Page 2 of A Chance to Believe

‘Call me Cassie and yes, please.’

The girl poured out four glasses of water and handed one to Cassie and another to Ben. Taking one for herself, she perched on the arm of the other empty armchair. ‘What brings you here, Cassie?’ She placed a sarcastic emphasis on the name, but this time, Ben didn’t bother to reprimand her.

Cassie indicated the bag. ‘Your father left some things behind when he visited last year. I was in the district, so I’m returning them.’

Kim snorted. ‘You should have posted them instead of driving all this way. You are from the city, aren’t you?’

‘How do you know?’

‘Dad doesn’t date locally. He thinks it’s not good for me to know he’s off getting shagged. He waits until he goes to Brisbane.’

‘Kimberley.’ Ben slammed his drink onto the small table beside his chair. ‘Don’t be rude.’

‘I’m telling it like it is in case “Cassie” gets any ideas. He won’t marry you. He didn’t even marry my mother when she got pregnant.’

The sudden hollowness in her belly came out of nowhere. She sipped at her water, hoping it was more about needing something in her stomach than the comment from Kimberley about Shayne not marrying her mother. Not that Cassie was after marriage. It somehow didn’t resonate with the man she’d thought Shayne Smith had been. But he’d taken responsibility and they obviously lived here with him. She placed the empty glass on the coffee table with more care than Ben had used. ‘I’m not chasing your father, Kim. I’m returning something of his while I was in the district, and I was hoping to catch up on some … business. It’s obviously not convenient. I should go.’

‘Go where?’ The deep voice from the doorway sent her pulse haywire. ‘I thought you were going to ring when you arrived in town so I could meet you there.’

Having seen the daughter and brother, his impact should have been less. It hit her in the gut and stole her breath. She struggled to her feet, still clutching the bag. ‘I had time to spare, and I thought … It doesn’t matter. I’ll head off. Back to town. Back home.’ Anywhere but here with his family looking on.

‘Look, if you can hang on a few minutes, I’ll go get changed and we can talk.’

The swipe of his hand down his body forced her to look directly at him. His jeans and long-sleeved checked shirt were wet and muddy, and he’d shed his boots somewhere, leaving his large feet in thick work socks. Even his face had a smear of mud on the rugged square jawed features, blending into the light brown beard. The facial hair was new. He’d been clean shaven six months ago. It was neat and closely trimmed, unlike his brother’s shaggy locks.

She could only imagine his hat had saved the bulk of his thick hair because the ends dripped water down his muscular neck and the rest remained dry. He was stocky, but she knew it was all muscle. All brawn and plenty of brain. An attractive combination she still felt in the pit of her stomach.

His mouth twitched as if he knew what she was thinking. ‘I had an argument with a stopcock.’

Why was she thinking wicked thoughts? Cassie had seen him wet before. Wet and naked. Her body reacted predictably. This was what she’d been afraid of all those months ago when she’d forced herself to walk away. He was too much. Meant too much. She had to control this thing she sensed between them. He’d been talking about his farm work no matter where her mind had wandered.

She knew what a stopcock was, and he hadn’t said it with obvious innuendo. Or had he? There was something about the glint in those eyes that brought out the green.

She collapsed into the chair; her legs too wobbly to sustain her. She blinked away the image, breathing herself into a hard-won serenity.

He turned away with a warning glance at his daughter. He yanked the shirt over his head as he walked out the door, leaving her with the doubtful joy of seeing his broad back in a navy singlet, muscles bunching as he ran one hand through his hair, sending water droplets flying. She’d seen those strong limbs in action. Felt them. All of them.

Dragging her attention back, she met the accusing gaze of his daughter. The coincidence of identical clothes didn’t escape her this time. This girl worshipped her father and any of his girlfriends, women friends, would have to compete with it. Where was the girl’s mother? ‘Is your mum around?’

The pained expression on the girl’s face showed she’d blundered. She hoped the woman wasn’t dead.

‘She’s in South Dakota. On a ranch.’

‘She lives there permanently?’

‘With a new family. I have two half-brothers.’ There was a world of hurt in the words, even with the touch of pride in mentioning her brothers.

‘Really? I have a half-brother. Do you see them much?’

‘Not for nearly five years.’

It was a long time for a child. She must have been only ten or eleven. Was that the last time she’d seen her mother? No wonder she clung to her father. This was awkward. She should have done as he suggested, contacting him from town and meeting up at the pub. The complications of family hadn’t occurred to her when she’d asked the woman at the petrol station where to find Maidens Hill.

The girl must have recognised the concern in her face because she lifted her chin. ‘We Skype all the time.’

Shayne’s brother, Ben, was sitting half slouched on the chair, the almost empty glass held loosely in his hand, his wrist resting on his thigh. His narrowed gaze had a speculative gleam.

Cassie pushed aside her embarrassment. ‘You work here with Shayne?’

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