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‘Copy that,’ she murmured, and three seconds later they were locked in a clinch on the verandah, and her back was thumped up against the back door, and a sleepy-faced groodle was making a dull woofy noise because he wasn’t used to noisy goings-on in the middle of the night.
‘There’s something wrong with this picture,’ Joey muttered against her mouth.
Nothing was wrong. Nothing could be wrong ever again.
The woof sounded again. ‘Oh right,’ she giggled. ‘People in, dog out?’
‘You read my mind.’ Joey reached behind her and opened the door, dispatching Gus into the darkness outside. He grabbed her hand and might have pulled her down the hallway but there was a perfectly good roomright here.
Just him, and her, and his lips on hers and her hands sliding up that smooth, muscled back.
Then Joe’s clever fingers hauled her singlet off, which was fairly miraculous in itself as he was pressed in so close to her that there was no room—less than no room—between them.
Lucky they’d headed into the house, she thought, before her ability to think became lost in the heat of the moment. Otherwise they’d be having a shag in a swag.
Even she could’ve written a bush poem about that.
Kirsty woke in her swag late the next morning when a massive animal ran over her back.
‘Gus,’ she said. ‘You big oaf.’
It was difficult to put any scold into her words on account of the smile she had strapped to her face from ear to ear. Wow. What a night. She lifted her wrist and squinted at the time. Nine o’clock!
She’d better get her renovation hours done—and clear out of the cottage for the guests—because she hadsucha lot to do with Carol at the museum after lunch: lock in their agreement with Wacol; talk over the article they were putting together; get quotes (ouch) for moving the plane …
Speaking of … there was a message waiting for her when she looked at her phone.
How did it go with Mr Bedroom Eyes?
OMG. Surely the Clarence gossipers didn’t already know that she and Farmer Joe had Done the Deed. She’d barely had a chance to process it herself!
Heavens, she could feel herself blushing just thinking about it—his boxer shorts hitting the floorboards and him stripping her of her knickers on his kitchen table.
She slapped a hand to her face.His kitchen table.
Her phone pinged, and it took a moment to focus on Carol’s words.We may need his official permission for the Wacol paperwork, so get cracking.
Oh! She let out a snort. Carol wasn’t asking for a rundown of her love-life, which was a big phew.
Didn’t have the talk yet, she typed. Not that talk, anyway.
Carol could clearly text faster than she could walk.I’ve pulled that dress out of the suitcase and taken it home for a spot clean, hope you don’t mind. Definitely a wedding frock in my opinion. About a size ten. Just in case you were wondering.
Mind? She was pretty sure she was never going to mind anything again, even Carol’s not-so-subtle but ridiculous hint.
Wedding dress. As if!I’ll see you soon, Carol.
She was still smiling in a goofy, daydreamy way when she heard a car engine, and a sleek black hatchback roared around the water tank at the corner of the house and parked askew beside the stable.
Who on earth?
A woman in immaculate white pants and some sort of floaty silk top got out. Gus, who’d finished trampling her and had begun mouthing the corner of her swag, launched himself up from the top step with a happy bark and proceeded to gallop in the woman’s direction.
‘Gus,’ Kirsty yelled, but the dog ignored her. Amazingly, the woman didn’t seem to mind when the dog leapt up at her, leaving her looking slightly less immaculate.
Just her luck … a guest needing a cottage and there wasn’t another one ready.
She hauled on some clothes then approached the woman at a more sedate pace than the dog had employed. ‘Can I help you?’
