Page 24 of Higher Ground
Besides, Emory was in her twenties. Of course she wouldn’t want to move in with a middle-aged man, and of course she wasn’t going to fall in love with him. Knowing that didn’t turn off the sheer attraction he had for the woman, but it was an icy dose of reality.
Chapter 11
Emory
The house was empty as Emory trudged all the groceries inside. For a moment, she had wondered where Byron and Clayton were, but after lighting her new candle she’d found the box of condoms deep in one of the shopping bags and her neck had rolled with relief. At least Byron wouldn’t have to see them.
She could still feel the embarrassment on her cheeks. She hadn’t exactly said where she was staying, but there was only one house within a two-hour radius she could have been referring to. The town might have sat along the banks of a creek, but it and the main road were spread on one side of the waterway. The only bridge in Gardner Creek led to one place: Byron’s farm. Jaxon had to have known where she was going. And thanks to his outburst, everyone in the supermarket knew too. And they knew that she was buying condoms. It was only a matter of time before that juicy bit of gossip was spread down the phone tree.
Emory supposed that she should tell Byron. That his son was back in town, sure, but also that the whole town knew she was staying at Gardner Farm, and she thought she would need condoms.
Leaving the food and art supplies and books and toys spread over the kitchen bench, she held the condom box under the hem of her jumper. If she just raced it to the bedroom, she could try to explain the whole situation to Byron before he saw them. She side-stepped around the bench, holding the box hidden.
Byron and Clayton weren’t in the house, but Miff and the quad bikes were also missing. And despite his oversized ute in the driveway, Tucker was also not around. No doubt the men were taking the last chance to check the farm before the water rose. As Emory traipsed awkwardly toward the hall, she wondered how high it would get, how much of the hill surrounding the farmhouse would be left uncovered.
“Mummy!”
Shit.
She was too far from the hallway to make a mad dash, but she couldn’t exactly pull the box out now. Clayton would probably be fascinated with the almost secret box. His little mind might assume its a packet of lollies. Thinking quickly, Emory tucked the box into the waistband of her leggings. The sharp edges dug into her hip bone, but the baggy hoodie she wore hid its harsh square shape.
She threw her arms in front of her just in time, catching Clayton before he rammed into her legs. His muddy boots left brown footprints across the tiles, and as he jumped in front of her, dirt splattered off the soles and onto the flooring.
“Clayton, shoes.”
Rolling her eyes, she bent down and carefully peeled the gumboots off his feet. The condom box poked her, sliding lower in her leggings. She wasn’t sure how long it would hold. With the boots at arm’s length, she tried to stand, but Clayton clung to her leg, and she wobbled on her feet.
“Here, I’ll take them.” Byron surprised her, although she wasn’t entirely sure why. Logic told her that he would haveentered the house with Clayton, but she hadn’t exactly thought that through. She jumped at the sound of his gravelly voice, making Clayton giggle against her crouched legs. He cheered and clapped, bouncing himself as though this were a game. Emory lost her balance. She dropped the gumboots in a desperate attempt to stay upright, but it was no use. She toppled backward until she landed on the floor with a thud. Pain shot through her back.
Before she could stop him, Clayton leapt onto her, worming his way up her body until he could throw his arms around her neck. Relaxing her head back against the cold tiles, Emory hugged him tight until he stilled, and the piercing pain in her butt began to ease. There was no stopping the burn of horror at the fact she’d fallen on her ass twice now.
For a second, and only a second, she forgot what she was trying to keep hidden under her jumper. She didn’t think about it as Clayton’s wriggling made the hem ride up. It wasn’t until she heard Byron’s little chuckle that she remembered. She scrambled to get Clayton off her chest so she could pull the grey hoodie back down, but it was too late. Byron had seen.
“Clayton, you want to get the cars out? We’ll race ‘em once I help Mummy, okay?”
Clayton pushed off Emory as he stood. She coughed as his weight dropped onto her chest, but he ran away into the living room. Toys crashed as he tipped out the tub in search of the small die-cut cars. Emory made no such move to get up. She’d stay there, on the floor, thanks. Maybe if she was still enough, the faded black of her leggings and deep grey of her hoodie would camouflage into the colour of the tiles, and Byron wouldn’t see her. Again, obviously.
“What’s all this?” From across the room, Byron’s voice was the perfect mix of light-hearted and guttural. It stirred just about everything in Emory, and she pressed her hands into the tiles toget away. The floor was cold against her skin, the chill seeping through the thin fabric of her leggings.
When she opened her eyes, she saw that Byron had dropped Clayton’s shoes in the basket by the back door and was now returning to the kitchen. The corner of his mouth was pressed into his cheek, and he walked with his hands in the pockets of his jeans and his head high. He didn’t look at her, still lying prone on the floor.
Sighing, Emory got up. She tugged at her hoodie.
“I already saw them,” Byron said, clearing his throat. So maybe he could see her through the corner of his eyes. “Can’t imagine the box is particularly comfortable shoved down your pants.”
Emory could think of things shedidwant shoved down her pants. None of them were box-shaped. But also,stop. Why was she like this? Why couldn’t she keep her cool around this man? She’d spent three years pining over him from afar, so why was it that the second she had to live in the same house as Byron, all her cool went out the window? No, further. It was all the way down the creek with yesterday’s rain.
She kept her eyes down as she pulled the box from under her clothes and dropped it onto the counter. It bounced, landing next to the cheap watercolour palette she’d bought for Clayton.
“For what it’s worth,” Byron added. His voice dropped an octave, and the grovelling tone made Emory whimper. “I don’t think it was a bad idea.” He knocked his knuckles on the bench.
Sweeping up the books she’d collected from the library, Emory added the box of condoms to the stack. It teetered in her hands, but she steadied the pile with her chin. “I’ll get these out of the way, then come back to help with the groceries.”
“Where are you taking them?”
Emory scrunched her nose. “Ahh, my room? You don’t need all my books taking over the house. Clayton’s toys are bad enough.”
“I wasn’t talking about the books, Emory.”
