Page 45 of Return of the Outback Billionaire

Reid was almost as at home in her kitchen as she was. She put the biscuits in front of him and turned to sort out the coffee. He’d straddle the bald blue chair with the fence paling backrest and scratch at the paint, the way he always did. The chair sat directly opposite the wood-fire stove that only got fired up in the deepest of winter nights. It didn’t matter that fire so rarely burned in it. He was ready for it.

Judah wasn’t the only eccentric Blake on the planet. Maybe it was a displaced Englishman thing.

‘He’s hired a home office assistant bookkeeper person, sight unseen,’ said Reid as she put hot coffee in an oversized mug on the counter beside him. ‘She’s twenty-two, been in the foster care system since her father went to prison when she was ten, and she never finished school.’ He pointed his Anzac biscuit in her direction. ‘Let’s hope she doesn’t like wearing green.’

An office assistant? This was not altogether welcome news. ‘Where’s she going to live?’

‘Shearer’s quarters.’

‘For how long?’

‘Ask your colour censorship partner in crime. And while you’re at it, remind him that his brother is not a kid and should be part of the hiring process next time, with a voice and a vote and a say in who gets to live in his back yard.’

‘You’re right. I’ll tell him all that.’ She didn’t know what to think about another woman living out here and working closely with Judah. What if he came to like her? What if he sought out Bridie less?

‘Whatever you’re planning, I like it,’ said Reid, watching her closely.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ She schooled her expression into something a little less murderous.

‘You don’t fool me. You’re shook too.’

‘What is this shook? I’m good with change these days. Change is inevitable.’

‘I’m glad you think so, because I’m going to Townsville this afternoon to collect our new employee. Want me to get anything for you while I’m there?’

Now that he mentioned it... ‘Fresh pearl perch, a dozen rock oysters, black caviar, two lemons and a lettuce that doesn’t need resuscitation.’

He stood up and swung the chair he’d been sitting on around the right way.

‘If you can have it waiting for collection at hangar two, you’ve got it. Tell them to leave it in the cold room,’ he said.

‘I adore you.’

‘I’m counting on it. Tell Judah I have one very nice, very olive-green woollen jumper left. Mum knitted it. When I wear it it’s like a hug from someone who’s just not there any more, do you know what I mean? I can’t lose it. Can you make him understand that?’

‘Why can’t you tell him that?’

‘Every time I mention the parents he shuts me down. He’s not talking about them, which means I don’t get to either.’

Her heart went out to him. Shades of her father, who never ever mentioned her mother because the pain was too vast. ‘I’ll tell him.’ That was a promise. ‘And I’ll make him understand.’

Judah liked to think he stood still for no one, but the sight of Bridie lit by firelight demanded he halt and commit that vision to memory. Why else did he have so many bonfires at her place? He was running out of things to burn. Tonight, though...tonight she’d met him at her kitchen door in a pink slip of a dress that made him want to reach out and stroke every bit of her with reverent hands.

Reid had brought an esky full of fresh seafood back for Bridie, at Bridie’s request, and Bridie had needed someone to eat it with. Reid was busy settling the new girl in, so Judah was it.

That was how Bridie had put the invitation to him, and apart from a slight curtness in her voice that he couldn’t quite pin down to anything in particular, he’d taken her invitation at face value and rocked up showered, shaved, dressed for dinner and in a good mood.

Decision-making skills were coming back to him.

He didn’t expect oysters, caviar and his choice of beer or champagne to be waiting for him inside the formal dining room of Starr homestead, but it was. Candlelight too and pressed tin ceiling painted duck-egg blue, with the walls a deeper blue altogether, wooden baseboards and an open fireplace up one end. Had it been winter, it might have been lit but at the moment it was stacked with wine. Photos of her parents and a pair of tall blue vases sat on the mantel. A spectacular black-and-white photo of channel country hung on the wall. He didn’t need to ask in order to know that it was one of hers.

She’d gone to a lot of trouble to feed them this evening and, even if he didn’t know why, he wasn’t ungrateful.

He looked to the scarred oak dining table. Lots of glassware, lots of cutlery and, given his family history and schooling, he automatically knew what to do with every bit of it, no decision making required.

It wasn’t until he pulled her chair out and saw her seated that he spotted the engagement ring and bracelet he’d given her months ago winking at him from the centre of the scarred oak dining room table. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly and hopefully silently as he took a vicelike grip on his composure. Don’t jump to conclusions. Don’t make snap decisions. No one went to this much trouble in order to break a fake engagement. Not that he had any experience with that. ‘What’s this?’

‘This is a reckoning.’ She swept a bare hand towards the table, urging him to sit. ‘Either way, we’re celebrating a productive few months and your outstanding re-entry into society.’

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