Page 37 of Cinderella and the Outback Billionaire

When Reid finally walked her to the Cinderella truck that he insisted she drive home, there were plans afoot for her new landscape-design company and for her to take up residence in one of the Cooper’s Creek station lodges from next week onwards.

Whatever this was that flowed back and forth between them like gossamer strands of an ever-growing spiderweb, she’d surrendered to it.

She would shelve her defences and see where it led and maybe that was the greatest takeaway gift of the evening.

Not the pretty clothes or the access to information, but her willingness to believe in possibilities of her own making. With a little help from a friend.

CHAPTER TEN

A WEEK LATER, with the contents of her bedsit sold to strangers and her more prized possessions stored at Gert’s place, Ari set out for her new accommodation. She had her faithful old ute back in her possession and it was running better than ever on account of its new engine, new tyres, and some kind of satellite link that had been added to the dash. The satellite technology gave her GPS, Internet and music, no matter which direction she travelled or how remote her destination.

It was amazing.

When she’d wanted to pay for the upgrades, Reid had waved her offer away with a steely glare. When she’d broached the subject of paying rent, he’d countered with, ‘I broke your tent, now you get to use my accommodation. It’s a fair exchange. Besides, there’s a brown boronia, a Sturt’s desert pea, and half a dozen grafted grevilleas waiting for you at the lodge and I’m challenging you to keep them alive.’

Go with it. Just go with it. Accept the challenge and give it your best shot.

And here she was, parking her car outside the fancifully named Red Gum Lodge, given that it consisted of rammed-earth walls and a corrugated-iron roof covered in solar panels. The only timber she could see was on the north-east-facing deck, and the framing of the tall, narrow windows set deeply into the walls. The cabin would be cool inside, even with the evaporative air-conditioning unit turned off. Large concrete water tanks had been buried in the ground and the tops provided a large open area between the two lodges. The tanks had been outlined with rock walls and in the centre, the remnants of a campfire. People, yes. Vehicles, no. It was functional space, but not beautiful. The bones were there but it had been let go.

Someone had made an effort to plant trees and shrubs around the buildings, and the extensive notes Reid had given her about the original design revealed that there were greywater recycling systems in place. A quick lap around both lodges told her that water capture didn’t seem to be happening.

Each apartment had two or three bedrooms, one bathroom, two toilets, and separate living, dining and kitchen areas. No open-plan beauties for this build—the architect had wanted inhabitants to be able to close off different areas of the house for better temperature control. The furnishings were high end and the colour scheme was earthy and relaxing. Gorgeous landscape photographs, taken by Reid’s sister-in-law Bridie, hung on the walls, bringing the outside in.

Her apartment, a two-bedder, was the nicest place she’d ever lived in. She didn’t have much to bring in and after that she stood on the deck and looked clear to the horizon as a playful wind whipped at her hair and rustled narrow leaves.

She couldn’t resist stretching her arms wide and twirling in delight at her good fortune.

Even if it had come at the expense of Reid’s misfortune.

The thought sobered her, and she stopped twirling and lifted her face to the sky and pleaded for Reid’s well-being.

Gert had confided that Reid’s latest health check hadn’t brought with it the good news he’d hoped for. Ari had only spent that one evening with him in Brisbane, but towards the end of it she’d begun to get a feel for how hard he worked to make his stride look normal, his eyesight seem normal, his recovery appear complete.

It was a charade he’d kept up until the very end and it had troubled her, even if she’d chosen not to confront him about it.

Unpacking felt like coming home.

Boxes in the spare bedroom and her toiletries cluttering up the bathroom. She opened windows to take the stuffiness out of the air, and turned on the hot-water system and pump, and the air con as well. Groceries in the kitchen and her clothes in the bedroom cupboard.

Clothes that included the dazzling casual outfit Reid had bought for her, and she showered with the water still cold and slipped the top and trousers on and the pretty sandals too, before heading outside and taking a selfie with the sunset in the background, her hair whipping around her face and her smile as wide as it ever got. It was a good picture, even if it wasn’t up to Bridie Starr standards.

Trusting her instincts, she sent the selfie to Reid. Maybe he could make it big on his computer screen if he couldn’t see a smaller phone version.

Tease, he texted back a couple of minutes later. Settling in?

Beautiful home, she wrote back.

Moments later another message announced its arrival with a ping.

Not too isolated?

No.

Solitude had long been her friend and she had plenty to be going on with. Cairns would have been a nice change, she was sure, but this stark, unforgiving landscape was her happy place.

Thank you for the push. And for believing me.

My pleasure.

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