Fiona stared at Madelaine, her hands resting on either side of her big belly. “How the hell am I gonna be a bridesmaid looking like this?”
“No one’s gonna be a bridesmaid.” Madelaine dumped coffee into the plunger. “No one’s even getting an invite. It is not a wedding.”
“It is a wedding.”
“It’s not a wedding wedding.” Madelaine poured boiling water into the plunger and let it settle a moment. Brilliant sunlight streamed in over the stainless steel benches and bathed the kitchen in a golden glow.
“Madds, it’s a wedding wedding wedding. You’re getting married and I knew you would.”
“You were just teasing. There’s nothing funny about this arrangement.”
Fiona took Madelaine’s hand. “No, there’s not. At least Troy likes you, that can’t be so bad.”
Madelaine gave a frustrated shake of her head. “That’s got nothing to do with it. I’ll have to put my life on hold…”
“For what?”
“…until we can divorce.”
“Geez, you’re not even married yet.” Fiona released her friend’s hand.
“In three weeks time.”
Fiona checked her phone for the time. “I have to go. I might not be able to drive down here for a while. Someone will have to come get me for the big day.”
Madelaine did an eye roll. “Right. I’ll organise it.”
Fiona did her own eye roll. “Thank you.” She ambled out to her car, and drove away.
Madelaine looked at the full coffee pot. She could handle three cups, no problem. Of course she could. Gibbering on a caffeine high was easy.
“Can I join you?”
She looked up and Troy stood in the doorway. “Of course. Freshly brewed.” She pointed at the pot and pushed a mug over to him. “Saved me a caffeine blow-out. Wasn’t expecting you back so soon.” Her hand only shook the tiniest bit.
“Changed my ferry. Didn’t think you’d mind. How’s things?” He poured a cup, blew into it to cool it down. Sipped.
Madelaine didn’t mind at all. In fact, strangely her heart beat a little faster when he was around, but she wasn’t sure what made it do that—his good looking, muscly frame, the unruly black hair and those smoky dark eyes, same as the very first day she saw him. Or the fact that she would be marrying that same man and was scared out of her brain?
“Things are weird.” Like they were yesterday, and the day before and the day before that.
“Yeah.” He did a thing with his mouth, a sort of upside down smile. “But despite that, I reckon we can be friends.”
“No benefits.” She snapped a glare at him and heat burned her cheeks.
“Not what I meant.” Then he was silent. Just sat there with his hands wrapped around his coffee.
She took a slurp of hot rich coffee. “It’s just a business deal. We don’t have to pretend it’s anything else.”
He shook his head. “No, we don’t.”
She reached across for the work diary. “There’s some big numbers for this week. I’ll need to get some staff in and maybe you could do a few deliveries after the prep work.”
“No problem.” He shifted on the seat as if stretching hard-to-get-at spots, rolled his shoulders once or twice.
All that flexing and rippling was disconcerting. Madelaine concentrated on the diary.
He peered over at it, flicked the pages until it opened for the week of the twenty-sixth. “Got some big jobs on that day.”
“We can handle it.”
“By eleven o’clock?”
“Of course. We don’t have our…date until two.”
“Organised staff?”
Madelaine nodded.
Troy reached over, took her pen and drew a line through the rest of the day. “We don’t need any more bookings that day.”
That needled her. “Staff can handle it if I’m not available. But the business needs all the work it can get.”
“It’s just the afternoon off on one day. You’ll be fine. The business will be fine.”
Madelaine looked away from him. Swear to God she was going to make this business work so she wouldn’t need to touch one cent of their money. Swear to God.
“Liam says Carol’s arranging for a few family members to attend. Maybe a few friends.” He ducked down to catch her eye.
Madelaine pressed her lips together. “I told her I’d rather she didn’t.”
Troy sat in silence again. Then, “I think we need to talk about how we proceed after the twenty-sixth.”
Madelaine’s gaze connected with his. “We just continue on our own separate merry way.”
He nodded. “I would like to continue as we have for the past few weeks. Reckon we can manage that?”
“You’ll have a huge amount of money to deal with, Troy. Business decisions, tax work, investments—”
“Nothing really has to change here, though, does it?”
“You’ll be away. I’ll need someone to replace you.”
“Maybe. What else?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Nothing.”
“Good.” He sipped his coffee.
“About the twenty-sixth. The celebrant needs to see some things before the day. The ceremony and stuff, and legal stuff.”
“Like?”
“Birth certificates. Our driver’s licences. I’ve sent her the notice of intention to…” Madelaine couldn’t bring herself to say ‘marry’.
“Right. Well, I’ll get my stuff to you as soon as possible.”
“And we have to meet her.” Madelaine’s face was hot.
“Okay.” He looked at her closely. “What’s the problem with that?”
“She might…” She waved her hands a bit, shrugged, fidgeted.
“Get the feeling that we’re not there for luurrve.”
She nodded.
“I won’t tell if you don’t. We can agree on things before we see her. There won’t be a problem.”
Madelaine nodded again. “Sounds all right.”
They drank coffee for a bit. Troy poured himself a top up, offered one to Madelaine but she declined.
“Are you telling anyone?” Troy asked.
“No.” She looked away then back again. “I told Fiona. She wants to come.”
“Invite who you want.”
“It’s not a reception, not a beachy deal with barefoot guests.”
Troy shrugged. “We both know the deal. I just wanted to know if you’d made it public. Whether or not we need to have an engagement ring.”
Tears popped on to Madelaine’s cheeks. “No.”
Troy set his cup down and stood up, hands up in surrender. “Sorry. I—”
“Don’t.”
“Wouldn’t it make it look better if—”
“Stop!”
He sat down again and watched as she mopped her cheeks with a paper towel.
“I’ll get used to it, I really will,” she said. “But I don’t want to make something of it that it’s not.”
“Right.” Troy downed his coffee and stood up, hands in pockets. “I’ll get the cars cleaned up and meet you back at the house for dinner.” He left abruptly.
Madelaine watched him go. She mopped her face a bit more and took in a deep breath, let it out in a whoosh.
She held her hands out in front of her. They were shaking.
She had it bad, she decided. She just wasn’t sure what she had it bad for.
***
Troy started up the water pressure hose and rinsed the dust off the four wheel drive he’d been using for hamper deliveries. The other cars were due back within the hour and he wanted to be finished before they returned.
He concentrated on the tyres and under the chassis where dust and mud accumulated and watched as the dirt drained down the shallow gutter to be recycled for the garden.
The garden. He’d have to get back in there before the twenty-sixth and do a bit of weeding and pruning and—
But they weren’t being married in the garden. They were being married in the office.
Oh well, he could still do a bit of a tidy up.
Question: Why would he do it himself when he had sixty-five million at his disposal?
Answer: Because he wanted to.
He thought about that. Madelaine wouldn’t be marrying him unless she wanted to She also gained from the arrangement, too. Liam made that very clear.
Hmm. He gained sixty-five mil, she got a few hundred thousand.
Maybe that’s why she was so cranky.
That didn’t seem to be the person he knew she was.
The hose bucked in his hand. If he didn’t slow the pressure he’d blast the sign-writing off the car. He flicked off the button, bent for the broom and bucket and began the scrub down.
Didn’t take much to work up a sweat. Took a lot to keep his mind from Madelaine, to stop thinking of ways to put a smile back on her face, to have her look at him in that way which made him feel as if he was the only guy in the world.
All right. If she wouldn’t go out on a date with him he’d have to ‘date’ her at home. He was the chef; he’d cook up a meal to win her over.
He stopped his scrubbing. She’d see right through that. Was that all he had?
He didn’t have much time. The wedding was three weeks away.
How the hell was he going to get things back on track? How in God’s name was he going to make this work in his favour all round? Oh sure, sixty-five mil would cure a lot of problems, buy himself a lot of fun nights out on the town, a nice house or a few nice houses. Jeez, even a small township —
But he wanted Madelaine, especially wanted Madelaine to look at him as if she wanted him, too. He knew sixty-five mil wouldn’t be able to buy him that.
He dunked the broom in the bucket again and scrubbed the other side of the vehicle.
Nothing would buy him that.
So what was he doing scrubbing down cars? He needed to cook.
He needed to cook something spectacular…something fantastic and show Madelaine what a great kitchen partner he could be.
Kitchen partner? What the—?
Troy threw the broom at the bucket, grabbed the pressure hose and blasted the suds off the car. He shut off the water then reached inside the glove compartment for the chamois and set about swiping off the excess water.
He yanked open the driver’s side door, turned on the ignition and drove the car into the garage. Then he bolted back up the hill to the kitchens.
Kitchen partner be damned.
Troy texted her from the kitchen.
Have buckets of native currants need a hand with new recipe.
He stared at his phone. How long would he have to wait for an answer?
He put the phone on the bench beside the cook top and stirred the mixture. Rich and luscious mouth watering aromas of bubbling fruit filled his senses, but it needed a sexy, savvy addition.
Troy set the wooden spoon on the rim and brought a bottle of Sunset Sauvignon blanc from the coolroom, unscrewed the lid and splashed in a generous cupful.
Shit! Too much…
But when he bent over the pot and stirred again, he shook his head.
Nup. Not enough.
He heard the text alert and reached down to check it.
Be there in 10.
And he poured in another cupful.
Troy took a deep breath. Piquant. Zesty. Beeyootiful!
He stirred, turned up the heat, stirred again, and settled in to allow it to reduce.
When Madelaine opened the kitchen door he watched as she lifted her nose on the rising vapour. “Wow. That smells divine.” She rounded the bench to peer into the pot. “Scent of wild fruit, perhaps simmering in local sauvignon blanc… can I detect a hint of lemon myrtle? Wild garlic? No! But only a touch—”
“A heady, aromatic waft of Australis Island native currant.” He waved the vapour towards him with both hands.
Madelaine’s finger was poised to dive in and scoop out a taste but he smacked her hand. “Not ready yet.” Troy stirred with her biggest wooden spoon.
“Where did you get enough currants to fill that pot?” Madelaine stared over the rim.
“Went by Graham’s place a while back, he said he’d have a couple of tubs for us this week. Nearly forgot about it.” He stirred with only a glance at her.
“They’re like gold and so hard to harvest.”
“Aren’t we the lucky ones?” His gleeful smile brought a hoot of laughter from her.
“Here,” he said, and aimed the wooden spoon at her. “Take control of this while I get the next few handfuls cleaned.”
She wound her hair high up on her head, reached into the pantry for her cap and jammed it on her head. “What are you going to do with it?”
She took the spoon and dragged it through the thick mixture.
He carefully poured the last few tubs of fruit into the sink and gave them a quick swish in the water. He looked over his shoulder. “I’m doing one batch with dark chocolate—” He pointed to the pot at the back of the stove, “—for torte, and maybe some fudge.”
Madelaine made a noise in her throat. “Heaven…”
“And this one with hummocky garlic—”
“How did you get that? Did you pinch it from Stranraer Homestead?” She stared at him. “It’s one of the only places I know it grows native here.”
“No way. I didn’t have to pinch it—I wouldn’t pinch anything. Stranraer’s only the island’s most exclusive B&B and I happen to know the owners well.” He tapped the side of his nose. “It’s for our pork fillet hamper. Not sure yet, should it be a—” he said and stopped to look at her, “—a chutney type thing or a glaze?”
She sniffed. “Glaze,” she decided.
He nodded. “Glaze.” He stared at her. “But the pork hasn’t arrived yet.”
“No matter.” Madelaine still breathed deeply. “We do have prawns.”
“Yes!” Troy agreed. “Another faultless accompaniment.”
Tantalising and heady, the sweet and spicy aroma would partner perfectly with Australis prawns. He ducked into the cool room and returned with a tray of green prawn meat. “Early dinner here – what do you say?”
When he gazed steadily at her, he thought he saw a gleam in her eye, a spark he recognized as she gave him a broad smile.
Not just a passion for the dish, he hoped, and smiled back.