Page 11 of Jillaroo from Jacaranda

Ty shrugged. ‘I’m just trying to figure you out, that’s all.’

Rose half laughed, half snorted. ‘Well, fat chance of that because I don’t want to be figured out.’ She shoved her hands into her pockets with a shrug.

‘Ha, fair enough. I really like you, Rose Jones. You’re so open but an enigma at the same time.’ His deep words tumbled into her.

Wow, she’d never been told that before. ‘Righto,’ was all she could muster in way of a response.

A hushed quiet fell over them.

Blushing, she looked down at her snip-toe boots and smiled softly, extremely glad for the enveloping darkness – she didn’t want him to see what he did to her. While willing her heart to stop beating so fast, she firmly reminded herself she didn’t need to get tangled up with a guy, as tempting as he was. ‘Well, it was nice crossing paths with you, Ty.’ Lifting her gaze back to his, she flashed him a smile.

‘It was real nice crossing paths with you too, Miss Jones.’ His words were said formally as he held out his hand to shake hers. ‘You have yourself a merry Christmas, won’t you?’

It was a gesture she was far from used to with the likes of a bull rider – usually they went in for the kill right about now. ‘Thanks, Ty. You have a merry Christmas too.’ As her hand fell into the clasp of his, heat flooded her and, for a split second, she felt as if her legs were about to give way.

As if sensing this, Ty held her hand a little longer. ‘Oh, Christmas, schmismas,’ he said, letting her go and tucking his hand into his back pocket. ‘I’ll be hanging out on the station with Waylon and Johnny.’

Rose’s heart sank to her boots. Nobody should spend such a special day on their own.

‘You’re having Christmas by yourself?’

‘Yeah.’ He pulled a face to say it was no big deal. ‘Got my motley crew of animals, a nice cold carton of beer and a kilo of freshly caught tiger prawns.’

How could she turn around and walk away now, when he’d been so nice and so gentlemanly all evening? She knew she’d live to regret it if she let this moment pass her by – Ty deserved to feel cherished for the festive season. So, in a spontaneous instant of softheartedness, she said the most surprising of things. It just rolled off her tongue before she could stop herself. And the look of shock on his handsome face was utterly priceless.

She just hoped, come morning, she didn’t regret the spur-of-the-moment offer.

CHAPTER

4

After a solid few hours of sleep, Ty woke just before dawn and, instead of feeling exhausted and pissed off with the world, he had a strange smile and some corny singsong melody playing with his heartstrings.

Enjoying the comfort of his swag a little longer, he folded his hands behind his head and blinked into the darkness, the blanket of stars buoying his oddly upbeat spirit further. Breathing in the scents of the new day – freshly cut grass, campfire smoke, untainted earth – he lay there, rehashing the precious few hours he’d spent with the very enthralling Rose Jones. There was a lot more to her than met the eye. She was wise beyond her years, side-splittingly funny, easygoing and so effortlessly endearing – he needed to tread carefully, or risk tumbling head-over-boots. He didn’t need his already broken heart pulverised to a pulp, and with her having only broken up with her fiancé days ago, she was most certainly not looking for a bloke to woo her. A friendship with her was a nice thought, though. There was so much more he wanted to learn about her. Which was why he was going to call old Don, his mate who was looking after Wildwood Station, to check in and see if it would be okay for him to extend his trip another day.

The thought of welcoming the day in from one of his favourite vantage points lured him from the comfort of his swag and had him switching his jeans and T-shirt for running shorts and a singlet and tying the laces of his Nikes by torchlight. With his iPhone strapped to his arm and his AirPods in place, he quietly made his way through the campgrounds and out the front gates. Keen to warm up, he began at a slow, easy jog to the twangy country tunes of the Highwaymen. Twenty-five minutes later, after settling into a faster pace, his calves and lungs were starting to burn, but instead of easing off, he pushed past his comfort zone – a trait learnt while in the army. No pain, no gain was his workout motto – not that the same could be said for his emotional endurance. He didn’t want pain; just peace and security next time round. If there ever was one.

As he drank in the fertile landscape, the wide-open paddocks abounding with mango and lychee trees, the smooth bitumen road eventually turned to gravel. Sweat trickled between his shoulderblades and soaked through his singlet as he pushed onwards. Gazing over towards the distant mountain ranges, where the sun would make its appearance, he headed west and ground into the final incline. The crisp morning air still lingered, giving a false sense of a temperate day ahead – he breathed it in as his runners pounded the path rhythmically. Finally reaching the top, he jogged on the spot before coming to a stop. Grabbing hold of the railings, he inhaled deeply and gave his legs a well-earned stretch. The township of Mareeba rolled out before him and over yonder, he could just make out the road snaking its way around a sharp bend that would eventually lead him to Dimbulah, and to the woman who’d possessed his dreams all night long. The very thought fuelled his heart into another wild gallop.

Squatting on his heels, he enjoyed the endorphin haze a good cardio session always brought to him and allowed his thoughts to freefall. Rose really was a whole lotta woman in a strong, independent kind of way. Female folk usually paid him too much attention and that made him uncomfortable, whereas Rose had kept at a safe distance all night, and that drew him like a bee to sweet honey. That jolt he’d felt, when he’d taken her outstretched hand and shook it goodnight … his heart was still pitter-pattering from it. And when she’d asked him to join her back at Jacaranda Farm, it had been him looking at his boot tips instead of her. Her offer for him to join in the Christmas Day celebrations with her family had warmed his heart. Wanting to act casual, he’d told her he’d think about it at the time, but he’d immediately been damn certain he would take her up on her offer. There was no way he could drive away from here without spending a bit more time with her. And it would be nice to have a happy Christmas Day – the past few had been ones he’d prefer to forget, either spent with a gun at his side in the deserts of Afghanistan or sitting on his own at the station, trying to pick up the pieces of his life.

Straightening, he took one last look over the far-reaching landscape before turning and following the same path back. The quickly rising sun began to burn through the clouds, beating down upon his back, and in what felt like the blink of an eye the humidity had him labouring for breath. His heart pumping hard, he gave it all he had as he sprinted for the finishing line, pushing himself until his lungs were squeezed empty. Nearing the camping grounds, he slowed to a brisk walk, striding through the gates and weaving his way through rows of four-wheel drives, occupied swags and the occasional tent. As he paused at the back fence line, the gentle Appaloosa mare he’d grown to know and adore in the years he’d been competing here lifted her muzzle over the railing and sniffed at his pockets.

‘Sorry, girl, I don’t have any treats for you this morning.’ Chuckling, he gave her greying muzzle a rub. ‘But I’ll make sure to bring you back a carrot before I go, okay?’

Striding towards his LandCruiser, he made a mental note to rustle up a carrot from the camp kitchen fridge – there was a bag of them in there. A shower was up next, then he’d pack up and head to Jacaranda Farm.

Tugging on his Akubra, he dug into his bag for a clean set of clothes and his toiletries as two giggling girls hustled past, their scruffy attire and chaotic hairdos marking that they were in the midst of the walk of shame. This was a firm reminder of why he’d never been into one-night stands – give him a committed relationship any day. Not that people believed him when he occasionally mentioned it. The gossip of him being a Casanova was exactly that, but he refused to defend it. Let people think what they wanted; they would anyway.

Spotting him glancing in their direction, the redhead offered him a sheepish grin. ‘Hey, cowboy.’

‘Howdy.’ He tipped his hat while trying not to chuckle. ‘Merry Christmas.’

After a nice hot shower, delivering the mare her promised carrot, texting his mum and inhaling a bacon-and-egg roll from the QCWA stand, Ty spent the next few hours watching almost every minute tick by. As much as he tried to stop, his eyes kept drifting back to his watch. He didn’t want to arrive at Jacaranda Farm early, nor did he want to be late.

Now, sitting at Mareeba’s only set of traffic lights, he almost chickened out, tempted to turn his LandCruiser around and run for the hills. But he fought past the fleeting panic, pulling into the only open servo to top up with fuel and hopefully find Rose and her family last-minute gifts. He had a carton of beer and a kilo of prime tiger prawns to contribute, but as for presents, he didn’t want to arrive empty-handed. And that was when he spotted a man in a very Christmassy shirt unlocking the back door to the Western shop.

Yes!