Chapter Eight

The genuine, ridgy-didge, Aussie roast dinner laid out before Olivia was raucous and about as delicious as it was perfect. The rag-tag army of stockwomen, stockmen, stockkids, stockdogs, and Bruce, the lecherous emu who’d persisted in nipping her butt, had retreated to the dry-season village set up in Wingarra’s outbuildings for their own pre-muster festivities. Yet the Harpers’ rustic kitchen cum dining room cum boardroom cum watering hole felt no less crowded. Eight immature adults jostled to get at the slow-cooked beef and pork, duck-fat roasted vegetables, home-baked bread fresh from the wood-fired oven, and a deli’s worth of sides, sauces, and gravies.

Olivia rested her cutlery on her plate and reveled in the joy while sipping the merlot that Jarrah had poured for her. Her hosts hadn’t relented until her plate overflowed, and now that their attention had turned to their own bottomless appetites, she finally felt safe enough to sneak a peek at the family she’d gotten to know so well over the last year.

Skype was amazing, yet there were some things even high-speed broadband couldn’t convey. Like how appropriate the indigenous names Naya and her husband had given their adoptive kids the day they’d officially joined the Harper clan were. Aragung, the Shield, for Ryder was a no brainer. The man would fight the devil to protect the people he cared for. Alkira, the Margani people’s word for sunshine, was also a gimme. Light and happiness shone from Kira’s stunning Asian features whenever the baby Harper smiled, which was pretty much all the time. Kala was another freebie for Madison. Outback Barbie as Abi liked to call her, whenever Maddie couldn’t hear, simply was fire, from the tips of her flaming-red hair, to the scuffed toes of the work boots she used to kick her mustering crew’s asses. Maddie was about as gentle and forgiving as lava and twice as lethal. Yet there was just something about Wingarra’s grumpy cattle boss and resident ball-breaker Olivia admired. After spending more than a decade battling a male-dominated profession where women were automatically assumed to be nurses, Olivia could only imagine what a young woman surrounded by some of the toughest conditions and men in the world would’ve had to overcome to run a successful cattle operation.

Olivia took a bite from the slab of bread Jarrah had troweled a heart attack’s worth of butter over and slid onto her plate and looked up to find Jeddah’s all-seeing gaze shifting between Jarrah and her. Olivia swallowed and hoped the delicious carbs and fat would settle the childish butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She returned Jeddah’s grin and was relieved to receive one in return before the oldest Harper girl waded into the argument Maddie and Kira were having with the boys about why women made better riders.

Olivia felt the same respect and kinship with Jeddah as she did with Madison. And the more she got to know Wingarra’s business manager the more appropriate Jeddah’s indigenous name became. Bakana, the Peacemaker, pretty much summed up Jarrah’s female doppelganger. The only differences between them were a chromosome, an Aston Martin, a penthouse, and how they displayed their confidence. Where Jarrah’s was like a tsunami that leveled everything in its path, Jeddah’s was as subtle and unstoppable as the rising tide. And to complete the package, Jeddah’s ethereal beauty was only exceeded by her innate ability to control proceedings with just a lift of an eyebrow or soft-spoken word.

Olivia washed down the bread and the surviving butterflies with another sip of wine and shifted her gaze to the other side of the table. Ethan launched a scrunched-up napkin at Kira after having his butt well and truly kicked in their debate. Olivia would’ve never guessed Ethan’s indigenous name in a million years. Even after meeting the youngest Harper male in the flesh, she still found it hard to believe he was named Wundurra, the Warrior. Standing a little shorter than Jarrah and with the build of a running back, he was nowhere near a ninety-pound weakling, yet he wasn’t exactly big, either. With his gentle demeanor and adorable wire-frame glasses he looked more like an accountant than a warrior. The only giveaway something dangerous lurked beneath his sweet smile was the intricate murals tattooed into his arms, the faded scars marking his sun-bronzed features, and an inexplicable power that seemed to radiate from him whenever he looked her way.

Olivia had picked up her knife and fork and prepared to dive back into her meal when she caught Naya smiling at her from the head of the table. A comforting warmth flowed through her that had nothing to do with the lingering heat of the day or the man sitting opposite her. There was just something about the Harper matriarch that made you truly believe everything would be okay. Warrior, guardian, shield, fire, peacemaker, and sunshine, Naya was all those things and more, and her name could only have ever meant one thing: mother.

The tiny gray-haired force of nature dominating the dining room was not only mother to the people gathered around her table and camping on her property. She was also the custodian of the history and traditions of her ancestors who’d watched over Wingarra’s land, water, and creatures for thousands of years. Naya was also going to be Abi’s mother, and the peace that brought Olivia almost made up for the pain of setting her big sister free. The bedlam coming from the other end of the table made quiet conversation impossible, yet the silent smile she exchanged with Naya before Mother Harper was dragged into the shouting match conveyed everything Olivia had wanted to say.

The feast, presented on mismatched china, battle-scarred platters that looked to have survived thousands of dinners, and a faded red-and-white checked tablecloth that must have been a Harper favorite, was everything Abi had described and so much more. It wasn’t just home-cooked food or the heavenly aromas filling the rustic dining room that had Olivia’s cheeks cramping from smiling and her stomach aching from laughter, it was this family and the effortless love that seeped into everything they did.

Her gaze drifted to the man sitting opposite her. She studied Jarrah as he shoveled food into his mouth between trading insults with his brothers and sisters. With every mile they’d traveled away from the city, the lawyer had slowly faded until only the cowboy remained. Now that he sat among his family in the home he’d grown up in, she found it hard to believe he’d given all this up for the lonely existence waiting for him back in the real world.

He’d pretended not to watch her during lulls in the chaos. She in turn had done a pathetic job of disguising her traitorous libido’s reactions to him. Christ, hundreds of men had checked her out, and none had looked inside her like he did. Oh, he was checking her out all right, but not in a Joey Tribbiani, “How you doin’?” sort of way. He gazed at her like someone who was making sure his friend wasn’t left out of the conversation and was getting her fair share of the feast.

She had no idea why he worried. Her throat ached from talking and laughing, and her belly already tested the waistband of her most comfortable jeans, yet now she’d gotten to know him better his indigenous name couldn’t have been more perfect: Mereki, the Guardian. It wasn’t rugged or glamorous, but it was true. And the more time she spent with him, the more believable the myths Ryder had shared about his Robin Hood brother became.

…

“So, Dr. Williams, did my no-good son behave?”

His mother propped her elbows on the table and studied the woman he’d been covertly spying on for the last hour. Jarrah tore his gaze from Olivia and bit back a curse. Christ, he should’ve known. In all the years he’d lived under his mother’s roof he’d never gotten away with anything. Every time he pulled his shit together and forced himself to stop ogling the good doctor, she’d laugh or fire back her own insult in the playful battle raging around them and that damned voice would crash through his defenses.

Olivia sighed and lowered her fork. “You’re not going to stop calling me doctor, are you?”

The last rays of sunshine flooding the dining room shimmered off his mum’s silver hair as she shook her head. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to have a genuine doctor in my family, young lady? Now, stop distracting me.” His mum narrowed her eyes and leaned in for the kill. “Did my son behave himself?”

Yeah, he’d ignored every instinct and nerve ending in his body and behaved himself, but at what cost? He hadn’t been able to think straight for the last twenty-four hours, was going on three hours sleep, and by the way he couldn’t stop leering at Olivia he wasn’t getting a full night’s rest anytime soon.

Olivia flashed him a sly smile that was very quickly becoming one of his favorite things about her, next to her wit, her charm, her compassion, and her incredible arse. “He was a perfect gentleman.”

A chorus of groans erupted around him as a volley of napkins launched his way while Maddie stifled a sneeze that sounded remarkably like a call of bullshit.

His mother’s silver eyebrows rose and puckered a forehead that had somehow remained relatively wrinkle-free despite the thousand-odd years she’d watched over this land. “Really?”

He couldn’t figure out whether his mother was surprised, impressed, or disappointed. She considered Olivia for a long moment before leveling those all-seeing eyes on him. “I find that very hard to believe.”

Olivia shot another grin his way before shrugging. “No really. Once you make it past the Aston Martin, the penthouse, and the fancy clothes, he’s not that much of a douche.”

The table exploded as Ethan and Kira took turns shoving him back and forth while the rest of his family cheered and clapped. He held on as long as possible before setting free the grin that’d been threatening to take over his face. Damn, what a woman.

He fired back the napkins and slipped a very satisfying hook into Ethan’s ribs before turning on Kira. That damned angelic smile of hers made it impossible to do anything other than tickle her until she squirmed out of her chair and crumpled onto the floor.

His mother stopped laughing long enough to curse them all before apologizing to Olivia and ordering the table cleared for desert.

Olivia shot to her feet only to have his twin sister shove her back down and relieve her of the plates and cutlery she’d gathered with the same unstoppable gentleness she used to keep everyone in line. “Nice try, Doc.” Jeddah smiled and patted Olivia’s shoulder before shooting him a glare. “You’ve put up with enough for one day.”

With the practiced efficiency of a military unit, his family cleared the plates and leftovers from the table and left him staring at the most beguiling creature he’d ever seen. If the decade he’d spent battling the system had taught him anything, it was to know when he was walking into a lose/lose situation, so he could figure out an exit strategy that would enable him to escape the carnage with his balls intact. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from diving headfirst into those huge sapphire eyes.