to do,” Brody replied. “But it bloody well doesn’t include stockman’s work. Now, can I have my keys? I’ve got some place to go.”
Cal reached in his jacket pocket for the spare key to his brother’s Land Rover. “Buddy doesn’t want you back at the Spotted Dog. You’re going to have to find yourself another place to get pissed. Or you could give up the coldies. It would save you some money.” Cal patted his brother on the shoulder. “I’m sorry things didn’t turn out the way you wanted them to. Sometimes life is just crap. But you pick yourself up and you get on with it. And you stop being such a dickhead.”
Brody gave his brother a shove, then stood up. “Give it a rest. If I needed a mother, I’d move back to Sydney and live with the one I already have.”
Brody snatched his keys from Cal’s hand, then jogged down the front steps and out into the dusty street. “I’ll catch you later.”
Cal watched him stride toward the Spotted Dog. He heard the screen door of the police station creak and Angus Embley, the town police chief, stepped outside.
“How much trouble did he make?” Cal asked.
“Nothing too serious. Just a broken mirror.”
“Well, if he can’t drink at the Spotted Dog, he’s going to have to drive halfway to Brisbane to find another pub.”
“Give the boy a break, Cal,” Angus said. “It’s got to be an adjustment coming back here after all that time away.”
Cal slowly stood and adjusted the brim of his hat. “Thanks for taking him in, Angus. I don’t like the thought of him driving back to the station when he’s pissed. It’s good to know he has a place to sleep it off.”
“No worries,” Angus said with a nod.
Cal walked back to his ute and jumped inside. Though he had Mary’s grocery list in his pocket and orders to stop for the mail and her library books, he was tempted to head right back to Kerry Creek.
It felt odd to be preoccupied with thoughts of a woman. Running a successful cattle station usually consumed all his attention. But there were times when Cal worried needlessly over business because there was nothing else in his life to think about. The genealogist was worth additional consideration.
He steered the ute towards the post office. Many of the outback stations got their mail by plane, but Teague and Brody spent enough time in town that they usually picked it up and brought it home, saving the mail plane a trip.
He grabbed a stack of letters from Mel Callahan, the seventy-five-year-old clerk, then returned to his ute. But one of the envelopes caught his eye and he stopped to open it. “You have been matched with three lovely mates,” he murmured, reading the note inside. He flipped through the three photos, then continued reading. “To learn more, visit their profiles on the Outback-Mates Web site.”
He looked at the three candidates again, studying them carefully. There wasn’t one who came close to Gemma Moynihan’s beauty, though they were all quite pretty by anyone’s standards. But there was something about the Irish girl he found compelling, something that made him want to get to know her a lot better…and more intimately.
“Sorry, ladies.” Cal jumped back into the pickup, then opened the glove box and shoved the envelope inside. For now, he was taking himself off the menu. As long as Gemma was staying at Kerry Creek, he’d focus his modest charms on her. After all, what did he have to lose? She was beautiful, intriguing and close at hand, three qualities that he found irresistible.
Cal reached for the key, then stopped. What if he fell in love with her? Still, that wasn’t likely. He’d never been in love before, so he probably wouldn’t know it if it dropped out of the sky and hit him on the noggin. But he did know about lust. And his feelings for Gemma were definitely of the lustful variety.
After she left Kerry Creek, he’d get back to his search for a wife. Cal pulled out onto the street and headed out of Bilbarra toward the station, the groceries forgotten. Unfortunately, the ride dragged on forever. He’d covered the distance between the station and town so many times it had become second nature. He knew all the landmarks and could probably find his way home blindfolded. But now that he had something important to do, every kilometer passed at a grindingly slow pace.
By the time he pulled into the yard, Cal figured he was about an hour behind Gemma. It was nearly time for lunch and if he was lucky, he’d find her sitting at the kitchen table with Mary. He took the steps two at a time and pulled the screen door open. But the kitchen was empty.
A huge pot of mutton stew bubbled on the stove and Mary had freshly baked bread to go with it. Cal decided to use the extra time to clean up. He hung his hat on the peg, then strode through the house to the stairs. He met Mary coming down.
“Oh, wonderful. You’re back. I’m almost out of coffee and I need yeast to—”
“I didn’t get supplies,” Cal said. “Sorry. We’ll call Teague. He can pick them up when he’s in town today. Where is “Gemma Moynihan?”
Mary gave him an odd look. “She’s in the bunkhouse unpacking her things. She drove into town at dawn to get them. She said she had a flat tire on her way back to the station but some bloke stopped and changed it for her.”
“Yes. That was me,” he said.
“So you met her?” Mary asked.
“Not properly. Why didn’t you tell me she was…you know.”
“Young?”
“Pretty,” he said.
“I thought you’d find out soon enough.”
“Did you invite her to lunch?” Cal asked.
“I told her I’d take her out something to eat after the boys were fed.”
“Leave that to me,” he said. “I’m just going to change and I’ll be right down.”
He ran up the stairs and into his room, stripping off his shirt along the way. Though he’d taken a shower before breakfast, he figured another wouldn’t hurt. The road had been dusty and his hair was sticking up all willy-nilly. He only had one chance to make a first impression—or a second impression.
He managed a shower in less than five minutes, then grabbed a towel for his wet hair. Luckily, he’d taken the time to shave off three days of stubble that morning. A splash of cologne was probably overkill, so he set the bottle back on the shelf.
Cal stepped into the hallway, rubbing his head with the towel until his hair was barely damp. But when he pulled the towel away, he found Gemma standing next to the linen closet, a blanket clutched to her chest, her eyes wide. A tiny cry of surprise slipped from her lips as the blanket dropped to the floor.
They both bent to pick it up, Cal getting to it first. He held it out to her as he rose. Gemma straightened, her gaze drifting along his naked body. He struggled to wrap the towel around his waist, but with only one hand, it was impossible to do. It seemed like an eternity before she took the blanket from him.
A long embarrassed silence followed as he tried to come up with a clever line. Of all the scenarios he’d gone over in his mind, this was not the way he’d intended their first meeting to go—him starkers
