Page 10 of The Geography of Happiness

He eyed me dubiously. “Then I expect pics. Lots of pics.”

I sighed. “I’m gonna look like a total creep.”

He smiled brightly. “Absolutely. But if I’m going to pry Morgan away from his precious ocean, a few hot cowboys might just be the ticket.”

“Shepherds,notcowboys.”

Judah waved a hand airily. “Potaytoes, potahtoes.”

I groaned and added, “There’s something even better to lure him with.”

“Better than hot farmers?” Judah looked incredulous.

“See for yourself.” I flipped the camera around to pan the lake and its surroundings and Judah drew a sharp breath.

“Holy shit.” He was still staring open-mouthed when I turned the camera back around. “Morgan would flip his lid at all that nature shit. I see a dirty long weekend in our future.” He wore a grin from ear to ear, which did wonders for my heart. Unlikely friends in so many ways, and yet somehow we clicked.

“He’d love it,” I agreed. “How’s the store? Have you seen Jam?”

Judah rolled his eyes. “As far as I know, it’s still standing.”

I glowered. “Don’t mess with me. It’s the first time I’ve let anyone run the place while I’m away. I don’t know how I let you talk me into it.”

“That’s because younevergo away for more than a couple of days,” he pointed out in what I considered an unnecessarily sharp tone. “And Jam’s not just some random. He runs his ownbusiness and you’ve known him for years. Admit it. You’re a control freak.”

I blinked at the audacity. “Pot, kettle, mister.”

“Hey,” Judah snapped. “How about you stop giving me grief and trythank you for helping me find someone, Judah?”

I was being an arse. “Thank you for helping, Judah. It’s just that my entire life is tied to that store.”

“Which is the subject for a very tedious conversation best saved for another day,” he responded dryly. “Now give me a tour of this cottage.” He leaned sideways like he could see around the phone. “Exactly how rustic are we talking?”

“Try a bazillion thread count sheets.” I got to my feet and began panning.

Judah’s eyes popped. “Shut the fuck up.”

“See for yourself.” I walked him around the immaculate two-bedroom white weatherboard cottage, starting with the covered veranda, then continued inside through the open-plan living, with its clean simple lines and warm honey-coloured floorboards. A three-seater couch and two deep armchairs faced a large stone fireplace stacked with the makings of a fire. A giant wooden coffee table filled the space between them atop a chunky charcoal rug. The rest of the soft furnishings were a tasteful mix of greys and creams with pops of pale apricot.

Everything was wheelchair accessible, including a section of lowered countertop in the small but efficient kitchen. Work from local artists adorned the walls and a packed floor-to-ceiling bookcase ensured plenty of reading material. The beds were comfortable. The linen was crisp and expensive, and Judah oohed and aahed all the way around.

When we were done, I returned to my chair on the veranda and smiled at Judah’s obvious appreciation. “Not bad, huh?”

“Yeah, okay, I’m officially jealous.”

“Tell Morgan there’s great fly fishing.”

“Shut. Up,” Judah hissed and gave a furtive look over his shoulder. “Did you miss the part where my husband is a fisheries officer? Whenever Icanmanage to drag him on vacation, he doesn’t need any other rod in his hands except mine, got it?”

I choked on a laugh. “Got it.”

When Judah finally let me hang up, I made a fresh mug of tea and returned to planning my day. After a quick trip into Oakwood supermarket, I aimed to plant my arse back in the wicker chair and start writing lists. The pros and cons of Hannah going to Nolan Academy the following year. Hannah appreciated a good list as much as I did so it seemed a decent place to start. Then I’d prep dinner, and maybe even read a book until I fell asleep. I hadn’t done that in years.

It was a good plan, but I hadn’t taken the roads into account or the jaw-dropping scenery. My quick trip into town ended up a slow amble along an endless stretch of gravel as I gawped through the windscreen with the hum of the tyres playing backup to the smooth vocals of Billie Eilish. Never gonna apologise for loving that particular set of pipes.

And since I was rarely alone in a vehicle, I made the most of it by singing along to “Ocean Eyes” without a flicker of shame for all the missed beats and dubious notes coming out of my mouth. Cruising through undulating golden tussock and surrounded by a crown of snow-capped peaks, Billie and I were a match made in heaven. Not sure she’d agree, of course. Then again, I wasn’t asking.

The gnawing in my gut eased with every kilometre the ute crawled toward the towns of Tekapo and Oakwood. It was hard to stay stressed with lambs littering the landscape as far as the eye could see—white puffs of energy cavorting after their weary mothers along the river flats. By the time I passed the huge rock carved with the nameMiller Station, I was slumped happily in my seat, right elbow out the open window, a smile on my face,wind blasting my hair, and my rough voice crowing loud enough to scare the cattle on the hills.

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