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Rosie burst out laughing, her cheeks pinking. “Oh, god. I deserve that. In the very least. But we can pay—”
“It’s fine.”
“Amanda mentioned last night that the bank is threatening to foreclose on a loan and that could mean the farm would be sold.”
Tom slumped into his seat. “While you were dancing around the bar, I had CJ Duke and Tyler ask me if we were open to offers for a sale. The vultures have started to circle.”
“I can’t imagine you not being my neighbour.”
I sat in silence, staring at the floor. I couldn’t imagine not being her neighbour either.
“What will you do if the bank takes control?”
“Ha.” I squirmed in my chair. “Guess I could do shearing. Or apply for a station manager’s job somewhere. I’m sure some of the stations down south need someone to manage their clip and breeding programmes.”
“You’d leave Ballydoon?” Rosie whispered.
“I’d have to,” I said softly. “I couldn’t stay here and watch someone else live at Turner’s Creek.” I shook myself out of my thoughts and offered her an easy grin. “I’ll land on my feet. Wherever I end up.”
Rosie’s expression told me I wasn’t fooling her, that she could see the stark despair in my eyes that I was desperately trying to cover up.
“Thank you for the offer of the grapes. We’ll be able to meet our export order with your grapes, pending, of course, the weather and rainfall. Thank you again. And … I apologise for my behaviour at the pub, and after the fire, and after seeing your grapes. I was very much out of line.”
I looked my feet, my turn to blush now.
“Accepted,” I murmured and then stood suddenly. “But I’m keeping the pruning shears.”
She huffed a quick laugh again and something warm bloomed inside my chest. Making her laugh was something I’d love to do growing up, when we were briefly together.
After everything she’d been through lately, seeing Rosie smile was a gift I didn’t know I needed. I’d give her every grape in the world to get another smile like that one.
She rose from her seat and I stepped away. “I’ll take care of the mowing when I get home. Tell your old man I said to get better soon.”
“I will. Thank you again, Tom.”
14
ROSIE
Ballydoon Community Group:
Uncle Bruce posted 4.33 p.m.:
Congratulations to all Western Ridge Wombat players nominated for awards at the annual footy awards dinner tonight. You’ve all put in excellent work and effort this season. Fingers crossed some Wombats take home some trophies.
Thursday night came up fast, and I squeezed into my old formal dress from my final year of high school. The off-the-shoulder, blood-red velvet dress with a sweetheart neckline that was anything but sweet was all I had that suited the dress code.
I thought it looked like sausage skin over my ample curvage, but when Tom arrived, his eyes popped out of his head, and he insisted twice that I looked fine and not to change.
At the footy dinner, when we were awkwardly dancing on the makeshift dance floor, Tom looked me over slowly and said, as if in wonder, “You’re the sexiest woman in the room tonight.”
“Sure,” I snorted.
Tom grinned. His trademark cheeky smirk had never affected me until this week. My stomach swooped as butterflies took flight.
“Just stating a fact. You’re beautiful, Rosie.”
I was blushing. The tips of my ears were hot. Been ages since anyone had made me blush with a compliment.
