Sorry.’ Simone slid off the bench. ‘I’m making a real mess of this. Quendanup is the country, you know? People like to get to know everything about you. And you’re a bit private, that’s all. People here are already sensitive to that because of Mr McLeish, so…’
Romy relaxed. This wasn’t the first time she’d had the criticism. There was one sure way to end gossip. Satisfy it. ‘What would you like to know about me?’
Simone stopped in the doorway. Chewed her lip. ‘I can ask?’
‘Go ahead. I have nothing to hide.’ Ha! She leaned on the counter and forced herself to relax. ‘Three questions.’
Simone slid her cup into the sink and clenched her hands in front of her, thinking fast. She spun back. ‘Why did you leave the city?’
Straight for the million-dollar question. There was no good answer for that one. Except the truth. ‘There was…someone…I wanted to get far away from. This seemed like a sufficient distance.’ Let them think she had left Leighton’s father. And it would be ‘them’; she had no doubt her private business would run through the park staff like a strain of gastro. ‘And I didn’t like some of the kids my son was hanging out with.’
Simone thought about that and then her eyes brightened. ‘Question two. How do you know Mr McLeish?’
Romy tilted her head. ‘What makes you think I do?’
Simone laughed. ‘He emerges from his forest for the first time in a year on the day you happen to be interviewing for a job. Then he hires you, having made not one single business decision since Justin arrived. Then he helps you move house…’
How did people know this stuff? Were the forest possums running a blog?
‘…and, finally, the pair of you have enough chemistry to start a bushfire. That doesn’t evolve overnight.’
Romy shook her head. ‘You saw us together for about twenty seconds after the interview, Simone.’
‘I could feel the tension in the room. The vibe between the two of you was the closest to action I’ve had in a while, let me tell you.’
‘The only tension you felt was irritation. He was ticked off because I embarrassed him about his store security. And he hired me for the same reason. Besides, if he hasn’t emerged for that long, where am I supposed to have met him?’
‘Oh, he comes out, just not amongst people here. Supposedly he heads up to the city a couple of times a year for…You know…’
She shook her head, bemused. ‘For?’
Simone’s mouth opened and then closed again and a blush stained her pretty features.
Romy stiffened immediately. ‘Let me see if I have this right. People here think I know Clint McLeish from the city where he sometimes goes to pick up.’
Simone flushed to her roots. ‘Um…’
‘And him hiring me unexpectedly is some kind of evidence the two of us are an item? Oh, that’s right, let’s not forget the explosive chemistry zinging around when we’re together. Can’t keep our hands off each other. I suppose he’s also the father of my child, yes?’
She didn’t know skin could turn so crimson. Romy slammed her mug on the sink in disbelief. ‘Oh, you are kidding me! For the record, Simone, my son’s father is not Clint McLeish. He and I had never met. We are not secret lovers. He’s not helping me do my work. And there is no chemistry—he doesn’t even like me particularly. Can I be any clearer?’
Her pitch had risen considerably and her chest heaved with anger. Simone backed away a step or two during her outburst but then stood her ground, silently assessing. Romy stared at her through steady, furious eyes.
‘I believe you. I’m sorry if I jumped to the wrong conclusion.’
Romy could only nod.
‘I wouldn’t want anyone saying something about you that’s not true.’ Serious blue eyes stared steadily at Romy. The irony was exquisite.
Simone chewed her lip. ‘But…he is working on security at night—it’s the only thing he’s touching. I’m not mistaken about that.’
Romy’s heart squeezed with familiar pain. He was doing her work for her. She’d clearly made a very bad first impression if he thought her so incapable. ‘Then I’ll take it up with him,’ she said tightly.
Simone nodded and turned for the door. At the last moment, she put her head back in the room. ‘And, Romy, the chemistry? I’m not mistaken about that either.’ She shrugged gently before turning out the door. ‘Sorry.’
Romy did a fantastic job of internalising her irritation that Clint was helping her out behind the scenes, taking her frustration out on the damaged fence line instead. So when she glanced down and saw his distinctive, battered ute pull up to one side of the deep, blue-green dam she was working near, she knew fate wanted her to say something.
And not just one thing.
Dumping the wire strainers and her heavy gloves onto the hard earth and tugging her broad-brim hat further down her head she marched down the slope in the direction of the dam. Flies buzzed around the perspiration on her face and throat and she shooed them away with angry flicks of her wrist, every one matching words she never, ever said in front of her son. But she said them now, and not quite under her breath.
How dared he patronise her by helping her out secretly? She was perfectly capable of doing the job she was hired for. This wasn’t the first time she’d started in a new field and she had every confidence in her ability to hit the ground running. But he didn’t obviously. To sneak in at night and prepare things for her, or order new equipment, or fix things before she had a chance to. It was galling!
Her furious feet moved her quickly but when she got down to the edge of the dam, Clint was nowhere to be seen. She scanned the horizon, glanced into the ute, turned and looked back the way she had come.
Silence.
‘McLeish!’ Her call was more of a cry to battle. It echoed across the empty clearing before being swallowed up in the thick trees leading away from it.
Still nothing. Damn him!
A splash behind her had her spinning around on the spot.
‘You rang?’ Clint bobbed in the dam like a buoy, dunking under briefly, then emerging, glistening, and pushing his hair from his face. Wet, his features were all perfect angles and sharp, sparkling edges. Strong arms brought him closer to the shallows. ‘What can I do for you, Ms Carvell?’
Romy fought to ignore the slow reveal as his feet found the dam floor. ‘You can stop holding my hand,’ she called out, her heart thumping.
He stopped drifting towards her and stood straighter in the water. ‘Explain that to me.’ His fingers came up to shield his gaze from the glare and sunlight bounced off the rivulets streaming down the hard planes of his chest.
She ignored that, too.
She swallowed to put
