Page 20 of Where the Heart Is

‘Sawyer’s always been the one that got away, Anne. Now he’s back and I’m single again, who knows?’

Anne’s eyes bulged and Sawyer suppressed a chuckle as Mila deliberately schooled her expression into faux nonchalance.

‘Now, if you’ll excuse us, Anne, Sawyer and I have some catching up to do.’ Mila’s hand slid from his shoulder to his cheek, which she patted with affection. ‘Be a love and grab me a chardonnay.’

‘Coming right up,’ Sawyer said, glaring at Anne so she’d get the message to leave them the hell alone. He should be grateful the old bag hadn’t grilled him on what he’d been doing since school.

‘Before we leave you young ones to get reacquainted,’ Anne winked, ‘what are you doing with yourself these days, Sawyer? You were never one for the books.’

His relief had been short-lived, and he gritted his teeth against the urge to tell Anne where she could stick her nosiness.

‘Sawyer’s made a squillion in land broking,’ Mila said before he could respond. ‘And he better be careful, otherwise I might drag him to the altar.’

Once again, Anne was speechless, and thankfully Barry murmured something in her ear before leading her away.

‘Why did you encourage her like that?’ Sawyer asked, equal parts chuffed and annoyed that Mila had leaped to his defence.

‘Because she’s an incorrigible gossip and I didn’t like what she said about you.’ Mila touched his hand, sending a little spark of electricity up his arm. ‘I love Hills Homestead and Ashe Ridge, but the small-town mentality I can do without.’

‘One of the many reasons I left and didn’t look back,’ he said, hoping she didn’t hear the bitterness in his voice.

When her head tilted to one side like she was about to quiz him, he forced a smile. ‘One chardonnay coming up.’

He felt Mila’s inquisitive stare boring into his back the entire way to the bar.

CHAPTER

12

Unfortunately, Jack hadn’t been able to fix Adelaide’s busted radiator, so he’d called a tow truck and made himself scarce while she’d waited over an hour for it to arrive. She’d been glad, because they would’ve been forced into making small talk and she didn’t want to blurt that she wanted a divorce, not after the way he’d reacted to her leading into it.

She’d said it would be good to lay the past to rest and he’d looked like she’d stabbed him. Right then, she’d decided to be friendly towards him, get them to a better place, before springing the news on him. Though she doubted it would be easy whenever she brought up the D-word.

After her car had been towed to the mechanic in town—a newbie she hadn’t heard of, because what had she expected, for Ashe Ridge and its inhabitants to be unchanged after fourteen years?—she headed back to the cottage. When she knocked on the door, Jack opened it and frowned. So much for hospitality.

‘I’ll show you where you’ll be spending the night,’ he said, his frown deepening.

She should be grateful he had a detached bungalow on his property.

It could be worse.

He could’ve offered her a spare room in his house.

Seeing him again had affected her way more than anticipated and knowing he was a short stroll across the backyard … Definitely too close for comfort.

An awkward silence yawned between them as he led her to her lodgings, so she said the first thing that popped into her head. ‘Did you build the bungalow for guests?’

He grunted in response and slid a key into the lock. ‘Something like that.’

She didn’t believe him. Jack had a tell when he was being evasive and as he rubbed the top of his boot against the back of his jeans on his opposite leg, she knew he wasn’t telling the truth.

It irked that he didn’t trust her enough to answer a simple question. Then again, considering she’d been the one to walk away, he didn’t owe her anything. Not anymore.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, meaning it. Like the house, the bungalow had been built with sandstone bricks, and she trailed her fingertips across their rough surface, surprised by a swift stab of envy.

She liked the studio she rented in Tally Bay, mainly because it was all hers. She’d never lived alone, moving from her parents’ mansion in outer Melbourne direct to Jack’s farm, so having a place of her own to call home soothed her at the end of a long day at the juice bar. If the young tourists and hippies were surprised to find a seventy-something woman serving their customised juices, they didn’t show it, but she caught the occasional judgemental glance from older customers, like they pitied someone her age working such a menial job.

They had no idea that Raven, the guy who owned the juice bar, had given her a job when nobody else would, that the minimum wage supplemented the income she earned from her paintings and paid her rent, that she lived frugally by choice and didn’t care that she couldn’t afford luxuries because everything she had was hers and she’d acquired it the hard way.

---