Page 12 of Stockman's Sandstorm

The kid squinted at the bright sunlight, with a giggle that was stinking cute. But his skin was so pale and shiny under the harsh outback sun.

He removed his own hat to shade the child. ‘If you’re going to stick around, you need a hat. Every stockman needs a hat. Or should we call you a junior jackeroo? JJ?’

‘J-J?’ Mason squinted his eyes as if getting his mind around the word. ‘J-J.’

No way. The kid beamed at Ash like he was the sun, the stars, and the moon. No one looked at Ash like that.

But the burden of owning a station and now a small child was too much to carry at once. With twenty-seven days to go, he would just look at this like a babysitting gig. Then his life could go back to normal.

Seven

It had to be the world’s smallest supermarket, yet it was crammed with the most amazing selection of foods from fresh fruit and vegetables, to a deli filled with various cheeses and specialty meats. More importantly it stocked shortbread. In particular, Harper’s favourite brand.

‘Hello, my beautiful buttery friends.’ Harper snatched up a fancy red packet, her fingers trembling, in desperate need of a sugar fix. Never mind she hadn’t paid for the biscuits yet, but she opened the packet and took one out. Sure, she was eating her feelings, but this was an emotional time, for heaven’s sake. Her boss wanted her back in the office, her staff were leaving her a dozen emails every hour, and her phone hadn’t stopped beeping with message after message.

Couldn’t they cope without her for a few weeks?

Sure, she loved playing superhero, averting political catastrophes, but to the world she was just a face in the crowd, the prop holding up the puppet the public came to see. Harper never wanted to be the face that wielded the power, like her father. She just solved problems and was known as the fixer.

But this was one problem she couldn’t fix with a few phone calls and a dozen emails. No, this problem had forced her to take an unplanned holiday, fighting brain fog as she struggled with all this free time she had on her hands. Normally she was always busy, racing to beat time. But being on holiday was different. Worse, the Northern Territory had its own impression of time: slow.

Yet when the shortbread’s buttery, delicately sweet, and deliciously gritty texture crumbled onto her tongue, she closed her eyes and sighed as time stopped for just a crystal-clear moment of blissful peace. Once again, all was good in the world, and maybe she was ready to deal with what came next.

With a grin growing, she eagerly snatched the other three packets from the shelf and filled her small basket and continued searching for something wonderful for her tastebuds. Normally she did this to fill her bottom desk drawer for midnight sugar rushes, when they raced against deadlines. No need for drugs, or other stimulants, just the job’s latest crisis. A job she used to love, but now avoided.

She strolled around the corner and nearly smacked into another cowboy. They were everywhere, as if harvested from some nearby field, then delivered to populate the small town of Elsie Creek.

What’s worse, the pub was full of cowboys.

Sadly, the Elsie Creek Hotel was the only place to stay in town. It’s also where the cowboys congregated, all trying to chat her up.

Harper didn’t do small talk, not when she was so busy working, and she’d had the luxury of an assistant, or a soldier in a suit, trained to keep the public away. But she was on her own on this little unplanned holiday, where loneliness had never felt so … lonely. It only revealed her social awkwardness and the depth of disconnect that had her poor, achy heart echo with emptiness.

Ever since she’d landed back in Australia, she hadn’t been able to shake that layer of suffocating loneliness, nor clear that muddle of brain fog that stopped her from thinking straight.

At least this wonderfully quaint supermarket sold her favourite brand of shortbread. If she bought enough food, she could hide in her room and avoid everyone until she could pick up her car’s new tyre. Then she could get back on track. Or, at least, work out a plan over dinner.

Harper was used to eating alone, eating meals she never tasted, and was very much used to the taste of cold coffee. All while her mind focused on the never-ending stream of documents, emails, and memos from other departments, with her phone glued to her ear. That’s if she wasn’t walking the marble floors of large, cold buildings, or getting in and out of vehicles that came with drivers that whizzed her to and from airports. She rarely saw her apartment.

Only the heavenly sweetness of shortbread made her stop and provide her full and undivided attention. It was her Achilles’ heel.

But the butt in those perfectly fitted jeans of the guy taking up space in the supermarket aisle sure was cute. ‘Excuse me.’

‘Yeah, sure, Miss.’ He stood with his back to her so she could scoot past. ‘Hey, I know you. Harper, right?’

She stopped with her mouth full, desperate to wipe the crumbs off her face. Oh, no! She swallowed hard on the dry biscuit. It was that gorgeous, smiling cowboy who’d changed her car’s tyre. ‘Ash. With … oh.’ At the sight of the boy, her heart literally came stuck in her throat, or was it the dryness from eating shortbread she struggled to swallow, as tears threatened to form.

‘This is Mason. Hey, do you know of a decent baby medicine?’ Ash showed her a shopping list, where baby paracetamol topped the list. ‘He’s teething.’

She couldn’t take her eyes off the boy, who seemed excited to see her. ‘Hello, gorgeous.’

‘They say he takes after me in looks.’

She rolled her eyes as she spoke to the child. ‘Hopefully you’ll have a humble streak like your mother.’

‘Er, yeah.’ Ash roughly wiped away his cheeky smile. ‘His mother died.’

Again, her heart squeezed, along with that sudden need to cry or eat more shortbread. She wasn’t meant to be this emotional. ‘The poor little guy.’ She couldn’t help herself and let his little fingers wrap around hers. ‘Want some shortbread? It’s good for the soul.’ She handed Mason a piece of biscuit.

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