‘Ferne Wardlow, pleased to meet you.’ Ferne may have looked like a delicate flower, but her firm handshake revealed her heritage of working on the land. ‘Never thought I’d see the day I needed to hire a social media marketer, yet here you are.’
‘I’m good at what I do and I’m sure we can get more eyes on your farm online.’
‘We definitely need that. We’re having some iced tea around the back,’ Ferne said. ‘Come meet my son and I can show you to your room later.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’ Ferne hadn’t mentioned a husband when they spoke on the phone, but Elora assumed he ran the day-to-day farm operations and Ferne did the accounts and admin.
As Elora fell into step with Ferne, the older woman said, ‘I like the preliminary ideas you emailed. I think you’re just what this farm needs.’
‘Great. I’ll get more of a feel for the place in person and I’m sure we can come up with exactly what you want.’
‘I like your enthusiasm,’ Ferne said. ‘Now, let me introduce you to Cruz.’
As they neared a table set up under a towering eucalyptus, a man stood and turned to face them.
Elora’s step faltered and heat flushed her cheeks. She didn’t need an introduction to this man. She knew him intimately.
Well, almost, considering she’d clambered all over him in a dark restaurant last night.
CHAPTER
3
Ferne had a talent for reading people. So when her son’s face paled and Elora’s eyes widened in recognition, she knew these two had history. But before she could ask if they knew each other, Elora stuck out her hand.
‘Pleased to meet you, Cruz. Elora Curtis, the social media marketer your mother has hired to revamp your image.’
Cruz’s lips compressed into a thin line and Ferne suppressed a laugh, because if she wasn’t mistaken, Elora’s gaze had flicked over Cruz from head to foot when she’d said ‘revamp your image’, implying Cruz needed it more than the farm. Interesting.
‘I thought our image was just fine,’ Cruz said, shooting Ferne a comical WTF look, eyebrows raised, as he briefly shook Elora’s hand then released it as if she’d zapped him.
‘The farm needs an image overhaul,’ Ferne said, wishing her son had arrived earlier so she could’ve had time to warn him of Elora’s impending visit and what she had planned for the farm. She may have been desperate to escape this place after being tethered here for too long, but she didn’t want to hand her son a failing business. Not when he resented this farm as much as she did.
‘We need to talk, Mum.’ A deep frown furrowed Cruz’s brow. ‘Now, preferably.’
‘But our guest just arrived.’
‘She’s not a guest if she’s working for us.’
‘Don’t mind me,’ Elora said with a cheery smile. ‘Go have your chat. I could do with a bit of relaxation after that long drive. It took me over six hours to get here from Melbourne and that’s with a quick stop halfway at Charlton.’
Ferne could see Cruz wanting to roll his eyes at Elora’s cheeriness. Her son rarely smiled, and she shouldered the blame for that. She’d tried her best to fake happiness for him growing up, but her son wasn’t a fool. He’d been privy to her loveless marriage and Mac’s moods.
Thankfully, Cruz didn’t know the half of it and Ferne intended to keep it that way. No use speaking ill of the dead, no matter how much she wanted to dance on Mac’s grave for all he’d put her through. Her people reading skills had developed far too late, after she’d been swept off her feet by Mac Wardlow and into an empty marriage that should’ve ended decades ago.
‘Please help yourself to iced tea,’ Ferne said to Elora. ‘And I baked those Anzac bikkies.’
‘Yum.’ Elora sat and poured herself a tea, and Ferne bit back another laugh. Cruz couldn’t take his eyes off the young woman in the sunny yellow, A-line dress.
That’s what had first caught Ferne’s eye when she’d been researching social marketers online: Elora’s vibrant website, with its clear-cut information and links highlighted in vivid slashes of emerald and chartreuse; bright yet classy. Elora’s social media accounts carried the same theme, making for a pleasing and professional aesthetic.
When her son continued to stare at Elora, Ferne cleared her throat. ‘I’m ready to have that chat when you are, Cruz.’
Wrenching his attention away from the beautiful young woman, Cruz’s frown deepened. ‘Let’s go.’
Ferne waited until they stepped through the back door and into the kitchen before saying, ‘How do you know Elora?’
‘How doyouknow Elora and why the hell is she here?’
