Page 20 of Wings Above the Mallee

Sean picked up one of the pens from the jar on her desk and spun it idly between his fingers. ‘You’d be right, but I can’t say that we’ve managed to integrate into the community too well.’

Amelia shuffled some papers, trying not to stare at him. Sean was a good-looking man, his eyes an almost electric blue. And, now that Heath’s inexplicable hostility toward her the previous week had toned down, she’d noticed that he had his father’s eyes. Clearly not his disposition, though. ‘Integrating can be overrated.’

‘Thought you were a small-town girl? Integrating’s mandatory, isn’t it?’

‘Not if you move around often enough,’ Amelia said, her gaze travelling beyond Sean as Heath entered the room.

‘Probably the most intelligent thing I’ve heard this afternoon,’ Heath said gruffly. ‘You done, Dad?’

Sean cocked an eyebrow. ‘Social battery fully discharged already?’

Heath snorted. ‘You know it no longer charges.’

Kinship sparked in Amelia. She dropped the arms she’d automatically crossed over her chest. ‘Sometimes it’s all hard work, isn’t it?’ she said. She always tried to sound upbeat, not give any inkling of the pain inside. But it was exhausting.

Heath scowled at her. ‘Hard work at least has a reward.’

The spark fizzled and died. The only ‘hard work’ was making polite conversation with this perpetually surly man. She angled so her shoulder blocked him and turned her full attention to Sean. ‘Have you had any more problems with foxes?’

Sean shook his head. ‘Not yet. But lambing is only just getting into full swing. I can’t pretend I know too much about the business, but my gut feeling is that foxes will only go after the injured or orphaned lambs, so I’m hoping it won’t be too much of an issue. In any case, I’m sure Heath will scare them away. Possibly even without firearms.’

As she lifted Karmaa from the crate, Amelia risked a glance at Heath from beneath her eyelashes. To her surprise, an unwilling grin had lifted one side of his mouth, perhaps acknowledging his father’s jab.

‘Taylor mentioned that one of the local guys, Paul Schenscher, I think, breeds working dogs,’ she said. ‘He has a litter nearly ready to go. Perhaps that’d be your solution.’ She tickled Karmaa’s velour-soft chin. ‘I’d love to get one myself, but no room in the Jabby for more passengers.’

‘You’re planning on taking off again?’ Sean asked.

‘Once the job here finishes up—which might be sooner than I anticipated.’

‘Sounded to me like your boss was just throwing around a bit of muscle,’ Heath said.

‘I suspect my boss was trying to impress you with her management technique.’

Heath grunted, but she wasn’t sure whether it was disgust at the possibility of Faelie flirting or at her assessment of the situation, so she rushed on. ‘In any case, I don’t stop anywhere long enough for it to be fair on a dog.’

‘That doesn’t sound all bad,’ Heath mulled. ‘No strings, no ties, no responsibilities.’

Yeah, and no love, no family, no future.

‘Why?’ Sean cut across her thoughts.

‘Why, what?’ she almost stammered, unaccustomed to such overt questioning.

‘Why do you avoid settling? Always been a bit of a gypsy?’

He couldn’t be more wrong. The buried memories of domesticity that flashed into her mind were almost overwhelming: an apron tied around her waist as she iced tiny cupcakes and set sparkly candles in them; slathering little hands with poster paint to form stamps on Christmas cards; hiding Easter eggs around the homestead—then re-hiding them to prolong the shrieks of joy that accompanied each find. A wave of sorrow and grief welled inside, and she felt her chin wobble, the too-ready tears form.

She busied herself putting Karmaa back in the crate, then snatched up the light backpack she preferred to a handbag. ‘No. Not always,’ she said briefly, surprising herself with the admission. It would have been safer to lie.

‘Not got a hankering to put down roots anywhere, though?’ Sean asked.

God, why wouldn’t he stop? ‘Roots rot,’ she said shortly, making for the door.

‘Can’t argue with that,’ Heath said as she brushed past him. ‘Everything dies.’

What the hell would he know?

Gavin and Hannah were already at the pub by the time she’d taken Karmaa home, fed him and the magpie, and let the possum loose in a closed bedroom for the evening. The truth was, she’d dawdled; today had been a lot of time spent with a lot of people, and she wasn’t accustomed tofending off so much interest, carefully skirting inquiries into her personal life.

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