his gaze away from the soft curvature of her arms, the halo of her hair. It shouldn’t have been difficult to do so. ‘You should have told me that goat was missing. I would have searched her out for you.’
The words were harsh, almost a growl. He clamped his mouth shut before anything else could come out, turned away, and tried to soften his tone to something a bit more normal. ‘I’ll help you find her later, if you like.’
‘That’s okay. I saw her hidden behind some hay bales in the south paddock. I doubt she will have moved.’ Tiffany gave him a puzzled look and turned away. ‘I’ll get a bucket and take care of business later.’
They worked in silence for a few moments. The routine never changed. Check, regulate, ensure all the goats took the supplement, that they all appeared bright and in good health. This was good. Relaxed, normal.
Jack tried for some chitchat to cement that effect. ‘How are your wildlife photos coming along? I noticed you’ve added quite a bit of material to your website.’
‘Did you visit it while you were away? You e-mailed so irregularly I didn’t think…’ She trailed off and looked away.
Yes, Tiff. I visited the website almost every day. It gave me a connection, and I needed it. Even when I remained out of contact with you.
‘I dropped by now and then. I liked the one of the goanna up on its hind legs, running up the middle of a dirt road.’
‘Thanks. It was one of those lucky shots. I was toying with colour contrasts and a new zoom lens, caught movement, and realised the goanna was running towards me from a distance.’
Dust motes danced in beams of sunshine above her and his body tightened with an unwelcome interest.
Regret shifted inside him, and Jack battened it down. He had to look forward, not back. It was the only way to salvage anything. He pushed a smile to his face. ‘It’s my guess you got out of the goanna’s way before it got too close?’
‘Oh, yes.’ She laughed. ‘There’s no shame in the judicious use of long-range photographic equipment.’ Tiffany’s laughter faded, but her expression remained warm, vulnerable. ‘I got that shot on one of the treks Jan and I made last month.’
‘Your watercolour friend from Sydney?’ His heart soaked up the sound of her laughter.
‘Yes. Jan got into her art about the same time I took up photography. She’s fun to be around.’
As they finished up in the shed, Tiffany told him a little more about her most recent photography expeditions.
As she talked, they both began to relax. Jack didn’t realise how much until they stepped outside into the morning light and stood side by side at the sink to wash up.
Then Tiffany’s chatter died away. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and her shoulders drew up into a tight line. All the ease left her. ‘Jack—about that last night before you went away. And the days that led up to it. I need to tell you I truly thought—’
‘You don’t need to say anything. It was just a mistake, and it’s finished with now.’ He didn’t look at her as he scrubbed up. The mistake was that he had allowed things to get so far in the first place, but he couldn’t say that.
It wasn’t a case of avoiding the issue, either. Jack understood all his issues perfectly well. He didn’t have to burden Tiffany with the knowledge of them, though.
‘Where did you and Jan go camping? Anywhere special?’ Talk about those things, Tiffany. Tell me how you spent your time while I was away. He wanted to hear of positive things, upbeat things, to counterbalance his memories of struggle and difficulty.
She glared at him for a moment as she scrubbed up. Then she dried her hands and started towards the dairy building. ‘What is special if it’s not Australian bush land?’
In the paddocks around them goats bleated, drank water from the troughs and climbed anything not at ground level.
It was a natural scene, restful and calm, yet the air between them crackled with tension.
‘My favourite trip recently was to Warrabah National Park.’ She bit the words out as she stomped along. ‘I got some good river-life shots there.’
‘Great. That’s great.’ He realised he had moved too close to her side, and stepped sideways a bit.
The look she cast his way held frustration, but he just gestured towards the dairy.
‘I’m no use to you in there.’ The dairy was the one part of the farm Jack knew little about. ‘How about if I load the truck for the next hay feed out?’ He wasn’t choosing to avoid her company. That would be pointless when he had come here expressly to seek it out.
He had irritated her, but maybe with some breathing space he would figure out how to keep her away from the topic of the past. He wanted to forget the last months, and that wasn’t denial!
Tiffany blew a curl off her forehead, sighed, and turned away. ‘That would be fine. Thank you for your help. I’ll be busy here for two hours or more. You could also check the water troughs. And when you hear the truck arrive to collect the cheeses, would you come back to help load them? Mum prefers to have someone supervise each pick-up. That way I won’t have to stop work.’
‘No problem. I’ll see to it when they arrive.’ Jack strode away and attacked the hay bales. Throwing them onto the truck felt good, but only because it exercised his muscles in a satisfying way. He wasn’t fed up. Nor did he feel in any way out of control or uptight or concerned that his plan to simply ease back into his friendship with Tiffany was perhaps not going to be as easy as he had hoped.
Jack attended to a half-dozen chores that included the cheese collection. When he and Tiffany joined up again it was almost lunchtime.
Tiff walked ahead of him to her cottage. Her bottom swayed beneath the green overalls. His gaze followed that gentle motion before his brain could catch up and remind him of the folly of doing so.
But it didn’t have to mean anything. It could be just a typical male response. She looked highly attractive, that was all.
In baggy overalls that barely reveal her shape? Admit it—your memory and imagination are filling in the blanks. You’re fantasising about her bottom.
Those thoughts were not welcome, either!
‘What would you like?’ Tiffany pushed the kitchen door open and paused to look over her shoulder at him.
Jack stopped his movement and whipped his gaze to her face. Heat stung the back of his neck and he couldn’t look her in the eyes. ‘Nothing. Pardon me? I wasn’t thinking—’
‘For lunch.’ Small, capable fingers splayed over the doorframe. Hazel eyes bored into his. ‘Would you like sandwiches? Eggs on toast? Soup?’
‘Right. Lunch.’ He forced himself forward again. ‘Any of those would be fine. Let me wash up, and I’ll help you get the meal ready.’ He would do that whilst ignoring any memories or thoughts or anything else. She needed his help. He wanted her friendship back. That was the sum total of where the next ten days needed to take them.
They
