Gemma smiled as she locked the gate of the dog pen behind her, listening to the snuffles of dogs digging into their feed.
Her stomach rumbled, and she realised she’d been so busy today that she’d forgotten to have lunch. The night before she’d taken a frozen chook out of the freezer, intending to roast it for tonight’s dinner. Automatically, she thought about Glennie, still in the guinea pig cage. She really hoped the angry bird got over her chook PMT soon; quite frankly, Gemma wasn’t sure she was ready to cook someone she knew.
But she hadn’t even reached the gate to the house yard when she smelled the tantalising aroma of barbecued meat wafting in the air. Following her nose, she discovered Nash standing in front of an old brick fireplace, turning steaks on a hotplate. She sniffed appreciatively.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he said, holding up his tongs as he turned to face her. ‘But I’m better at steak than eggs.’
‘I wasn’t thinking anything of the sort,’ she denied.
He looked at her narrowly. ‘Anyway, I feel a need to redeem myself, and everyone knows a male can’t bugger up a barbecue, right?’
‘Right,’ she said keeping a straight face. ‘Do you want me to make a salad?’
‘I was thinking we could just whack it on some bread.’
‘Oh, okay,’ she stammered. Whack it on a slice of bread? No salad?
He shook his head and gave her a tolerant smile. ‘But if you feel a need to add some rabbit food to it, then by all means go for it.’
‘It’s good for you,’ she protested weakly.
‘So’s jogging, but I’ve survived this long without doing that.’
‘I’ll add some bacon to it,’ she compromised.
He let out a long sigh, but she caught the smile on his face as he turned back to the sizzling meat on the hotplate. ‘The deal clincher . . . bacon. You fight dirty.’
She smiled as she walked into the house. She could always cook the chook tomorrow night. She’d been wanting to try out that new bacon, fetta and spinach recipe, and now she could. She just hoped there was some bacon left in the freezer.
‘Where are you going? Nash is cooking tonight,’ Gemma said as Jazz walked past in a pair of Gemma’s best jeans and wearing make-up.
‘Into town.’
She’d been about to mention the fact Jazz was wearing her clothes again but her answer distracted her. ‘Again?’
‘Ah, yes, again. I’m young and single and I have a life.’ Jazz shot Gemma a disapproving look. ‘Why don’t you go and get dressed and come with me?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘Your loss. Have a blast here with Mr Funbags.’ Jazz waved her fingertips as she left the room.
She was having a good time, damn it!
‘Jazz’s gone into town, she won’t be eating with us tonight,’ she told Nash, coming back outside with a plate.
‘She’s quite the party animal,’ he said, transferring the meat from the barbecue to the plate. ‘You didn’t want to go with her this time?’
‘No. I don’t go out that much, even in Sydney. I’m a bit of a homebody, I guess. I’m boring, according to Jazz.’
‘I beg to differ,’ Nash said with a grin.
Gemma sent Nash a wary glance. What was he doing? They’d just agreed that their last encounter had been a mistake, so why would he be flirting with her? Gemma cleared her throat and continued. ‘Anyway, how could I pass up this feast?’
‘You know what they say, the way to a woman’s heart is through her—’
‘Rib cage?’
‘I don’t think that’s exactly the proverb I’m thinking of.’
‘I don’t think it’s actually supposed to be the woman’s heart. Isn’t it usually the man’s heart?’
‘Well, men are easy. It doesn’t take much to get us eating out of your hand.’
‘As long as you add bacon.’
‘Right.’
They decided to eat outside. The sun was sinking and the evening was still warm. Soon Gemma felt herself unwind and relax. She could really get used to this, she thought, then stopped herself in alarm; she knew damn well this was not something she would be getting used to.
‘Everything alright?’ Nash asked suddenly, and she looked up guiltily.
‘Yep. Couldn’t be better.’ She smiled. ‘This steak melts in your mouth.’
He ignored her compliment about the meat and continued to look at her closely. ‘What were you thinking about just now? One minute you were smiling and the next you weren’t. It’s not about what happened the other day, is it? I know we agreed to forget about it . . . but I can’t, and I don’t know what you’re thinking.’
Thank God for that, Gemma thought. He’d think she was an idiot if he knew what she was thinking half the time. Wait a minute, did he just say he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened the other day? She quickly tried to replay his words in her head, but he was talking again.
She watched in surprise as he got up and paced before her. ‘Look, I think we get on pretty well, but every now and then I see you frowning, like you’re remembering something bad. If it’s about what happened, I want to know. I don’t want you to feel weird around me.’
‘I don’t feel weird around you—well, not that weird.’ If he only knew how heart-stoppingly strange he made her feel sometimes, she thought, hoping her cheeks wouldn’t betray her. ‘I mean, apart from the whole incident with the chook.’ She shrugged, walking across to put her plate with the other things waiting to be carried inside.
‘Okay, that was kinda weird,’ he agreed with a smile. ‘But I’ve got used to expecting the unexpected where you and Jazz are concerned.’
At least he was smiling about it.
‘I really like being out here,’ she said honestly. ‘I didn’t think I would. This was all Jazz’s big dream, but I’ve grown to like it.’
‘I’m glad. And I never thought I’d hear myself saying this, but it hasn’t turned out to be altogether too much of a pain that you both turned up when you did,’ he said, moving to stand beside her.
Gemma laughed at that. There were times when she knew he’d probably like to strangle them both, but clearly they were at least doing something right. ‘So, does that translate into “You’ve been a huge help and I wouldn’t have survived without you”?’
‘Let’s not get too carried away.’
Gemma glanced up, her smile slowly fading as she caught the look on his face. She felt pulled by an invisible magnet, unable to think straight. As she swayed forward, into his hard chest, she caught the smell of smoke from the barbecue mixed with Nash’s unique, heady scent, and all her good intentions were swept away. A small groan escaped her at the first touch of his warm mouth against her own. She braced her hands on the edge of the bricked workbench behind her in order to hold herself upright as he cupped her face, holding her firmly in place while he proceeded to kiss her senseless. The edge of the bricks pressed against the small of her back, but she liked it. It reminded her that this was real, not just some figment of her overstimulated mind.
Something brushed the back of her bare leg, and Gemma pulled away an instant before Nash let out a startled expletive and began shaking his leg as though doing some kind of demented dance move. It took a second for Gemma to look down and see that something large and furry had attached itself to Nash’s leg. She gasped. ‘Nash, stop! You’ll hurt him.’
‘Hurt him?’ Nash paused momentarily in the midst of cursing the animal who still clung determinedly to his denim-clad leg, and gave Gemma a disbelieving glare.
‘Stand still and stop yelling. You’re scaring him.’ She bent down to detach the feline from the stiff fabric. ‘His claws are stuck,’ she crooned.
‘Yeah. You’ll find them about two inches into my leg,’ Nash told her through his gritted teeth.
‘I’m working as fast as I can,’ she told him, lifting the last claw from Nash’s leg. Horse was gone as soon as his paws touched the ground, obviously warned off by Nash’s tone.
‘That cat’s a menace,’ Nash said huffily. ‘That’s not the first time he’s jumped me, you know.’
‘He was just looking for his milk. Anyway, it’s your own fault,’ she added. ‘If you were nicer to him, he’d like you.’
‘When I catch him he’s going to kitty heaven.’
‘If you lay one finger on that cat—’ Gemma narrowed her eyes.
‘What?’
‘You might accidentally get a bad case of food poisoning,’ she told him with a haughty flick of her hair as she turned away to collect up the plates.
‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘Better not try me.’
‘You better make sure your cat learns a few manners,’ he warned, heading inside to clean up the scratches and leaving her alone in the dark.
It was a good thing Horse came along when he had. When would she stop falling for that sexy smile of his and those mind-numbing kisses? They only ever led to trouble! Didn’t they work out last time it was a mistake to cross that line between employer and employee?
Nash was loading the last of the feed onto the back of the ute when Gemma walked into the shed the following afternoon.
‘I’m just heading into town for a while. I’ll be back for dinner,’ she said as she manoeuvred a box onto the front passenger seat of her vehicle.
‘What have you got there?’ Nash asked, coming over to open the driver’s door for her.
‘It’s beef bourguignon. I cooked dinner for Wendy and her family.’
‘Wendy?’
‘Wendy from the grocery store. When I went into the shop today, her husband said she’d been in hospital for a few days. I’m not sure why, he didn’t go into any details, so I didn’t like to ask. Anyway, one day she was telling me how much she loved to cook but that she was too tired after work to bother, so I thought I’d take her dinner.’
Nash didn’t say anything, just considered her silently.
‘Is that okay?’ she asked, suddenly nervous.
‘Sure. That’s a good idea,’ he said, ‘but take the Land Cruiser. I have no idea how this damn thing of yours has managed to stay in one piece for so long; it’s a deathtrap waiting to happen.’ He eyed the old bomb in disbelief.
She couldn’t very well argue with him on that, but it was the best they could do in a squeeze. ‘Well, if you’re sure?’
‘I’m sure,’ he said, reaching for the box while she switched vehicles before passing it back to her and stepping away to shut the door.
Gemma rolled down the window.
‘It was a hysterectomy,’ he said.
‘Excuse me?’ Gemma said with a frown.
‘Wendy. That’s what she went into hospital for.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘From Darrell, her husband. I was talking to him at the feed store the other day.’
‘Oh.’ Well, of course they would have been discussing Darrell’s wife having a hysterectomy in the feed store.
‘I’ve known them a long time,’ Nash added dryly, as though reading her thoughts.
‘Do you think Darrell will mind me dropping this off?’
‘Nah, I think he’ll appreciate it. But if it tastes as good as it smells it might not make it home. Maybe you should just drop it off at the house instead.’
‘I don’t know where she lives.’
‘Can you wait about ten minutes? I’ll just finish up here and come with you.’
‘She might not appreciate having a stranger turn up on her doorstep unannounced,’ Gemma said, worrying at her bottom lip. This wasn’t what she’d planned. She’d intended to just drop the box at the shop and come back home.
‘She’ll be right,’ he said, waving off her concern and heading back to the ute to finish loading.
Forty-five minutes later, they pulled up in front of a weatherboard house at the end of a quiet street. Nash opened his door and reached down to lift the box out of the car.
Gemma followed him through the gate and up to the front door. He opened the screen door and stuck his head inside to call out a hello. It had taken Gemma a little while to get used to the doors at Dunoon never being locked, and it surprised her that no one seemed to lock their doors in town either.
Wendy’s voice floated through the house. ‘I’m out the back.’
Gemma followed Nash down a hallway and out into a long galley kitchen. A glass sliding door opened up onto a timber deck outside. Wendy was resting on an outdoor lounge, reading a cookbook. The sight brought a smile to Gemma’s face.
‘Nash, Gemma! Well, this is a surprise.’ Wendy smiled at them brightly as they stepped out onto the deck. ‘Excuse the mess inside. I was told to rest up for a few days, and who am I to argue with the professionals?’
‘Darrell reckons you were faking it just to get a few days off work,’ said Nash, smiling and leaning over to kiss Wendy on the cheek.
‘Faking it? If it wasn’t for his damn giant genes and having to push out three enormous, watermelon-headed children I wouldn’t be in this situation to start with,’ she shot back with a twinkle in her eye. ‘So he can damn well handle the shop on his own for a while. I’ve earned a break.’
Gemma’s eyes widened as her mind filled with images of watermelons and she contemplated the anatomical contortions required. Catching her expression, Wendy started chuckling. ‘I was exaggerating, Gem. It’s not that bad.’
‘Oh. Well, I suspect it’ll be quite a while before I have to think about all that.’ Aware of Nash’s amused glance, Gemma felt herself blushing. ‘We’ve brought you dinner,’ she went on quickly.
‘You didn’t have to do that!’ said Wendy. ‘But thank you. That’s a lovely thought.’ She looked surprised and touched.
Gemma shrugged. ‘I know you said your family didn’t really like gourmet food so I made a stew that’s really flavoursome but hasn’t got too many spices. I hope that’s okay.’
‘It sounds divine. Thanks so much, love.’
‘I wrote out the recipe and stuck it in the box, in case they liked it and you felt like making it when you’re feeling better.’
‘This one’s a keeper, Nash,’ said Wendy with a grin.
Gemma felt heat working its way up her throat and she wasn’t game to look at Nash. An employee, she told herself firmly, that’s what Wendy meant. She was a good employee.
They left shortly afterwards, since Wendy’s watermelon-headed children were due home from school any minute. As curious as she was to see them for herself, Gemma wasn’t sure she would be able to without wincing.