Page 9 of Outback Reunion

‘That’s very judgemental of you, Mrs Brady,’ piped up Frankie from behind the counter, giving Mark a knowing grin.

‘Frankie, you’re far too young to understand but when I was young—’

‘In the dark ages,’ he heard her mutter under her breath, and smirked. Frankie, another one of his childhood buddies, had always been fun.

‘Whenever gypsies came to town, all sorts of felonies and debauchery occurred. These folk live by their own rules, and they just don’t have the same morals as the rest of us.’

Frankie rolled her eyes and addressed Mark. ‘What can I get for you?’

He cleared his throat. ‘Just a flat white to go, please—one sugar—and one of your homemade dog biscuits,’ which would hopefully keep Rookie quiet while he was doing his shopping.

‘Coming right up.’ She smiled and turned towards the coffee machine.

Thankfully, a woman and her daughter came into the café and Eileen resumed her sermon on them, so Mark moved off to the side to avoid further interaction.

A couple of minutes later, Frankie handed him a recyclable takeaway cup. ‘Here you go. Have a good day.’

‘Thanks. You too.’

He found Rookie yapping her little head off as she tried to squeeze through the gap in the window. You’d think Mark had left her for a year, not barely five minutes.

‘Stop being such a sook,’ he chastised her as he shoved the bone-shaped biscuit through the window, before walking down the footpath towards the supermarket, sipping his drink as he went.

Because it was school holidays, there were more kids than usual around, all of them in boardshorts and thongs, whining at their parents about going to the beach and buying lollies. Hoping to avoid anyone else he knew, he grabbed a basket and kept his head low as he went quickly up and down the aisles, grabbing milk, bread, eggs, mince, pasta and Vegemite—all a bachelor needed to survive. He was turning into the aisle with the chocolate, deliberating whether to add some for when the late-night munchies inevitably hit, when he ran straight into someone’s trolley.

‘Sorry about—’ he began, but the words died on his tongue, because standing less than two feet away was the woman who’d vanished on him eight years ago.

Holy shit.

His jaw literally dropped, and he was helpless but to gawk at her. Her dewy skin glowed without make-up, her dark, almond-shaped eyes sparkled, and her hair the colour of milk chocolate was tied up in a messy ponytail. She wore a simple black singlet, tiny denim shorts that showed off her perfectly toned, sun-kissed legs, and chunky work boots on her feet.

If anything, she was even more beautiful than he remembered.

‘Gabriela?’

He couldn’t believe it. That night in Melbourne, he’d been feeling down in the dumps until she’d walked into his local pub and almost made him forget his woes. Back then, he’d had plenty of girls throwing themselves at him, so he’d never really had to make a first move, and he definitely hadn’t gone out planning to score, but the moment he’d laid eyes on her, his legs had started moving in her direction.

And his plans for an early night had gone up in smoke.

Now, he shook his head slightly—holy hell—wondering if he was still actually in bed, asleep, because he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t dreamed about running into her again. They may have only had one night together but it was one of the best nights of his life and he’d never forgotten her.

‘Mark?’ she whispered, her hand pressed against her chest.

Sherecognisedhimtoo. And she remembered his name.

He glanced down at her trolley, which held alotof food. About five loaves of bread, six litres of milk, lots of mince and sausages. Had she had ten kids in the eight years since they’d met? And more to the point, what was Gabriela and her massive brood doing inhistown?

‘What are you doing here?’ they blurted at the same time.

He chuckled nervously. ‘I live here.’

She blinked. ‘This is where your farm is?’ When he nodded, she added, ‘It seems like a lovely place. And the beach is gorgeous.’

‘Are you holidaying here?’ It had to be the only explanation. If a woman like Gabriela had moved to Bunyip Bay, the bush telegraph would have been buzzing with the news.

‘No, I’m working.’ She rubbed her lips together. ‘You may have seen us setting up on the oval?’

‘You’re with thecircus?’Wow.Maybe that accounted for the full trolley—she was feeding the troops or rathertroupe. When she’d told him she was a dancer all those years ago, he’d assumed she meant musical theatre or something like that.

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