Page 6 of Rough Stock

Izzy opened the wall of windows that offered magnificent views of two stunning vistas on the property, even if the view was blocked by thick cobwebs and dust. ‘I forget, how many sheds are there?’

‘Three. Four, if you count the bore shed.’

‘Did you ever get any stockhorses?’

‘Been busy, working away.’ He always wanted to. But having worked on countless cattle stations, it’d have to be a pretty special stockhorse to catch his attention.

‘Ah-huh.’ Izzy paused to look at the photos stuck on his now-empty fridge. There was a snapshot of him and his best mates—Jake, Ryan and Barry—from the last time they were all together at Jake’s party at Danbunnan Station. There were even photos of his favourite redhead, Bree, and her grandfather, Charlie. Damn, he missed that old man.

But what sucked was when Izzy found the photos of her, too. Back then, they wore matching smiles. Today they wore matching scowls.

‘I don’t want you going through my stuff.’

‘What stuff?’ She waved her hand at the near-empty room. ‘Although, it’ll make it easier for me to clean.’ She rolled up her shirt sleeves. ‘I’ll take the spare room.’ Grabbing her suitcase, she rolled it behind her as she headed for the corridor.

‘There’s still only one bed in this place.’

She screwed her face up in horror. ‘Like that’s gonna happen. Not after how many buckle bunnies—’

‘No other female has EVER set foot in this place!’ The words bounced off the walls to bite him on the arse. He wasn’t meant to spill that detail, not with her. Worse, he’d stood too fast his ribs were killing him, while he struggled to balance on his good leg. ‘Bree has been here, of course.’ Bree was like his sister.

‘How is Bree coping?’

‘Good, considering…’ Aww, come on, why was the world constantly reminding him about Charlie? The old man’s passing should not have hit him this hard, especially when they all knew it was coming.

‘I’ll sleep on my swag.’ He hugged his ribs as he lowered himself back onto the couch, his leg throbbing something fierce with his ankle swollen.

‘You can’t sleep in your swag.’ Izzy dragged that crate closer and lifted his leg, setting it down on a rolled-up towel. He was helpless to stop her, but it did ease the pain. ‘It’ll hurt to get up and down from the floor with your leg and ribs the way they are. No, you take the bed. I’ll take the couch—after I bomb it for fleas and ticks.’

‘I don’t have a dog.’ They’d planned to get one once they officially moved in, but it never happened.

Having her here was bringing up too much history he didn’t want to remember—but he couldn’t forget. Not now with Isobel Callahan standing in his living room.

‘Do you know someone who can lend me a bed for a few weeks?’

‘I do…’ He shifted in his seat. ‘You can take my bed. I just need a camp bed.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Looking for my phone.’ He got to his crutches. It was painful to use them, but his leg wasn’t ready to ditch them yet, so he had to suffer with his ribs, biting him with each step he took. ‘Then I’m going to take a long shower.’

‘You can’t get your stitches wet.’

‘Buck me!’ He hated this.

‘Don’t worry, the hospital gave me some stuff to tape it up.’ At the kitchen counter, the large brown paper bag crinkled as she opened it to produce bandages as part of his get-well gift from the hospital.

‘Are you going to give me a sponge bath, too?’

The glare she gave him was enough to freeze an outback waterhole, even in the summer.

It only made him grin.

Luckily, it was the fridge door that copped the brunt of her temper, as she slammed it shut after putting his medications away, making him grin wider.

‘Make yourself at home.’ Even though he wasn’t sure about selling Dustfire, it could do with a clean-up. ‘You do know what a home is?’ Because Dustfire used to mean something to both of them once.

‘Shouldn’t I be asking you that? Because this place doesn’t look like you’ve done anything to make it feel like home.’

---