn't wait to get home and try on the dress, but first, her errands—Ryan's Coke, some items to restock their pantry, the
Farmer's Weekly
for her dad and a stop in at the Visitor Centre to find info on local artists who might like to donate to the auction she planned to have at the ball. Between the IGA and the Visitor Centre, Faith's gaze caught on the window of the hairdresser's. She paused and peered inside. Charlene, the owner of the salon, stood at the counter, aimlessly flicking through magazines. Not a soul was in the shop, which was strange for a Friday, but maybe it was a sign. Maybe it was fate.

With her free hand, Faith twisted her ponytail round her fingers. Her mousy brown hair—so thick and long it wasn't ever practical to do anything but tie it up—induced a sigh.

‘Faith?'

She hadn't noticed the salon door open, but she looked up to see Charlene staring curiously at her.

‘Can I help you?'

‘Yes. Definitely.' A new hairdo would be the perfect complement to the magenta dress. If she was going to change, she didn't want to do it by half. ‘Do you have time for an appointment?'

Charlene's eyes glistened. ‘What do you want done?'

Faith grinned. ‘Absolutely everything.'

It was early, but the music was already rocking at The Palace, and Monty felt his heart rocking right alongside it. He'd heard that afternoon that his loan had been approved, and he'd instructed Mack, the real estate agent, to take his offer to the Paynes. Eager to start the celebrating, he'd arrived a good half hour early.

He sat at the bar, tapping his boots along to the country music belting out from the stereo and chatting to Liam the publican when he wasn't serving his few customers. Currently, the only people in the pub were a local family with three young kids having an early counter meal and two old men who spent more time here than they did at home.

A shadow fell behind him then a hand clapped firmly against his back. ‘What are you having, mate?' came Adam's jovial voice. ‘The drinks are on me tonight, well at least the first few anyway.'

‘I thought farmers were supposed to be hard-up,' Liam said, as he pulled a couple of pint glasses down from a shelf.

Adam laughed. ‘We are. But we know how to prioritise, right Monty?'

Monty managed to open his mouth but his throat was so clogged up with emotion, he almost couldn't speak. He took a moment, and then let out a short, ‘Yeah.'

A farmer. After all these years.

When their beers landed on the bar, Adam raised his for a toast. ‘Welcome to my world—dumb sheep, no rain and long hours on a tractor.'

As they drank to this, the pub door swung open. Monty turned, hoping to see Ruby. He'd asked her to join them when he'd popped into The Ag Store for some supplies on Wednesday, but she hadn't given him a definite answer. Nevertheless, her response, “I'll try," had kept him on a high since. His shoulders slumped as a horde of guys he'd worked with on the crayfish boats spilled into the pub. He was happy to see them, and would probably miss them when they weren't colleagues anymore, but they weren't Ruby.

There was just something about Robert and Lyn Jones' daughter that had captured his attentions—okay, and the attentions of all the other single blokes in Bunyip—the moment she'd moved to town. Although she had the looks of a supermodel, she kept pretty much to herself. He'd asked her out a few times before and she'd politely declined, but Monty wasn't one to give up when he wanted something.

‘Monty, my main man!' A lanky bloke who didn't look like he could lift one crayfish—never mind a whole crate of them— slapped Monty on the back.

‘Hey, Curtis,' he said with a grin.

The other blokes offered their congratulations and voiced their disappointment that Monty wouldn't be working with them anymore. They settled down to a round of drinks then Kyle, coming back from his first trip to the men's room, froze. Staring ogle-eyed at the pub entrance, he finally let out a wolf-whistle. Everyone swung round to see what, or rather who, had got Kyle's balls in a twist. Monty's mouth was the first to drop open.

Faith.

Her smile filled her whole face as his gaze met hers. His mouth went dry. Ryan came in behind her and they started towards the bar. She strode liked she'd been walking in knee-high eff-me boots her whole damn life. A titillating pink dress fell way above her knees, showcasing legs that usually only wore jeans or denim shorts. And her hair. What had she done with her hair?

It swished around her shoulders as she sashayed toward them. It looked so soft, silky, and golden blonde, a few shades lighter than usual. His fingers twitched around his beer glass as the craziest thought of sliding them through Faith's hair hit him like a sucker punch to the gut.

Before he could digest this thought and work out what the hell to do with it, Ryan and Faith were amongst them.

Adam lifted a hand in greeting and Faith grinned at her audience of open-mouthed men. ‘Evening, boys.'

The look on his mates' faces reminded Monty his own jaw was still scraping the ugly carpeted floor and he picked it up quick fast. While the guys fell all over each other trying to win the honour of buying Faith's first drink, Monty sidled up beside her.

‘Do I know you?'

Typical Faith style, she socked him in the arm.

He rubbed at the spot, pretending she'd bruised him. ‘Hey, just saying. You look different tonight.'

‘Different, huh? You sure know how to compliment a girl.'

Shaking the shocking thoughts that were really circling his head, he raised his eyebrows. ‘All right. You look amazing. Is that better? When did you get your hair done?'

‘This morning.' Lifting fingers which were covered in pink nail polish he'd previously thought alien to Faith, she ran them through the ends of her hair. ‘You like?'

‘Yes.' He grinned, then leaned in close. ‘I think every bloke in the pub likes.'

‘Good. Then my mission is half-accomplished.'

‘What's the rest of the mission?'

She wriggled her eyebrows at him and hissed in his ear, ‘To get one of them to ask me back to his place.'

A muscle at the side of his neck twinged as he thought about the prospect of one of the guys taking Faith home. Yes, they were all mates, but were any of them good enough for her? Would they respect her, treat her right? Or would they simply take advantage of her current mental state?

‘You don't know what to say, do you?' Faith was clearly amused.

That wasn't strictly true. He wanted to tell her to be careful. That the way she looked now made her a danger to herself in a room full of red-blooded males. ‘Sure I do. I was just thinking about which of these blokes could actually handle you.'

‘Don't you worry your pretty little head.' She waved her index finger in front of his nose. ‘I'll be the judge of that.'

With that promise, she turned on her impressive heels and entered the circle of men waiting with drinks. Within seconds, someone had given her a glass of wine, but it looked out of place in her grasp, considering her usual drink of choice was beer.

‘So, Faith,' Curtis said, leaning much closer than was necessary. ‘Adam's been telling us about this big ball you're organising. Where do we get tickets?'

Monty rolled his eyes. Since when had any of his crayfishing mates been interested in dancing? He glanced at the door: if Ruby showed, at least he'd have her to himself. Most of the blokes had already tried flirting with Ruby Jones to no avail. Unlike him, they'd all given up, but Monty reckoned she was more than worth a little extra effort.

‘They're not on sale yet, but I'm glad you're all so enthusiastic.' She named the date. ‘Be sure to find yourself a suit before then and come ready to open your wallets for a good cause.'

‘And pray, sweet lady, what might that cause be?' Curtis was laying it on a bit thick, but Faith only blushed and smiled a little wider.

‘A fabulous charity called Dogs for Autism. They breed and train dogs to assist autistic kids. The dog becomes a companion that not only offers friendship but also looks out for the child.'

‘What's autism?' asked one of the fishermen.

‘Isn't it that rocking thing?' asked another.

‘Monty's brother has a form of it,' Adam informed them, nodding towards him.

All heads turned towards Monty. He took a long swig of beer and nodded. He tried to smile but it turned out more a grimace. ‘Yeah.'

When nobody said anything, he realised he was going to have to give an overview to the uninformed. Reluctantly, he put down his beer. He racked his brain for a way to explain it that wouldn't prolong the conversation, but that was easier said than done. In the end, he chose the textbook definition, hoping he'd bore his listeners into a change of topic.

‘Autism is a neurodevelopmental disability. People on the spectrum can have problems interacting socially, communicating with others, and some also have behavioural challenges.' He made it general, not wanting to talk specifically about Will. ‘Although autism is different for every person who has it, life is different for those with the disorder. People with autism don't think like you and me. The world is black and white to them and—'

Curtis slapped him on the back. ‘Definitely sounds like a good cause. I trust there'll be alcohol to help us support it.'