early she still had at least twelve hours to kill. Her shoulders started to sag and her spine lost its early-morning buoyancy, the greyness of grief descending over her again.
She shouldn’t have come here. It was too soon for a holiday. Any holiday. She’d buried her father a fortnight ago. She should be at home. She should be with her friends, her family. Maybe, right at this very minute, she could be forging closer bonds with Marty and Frank. Surely that was more important than—
‘Good morning!’
Josie jumped out of her skin. Coffee sloshed over the side of her cup and onto her feet. Kent Black. Her heart hammered, though she told herself it was the effect of her fright. Not the fact that his big, broad body looked superb in a pair of faded jeans and a navy T-shirt that fitted him in a way that highlighted bulging arm muscles.
‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.’
He didn’t look the least bit sorry. And if he didn’t mean to startle people he shouldn’t bark out good-mornings like a sergeant major springing a surprise inspection.
‘Not a problem.’ She tried to smile. ‘Good morning.’
He didn’t step any closer, he didn’t come and sit with her on the veranda. She quelled her disappointment and tried to tell herself she didn’t care.
‘How’d you sleep?’ The words scraped out of a throat that sounded rusty with disuse.
‘Like a top,’ she lied. She decided she’d been rude enough about the amenities—or lack of amenities—last night. She couldn’t start back in on him today. Yesterday at least she could plead the excuse of tiredness. ‘I’m sorry about my lack of enthusiasm last night. It had been a long day and, like you said, the cabin is perfectly adequate.’
He blinked. His eyes narrowed. Up close she could see they were the most startling shade of blue, almost navy. Still, it didn’t mean she wanted them practically dissecting her.
‘How was the wine?’
A smile spread through her. He could look as unfriendly and unapproachable as he liked, but actions spoke louder than words. Last night, over her first glass of wine, she’d decided Kent Black had a kind heart. He’d just forgotten how to show it, that was all. ‘The wine was lovely.’
Really lovely. So lovely she’d drunk half the bottle before she’d realised it. Once she had, she’d hastily shoved the rest of the bottle in the tiny bar fridge. Quaffing copious quantities of wine when she was stuck out here all on her own might not be the wisest of ideas.
‘It was a really thoughtful gesture. Thank you, Mr Black.’ She waited for him to tell her to call him Kent. She bit back a sigh when he didn’t.
He touched the brim of his hat in what she took to be a kind of farewell salute and panic spiked through her. She didn’t want to be left all alone again. Not yet.
Molly nudged Josie’s arm with her nose, forcing her to lift it so she could sidle in close. ‘I, umm…Molly is a lovely dog. Really lovely. I was wrong about her too.’ Ugh, she should be ashamed of such inane babble. ‘I…She spent the night with me.’
He spun back, hands on hips. ‘I noticed.’
Oh, dear. She should’ve let him leave. Her fingers curled into Molly’s fur. She didn’t want to give Molly up. ‘I…Do you want me to shoo her home in future?’
‘She’s all yours.’
Relief chugged through her and she swore his eyes softened. Then he turned away again and she knew she must’ve imagined it. ‘Are any of the other cabins booked over the next few weeks?’ She crossed her fingers.
His impatience, when he turned back, made her want to cringe.
‘No.’
The single syllable rang a death knell through her last forlorn hope. All alone. For a month. ‘Then…what do people do out here?’
‘Do?’ One eyebrow lifted. ‘Nothing. That’s the point.’
Dread fizzed through her. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Surely he’d like a cup of tea. Kind hearts and cups of tea went together and—
‘No.’
She gulped. Couldn’t he have at least added a thank-you to his refusal? She tried to dredge up indignation, but her loneliness overrode it.
‘Some of us actually have work to do.’
Work? ‘What kind of work?’ Could she help? She knew she was grasping at straws, but she couldn’t stop herself. She knew she’d die a thousand deaths when she went back over this conversation later.
‘I run cattle on this hill, Ms Peterson.’
‘Josie,’ she whispered, a hand fluttering to her throat. ‘Please call me Josie.’
He pulled the brim of his hat down low over his eyes. ‘Bushwalking.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘People who come here. They like to bushwalk.’
‘Oh. OK.’ She liked walking. She walked on the beach back home. She didn’t know her way around here, though. What if she got lost? Who’d know she was missing? She didn’t trust Kent Black to notice.
‘There are some pretty trails through there.’ He pointed at the forest of gums. ‘They lead down to the river.’
Trails? She brightened. She could follow a path without getting lost.
‘Take Molly with you.’
‘OK. Thank you,’ she called out after him, but she doubted he’d heard. His long legs had already put an alarming amount of distance between them in a seriously short space of time.
She turned her gaze to the shadowed depths of the eucalypt forest and made out the beginnings of a path. A walk? She leapt up, glad to have a purpose.
Kent swung around as an almighty screech pierced the forest. Birds lifted from trees and fluttered away. He glanced at his watch and shook his head. Fifteen minutes. She’d lasted fifteen minutes. Not that he’d deliberately followed her, of course. He hadn’t. He’d just taken note of when she’d set off and down which path, that was all.
He’d chosen a different path, an adjacent one, and it wasn’t as if he was keeping an eye on her or anything. He had business down this way.
Yeah, but not until later this afternoon, a voice in his head jeered
He ignored it.
No more screams or screeches or shrieks for help followed. She’d probably walked into a spider’s web or something. But then Molly started up her low, mournful howl. Kent folded his arms and glared. With a muttered curse, he unfolded his arms, cut through the undergrowth and set off towards the noise.
He almost laughed out loud when he reached them. Josie clung to a branch of a nearby gum and a goanna clung to the main trunk of the same tree, effectively cutting off her escape.
