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‘I’m going to get you back when you least expect it, Evans, so keep your eyes well and truly peeled.’ Every word was said in jest as he motioned to his eyes with forked fingers, then back at her.
She mimicked his actions, the pair of them laughing so hard they couldn’t speak.
‘Here,’ he finally spluttered as he held out his hands. ‘Let me help you out of your crappy predicament.’
‘Oh hardy ha ha, Gunn.’ She took his offer, unprepared for the electric jolt that arched through her. ‘Don’t give up your day job, will you.’ Trying to hide what his touch had just done to her, she untangled her fingers from his and straightened to her full five-foot-nothing height. ‘Cheers for that.’
‘Cheers for getting that damn rogue back into his pen, a job well done, Sammie.’ He gave her the thumbs up.
‘Thanks, I told you I could do it.’ She winkled her nose. ‘I really stink.’
‘Yeah, you really do.’ He chuckled. ‘Seeing as you helped me out, I reckon I might do the right thing, and offer you my shower.’
‘I’m onto you, Gunn.’ She eyed him sceptically. ‘You just don’t want me stinking up your LandCruiser when you give me a lift home.’
‘Dang it.’ His handsome face a picture of waywardness, he held his hands up in defeat. ‘You got me.’
Side by side, they wandered up the dirt road and towards Connor’s home, the place that had been one of their teenage hangouts all those years ago. As they closed the distance, Samantha quietly recalled the many times she, Angus, Connor, Shea, Jack and whoever else wanted to join, would spend the night holed up in the old farmhouse eating junk food, playing board games and then telling ghost stories until they fell asleep in their swags. Until now, she’d forgotten how special those memories were, and she mentally hugged them close.
‘Here we are, home sweet home,’ Connor announced.
Reaching the top of the gentle rise, Samantha gasped when the chocolate-box farmhouse came into full view. ‘Wow,’ she uttered, astonished by the transformation from a rundown old shack to this.
‘She’s a bit different now, huh?’ Connor offered her a proud sideways glance.
‘Damn straight she is.’ She regarded him admiringly. ‘Did you do all of this yourself?’
‘I sure did. It took me almost eight months, and was a labour of absolute love.’
‘I can see that, just from looking at the outside, Connor.’ She graced him with a tender smile.
‘Thanks, I can’t wait for you to see the inside, too.’ Pausing at a rustic timber fence, he opened the gate for her. ‘Welcome to my humble abode, Sammie Samsung Evans.’
Stepping ahead of Connor now, Samantha looked to where little yellow and purple wildflowers rambled along the pebbled footpath and then at the sides of the four steps leading up to a wide verandah where jasmine bushes shared their sweet perfume. She noted how lush and colourful the gardens were, and how potted shrubs and a cosy outdoor setting graced the oiled timber floorboards of the verandah – Connor clearly took great pride in what he’d aptly named his Heavenly Haven.
Kicking his boots off at the welcome mat that read LEAVE YOUR WORRIES BEHIND, Connor opened the flyscreen door and waved her within. ‘Ladies before gents.’
Following suit, she left her boots at the door and stepped inside to the lovely scent of caramel. Spotting the unlit candle on the coffee table that would have been responsible for the delicious smell, she then turned in a circle, checking his bachelor pad out.
‘Wowsers, Connor, you keep the place super clean,’ she said, removing her hat.
‘You sound surprised.’ He hung his hat on the hook by the door and then offered to do the same for her.
She tried to ruffle her flattened hat-hair into some kind of style. A quick glance at her reflection as she wandered past a mirror on the hall table was proof she’d done nothing but mess her hair up even more. Looking more bedraggled than ever, she shrugged at her reflection, instantly noting, and liking, the way she didn’t feel the need for airs and graces in the company of Connor, who represented country hospitality at its finest.
With a spring in her step, she kept on meandering behind him as they passed through the very cosy-looking lounge room with a modular couch and Aztec designed cushions that matched the throw blanket over one of the armrests. A rustic timber coffee table made from an old wine barrel sat atop a cowskin rug, and tasteful framed pictures showcased Connor’s love of land and livestock. Turning the corner, they wandered into a cute country-style kitchen with raw timber cupboards and creamy stone benchtops. Copper pans and pots hung above a well-used central butcher’s block, and a you-beaut coffee machine and Thermomix sat proudly beside the standalone Aga stove. Everything in here screamed that the occupant could cook, which Connor had already proved at his mum’s birthday dinner. His place was just like he was, so warm and inviting, and there was so much history in here, etched into the cracks in the walls and the creaks of the floorboards. The little yet commanding farmhouse almost inhaled and exhaled with life, making Samantha feel like she could breathe better in here, too.
‘This place is mind-blowing, Connor, you’ve done an amazing job doing it up.’ She smiled from the inside out.
‘Cheers, Sammie, that means a lot, coming from you, especially seeing as you know what this place looked like before I got stuck into the renovations.’ Leaning against the deep ceramic kitchen sink, he flashed her an appreciative smile. ‘Would you like to have a cuppa, and a piece of my homemade orange and almond cake after your shower, before I drop you back home?’
‘That sounds lovely, thanks.’
While Connor flicked the kettle on, then plonked two mugs onto the countertop, she paused at a floating shelf and picked up the photograph. A wistful smile tugged at her lips. Connor was just as she’d remembered him all these years, and he looked so young, so happy and so damn handsome.
‘Do you remember that day?’ he said over the sound of the tap running.
‘Yes, how could I forget it?’ Placing the framed memory back, she turned to him. ‘That was the weekend we all went skiing at Lake Tinaroo, then camped overnight and got wet through to the skin when it bucketed down.’
