Seven-Day Love Story. Nikki Logan
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this time.
The fact he’d swung by Miss Prickly’s refuge first said a lot about his belief in a mythical wildcat down on the Hardy farm. Still, it kept him busy. And in a town where there was barely enough cause to have even a part-time ranger, busy was a rarity. When he’d settled in Banjo’s Ridge he’d been looking for a fresh start. A slow-motion kind of existence. Anything as long as it was different from his life in the city.
Mythical black panthers and enigmatic mystery women certainly qualified.
CHAPTER TWO
Saturday
JAYNE’S heart hammered hard enough to break a rib, but she couldn’t break free of the jumbled mess of images. They no longer played out like grim movies in her mind, but the disturbing montage had a way of leaking, unwanted, into her dreams.
They saturated her with old feelings: suspicion, self-doubt, the dark, clawing fear she’d lived with for two years. No matter how hard she worked during the day to keep them at bay, they simply waited for night—and her eyelids—to fall.
The cold, wet nose of reality helped draw her back. She cracked one eye open and stared into deep black gems. Her hand slid out and curled around silken ears.
‘Ollie …’
Satisfied his work was done, Oliver padded back out of Jayne’s bedroom on a gentle click-clack of claws, leaving her to rise unassisted. His job was pulling her out of a nightmare. Her job was pulling herself out of bed. The place she could easily spend the entire day if she hadn’t promised herself she wouldn’t do that any more.
She showered and dressed in super-quick time, not prepared to take any chances. If there was going to be a stranger hanging around the place she wanted to be as prepared as possible. Her eyes flicked habitually to the small sports bag behind the front door. Spare keys, passport, cash, clean underwear. It sat gathering dust except for those bleak times she scrabbled through the contents obsessively, to make sure everything was still there for when she needed it.
If she needed it.
‘Breakfast!’ Four dogs came running as she clanked their bowls together loudly. It was the one time of the day Ollie showed he had more to his personality than cautious regard. Then she set to chopping fresh fruit and veg for her rehab critters.
Her own breakfast was a more leisurely affair. A treat to herself out on the back veranda, served on real china with tea from a teapot, amid the sweet perfume of native jasmine with the mid-morning sun to warm her. She used the ritual to force herself to slow down, to remember where she was, how anonymous she now was. How safe.
‘Good morning.’
Ollie went berserk inside, but Dougal, Jaz and Fergus came galloping around the house and careened with enthusiasm into the man who’d appeared silently at the side of the veranda. Jayne’s pulse leapt painfully in her throat and she lifted a shaky hand to it, clattering her teacup noisily into its saucer. She used the brief moment as he rough-housed with the dogs to recover.
Then he straightened and met her eyes. ‘I’ve startled you again. My apologies.’
Her voice failed her the first time. She cleared her throat quietly, then tried again. ‘No. It’s fine. I was a thousand miles away. I didn’t hear your car.’
She stared at all six feet plus of him, standing spread-footed on her land like a giant eucalypt rooting itself into the earth. Her fluttering heart took its time settling in her breast, and she forced her voice to fill the silent void. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee? Tea?’
He smiled and rummaged in his jacket pockets while the smaller dogs darted around his feet like skimper-fish on a reef. ‘I should get these forms back to town as soon as possible. Thank you, though.’
Jayne frowned. He wasn’t supposed to say no. Not that she wanted to have coffee with him particularly, but she’d asked … and asking had taken some doing on her part. ‘Excuse me just a moment, then.’ She gathered together her dishes and then took them inside to soak in the sink. When she returned he had the forms out and ready at the base of her back porch steps. It took just a few minutes for her to detail them and sign. Male eyes rounded when she produced a roll of cash from which to peel off the modest application fee.
‘Do you always carry that much cash on you this early in the morning?’ he asked.
Yes, always. ‘I wasn’t sure how much the fee would be.’
He took just two notes, then bundled the paperwork up with it and shoved both into an inside pocket in his Ranger’s jacket. Then he looked out at the piles of materials lying scattered around the enormous fenced yard behind the house. ‘Are you going to be okay building those enclosures by yourself?’
‘How did—?’
‘Mesh. Timber. Wildlife. Doesn’t take a genius. Can you build?’ He looked as if he already knew the answer to that.
She straightened her back. ‘I’ll work it out.’
‘You have to submit drawings with your application. So the Shire knows the animals will be adequately housed.’
Jayne groaned. Why was everything so hard? She was trying, wasn’t she?
Blue eyes studied her and he seemed to come to a decision. He cleared his throat. ‘I was wondering whether you needed any help. I’m pretty good with my … with construction.’
Turmoil ruined her tranquil morning. On one hand she did need help—desperately—especially if drawings were required. And Ranger Blackwood wasn’t a complete stranger now.
Which didn’t mean she was comfortable around him. But having his help meant he’d be back. And back. And despite all her progress she still struggled with strangers.
‘I can draw up enough to keep the Shire happy and then come by after I knock off work each day—help out for a couple of hours. If you like?’
Jayne stared. It was the answer to one of her primary problems. She’d never even put together a flat-pack bookshelf. ‘I’d pay you …’
He smiled indulgently and waved his hand. ‘Not necessary.’
Oh, it was very necessary. She needed him to stop treating her like a senior citizen. Right now. Paying him would put it all back on a professional footing. She straightened her shoulders. ‘Money’s not a problem. I’d feel better if I paid you.’
Even the bush crickets held their breath.
He studied her closely. ‘When I first got to Banjo’s Ridge a few of the locals really helped me get established, and I appreciated it. I just want to pass that help on. But if you feel better paying me, we can work something out.’
He patted the side of his jacket, where her forms were tucked away. ‘I’ll come back as soon as my shift finishes. If we get lucky we’ll have your preliminary approval ready to go.’
Five hours later Jayne hovered in the doorway, chewing her lip. Ollie looked up at her with soulful, trusting eyes.
She smiled at him. ‘Okay, I’ll ask.’ She found the ranger at the back of the property, pulling piles of mesh sheets into position across a gravel clearing.
‘Excuse me, Mr Blackwood …’
He straightened slowly, his blue eyes steady and blessedly neutral, his rolled-up sleeves revealing strong, tanned forearms. ‘Call me Todd. What can I do for you?’
‘I … If you’re going to be here a few days I can’t leave Oliver locked up all that time. I was wondering if I could …’
He smiled, and her stomach did a clumsy somersault, but it had nothing to do with fear. His smile reached all the way to his eyes—not all smiles did that, in her experience.
Not all of them reached clear into her gut either.
‘Sure—bring