Page 25 of Jillaroo from Jacaranda

‘Yes.’ Eyes wide, she nodded. ‘I really like it.’

Ty breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Good. Great! I was worried you might find it a little on the tiny side.’

‘Oh god, no. It’s perfect.’ She padded towards where sheer curtains fluttered in the breeze – the view out the window was jaw-dropping.

Horse paddocks rolled out before her, with Buck’s front and centre, and off to the left, another windmill spun lazily, shadowing the stables and what she thought to be a chicken coop. Off in the far-flung distance, heat haze shimmered off a red-dirt road.

‘I’ll go and grab your bags for you.’

Caught up in the view, Rose jumped to the sound of Ty’s voice. ‘I’ll come help.’ She turned to face him, and grimaced. ‘I’ve brought way too much, but a gal can never be too prepared.’

They worked together, grabbing her three bags from her Colorado and traipsing back to the cottage. Ty led her to the master bedroom and placed her suitcase and matching smaller bag on the queen-sized bed. ‘I’ll leave you to get settled in.’ He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘I’ve got some work to do out yonder before sundown.’

‘Righto. Thank you, Ty, for everything.’ She walked with him to the front door. ‘Catch you later?’

‘I’m sure you will, seeing as we’re neighbours now.’ He held her gaze, as if trying to silently tell her something then, with a polite tip of his hat and a slow and sexy smile, turned and stalked away.

Sinking into the cane chair on the front verandah, she watched him move down the pathway, towards Gretchen, and hoist himself up into the saddle before riding away in a cloud of red dust. With everything feeling so surreal, she sat there for a few minutes longer, breathing in her new surrounds and grounding herself into her new home. This was going to be an outback adventure to remember, she was sure of it.

CHAPTER

8

Dusk was settling over Wildstone Station, sending the last glorious shafts of sunlight across the timber floorboards of Ty’s home gym. Dust motes softly played on the beams of golden light in sharp contrast to the Metallica playing loudly on the stereo. Tapping his foot in time to the tune, Ty sang the words to ‘Nothing Else Matters’ at the top of his lungs. Although country music was his number one choice in almost every other instance, old-school heavy metal always pumped him up for his training sessions.

Rose Molly Elizabeth Jones.

Her perfect name rippled through Ty as he imagined her standing above him, spotting him as he trained. He clenched his teeth and, with one last grunt, pressed the ninety-kilogram weight bar up from his chest and back onto the stand. Metal clanged and he huffed an almighty breath. It was time for a short rest, then one more set before going a couple of rounds with his punching bag. He’d already done his deadlifts, squats and curls, and spent a good five minutes on the rowing machine. He’d been committed to his fitness regime for as long as he could remember, unless he was on the rodeo circuit – weights three days a week, cardio twice. The weekends were for recovery and a day of cheat meals, then back to it on Monday. Routine had been drummed into him by his father at a young age and reinforced when he was an army cadet. Then, throughout his years spent serving his country, keeping a schedule brought him a sense of comfort, as if he had some control over the unpredictability of life.

As he lay back and gripped the weight bar, steeling himself for his last set, he thought about how Rose brought him comfort too. The sense of ease she gave him was new, because people usually had the opposite effect on him. He slowly brought the weight down to his chest. It was generally only his animals that brought him a sense of peace. He’d tried to work out what it was that drew him to her like a bee to honey, but there were so many reasons to feel good around her, he’d given up trying to pinpoint the biggest drawcard.

Heaving, he pressed the bar upwards with another primal-sounding grunt. Above all else, she had the most beautifully addictive glow about her, and she was certainly a giver, not a taker. Yet there was also a sadness hinted in her arresting eyes that made him want to protect her with everything he had. Bringing the bar back down, he repeated this four more times, his muscles screaming for a reprieve when he carefully set the bar back into place.

Positioning himself in front of the punching bag, he threw determined bare-fisted punches in quick succession. One. Two. Three. All the while, Rose’s mesmerising face still owned his mind, as did her angelic voice. Stepping back a little, lithe on his feet, he swung a lethal left hook and followed it up with a jabbing right. The bag swung from the rafters. Grabbing it mid-swing, he steadied it. If someone ever dared to hurt a hair on Rose’s head, there’d be hell to pay. With a precise tempo, he threw harder punches, pain surging through his knuckles and up his arms. His body begged him to rest, but he pushed through the pain barrier and only then, completely shattered, did he stop.

Pausing to catch his laboured breath, he wished there was some way he could soothe all the sorrow away for her. Hell, he’d take it on himself if he could. She didn’t deserve to have her heart broken, or her tiny shoulders burdened. How any man could hurt her was beyond his comprehension. If it were him who had a woman as good as Rose Jones loving him, he would fight tooth and nail for their relationship. She’d be reminded every day how wonderful she was. He’d spoil her rotten in every way and no matter what, he’d make damn sure she was the happiest woman alive. Not that he’d ever get that chance – a relationship between them wasn’t on the cards. Beyond the fact she lived hours away, both of them were on a healing journey that didn’t have room for another just yet. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be her mate, though. Even though their time together had been short, he already felt blessed to call her one of his closest friends. There was something about her that made him feel as though he could tell her anything. Well, almost.

He shook his head. Damn, he had it bad.

With sweat dripping into his eyes, he mopped his brow with his hand towel. Grabbing his bottle of grape-flavoured electrolyte drink, he took a long guzzle. His muscles now burning as if on fire, he decided it was time to call it a day. But before he made a move, he briefly shut his eyes and imagined what it would be like to lean in and kiss Rose. This quickly led to images of slowly striping her naked so he could kiss every inch of her. His soul shuddered and places hardened that shouldn’t – she was a friend, no more than that.

Roughly rubbing his face, he swore at himself. He could get past this. He just had to. Fortitude, restraint and determination weren’t foreign to him – thanks to the Australian army, he had it in spades. Surely it was more than enough to resist the lure of an enthralling woman.

Switching everything off, he went to step outside when he spotted a vortex of wind whip up leaves and earth in a violent spiral, creating a massive dust devil worthy of an ovation. Reaching high into the sky, the whirlwind swooped over the open ground, collecting more debris in its path. Hunching against the force of it, Ty glanced over to the glow of lights spilling from inside the cottage as he strode across the driveway and towards the welcoming shelter of the homestead. He almost diverted his path so he could spend some more time with Rose, but stopped himself. As much as he longed for her company, she needed to know she had her privacy, and that he wasn’t going to be calling in on a whim. Besides, he really needed to stand beneath a well-earnt hot shower before going within ten feet of her – he knew he was a bit on the whiffy side.

Having forgotten to take some meat out of the freezer for dinner, he’d have to make do with whatever he could find in the pantry and fridge. Maybe eggs and baked beans on toast? Or possibly even a toasted ham, cheese and tomato sandwich. Dinner of champions … or lonely bachelors.

After kicking off his trainers, he strode down the hallway and into the laundry, stripped off his gym clothes and tossed them into the washing machine. Then, naked as the day he was born, he headed for the upstairs bathroom to wash away the day’s dirt and sweat. He enjoyed the freedom of being able to waltz around the house buck-naked whenever he got the chance to – clothes were overrated. Holding onto the banister, he felt the wooden stairs creak beneath his feet as he slid his hand along the timber that had been worn down by many hands before his. This place was way more than a roof and four walls – it had been his safe haven when things had gotten real tough, his shelter from the outside world and its trials and tribulations, and a place for him to celebrate the bounty of hard work. There was no way he was going to sell it.

Turning the taps, he waited for the old system to pump the rainwater up the copper pipes. Then, climbing beneath the scalding spray, he rested his head against the tiles as the stream pummelled the ache from his back and shoulders. If only it could rinse the PTSD from his head and the ache from his heart and soul. Now, wouldn’t that be brilliant. But life was never that bloody easy.

Grabbing the bar of Imperial Leather soap, he lathered himself up and rinsed off. Then he shampooed his hair into a mound of foam with his two-in-one and squeezed his eyes shut as he rinsed it out. Humming to himself, he tried to focus on the bliss of his shower, but instead found himself fixated on thoughts of Rose joining him, and what he’d do to her right now if she stepped into the steam with him. He’d take his time lathering her up and easing the tension from her shoulders, then he’d help rinse her off and kiss her from head to toe, pausing at all the places in between that made her gasp and moan. He wanted to hear her cry out in ecstasy as she begged him to go harder, faster, deeper. He craved to be at one with her, be as close as two people could ever get. Not only one time, but time and time again. Oh god, how he wanted to wander over to the cottage and see her again, hear her voice, ask about her day, and watch her smile in that way that made his heart pound faster than a wild horse’s hooves. He wanted to learn everything there was to know about her, so he could make her feel as good as she made him feel. He wanted to feel free to feel things about her, to fall further into her.

But he didn’t want to go falling in love with an unattainable woman. That was the very last thing he needed. But damn, she was gorgeous, inside and out, his angel sent from heaven.

Maybe she had come into his life for a damn good reason. And maybe he was going to regret it if he didn’t make a move in the romantic direction.

Get a goddamn grip, Parker.