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His (former) best mate. Who she was shagging.
He threw his phone into the open window of his ute and closed his eyes. Gus was gone, and he couldn’t go hooning down the highway after him because he had freaking guests arriving.
Also gone, if that cryptic message was to be believed, was Kirsty. Butwhy? How had they jumped from love under the stars to a text-message-dumping within the space of half-a-freaking day?
He slapped his palm onto the roof of his ute.
A female hand bearing a thin gold band clasped his wrist. ‘Joey, are you all right, pet? Everything okay at Bangadoon? No-one’s had more bad news?’
He spun on his heel and there was Thelma again, Mayor of Clarence and self-confessed busybody, pressing a hand to her heart, curiosity warring with concern on her face.
Of course she’d know about his dad. The stop-go bloke on the highway diversion project probably knew about his dad. ‘Um … no. Squabbling with my ex-girlfriend if you must know.’ And reeling from the text he’d just got from the woman who he could seebeing way,waymore than a girlfriend. But Mayor Busybody didn’t need to know that.
The mayor narrowed her eyes. ‘Not that lovely girl who’s found the plane? What was her name again?’
He narrowedhiseyes. ‘Why does her name matter, Thelma?’
‘Um,’ she said, ‘it doesn’t, of course. Good to see you again, Joey. You let me know when I can pop up and have a tour of the new farmstay. A little opening ceremony, perhaps. I cut a ribbon with a lot of pomp and ceremony.’
She backed away from him, gave him a hasty wave, and took off on her wobbly pink heels.
