Page 63 of In Step

I squeezed his neck. “No, mycockneeds to get out more.”

He licked his lips, which really didn’t help my predicament, before practically purring the words, “I’m sure we can do something about that... later.”

Really,really, not helping.

“Fucking tease.” I dropped my hand and adjusted myself, trying to focus on the perfect weather and pretty scenery and not Kane’s tempting mouth and exactly what it was capable of.

The narrow coast road snaked its way through tiny villages, the summer tourist madness gentled and mothballed for the winter. It wound in and out of secluded white sandy coves with gentle lapping tides and along open shorelines dotted with surfers riding long breaking waves to a backdrop of small offshore islands, all of it pretty as a postcard. On the other side of the road, a patchwork of green paddocks rubbed shoulders uneasily with small acreages and holiday homes, the cool of the offseason and the quiet roads doing much to improve the awkward friendship for a while.

“Look at this.” I shook my head at the passing parade of virtually empty beaches, all shining under a crisp blue sky, the air still and warm. “A beautiful day and hardly a soul in sight. We don’t know how lucky we are.”

Kane glanced to the passing beach and shrugged. “I guess I’m used to it. Never been anywhere else.”

I squeezed his hand. “Do you think you’ll travel when all this is settled?”

“Maybe. Are we still dancing tonight?”

I turned in my seat to face him. “If that works for you? Judah and Morgan are at Jon and Connie’s for dinner, and Fox and Leroy are heading to the pub for a date night since Fox’s work trip is coming up. But with everyone gone, I thought we could maybe use the studio for a change. It would be nice to have a little more room to move, now you’re getting the hang of it.”

Kane grinned. “Good idea. We could make it earlier. Say six? Get an early night, for once. You’re wearing me out.”

I snorted. “Not nearly as much as I’d like, but then, I’m an old man, right?” I squeezed his leg and he chucked, then lifted my knuckles to his lips. We could’ve been any couple out for a Saturday drive, and I slid down in my seat to enjoy the tour and pretend this cutesy handholding and almost date-like vibe wasn’t breaking every fucking rule in the keeping-things-simple-between-us handbook. Then again, I didn’t think we’d even torn the wrapping open on that particular tome of caution.

Two hours later and we’d covered a lot of territory, with Kane proving to be a fascinating and fairly knowledgeable tour guide when it came to the history of the area, but it was his personal footprints that tore my heart open.

We’d parked at the remote beach where Kane had slept in his car when he’d left the farm and where Cora had found both him and the litter of kittens. Looking around the tiny inside of his beaten-up Honda Accord, I could scarcely imagine spending a day cooped up in it, let alone a couple of weeks, and my heart squeezed at the thought.

There was a noticeable choke in his voice as he talked about that time—the loneliness and desperation—and I felt an urgent need to hug Cora Madden for all I was worth. And when he was done talking, I threw open the door and walked around the car so I could pull him into my arms. He came without protest, clinging to me like his life depended on it.

After that first stop, I got the full-service tour, starting with Kane’s old school, followed by a drive-by of the first Martin property where Kane had spent his childhood before the farm got into financial difficulty and his father needed to downsize to the current holding. It only served to highlight the validity of Kane’s concerns about his inheritance.

Then it was a visit to a secluded bay about five kilometres from Painted Bay where a fifteen-year-old Kane had first kissed a boy and shared fumbled hand jobs, and where he’d realised just how much trouble he was in. The place where all the lying had begun.

“Back then I would never have guessed that fifteen years later, I’d still be lying.”

Ten minutes from the bay, Kane pulled off to the side of the middle-of-nowhere country road we were travelling down and sat with his forearms resting on the steering wheel. There was nothing to suggest why he’d stopped other than the sudden tension that filled the car, the pallor to Kane’s face, and the determined set to his jaw.

Shit.I followed his gaze and studied the front veranda of a fairly typical farmhouse for the area—weatherboard, 1950s or so, one storey, three- or four-bedroom family home, more functional than graceful, and in definite need of some TLC. It sat at the end of a very long gravel driveway and in front of a series of outbuildings whose rooflines peeked above the house itself. There was an oppressive feel to the grey painted walls and overgrown lawns that haddon’t give a shitwritten all over them.

A second driveway peeled off from the first and appeared to run parallel but was quickly lost to thick bush on either side.

“Is this it?”

Kane turned, and the raw pain in his eyes pinned me to my seat. It also scared the shit out of me. This wasn’t a Kane I’d met before.

“Kane. Is this your farm?”

He blinked and nodded. “I wanted you to see it. The lawyer filed the papers with Dad’s solicitor yesterday.”

“Yesterday? Why didn’t you text me?”

Kane shrugged. “It’s a waiting game. They’ve got two weeks to reply, only because my lawyer requested an actual date for the audit.” He turned back to the farm and shook his head. “He can’t see how bad it is. And he doesn’t care. He’s actually better off selling it now because it’s only going to get worse, but he’s so fucking stubborn. And he’s so sure I’m going to give in.”

I looked closer, noting all the fences needing repair, the driveway gate hanging on one hinge, and the house owed more than a lick of paint would fix. “Is he still texting you?”

“A few times. I don’t answer. Not since my birthday. But now the papers are filed, I guess I’ll be hearing from him soon.”

I frowned. “Let me know, okay?”

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