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“Yes. Do you take cheques, or would you prefer a money transfer?”
As the two men finalised the transaction in Mr Bridges’ office, the old man said, “How long have you two known each other?”
“We grew up together.”
He grunted. “And how long have you been in love with her?” Rafe looked up sharply from the paperwork he was reading and Mr Bridges laughed. “I’m old, not blind,” he said. “The other one, the scumbag who ripped her off, he never looked at her the way you do. Cold fish, that one.” He shook his head. “Sure, he put on a good act, but you can always tell what a man’s truly feeling by looking at his eyes.”
He swivelled in his office chair to face his computer. “She looks at you differently too, by the way.” He stopped typing and glanced at Rafe again. “Is the baby yours or the scumbag’s?” When Rafe made a choking noise, the other man quickly added, “Never mind. None of my business. Ignore the nosy old man.”
After a beat of silence, the knot eased from Rafe’s tongue. “It’s mine,” he said quietly. “Jane and me, well, it’s complicated.”
The old man grinned and threw him a pitying look. “Women usually are.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Do you want to stop in Parkes for the night or push on through to Dubbo?”
Jane looked up from her notebook, startled by the sound of Rafe’s voice.
They’d travelled for the better part of the day in companionable silence, listening to music and not talking about her little dummy-spit that morning.
She was thankful for that, and as they’d driven out of the warehouse and headed for the highway, Jane had made a decision: shut up and go with the flow.
Was she happy about Rafe spending all his money on her? No. But was she grateful?
More than he would ever know.
She still didn’t understand why he was doing it, but maybe it was time she stopped looking this particular gift horse in the mouth and accepted events for what they were.
A new beginning.
A terrifying thought.
Rafe looked exhausted. He’d been driving for most of the day, only letting Jane drive when he absolutely needed a break. No way was she letting him drive for another two hours.
“Parkes,” she said. “There are some nice motels on the far side of town. At least there used to be.”
“How do you know that?”
“I came here years ago for the Elvis Festival.”
Rafe grinned. “You? At an Elvis festival? Do tell.”
“A friend of mine from the culinary college was ahugeElvis fan and dragged a bunch of us along with her. God it was crazy. Every man and his dog were dressed up like Elvis. And I mean that literally. There were dog Elvises.”
Jane smiled as she remembered. “Everywhere we went, guys were dressed in sparkly jumpsuits and thick black wigs. In January. In Australia.” She shook her head. “How they didn’t all spontaneously combust or pass out from heatstroke is beyond me.”
Rich and melodious, Rafe’s laughter wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She’d always liked his laugh. No. She’d alwayslovedhis laugh.
And his smile.
Not that he smiled often. Rafe was more of a grinner than a smiler, and when he grinned he gave the impression he knew something others didn’t. He always looked so smug. Jane used to find the trait incredibly irritating. Now she found it rather endearing. And when he aimed that grin at her…wow.
That grin melted her panties faster than a hot pan melted butter.
“Are you hungry?”
Jane checked her watch. Almost 5:30. “I could eat. From memory there’s a lovely little Italian joint over… that way,” she said, pointing to the right, then frowned. “I think.Oooh… or Chinese? I could seriously go some plum duck and deep fried ice cream right now. Or pizza! Or steak. Do you want steak?”
