Page 26 of Where the Wattles Bloom

‘Okay then.’ He grabbed his boots and scooped his wallet off the floor. ‘I guess I’ll be seeing you around.’

She nodded. ‘If this week is any indication.’

Lachlan laughed. Yeah, unless she hid away in her room and he stayed on the farm, it was inevitable they would run into each other again.

‘Goodnight, Ro.’

Rolling her eyes at his Ro, she gave a little laugh. ‘Night, Lachy.’

Lachlan waggled his eyebrows before turning to the French doors and letting himself out of the room.

*

The first rays of the sun played on the high, wispy clouds, turning them rose gold and orange as it made its way above the horizon and over the Blairgowrie landscape the next morning. The air was crisp and cold, and the early morning warble of magpies, the call of a kookaburra and the distant bleating of sheep were the only sounds that broke the dawn hush.

Until the notes of a lone bagpipe rent the air.

Lachlan, naked except for his tartan bagpipes, stood on the veranda just outside his room, at one with nature. He looked out over thousands of acres of scrub, sheds and sheep, and let rip the iconic bagpipe interlude from AC/DC’s ‘It’s a Long Way to the Top’.

It was the only song he knew how to play on the instrument, the very Scottish pipe music somehow at home in this very not—despite the name—Scottish setting.

It had been the favourite song of a girl he’d fancied in high school. He’d been fourteen but determined to woo her with it, buying a second-hand pair of pipes and practising like crazy. Of course, by the time he’d mastered the instrument and the interlude, the girl had moved on.

He hadn’t taken the pipes with him when he’d hightailed it out of Blairgowrie, but he’d picked them straight back up again on his return almost five years ago. He’d been a little rusty at first but it hadn’t taken long to get it back.

Gabby hadn’t been impressed with his skills or the early hour of his morning regime. Which was fair enough—the sound was an acquired taste, especially at half past stupid hour, Lachy!

He didn’t think his Acca Dacca routine had ended their marriage, but it was one of the many little irritations that had piled on in those dying days. Gabby had left after six months at Blairgowrie. Lachlan, the bagpipes and his morning routine had stayed.

Finishing the song, Lachlan breathed heavily as the air slowly escaped from the bag. The sheep milling in the pen near the house were, as usual, unimpressed with his morning ritual.

But what would they know about musical genius?

For a man who’d experienced the ultimate in sexual holy shit—a broken condom—he’d slept like a baby, and he smiled now thinking about how nice it had been lying with Rowena in the aftermath, his forehead pressed against the pulse in the side of her neck, her hands clutching him tight.

For a crazy second, he wanted to throw the bagpipes to the ground and beat his chest like fucking Tarzan.

See how the sheep liked that!

He settled for several deep breaths of the bracing morning air that nipped at his bare flesh and kept his remaining testicle tucked close.

‘Put your clothes on, maestro.’ Reggie’s muffled voice floated out as she banged on his door. ‘Breakfast’s up.’

*

Lachlan spent the next couple of weeks busy around the farm as they prepared for lambing season, which would commence in July. The drought had broken two years ago and, thanks to the very good follow-up rain they’d had since, especially in the lead-up to this winter, there was plenty of feed available as they went into the typically drier cold months.

But pregnant ewes required extra nutrition, so he’d moved them closer into the lambing paddocks so they could be supplemented during this time. And once the lambs started to pop out it would be all hands on deck.

Still, Lachlan had caught the odd sight of Rowena in town, mostly at waving distance except for trivia. He’d gone to the pub every Thursday night and played on other teams, and they’d chatted a couple of times but nothing more. He doubted anyone looking at them could tell they’d gotten naked and done the wild thing.

And that was fine by him, no matter how much he’d like to spend more time with her. Frankly, right now, there were never enough hours in the day, anyway. But the memory of his time between her sheets still got him out of bed every morning with a grin on his face, grabbing for his bagpipes.

Reggie, on the other hand, could tell.

Not what had happened, but she knew something was up, something was different. She eyed him speculatively every morning as she cooked his breakfast and he knew it must be killing her to not say anything.

Lachlan pretended not to notice. Life was good—the farm was running like clockwork, the sheep were happy and he’d had sex with the lovely Rowena Murray.