Page 22 of Secrets of Riverside

‘Sorry.’ Caught red-handed, she darted her gaze away from him. ‘It’s just, well, I really like the way you look at the world around you, like you’re breathing it all in.’

‘I really like how you noticed that, because I am.’ His sincere gaze was upon hers now.

Caught up, captivated, charmed, she almost tumbled into all that he was. Time seemed to grind to a halt, hover, linger, crescendo, and then tick back into rhythm once again. And thankfully so, because she needed to catch the breath he’d just effortlessly stolen from her. She took the moment to untangle herself from him and instead looked above, where she spotted a fruit dangling from the branches of a tall shrub-like tree.

Pointing upwards, she turned to him. ‘Can we eat that?’

‘We sure can, but not in its natural form.’ He stood, rose on his toes, then plucked one of the purple hairy-skinned fruit from the shrub and held it out to her.

Puzzled, she met his gaze as she took it from him. ‘What is it?’

‘That little beauty is a native Davidson plum.’ His eyes were vibrant with enthusiasm. ‘You don’t want to eat it like that, though, because it’ll have your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth it’s so sour.’

She sniffed it. ‘What good are they then, if you can’t eat them?’

‘People mainly use it to make jam, and there’s a really tasty wine too.’

‘Ha.’ She gently rolled it around in her hands. ‘People will turn almost anything into alcohol, hey?’

‘Uh-huh,’ he nodded, ‘if given half a chance.’ Scruff emerged from the water, and Jarrah quickly held out his hand. ‘You better get up, or Scruff’s going to shake half the river all over you.’

Taking his hand, she allowed him to tug her to her feet, where his gaze met hers and stayed there. There was so much depth within the mirrors to his soul that she could almost feel the touch of his stare. His eyes were such a fathomless blue, she immersed herself so deeply within him, she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to resurface. So, tearing her eyes from his, she quickly looked down at her feet, as though they were objects of deep fascination.

A metre separated them now, but she longed to close the gap.

No! she told herself. Do not go there with him!

‘Sorry I was MIA last night. I’ve had a heap of dreaded paperwork to catch up on before my GST is due, but tonight I’m free, so would you like me to fire up the barbecue and we can have a couple of beers to wash dinner down?’

Longing to be in his company overcame her instinct to hide away in her bedroom. ‘Okay, that sounds good.’

His smile told her just how happy her acceptance of his invitation made him. ‘Come on then, Miss Millie, I’ll give you a lift back.’

She looked past him and tipped her head. ‘In what?’

‘Not in what.’ He chuckled at her look of confusion. ‘On my horse.’

She pointed up the rise. ‘You got your horse parked and waiting for you up there?’

‘Ha ha, yes, kind of.’ Taking steps, he glanced back over his shoulder at her. ‘I’m not crazy enough to walk all the way down here.’

‘Why not? I did.’

‘Well then, you’ve made it official.’ His deep laughter was addictive. ‘You’re now legitimately nuts.’

‘I can be sometimes, I suppose.’ She laughed along with him, and at herself too. ‘But it’s what makes me interesting, don’t you reckon?’

He stopped at the top and turned to face her again. ‘I reckon I’d have to agree with you.’

His cheeky smile all but bowled her head over feet, back down to the water’s edge. ‘I reckon you might also be one of my kind,’ she said, by way of banter.

‘And I’d have to agree with you on that one, too.’ He stopped at his horse’s side. ‘This is Waylon. Ladies first.’ He offered a hand to help her up and onto the gorgeous stockhorse.

With his assistance, she slipped her shoe into the stirrup, took hold of the saddle horn, and reefed herself up the rest of the way. Waylon proved his worth and didn’t budge, just patiently waited for her to get settled. Sitting tall, she felt a rush of adrenaline, followed by an encompassing euphoria. It had been a long while since she’d been in the saddle, a little over fifteen years to be exact. The last time had been with her mum, a week before her entire world had been flipped upside down and inside out. But even the painful reminder of her loss, and the resounding echo of her crushing heartbreak, couldn’t erase the ear-to-ear smile planted on her face. With a spring in his step and a sweep of his leg, Jarrah effortlessly followed suit and settled himself in front of her. Scruff circled the ground beside them, clearly eager to make the trek back home. Waylon tipped his head a little, briefly bringing his muzzle to Scruff’s.

Reins now in his hands, Jarrah slowly turned Waylon towards home. ‘You all good back there, Millie?’

‘Yes, thanks.’ Relishing the sound of the saddle and the casual clip-clop of hoofs, she was better than good.

---