Matt and say hi to Pancake. She was doing her best not to think about Toby. She certainly didn’t expect to see Anthony with his head under the bonnet of the mobile work truck when she walked around the corner of the shed.
‘We really need to talk,’ she said.
He’d not heard her approaching and bashed his head on the hood. ‘Bugger it.’ He rubbed his head viciously. ‘When are you off?’
‘Lunchtime.’
‘What are you going to do?’
She shrugged her shoulders. Swallowing her pride she walked towards him, wrapped her arms about his body. ‘I thought we could talk about it.’ He smelled of oil and grease and the reassuring aroma of the man in her life. She kept her arms wrapped around him, willing him to hug her back. His arms hung by his sides. Sarah persevered, nestling her cheek against the raspy cold of his heavy work jacket. You have to give in, she pleaded silently. There has to be a bridging between us. She snuggled closer until her nose pressed hard against his neck. It was then he relented, with the touch of skin against skin. His arms lifted to encircle her and then his mouth touched hers. Sarah wriggled with delight at his touch. His hands pressed firm on her waist, he drew her to him roughly, bent her head almost fiercely and kissed her. She could sense the wanting between them. It hung in the air. They’d been too long apart, too long arguing. They needed to go back to the house and rid themselves of their need. Sarah’s fingers plucked at his shirt tail, her forefinger touched flesh … and then Anthony was physically removing her hands from his body.
Sarah found herself two steps away from him, cold air encircling her, the burn of embarrassment and disappointment flooding her cheeks. They looked at each other for a long moment, and then Anthony turned away. She stood there feeling stupid, wondering what she should do next. ‘Anthony?’
He slammed the bonnet down on the work truck, wiped his hands on a filthy rag.
‘Anthony, I need you.’
Leaning through the window on the driver’s side, Anthony turned the ignition, listened to the chug of the engine for a good minute and then turned it off. The stench of black exhaust fumes whirled around them in the increasing breeze. When he finally turned to look at her, there was something missing from his eyes.
‘You only need me when it suits you.’ He walked past her, got into one of the cruisers, reversed out of the shed and drove away.
Sarah waited until the last moment, sure he would stop the vehicle and come back to her. A billow of dust shadowed his departure. Moments later Bullet was licking her fingers.
Toby Williams walked his horse around the corner of the shed. ‘Morning. Wondering if Ant got the old truck going? We need the welder on the back.’
Sarah wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. ‘Yep, sounds like it’s going.’
He hesitated. ‘Are you okay?’ He fiddled with his bridle, made a show of scratching his mare between the ears.
‘Fine.’
He nodded in the direction Anthony had left. ‘You know what they call ’em in Wangallon Town? The jackeroo.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’ve still got a half-share in my place: a million wild acres in the territory. There’s no chip on my shoulder. Hey Pancake,’ he shouted. ‘The truck’s a goer. I’ll leave it with you.’
‘No worries,’ Pancake yelled from somewhere behind the shed.
He rode across to her. ‘Do you remember what I said to you last night?’
‘Yes.’
Toby tipped his hat, gave her a look that would stop a woman at a thousand paces and rode away.
Great, Sarah thought. Just as well he was going out on the stock route. He cantered off, leaving Sarah to wonder how much of the scene between her and Anthony he’d witnessed. She figured their lovers’ tiff would make good campfire talk on the route tonight, except that it was a great deal more than a tiff.
‘Come on fellas.’ Bullet jumped into the back of the cruiser and Sarah lifted Ferret up to join him. ‘Time for a drive.’
At the sheltered clearing waking birds tweeted, fluffed and preened themselves against a background of leaves rustling in the wind. Sarah opened the latch on the wooden gate and Bullet brushed past her legs into the cemetery, bush quails fluttering upwards in fright at their sudden disturbance. The clearing, silvery with the remnants of the frost, appeared to shiver with morning energy. Sarah stared