Page 9 of Cinderella and the Outback Billionaire

‘Dark brown.’

‘And your eyes?’

‘Also brown.’

‘I’m picturing that actress from one of the James Bond films.’

‘You do you, sunshine.’ Who knew which actress he meant? She sure didn’t. ‘Where were you flying to?’

‘North of Cooper’s Crossing homestead. There are a couple of eco lodges up there.’

He really did seem functional in the thought department. ‘Anyone expecting you?’

‘No. The place is empty.’

‘Will anyone be tracking your flight?’

Silence.

‘But your helicopter has signals and stuff, right? An indestructible black box?’

‘It’s not a commercial passenger jet, angel. It’s a prototype.’

‘That’s just disappointing.’ She tried to let the reality of no one being able to find them using some kind of beacon sink in. ‘Mind you, no one’s coming for us in this weather anyway. How are you feeling? Is the pain medication kicking in?’

‘Not even close.’

‘It’s not as if I can keep giving you more.’

‘I know.’

She felt so useless. ‘More water?’

‘Please.’

One more pill couldn’t hurt, surely. She fished one from the bottle and pressed it against his lips. ‘It’s just over-the-counter paracetamol. The first three were NSAIDs. I think I can give you both, but no more for another four hours after this one. You in?’

He was.

‘How’s the eyesight?’

‘Frighteningly absent.’

She couldn’t imagine a world of perpetual darkness.

‘Keep talking,’ he said gruffly. ‘Please.’

She bit off another mouthful of chocolate, reached into her carryall for her textbook and stretched out next to him on her stomach, making sure they were connected from shoulder to toe as she spread her sleeping bag over them both. It wasn’t cold yet but it would be later. Might as well get a head start on the warm and cosy factor.

She opened the book up to a random page and cleared her throat. ‘Sturt’s Desert Pea, Swainsona formosa. Family, Fabaceae. Named after the English medical doctor and botanist Isaac Swainson—he’d probably be pretty useful right about now. Formosa from the Latin for beautiful. I’ve never seen them this far north. It flowers from March to July but that’s rain dependent. It prefers calcareous sandy soils. Calcareous—what does that even mean?’

‘Who are you?’ he murmured.

‘I’m your dust-storm buddy.’ She kept on reading aloud, one plant classification and description after another, while his body relaxed against hers and his breathing became slow and regular.

Gotta give it to her textbook—it was useful. She’d never again rant about the astronomical cost of it.

Because it had put sightless, seriously injured billionaire Reid Blake firmly to sleep.

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