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“You’re brainstorming,” she said.
I hadn’t looked at my draft plan since Rosie and I went bust. A copy of it was in the same folder as the unsent letters to Rosie and the screen grabs of her messages dumping me. I’d put that draft plan in the same category as Rosie ending our brief relationship.
“Partnering with local businesses needs to be a careful process,” Rosie said slowly.
“Built on trust,” I spat. “And effective communication.”
I had to remind myself this was the woman who led me on to believe we had a future and then coldly and casually ended it all.
“Obviously,” Rosie said archly.
“Well, yeah,” Pete said, looking between us, frowning. “It’s not like you haven’t been doing business with each other’s families for generations.”
I shook myself. “What would a sheep station want with a winery?”
Instantly, I regretted my outburst. I’d personalised the future of Turner’s Creek yet again acting emotionally.
“Other than relying on you to keep your promise to deliver on the grape harvest?” And buying your lamb for the restaurant?” Rosie said in a small voice before looking away. “I think we rely on the Turners more than the Turners need us.”
“Is something wrong, guys?” Pete’s eyes darted between us.
“No,” Rosie said immediately, looking me in the eye. Hers were cold and … sad.Shit.“Tom has raised an excellent point. What would a sheep station want with a winery?”
Why did it feel like we weren’t talking about our farms?
“We need you for the muster, clearly.” I licked my lips. “And we always help with the grape harvest. Always have. Always will.”
It was the truth but sounded lame to my ears.
Rosie sniffed, looking away again. “Cameras are on the kitchen table. I’ll leave you to your brainstorming.”
“Rosie, wait.” I followed her outside, catching her between the quarters and the house. Luckily, no wombat. “We need to talk about us and the muster.”
“What about us and the muster?”
“I’m suggesting a truce. For two days. To get the job done.”
“I don’t get you.” She shook her head. “You act like we are friends and then act cold.”
“You were the one who kissed me, Rosie. If we’re accusing each other of acting hot and cold.”
She gasped. “And then your judgement just now about my boudoir photos.”
“I thought it was an amazing thing to do. I was just caught by surprise.”
“You’re such a hypocrite. And I know you liked what you saw.”
A surge of heat shot down my spine. “That’s not true.”
“Your poker face isn’t as good as you think. Or hiding behind that printed article.”
How had we ended up standing so close? Anyone could see us out here.
And why did arguing with her feel like flirting? Like, foreplay?
Her lips were right there.
Rosie’s eyes flicked down to my mouth as my head dipped lower.
