Her Outback Home

  HER OUTBACK HOME

  SMALL TOWN ROMANCE

  LEANNE LOVEGROVE

  Copyright © 2022 by Leanne Lovegrove

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  To Princess, the best dog a family could ask for, we miss you.

  PROLOGUE

  November 2001

  Davey is crying in his cot and milk leaks from my breasts dampening my shirt. The sound seems far away, in the distance and like an echo I can’t reach.

  Bare feet shuffle across the floorboards and I feel the slight shake of the house frames with the movement. Or is that my head throbbing? No, Hannah rushes to Davey.

  Daylight penetrates the fine cotton curtains; it must be midday, but I lay in bed. I haven’t eaten, I’m not hungry. My head aches, my mouth is dry, and I yearn for a tiny sip of water. The bed coverings are heavy and my arms weak, but I am warm.

  I hear singing, a lullaby, ever so soft and sweet. The crying stops as the music starts and then there is a childish giggle before the house is quiet for a moment.

  The corner of my lips curl into a smile and I close my eyes for just a few more moments. That will make everything better.

  CHAPTER 1

  June 2019

  His eyes lowered to watch her tongue sweep across her dry lips. Those eyes darkened with desire and heat engulfed her body at the anticipation of what might follow; of his lips upon hers, of his hands caressing her bare skin.

  Hannah stood on her tiptoes, daring those sweet lips to meet hers, to transport her, help her forget. She needed this moment, this man, to remind her she was lovable, was worthy, even if only for a short time; as long as the connection lasted, perhaps until the dawn broke. It didn’t matter. Anything to block out the pain, the loss of her own mother, the mother’s love she’d never known.

  Their mouths moved closer; lips a hair’s breadth apart. So, close his hot beery breath fanned her cheek. Okay, it wasn’t romantic. But she wasn’t after romance. She wanted the sweet bliss of forgetting.

  She gently cupped his cheek with one hand, and the other dropped to his butt. The noise in the rowdy Saturday night venue receded as hope built to a crescendo. Her heartbeat and its speed and rhythm against her chest cavity matched his as he leaned into her.

  His head bowed and he whispered. A baritone simmering sound that ricocheted deep down straight to her core. ‘You’re so pretty.’

  She wasn’t but it was nice of him to say so. But there was no need for flattery to get what they both wanted.

  He wrapped a strand of her wild, curly hair around his finger and pushed it away from her face. A frisson of discomfort spiralled through her tummy. The gesture was intimate, and her body ached for his touch, for his kiss, but not his kindness.

  This guy wasn’t her usual type; he wore a suit in this small country town in the middle of nowhere. He was good-looking in a city kind of way with his clean and smooth edges. But that’s exactly why she liked him; it was obvious he was from out of town. There’d be no tomorrow, no strings attached, only company for tonight.

  His mouth touched the corner of hers and pleasure raced up her spine, while her groin throbbed with longing. She pulled him closer, so their bodies became one. He gazed longingly at her and the forgetting commenced.

  His phone vibrated in his top shirt pocket between them. He hesitated and pulled back slightly.

  ‘Ignore it,’ she said. Nothing could stop this moment. He increased the space between them and retrieved the phone and checked the screen, held up one finger, telling her to wait. He answered and she watched his lips.

  The fire burning in her belly simmered and died out.

  ‘Mum! Mum, I can’t hear you. I’m at the pub. I’ll duck outside.’

  Rejected for this guy’s mother. That hurt. Regardless of what she thought, his tall and slim frame disappeared into the distance, across the pub and away from her and the crowd and noise.

  The moment was escaping. Her chance of oblivion disappearing. She desperately wanted to be held, and her body worshipped. But, oh, she knew, understood, it was so much more than that.

  Hannah’s breath caught in her throat as her composure slipped. Gone was the bold and brash woman filled with confidence of moments before; his rejection tore open old wounds, raised familiar insecurities and worst of all, made her remember. Maybe she should have picked a local lad. Grabbing her well-worn Akubra hat, her hands shook as she tugged it on, self-disgust and loneliness melded with sadness. The guy had left behind a full schooner of beer. She skulled the remainder and scanned the room unable to bear the thought of heading home alone.

  CHAPTER 2

  The golden sun penetrated her closed lids and sparkles shone in front of her eyes. Sitting on a rock in the middle of the gently flowing stream, Hannah Wallace leaned her head back and bathed in the warm rays of the June winter sun.

  Birds perching on branches in the nearby trees filled the air with their throaty chuckles; the cold water lapped at her ankles and the distant sound of children shouting and giggling to each other drifted over on the light breeze.

  Hannah soaked up the familiar noises. She loved this place, her home. Even if it left her dead on her feet most days.

  After her late night, it had been a hectic morning at the Boondaburra Bush Resort: guests arriving and checking out, families preparing for hikes, others purchasing supplies and her playing catch up with the cleaning roster. Her thoughts turned to food as the unmistakeable whiff of frying bacon and eggs drifted towards her from a nearby tent. Her tummy rumbled. Damn, she’d forgotten to have breakfast; something else to add to her to-do list.

  Should she roast beef for the cook-up this week or stick with pork? Was it the right time to commence another ad campaign? What about introducing a fancy new cocktail at happy hour this afternoon? Should they hold a Christmas-in-July dinner in the upcoming school holidays?

  Trying to catch a few minutes reprieve, her mind swirled, business always the priority. The bush resort was her entire existence. A never-ending list of tasks to do and problems to solve. Or more recently, ways to improve, seduce more guests and make more money.

  A niggle of guilt twisted her stomach. Dad and Davey were manning the desk while she basked in the sun. But she was entitled to a break, wasn’t she? She wasn’t indispensable, she understood. Well, maybe she was, sort of. Well, actually, hell yes, she was. She ran this place, and they knew it. But they could manage a little longer without her, surely?

  The sun pinched at her bare skin, providing a prickling and warm sensation. Hannah enjoyed it after the overnight cool climes had them all hustling for a spot beside the indoor fires. She lifted her unruly long hair away from her neck, pulled it into a makeshift ponytail and held it on top of her head. She relished the cool escape on her skin.

  A car engine rumbled in the distance. Could be on the main road and heading toward the Gorge. It was one of the most spectacular days of winter so far; this weather would attract visitors. The cooler months were the boom season out here in Central Queensland, and for the nearby tourist attraction.

  The car sped past and her shoulders slumped.

  But then the rumble became louder, and the sound of tyres on gravel travelled towards her. Opening her eyes, she sat up straight. In the distance a blur of black flashed through the surrounding bush.

  A caravan of large, black cars headed down the entry.

  She tilted her head to the side, thinking. There weren’t any other bookings that she could recall in the diary.
Particularly for a group.

  Hannah’s hands scraped on the abrasive rock as she gripped it, swaying to the right to get a better vantage through the trees. But there was no need, the vehicles were right beside her now and the deep roar of a powerful engine shattered the peace and quiet; it was loud and unpleasant, jarring the serene environment. She grimaced and stood as the first vehicle passed by, a shiny metallic all-wheel drive, the leader of the pack. The darkened windows prevented a view of the occupants.

  The second, a Land Rover Discovery, followed not long after and then another nondescript petrol guzzler. Did these people not care about the environment? The downside of too much money and not enough sense? Those cars would keep the fuel industry alive and thriving. Not to mention the polished sheen of the cars revealed they hadn’t been anywhere near an outback track recently. They did get all sorts out here. Serious environmentalists and hikers, campers, loads of families for a cheap holiday and occasionally those desperate to see the beauty of the Gorge but from the comfort of a real resort. Comfort Boondaburra didn’t offer.

  Boondaburra was a resort all right. A resort of the bush kind.

  Those city-folk with no desire to rough it were usually the toughest customers. They wanted their five-star restaurant and room service and fancy en suite. Not to mention air-conditioning.

  So who were these people and what did they want?

  Hands on her hips, Hannah balanced on the rough edge of the boulder, craning her neck to see more.

  One hundred metres down the road the cars squealed to a stop, too fast to avoid rocks and pebbles flying.

  Idiots.

  The SUV’s front door opened. One foot in a polished leather boot was followed by another, and then legs clad in designer deep blue denim. A snug fit reaching up to meet a lighter chambray blue fabric hidden by a sharp, tailored jacket in yet another shade of blue. A blue bonanza. The man was tall and lean.

  No hat covered his light locks, worn short with a longer fringe. All this guy needed was an Akubra and he’d be the quintessential Aussie bloke. In looks anyway. Still wouldn’t fit into the country, though.

  As if she’d sung out a cooee in greeting, his head turned in her direction. If she’d been closer, her reflection would have been crystal clear in the silver aviator sunglasses he wore. She’d seen the movie Top Gun; no one she knew wore glasses like that. Particularly not in the bush. Most likely would blind anyone you dared look at and not protect eyes from the deadly UV rays.

  But what did it matter?

  If he was a paying guest, he could be all the tosser he wanted, and she would welcome him with open arms—him and his entourage and out-of-place clean cars and designer sunnies.

  Perhaps their guests would learn to appreciate the environment during their stay? Hannah would happily assist in that regard.

  The guy paused, slammed his door shut and reached up and yanked off those glasses. His glare ran the length of the small path between them. A shiver crawled up her spine and the hair at the back of her now covered neck, stood to attention.

  Was he enjoying the surrounding forest or the flow of the rambling creek?

  No. No. No.

  Realisation hit her like a punch to the gut. It couldn’t be. What were the chances?

  Did the guy from the pub last night recognise her? Even at this distance she felt the heat of his stare. All of sudden she felt naked. And there was good reason for that.

  Damn it, Hannah.

  In an effort to stay cool, she’d pulled her old white Boondaburra tee off and discarded it at the creek edge before she sat and soaked up the sun. She wore short, and she meant short, ripped pants a lighter shade of denim than his. And less new.

  Exposed, all her layers were bare. Her tatty, old, sports top had never bothered her before, but now, she observed its age and the sagging straps and the slight roll of skin that sat at the waist of her shorts. Instinctively, she stood taller trying to balance out her bits.

  Another member of the group stood beside the man. They spoke and pub guy reluctantly, it appeared, turned his gaze away from her. Others came to join them. A group of six. Two women and four men. All dressed for a night out to a restaurant in Brisbane. Smart-casual she guessed you’d call it. Overdressed for this place; more office-wear than bush resort.

  City-slickers.

  Were they two couples and two friends? Why did she care? Pub guy—whom she’d almost kissed, and more —seemed too cool for school as her brother, Davey, would say.

  The screen door of the shop and reception opened, and other guests wandered out; children licking icy poles and parents sipping from bottles of fresh water.

  The sun suddenly spiked too hot, her eyes squinted against the glare and her feet stumbled from lack of concentration. She swayed and her feet inched over the rounded edge of the rock. Her arms flapped like one of the birds in the trees and she came asunder. One foot landed in the creek bed filled with smaller boulders and she couldn’t gain any traction on the mossy, slippery bottom. The other foot slid to meet it and she stumbled as she attempted to right herself.

  Hannah blamed the scene she’d just witnessed making her feel all discombobulated. Or was it the handsome stranger? Her previous contentment dissipated like the heat swirling above her. She’d been walking this creek since a child and could manage it in all conditions. Not today. She tumbled and landed on her backside, her hair now saturated and sticking to her clammy skin.

  Davey erupted into laughter as she entered through the back door, wringing out her hair at the same time.

  ‘Look what the cat dragged in,’ he chuckled.

  ‘Ha, ha, Davey,’ Hannah retaliated.

  ‘What in God’s name…’ her father, Robert, said taking in the scene in front of him. ‘Hannah, you’re dripping on the floor and making a puddle. Someone might slip.’

  She’d pulled on her dry tee but hadn’t bothered to dry off after her accidental dunking in the creek. The light denim material was soaked to a darker shade, but it was her hair that she hadn’t shaken out properly. ‘Sorry, Dad.’

  Heading into the back office, she collected the “Caution – Wet Floor” sign and planted it strategically to avoid any injuries. Health and safety was always at the forefront of their minds at the resort; their liability insurance premiums were already sky high.

  ‘What’s the go?’ she asked after locating a towel and drying her hair.

  ‘What’s the go?’ Davey repeated.

  ‘With the newcomers. Do they have a booking?’ She moved closer to the desk and traced a finger down the large planner diary that sat on top, searching the entries for today, Sunday. ‘Infinity Developments. Is that them, the three cars that just arrived. I don’t remember taking that booking. Who are they?’

  Her father leaned his back against the bench and shrugged. ‘Yeah, I took that one only last week. Group of six. And,’ he drew out his syllables, ‘all separate accommodation. A scoop, so happy days for us. They’re staying a week in the cabins.’

  ‘What? They each have their own cabin that sleeps five? That’s crazy.’

  People did odd things. Nonetheless, Hannah understood her father’s excitement. A week booking was good and five days in six cabins, more expensive than the powered and non-powered tent sights, was even better. ‘Okay, but who are Infinity Developments?’ she repeated.

  ‘Unlike you, love, I don’t cross-examine the guests when they make a booking. I just let them in. If they pay, it’s no fuss to me where they come from.’

  ‘Yeah, agreed. But most people don’t book under a company name.’

  The screen door banged shut with the arrival of a customer. Her father turned away, seemingly bored with the conversation. Her brother, Davey, piped up and started singing.

  If you wanna be my lover, you’ve gotta be my friend.

  Spice Girls songs were his current favourite. As Hannah watched, he added in a few dance moves, swinging his arms left and right with his index finger pointed.

  Hannah checked
to see if the customer required assistance. She caught the look before it disappeared from the woman’s face. Without fail, every time it happened, Hannah’s heart hitched, and her mood slipped. Most people were pretty good, accepting and understanding. Others not so much.

  Davey with his broad and open face with slightly closed eyes and puffy cheeks was oblivious. That was one saving grace, he usually was. The reactions of most people to his having Down Syndrome simply washed over him like water down one of the backs of the ducks in their creek. At least they could be grateful for that. Except she caught the look and reacted for him instead. That’s okay, she was tough and could handle it.

  ‘Can I help you with anything?’

  ‘I need sunscreen please, preferably fifty plus.’

  Davey, having paid attention to the conversation whilst still singing the lyrics had rushed away to extract the tube of sun protection. He handed it to the lady with a broad smile. Every task was a pleasure to him.

  ‘Thank you,’ the lady said softy, tentatively as she took it from his grip.

  The phone started ringing.

  ‘Davey, can you get that for me, please?’

  With a curt nod, he raced away again. If her eighteen-year-old brother could run instead of walk, he would. Well, more like a shuffle, but faster than a dawdle.

  As soon as the woman had gone, another customer came in. Sometimes it felt as if her full-time job was in retail. Selling ice and lollies over the counter was not the most scintillating part of her job. But it helped pay the bills.

  This person didn’t dawdle but appeared in front of the counter before she could ask if they required help.

  ‘Hi there,’ he said as he approached.

  It was one of the young men who’d just arrived. This guy had dark skin and she picked up the slight twang of an accent. Unlike his companions, he looked more like he belonged in the outdoors. Fit and muscular and, well, adaptable.