Page 98 of Stockman's Sandstorm

‘Where were you when it happened?’

‘Out with Darcie. We’d been mustering when Darcie’s old man rode out and told us they’d found Jack Price murdered, his wife Pen missing, and Harry and his car were gone.’

Charlie sighed, staring down at the hat he held between his two hands, showing his age in the deep wrinkles crowding around his sad grey eyes. ‘My brother left without saying goodbye. I know he wouldn’t do that, like I know my brother wouldn’t murder anyone. Harry wasn’t like that. Thankfully, Darcie believed the same, which is why he let me stay on, even if his father was deadset against it.’

He then slapped on his hat and stood. ‘Anyhoodle, I thought I’d let you mob know first, before the bush telegraph kicks into overdrive.’

‘Charlie, we aren’t kicking you out over this.’ Ash wasn’t afraid to stare down his brothers. He liked Charlie, who was a damned good stockman with lots of tips and tricks he’d shared with Ash in the short time they’d lived here. ‘We’re not kicking anyone out.’ He tenderly patted Harper’s knee, hoping she got the message.

Forty-three

Later that night, after Harper finished washing the dishes, she tidied up the lounge, then turned off the TV, which unleashed a heavy silence as everyone had gone to bed.

Again, she’d failed to talk to Ash, but she needed to before Leo exposed her.

At Ash’s bedroom door, she held up her fist, about to knock, but didn’t. She couldn’t.

Curling her fingers into a tighter fist, she started to walk away, only to turn around and stare at his bedroom door, trying to find the courage to knock. She brushed down her cotton dress, inhaled, while rehearsing the conversation in her head.

‘Boo.’

She slapped a hand over her mouth to stop her squeal.

Ash chuckled, leaning a strong shoulder against the corridor wall.

‘Where did you come from?’

‘Bathroom.’ He ruffled his hair, damp from the shower. ‘What are you doing skulking around in front of my door?’

‘I wasn’t skulking.’

His dark eyes, laced with humour, studied her, the intensity of them making her skin prickle. ‘So …’

‘So,’ she parroted.

Not that smile. Not the one with the dimple.

She pinched herself to focus and cleared her throat. ‘We need to talk.’

‘Not when you say it like that, we don’t.’

‘Yes, we do.’

‘Not in the corridor.’ He pushed open his door.

‘I’m not going in there.’ Especially when he was just wearing a towel. Again.

‘Do you time this on purpose?’ He swaggered towards her, his gaze lingering and warm on her skin.

‘What?’ There was no ignoring his existence, and that focus of his, and all that bare bronzed skin with the perfect set of abs.

‘Catching me in my towel.’ The towel that hung low on his hips.

‘Why … What? No.’

His eyes were bright, and his lips twitched as if he wanted to smile but wouldn’t. He was toying her with her. Again.

She stepped back, but he only stepped in closer, placing his hands flat against the wall on either side of her head. It made her stiffen. ‘Ash.’

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