Page 44 of The Talk Around Town

First, two people who had meant the world to her—gone. And now this. She thought she’d found a place she could fit in, somewhere she felt welcome, but it was all a lie.

One big, fat, huge lie.

The only thing she could actually count on here in Kurrajong Crossing was a two-week-old bull calf. Another choked-back, hysterical sound escaped from her lips, mixing with the tears still streaming down her cheeks.

Oh, this is good. Hysteria issomy thing.

A goddamn calf, and maybe a friendship with a girl she’d known for less than four weeks. That was it. The sum total of her adult life.

No. She wouldn’t let one person with a bent against her ruin everything she was trying to achieve. She refused to. She liked it here. Alot. She wouldn’t give up. She had more gumption than that.

Emma brought both hands to her face, hiding from the brilliant light of the beautiful, cold stars above her. He’d kissed her. Really kissed her.

She’d felt it all the way to her bones. The tightening in her belly and the pleasure that had swamped her entire body had proved that underdifferent circumstances, if he’d asked, she would’ve gone to bed with him.

No qualms whatsoever.

What a joke. And the joke was on her.

She scrubbed viciously at her eyes with both hands, trying to rub away the evening, the last month, the last few years. Rolling to her knees, Emma stood and walked slowly to her front porch, dreading what the morning would bring with its bright, shiny light and perspective.

Her behaviour tonight had been beyond ridiculous. She’d gone on a date with a man the age of her grandfather, regardless that he’d insisted it wasn’t a date. She’d kissed another man, then slapped him silly, before running away like the kind of stupid twit she hated watching in B-grade movies.

She’d be lucky if half the town wasn’t questioning her sanity by daybreak. Gabe included.

What bothered her more than her behaviour though, was the realisation that Gabe was coming to mean far more than he should. Far more than was allowed. She’d made herself a promise before she left Perth.

No men.Ever again.

Men led to feelings. Feelings led to responsibility and responsibility led to pain. She’d had enough of both to last her well into the next life. She couldn’t let herself fall into that position again. The uncertainty, the pain when you realised that the one person you’d placed all your trust and hope in wasn’t the person they’d pretended to be after all. How could she be so stupid as to let herself wish for something that couldn’t be? That wouldn’t be returned. She needed to pull back, to stick to her original plan and rely only on herself.

It was better to stay alone. Safer.

Unhooking the long, thin strap of her small shoulder bag from around her neck, she stopped on the top step under her porch light and dug for her keys. Sighing, she slid the key into her lock and turned, pushing open the door to an empty house.

Empty was good. Empty meant no ties.

Emma shut the door gently behind her. She turned the key and heard the lock tumble into place. She padded down the hall, flicking offlights as she went. She never came home to a dark house. Ghosts lived there.

With the whole house dark but for her bedroom, Emma stripped off her dress—one that she could now admit she’d worn for Gabe—and dropped it where it fell. She yanked the comforter down and crawled into the bed, flopping onto her back on the pillows. She stared sightlessly at the shadows the lamp on her nightstand threw over the ceiling. Her phone would trill out its alarm when Ralph was due for his next feed. She had at least an hour.

She wiped at her now itchy face. The tears had dried in place, a stark warning to not place her trust in others. She felt too raw to bother washing the evidence from her face. She reached across the bed and dropped her hand to the top drawer of the bedside table, sliding it open. Her fingers slid across cold glass. She hooked a finger beneath the frame that surrounded the glass, pulled it from the drawer and hugged it to her chest.

Her heart hurt so badly. She couldn’t look at it. Couldn’t look at the happy, smiling face of the toddler in the photo. Holding it would be enough. It would have to be. Sasha was gone. There would never be anything else.

A sob burst from her and echoed in the large room. She stretched out her hand to the lamp and plunged the room into complete darkness.

Chapter Nineteen

Gabe tuned outMs Reardon’s endless chatter.

Her miniature poodle, Cleopatra, sat on his examination table. A lovely looking precious little mutt that was spoiled rotten. He didn’t think the dog had ever walked on grass or dirt in its entire life.

Perhaps she’d never walked anywhere.

Gabe stripped off his gloves and considered Ms Emelia Reardon, divorcee extraordinaire. In her mid-forties, the woman was stunning, always dressed to perfection, always had the right thing to say.

Husband number five had been shed only three months ago and Gabe could see she was back on the hunt. This time he believed her sights may well have turned in his direction. Shaking his head, he knew he had to act fast.

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