Page 76 of Stockman's Stormcloud

‘How long has it been since you’ve seen the place?’

‘Nine days.’

It was a simple enough dwelling. A black front door was flanked by large windows on either side, and a verandah thatonly held a doormat and some boots. There were no pot plants, or wind chimes, not even a comfy cane chair like at the caretaker’s cottage to give it that lived-in look.

Dex pushed open the front door. ‘No flipping way…’

Carrying the cat, Sophie closed the door behind her and put the cat down on the polished concrete floor. ‘This is nice.’ She could still smell the paint, but it wasn’t irritating among the other floral scents trying to disguise it.

‘Are you flipping kidding me? This is awesome.’ Dex spun around, his eyes ablaze, as if taking in all the details.

It was an open room, with exposed brick walls painted black. That’s right, black with white grouting. She’d never seen anything like it.

The kitchen had stainless steel benches with corrugated iron sheeting for cupboard doors. Whiskey barrels made up the side tables that stood like bookends to a large leather couch. A huge TV commanded one black wall, with bourbon bottles used like teardrop light shades on either side. There was an empty bookcase made entirely out of steel plumbing pipe. There was even a tall floor lamp that featured welded tools as the base, while its yellow lampshade matched the cushions on the couch.

But on the far end wall stood a full-sized black-and-white retro image of the yellow Kombi van. The only colour on that life-size picture were the bright yellow panels of the van, that somehow made the yellow pop for the cushions, the lamps, even the yellow in the black-and-white striped mat on the floor.

‘The witch.’ Dex chuckled, inspecting the wall mural. ‘She’s lacquered that in.’

‘You really must like her van?’

‘No, I hate it. Which is why Bree did it.’ He laughed louder.

‘That’s not nice.’ Why was Bree so intent on infuriating the man, who’d been standing up for the redhead all afternoon?

‘It does look good there.’ Even if she hated to admit it,Bree’s photo of her Kombi suited the room.

Hold on. Who would put a photo of their own vehicle on a man’s wall—unless there was an ulterior reason for it.

‘I can hear Harper and Mia agreeing with you.’ Dex disappeared down the corridor. ‘What the flip?’

‘What’s wrong?’ Sophie rushed to his side, only to skid to a stop just inside the doorway. She blinked a few times, while her brain busily processed the strange lining of the small bathroom wall. ‘Are they numberplates for cars?’

‘They are.’ He ran his hand over the metal plates. The entire wall behind the vanity basin was lined with numberplates from places all over Australia, with a round mirror that had an oil drum for a frame that overshadowed a big sink. The rest of the walls, including the shower stall, had matching black tiles, cleverly offsetting the colours within the numberplates. It suited Dex, who was mechanically minded and looked sinfully good in black.

‘What was this place like before?’

‘A mess.’ Dex walked back into the kitchen and opened the retro fridge and laughed. ‘Do you drink gin?’

‘Why?’ She peered over his shoulder to find a dozen large clear glass bottles occupying the bottom of the fridge. On the top shelf stood a large container of fruit and vegetables. ‘Is that all gin?’

‘Bree makes it.’

‘Isn’t that illegal?’

He arched an eyebrow at her, giving her that look that clearly said he wasn’t going to answer that question. It was a classic example of another one of his secrets, and he had so many.

But she’d bet Bree knew them all.

Tucked into the corner of the kitchen stood a round dining table, complete with some authentic-looking retro chairs from the seventies. On the tabletop stood a wrapped parcel.

She pointed to the present. It was big. ‘What’s this for? It’s not your birthday.’ She knew when Dex’s birthday was fromhis medical records.

‘No.’ Dex eagerly ripped open the paper and laughed again.

His laugh was infectious, making her wish she understood the joke. ‘What?’

‘It’s a juicer. From Bree.’

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