Page 12 of Rough Stock

Izzy picked up her empty pots and gardening tools and smiled. Not at him, but at the garden.

But that smile transformed her face, like she’d turned on a light that radiated within her brown eyes, along with that soft curve of those luscious, kissable lips into a truly dazzling smile he hadn’t seen in years.

It was enough to make him lean against the fence, to sigh as he admired it. ‘Why are you smiling?’

Izzy seemed so pleased with herself, which made him pleased for her. It was a nice change from bickering or playing mind games with each other. Maybe they could be friends. Right?

But Craig also knew, no matter how hard he might fight with her, he always had a soft spot for Izzy, that he’d eventually give in to her. And Izzy truly had his best interests at heart, she always had. How they became enemies was lost on him, when it was a struggle to keep fighting against her.

‘Look.’ She waved her hand at the garden. ‘I’ve always wanted to do the veggie garden thing. Not that I’d ever do anything as intricate as Bree’s heritage garden, but it’s homely, you know.’

‘You never did one in the city?’

‘Well, I did micro-greens in jars—sprouts, herbs—under grow lights in the kitchen for a bit, and I have a house plant called Brian. But…’

‘Let me guess, you went on to another project?’

She shrugged.

Izzy had the habit of tackling ten different projects at any time. She had a cupboard full of one-off hobbies she’d started, mastered, and soon forgotten. Because of her hyper focus for projects, they usually came with a two-week time limit and then she’d get bored and lose focus. By the looks of things, that two-week limit was about to expire for cleaning the house. ‘Did you paint the sunroom?’ It was the only room in the house she hadn’t touched.

‘No.’

‘Why not? We got the paint for it.’

She tugged on one earlobe. It was her trick to slow her mind down to focus on the conversation. It was also cute when she did that.

‘Do you have a lawnmower?’ She turned away with hands on hips, to face the dead lawn.

Ah, the two-week house-cleaning spree was definitely done. Which meant he’d have to finish the sunroom, or she might go back and do it in a month, or five—if they were still here.

‘Just a push mower would be good. Don’t have my treadmill. I miss my treadmill. And my stair-master. I’d do all my emails and other work while getting a workout on those machines. Great for problem-solving, too. You know my motto:exhaust the body to tame the mind. But doing this cleaning helps. It’s an all-over-body workout, with instant results. I’ll pick up some more pot plants to spruce up the verandahs when in town next. That’d be for your appointment. With who? When?’

‘Physio. Tomorrow.’ He tilted his head at Izzy. Had she stopped taking her medications to be rambling so fast like that? ‘Shouldn’t we finish that last room first?’

‘It’s an odd room.’ She pulled the empty planter pots apart, only to restack them in colour-coded order.

‘What is?’

‘It’s a room with an outside door.’

‘The room you called the sunroom?’ From the day they’d inspected the house, Izzy had called it that and it stuck.

Incredibly, in the past two weeks, Izzy had re-grouted the bathroom, done wonders with the laundry, and the rest of the place inside and out, but the last room in her magical clean-up tour was the sunroom, which was supposed to be Izzy’s home office.

When they’d bought the house, they had a plan for their future. Craig would work on their land, in between playing part-time stock inspector at the local stockyards, while Izzy worked from her home office in the sunroom.

But in order to pay for the property, he followed Izzy back to the city where she was offered a super-sweet gig by some fancy firm. To be near her, he took on a job in the city’s export stockyards, where he quickly learned to kill time in the large car park, learning how to track assorted vehicles, as his excuse to avoid paperwork and politics. It was a sacrifice to pay off a large chunk of the mortgage on their dream house and land package, which mostly sat empty except for weekend visits.

‘Do you want me to teach you how to drive the tractor?’ Craig slowly hobbled behind her, using only one crutch, as she carried her stack of empty plastic garden pots to the back garden shed. Outside the shed were buckets, shovels, and all sorts of things, spread out into piles, leaving the shed completely empty. Izzy was definitely done with the house.

‘Why do I need to drive a tractor?’ Izzy put the empty plant pots next to the others she’d found, then sorted them out by their size. ‘You need a pot rack.’

‘I’ll build you one.’ When, how, he had no clue. Be he wasn’t going to argue with her anymore, because the woman had a way of making him suffer when he did.

Plus, it was nice sharing the joy in her days from the simple things of how she’d cook as he helped, reading over the recipe together, tasting it to see if more salt was needed, to sitting at the table to dine together. Simple stuff, that meant a lot. Then, after dinner, Izzy would drag out their kitchen chairs just to gaze at the stars in silence.

But Craig had to remember she was leaving him again, and not only for her job. When the house went up for sale, it would be for good. They were running out of time.

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