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That was the second time he’d told her to trust him. She wanted to roll her eyes and be cynical and thinkyeah, like I’d trust any guy ever again. But trustworthiness shone out of Josh Cody the way lemon scent steamed out of a fresh-cooked souffle.

She chewed her lip for a moment. Maybe she should just tell him now about her problems. About why she was a bad bet. She could get the difficult part of the day out of the way, they could do a U-turn and head back to Hanrahan,andshe could save herself a humiliating ordeal strapped to the back of a huge scary beast. ‘This horse place. It must be a way out of town?’

She’d need at least twenty minutes to let spill the last twelve months’ worth of her woes. She should have launched straight into it the second she climbed into Josh’s truck, not allowed herself to be distracted by creeks burbling through the dappled shade of gum trees, tracts of wildflowers, the easy chitchat about the rocky, grass-stippled countryside Josh had regaled her with.

‘Nearly there. See those weatherboard buildings on the rise?’

She looked to where Josh was pointing. A cluster of neat grey and white barns—stables, she supposed, filled with plunging, sharphooved beasts—clung to a green swathe of pasture in the crook of towering mountain peaks.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘How lovely.’ How absolutely, freaking scary!

‘Yeah,’ he said, and swung his wheel so the truck left the bitumen and headed up a steep gravel track to where an iron gate barred the way forward. Above it, strung between posts, swung an old timber sign: IRONBARKSTATION.

‘Nineteen twenty-three,’ she murmured, reading the date burned into the wood.

Josh followed her eyes to the sign. ‘Mmm. There’s been a Krauss here since just after the First World War, bar a few years there where the family were interned during the next war. Being German wasn’t so popular in the forties, no matter how long your family had lived here. Horse breeding’s where the Krausses started, but they own a lot of land in town, too. I went to school with Tom. Be right back,’ he said, and left the truck to open the gate.

Vera sat in the truck, watching him. She realised she was in no hurry to spread her bad news and bring their day together to an end. Was it the peace of the mountains? The satisfying thrill of seeing her business blossom over the past two months? Whatever it was, her vow to stay rigidly alone was starting to lose its appeal.

‘I think you’ve met Mrs LaBrooy,’ said Josh, once he was back in the truck, the gate secure behind them, the mountain scenery again flashing by.

‘Maybe.’ She’d met hundreds of people since The Billy Button Café had opened its doors.

‘She’s the Krauss’s housekeeper. She’s worked out here since I was in nappies. Longer, probably.’

What an image: Josh as a sturdy toddler following a dog around in a dusty paddock. ‘Mrs LaBrooy,’ she murmured. ‘Wears colours almost as wild as Marigold’s? Drinks her coffee with milk, and she’s partial to butterscotch sourdough donuts?’

‘That’s her.’

‘We should have stopped by the café and brought her a box of them.’

Josh glanced over at her. ‘Next time,’ he said, and gave her a wink.

She turned away. There wasn’t going to be a next time, not when she revealed the truth. Josh was building a life for himself and she wasn’t about to be part of ruining that. She scrabbled around for a more neutral topic. ‘Why are we here, anyway? Besides the horseriding?’

‘Tom asked me to come out and see his prize mare. She’s in foal, and she’s been off her feed.’

‘Oh. Is he worried?’

Josh pulled the truck up next to a dilapidated tractor and hauled on the handbrake. ‘Let’s go find out.’

The barn was warm inside, shafts of sun sliding in from high doors in the gables at either end. Shreds of hay spun in the air, and from everywhere came the unmistakable smell of horse. Brown ones, black ones, patchy ones—horse heads popped over stall doors and watched their progress as they made their way down the central aisle, snuffled at them.

‘They seem curious.’ And freakily large.

‘Horses are intelligent. And they love people.’ Josh stopped to run a hand up the muzzle of a coal-black horse with a white flash between his ears. ‘Soldier? Is that you, old buddy?’

The horse whickered in response.

‘I used to ride out here with Tom back in the day. I can’t believe this old guy’s still here. He must be getting on for twenty-five.’

A low voice came from the shadows at the far end of the aisle. ‘Soldier and Bruno are in a competition to see who’s going to outlast who. My money’s on Soldier.’

‘Tom. So, where’s this prize horse you’ve been bragging about?’ Josh leaned in close to Vera, spoke low into her ear. ‘Old Mr Krauss has multiple sclerosis. He’s not doing too well.’

Tom walked up to them, ignored Josh and gave her the not-so-subtle once-over with hard eyes. He seemed as unlike Josh as a man could be: all hard edges and suspicion, where Josh read like a sun-filled open book. ‘You must be Vera.’

She held out her hand, nearly winced when he closed it in a vice-like grip. ‘I must be.’