Chapter Thirty-One

“Is she okay?” Jarrah silently cursed as the one question he’d sworn he wouldn’t ask leaked out.

The silence on the other end of the line lasted almost as long as Ryder’s sigh. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

Jarrah stared at his laptop’s screen saver and cursed again. If Olivia was having the time of her life, he’d be an arsehole for feeling like shit. And if she was crying herself to sleep every night, he’d feel even worse. Basically, he was done for no matter what Ryder said. And he was too terrified to even explore the Pandora’s box of crazy he’d unleash upon the world if he discovered she’d replaced his stupid arse with someone who wasn’t such a slow-witted, chicken-shit dickhead. “The good news.”

“There isn’t any, you fucking moron.” Ryder’s words punched him right in the face. “The woman you love is living by herself on the other side of the world while working twenty-four hours a day and pretending everything’s okay. And the woman I love is getting more and more pissed off with my idiot brother for stuffing around because she knows her kid sister’s miserable.”

Jarrah lost himself in the eyes smiling back at him from his laptop’s screen saver. Olivia glanced over her shoulder at him from beneath the brim of her Akubra as the setting sun ignited the desert behind her. The image distorted as he pressed the screen. Instead of the heat and electricity he couldn’t forget, he only felt the same need that speared through his chest whenever he returned to his empty apartment and woke in his even emptier bed. “And what do you want me to do, kidnap her?”

“You’re the genius.”

Jarrah slammed the edge of his phone against his forehead and barely felt the impact over the pounding in his head. Three months. Three fucking months, and he’d come up with jack shit. Jack fucking shit. And he couldn’t even blame Dean Manningham or Carter Industries for his mood.

Hours had passed since he and Charlie had skipped out of Carter Industries’ boardroom, and he still had absolutely no freaking idea why Manningham had withdrawn his bullshit claim on his family’s property when he had the resources to drag out the legal battle indefinitely. He hadn’t been able to figure out what had pissed off his good old mate Dean more: apologizing for his company’s latest act of arseholery or handing over a check that may well have been his yearly bonus as compensation for being a slimy piece of shit. The only thing Jarrah knew for sure was that someone very, very powerful had Dean’s very, very tiny balls trapped in their hand and was squeezing hard. And he had a pretty good idea who Wingarra’s secret savior might’ve been.

The only positive about his battle with Manningham had been that it’d consumed him. Because whenever he’d made the mistake of stopping to catch his breath, his mind had drifted back to the woman he loved and how fucking useless every plan he’d come up with to be with her had been.

Ryder sighed. “You know what you need to do.”

He could shut up shop and move to L.A now that Wingarra was safe. But how long would he last in La-La Land before he drove her nuts and she kicked his bored, homesick arse back Down Under? And even if he could cope with the traffic, crowds, and Kardashians and find something worthwhile to do, they’d still both be an ocean and a desert away from the people they loved.

He could beg her to give up everything and move in with him. But the thought of guilting her into giving up her job had him feeling like an even bigger arsehole for even considering it. And even if she did move to Brisbane, they’d still be an eight-hour drive from their family.

And that left option number three. They both give up their city lives and roll out a swag in Wingarra. However, a four-week holiday was one thing. How long would it take for the charm and novelty to wear off before they were screaming at each other and she finally realized she could do a hell of a lot better than an unemployed former lawyer living in the middle of nowhere.

Ryder sighed again, but this time it contained relief rather than frustration. “I don’t know how you fucking beat those arseholes, bro, but you did it.”

That made two of them. “Tell Mum she can stop casting spells on our neighbor, and for Christ’s sake keep an eye on Maddie. The last thing we need is her taking out Jai and getting thrown in jail.”

“There’s no freaking way I’m getting between Maddie and Jai. I’ve risked my life enough. And as far as telling our mother anything, you can tell her your damned self in person. Because if you don’t get your arse back here soon so we can hug the shit out of you, we’re crashing your penthouse.”

Ryder’s laughter filled him with a joy he hadn’t felt in too damned long. “Working on it, bro, working on it.”

“Work harder.”

He’d gotten used to going months without hearing his brother’s laughter, yet just like his yearly visits home, the older he got the harder it had become to be separated from his family, his people, and his home. He wanted to celebrate this victory with them so bad his teeth ached. But he wanted to simply be with them even more. “Give everyone a hug from me and save me a beer.”

Ryder’s chuckle echoed in his ear long after the call had ended and left him staring at his home screen. The iPhone’s clock was silent, yet each second boomed in his head. Three months ago while standing ankle deep in the Coral Sea, he’d stared into her glistening eyes and promised to let her go. No phone calls, no emails, no sexts. The euphoria of finding the woman of his dreams had convinced him he was invincible. All he had to do was figure out how two career-driven professionals living on opposite sides of the world could live happily ever after. At the time he’d expected her to be back in his arms within a couple of months, three at the very most, because he was just that goddamned smart. Groaning, he dropped his forehead onto his desk and cursed into the silence.

“I’m glad your mood’s improved.” Charlie’s voice drifted through the empty office.

He stared through the red haze clouding his vision to find his office manager leaning against his door and shaking her head. “I thought I fired you.”

Her smile widened. “Last week, yesterday, and again this morning.” She shrugged. “I haven’t listened to you in seven years. What makes you think I’ll start now?”

She completely ignored his stink eye and casually slid into the chair in front of his desk. He watched in stunned silence as she closed his laptop, shifted it onto the foot-high pile of files balanced on the side of his desk, and hefted her duffle-size handbag onto her lap. She pulled out a heavy paper bag and dropped it in front of him. “Bacon double cheeseburger, well done, no tomato, extra-large steak fries with added salt, and aioli on the side.” She lowered her imitation Louis Vuitton bag to the floor and leaned back before jabbing a manicured finger at him. “And if you stop feeling sorry for yourself, I might even share the mud cake I brought back with me.”

The heavenly scent of junk food had his empty stomach grumbling. He fought the urge to devour the meal, bag and all, and deepened his glare. “Weren’t you going out to celebrate tonight?”

“I’ve been out.” She raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you going home to brood four hours ago?”

He unclenched his jaw. “You do realize I’m your boss and can do whatever the hell I want?”

She shrugged. “You do realize I don’t give a shit?”

He opened his mouth to fire back his own insult only to have her cut him off with a bored wave. “Cut the tough-guy act and eat your damned victory dinner before I slap the crap out of you.”

He weighed his chances of taking her out before frustration and a truckload of self-pity had him sighing like the whiny, little bitch he was and tearing open the bag of temporary happiness.

Charlie leaned back and watched him stuff the fat and carbs into his face until all that remained was the half empty tub of aioli, which he promptly cleaned up with the last steak fry before popping the greasy mess into his mouth. “Feeling better?”

He shook his head while licking the salt from his fingers before holding out his hand. “Cake me.”

She folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. “First, you’re going to tell me what the hell you’re going to do about this Olivia situation. Because if kicking Manningham’s arse didn’t turn that frown upside down, you’re in some serious shit.”

Shutting down Carter Industries had definitely made his career hall of fame. But after the euphoria of breaking the news to his family had faded, he’d sat in his office alone and stared out at the rest of his life and seen nothing except loneliness. “Cut me some slack, woman. I haven’t slept longer than four hours for months and can barely feel my face.”

His deflection only had Charlie’s eyebrow hitching higher. “Cut the shit, pretty boy. You haven’t slept longer than four hours a night in the seven years I’ve put up with your crap, and a victory like the one we had today would’ve normally had you partying for weeks.”

He opened his mouth, but Charlie cut him off with a single raised finger. “Since you’ve got no other excuse for forcing me to celebrate on my own so you could mope around this office like a whiny, little bitch, I’m guessing your private pity party has everything to do with a certain doctor you’re obviously in love with. The doctor who has feelings for you despite being way too classy and nice for you.” Charlie smiled her witch’s smile and propped her chin onto her steepled hands. “The very same doctor you’ve done absolutely fuck all to win back.”

The breath he’d sucked in to tell his office manager exactly what she could do with her observations and psychobabble gushed out of him on a gust of garlic-soaked onion and bacon. “What the hell do you want me to do?”

Charlie grimaced and reared back while waving a hand in front of her face. “First of all, you can pop a breath mint or three.” She dove into her handbag and came out pumping perfume into the air before hurling a packet of mints at him. “And second of all, you can stop sulking and fight for her.”

He almost choked on the mints he’d tossed into his mouth. As he coughed and fought for air, Charlie simply pursed her lips and shook her head like a disappointed teacher. “I’ve seen you take on the government and multinational mining conglomerates with nothing more than your balls, a cocky smile, and a secondhand briefcase filled only with your lunch. I’ve watched you calmly and methodically destroy boardrooms overflowing with arrogant executives. I’ve stood beside you while you created a thriving practice that not only saved me and your family but the townsfolk you pretend you don’t care about. And I just watched you force Manningham and his team of shit bags to tap out by outthinking, out-gutsing, and outlasting the fuckers.”

She cursed and leaned forward. “And now you’re letting a little thing like the Pacific Ocean and a couple of stupid careers keep you from the first woman you’ve fallen for since meeting me.”

With each blow, he rocked back farther until the only thing stopping him from tumbling arse-backward into the wall were the fingers he’d clawed into the desk. Almost everything Charlie had said was true. He was Jarrah Mereki Harper, for fuck’s sake. The indigenous kid who’d wedgied the government and flipped the bird at the mining industry while creating a successful consultancy. Yet his partner in crime had left out one important fact. While he’d marched into battle, she’d been right beside him with a knife clenched between her teeth and a grenade tucked in her purse.

The Hail Mary plan he’d been scheming drifted through his mind as he stared into the hazel eyes of the woman who’d had his back for close to a decade. “It’s complicated.”

“Bullshit.” Charlie pursed her lips and rocked back in her chair. “Native-land title law’s complicated. Sticking it to fat cats who make up rules to serve themselves is complicated. Building a business with nothing but sweat is complicated. This is simple. Either you can live without her, or you can’t. The rest is just noise and excuses.”

Charlie sighed and dialed her death stare down to maim instead of kill. “And I’m guessing you already know exactly what you have to do. So what the hell’s stopping you?”

He was running out of time, out of options, and risking losing the woman of his dreams. But even as he turned the splintered fragments of his last-ditch plan over and over in his head, he still couldn’t get all the pieces to fit without hurting the woman who’d gone from irritating part-time receptionist to his infuriating corporate fairy godmother.

Charlie’s eyes slowly widened as if she’d glimpsed the scenarios bouncing around inside his head. The fight drained from her torso on a long sigh before she shrugged and broke what was left of his heart with a sad grin as she slumped back in her chair. “We both knew this day would eventually come.”

The years they’d shared flashed between them as he lost himself in her shimmering eyes. How many days, nights, and weekends had they spent within arms’ reach of each other while preparing for battles they had no right even fighting let alone winning? How many losses had they endured? How many victories had they celebrated? His name may grace their office and letterhead, but it was Charlie who’d turned his one-man show into a thriving practice.

As he tried swallowing, she hit him with the smile that had turned many an adversary into a bumbling idiot and hefted a hunk of mud cake as big as his head from her handbag. He watched in stunned silence as she reverently unboxed the treat and handed him a fork before holding up her own.

“It’s been one hell of a ride, junior.”