Page 23 of Third Time’s a Charm

What appears to be a gin and tonic miraculously appears in front of Louise, along with a warm smile from the bartender, who looks like he’s seen a thing or two in his time. And that perhaps Louise is one of his favourites of those things. He raises an eyebrow at me in lieu of a question.

“A pint of—” My eyes scan the taps springing out of the bar in front of me. I still haven’t got used to the different measures and types of beer in Australia.

“Think you might mean a schooner, son,” the barman interrupts.

“The Balter is good, I hear,” Louise stage whispers.

“A schooner of the Balter, please.”

A brief nod is followed by the handing over of a glass of icy liquid gold, topped by just the right amount of froth.

I take a long gulp of the beer.

Louise was right. Balter is good. And goes a long way to reviving me.

“I hadn’t picked you for a beer man. You struck me as more of a wine and whisky kind of guy.”

“Depends on the circumstances, really. I needed refreshing, and beer seemed like the best option.”

“I think I owe you an apology,” Louise says, surprising me.

I lift an eyebrow.

“I should have offered to spell you in the driving yesterday. And today. You must be exhausted. And then you had to work last night.”

“I am tired. But I’m not a good passenger. I prefer to drive.” I don’t tell her that being a passenger with her would give me nothing to concentrate on except her. On the smell of her perfume. The delicate lines of her profile. The bright freckles dancing across her nose and cheekbones. So driving is the safe option. “Besides, if you drove, I’d get to pick the music.”

“Oh, yes. We couldn’t have that. We’d end up listening to … what?” At last her smile is more like her own. We’re back on, if not solid, then certainly less shaky, footing.

Good question. I don’t typically do a lot of driving, so I don’t have a road trip playlist.

“I usually listen to podcasts.”

“Oh, yeah? About?”

“Mostly political commentary. Sometimes philosophy.”

Louise laughs. “Okay, you’re right. If I drive, that might well put me to sleep.” She slumps onto the bar and pretends to snore.

Now I’m laughing. I’ve tried to resist showing her how much she amuses me, but my force field is cracking under the constant pressure.

Somehow, my attraction to Louise has begun to eclipse how closely she’s connected to the pain around my mother’s death. In the face of her warmth and humour and intelligence, it’s hard to maintain the distance I hoped I could.

I wish to Christ I wasn’t so charmed by her.

Because I won’t be here long enough for any kind of relationship to run its course. And I’m her boss. And once she finds out why I’m here, especially if I can’t convince Tate to give the business a shot, well, as Louise no doubt would say, that’s three reasons.

And everyone knows three is a really bad luck number.

Chapter Fourteen

Louise

We hit the road early, after breakfast at my favourite Leeton café, that serves—in my opinion—the best breakfast in New South Wales. Or at least in the top five. The eggs are fresh from the farm each morning, balanced on a thick doorstop of crispy toast and drizzled in thick, creamy hollandaise sauce with just the right amount of sharpness. And the coffee is piping hot.

I feel like a million bucks today. I always do on these road trips. Sure, there’s lots of driving, but the country air and the familiar, friendly faces ground me in a way I don’t get anywhere else. My friend Michele says I was probably a farmer in a previous life. She’s a bit on the alternative side. But maybe there’s something to the idea.

The awkwardness of our first night on the road has eased. Sure, Jasper was a little abrupt, but who doesn’t get cranky when they’re tired and stressed? It’s entirely possible I overreacted, which is something I need to be more mindful of. I know I can be too sensitive to other people’s moods sometimes.