Page 7 of The Mistletoe Wish

“Same.” He smiled.

She knew a fake smile when she saw one and flashed one of her own.

Their eyes met and clashed as they traded glares.

Gauntlet thrown down.

He gave a brief nod.

And accepted.

It seemed she wasn’t the only one with the idea of getting rid of her opponent. She clamped her mouth shut over the frustration she wanted so badly to vent. He couldn’t possibly know how much having a place of her own meant; or how this could be her only chance of a fresh start. While, judging by the latest model Land Rover he drove – hell, he could probably buy a house anywhere. He didn’t have to have this one.

His narrowed stare finally left her face and travelled south, taking his sweet time to inspect her person. He appeared to linger on her bare feet. “You need to put some boots on. Or at least shoes of some kind. There are a lot of snakes around this time of year.”

Her toes curled and something hot and heavy churned in her belly as his hooded gaze wandered back to hers. She should have thrown her parka over the thin tank top and shorts she wore. Or a blanket. Or anything that would cover her exposed skin and obvious reaction to his perusal. She folded her arms in the futile hope she could hide her peaking nipples.

He grinned.

Then winked.

Cheeky sod.

Whirling around, she stormed through the shack. After making use of the bathroom, she dressed into a sky-blue tee-shirt and a pair of sand-coloured cargo pants before tidying the small shack. Longing for her usual caffeine hit, she put water on to boil then found her socks and boots. She debated with herself, then with a shrug made two mugs of black coffee which she carried outside.

Darim hadn’t let up making a racket. He didn’t stop working when she walked over the patch of weeds, skirting the puddles leftover from the storm.

“Coffee.” She held out the mug. “It’s black. Sorry, I never thought to ask if you wanted milk. I always have mine without.”

He glanced up, turned off the drill before placing it onto the soggy ground. “Thanks.” His smile this time held genuine appreciation and she couldn’t help the tiny flutter of pleasure it caused.

A little civilized conversation couldn’t hurt.

“What are you doing?” She took a sip, almost closing her eyes at the hot, bitter tang.

Darim swallowed a mouthful of his own coffee then gave a satisfied sigh. “Exactly how I like it – seriously, thanks. I didn’t make one earlier as I didn’t want to disturb you.”

She arched a brow and considered him over the rim of her mug. “Really? And what was with the open door and all the noise you’ve been making? As if that wouldn’t disturb me.”

He laughed. “Touche. I’m repairing the pump for the water tank. I’ve already put a call through to the electricity company. Someone should be out here later today to test the power pole connection at the road. If that’s okay, then the problem is here at the house. Either way, we’ll have to find an electrician.” He paused to drink more of his coffee. “The place will need to be re-wired. The fuse box at the very least is a mess.”

Sara leaned against the side of his 4WD. “Any idea of the cost?”

Darim shrugged. “None. Making this place habitable won’t be cheap.”

With her thoughts centered on her all but empty bank account, she didn’t respond as she enjoyed the last of her coffee and stared into the distance. Admitting her lack of funds seemed shameful, as if she had failed – yet again. But how to explain? Especially to a near stranger. Her shoulders slumped as the feeling of being totally inadequate weighed her down.

Beside her, Darim drained the last of his coffee and popped the empty mug onto the bonnet of his Land Rover. Reaching through the open passenger window, he retrieved a familiar-looking folder and opened it.

Although it had yet to reach seven o’clock, the early morning sun still packed quite a punch. Heat and soupy humidity pulsed in the still air, enriching the lemony scents of the surrounding bushland. Hard to believe that last night she had been wearing a parka. With the storm blown over, the day promised to be a typical hot summer’s day. The list of chores that waited was innumerable – the cost of which she couldn’t begin to estimate. A small sigh escaped, and she transferred her gaze to the bottom of her mug.

Empty. Just like her pockets.

Darim rustled paper as if he was trying to gain her attention.

She looked up.

He was staring at her.

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