Page 21 of Where the Wattles Bloom

The question was, what was she going to do about it? Or had she, by standing on the veranda and refusing to withdraw, already declared her intentions?

Rowena was a very practical person. Nurses tended to be so. She believed in solutions, not problems. And doing what was required to address such problems.

Lachlan McCabe was a problem. A big one.

She’d come to Acacia Junction to get back on the professional horse. As a stepping stone on her road back to the NICU. She had a lot to prove. Which made him a distraction. And the best way to overcome distractions was to deal with them. Not ignore them.

Deal with them and move on.

‘Hey.’

Rowena shut her eyes briefly as his low voice reached her on a silken thread of air, wrapping right around her middle. She didn’t have to look to know he was standing on the threshold of the veranda, but he might as well have been standing flush against her for the wave of heat that flooded her body.

Her lukewarm mug cradled in her hands, Rowena half turned, one elbow still resting on the top rail. He was lounging in the open doorway, one shoulder shoved casually against the jamb, his face in shadow. The light behind gilded the tips of his blond hair.

‘I found this,’ he said, the silver leaf of an earring swinging between his thumb and forefinger.

Automatically, she reached for her right ear. The damn clasp had been working loose all night. ‘Oh.’ Her voice caught a little in her suddenly dry throat. ‘I didn’t realise.’

‘It was at the bottom of the stairs. I looked for the back but I couldn’t find it.’

Rowena shoved her hand in her hair, her fingers fanning it out absently. ‘It’s probably caught in amongst all this.’

Pushing off the jamb, he advanced slowly, as if he was approaching a skittish lamb. Coming to a stop a few feet away, he mimicked her stance, propping an elbow onto the railing and affecting a casual lean. Holding out the earring, he offered it to her, dropping it into her palm when she presented it.

‘Thank you,’ Rowena murmured, noting how warm it was before slipping it into the pocket of her jeans.

The veranda was unlit but a mellow glow emanated from her room thanks to the bedside lamp. The soft light fell across every one of his handsome features, including his scruffy, brick-like jawline, and Rowena curled her hand around her mug to stop herself from reaching out and touching.

‘So,’ he said. ‘You weren’t really tired, huh?’

Rowena gave a husky half laugh. ‘No.’ The muffled noises from the pub below were a reminder they weren’t alone, even if it did feel like they were the only people on earth right now.

‘The attention was a bit much?’

‘Yeah.’

But it was his attention, this awareness of him, that was the most discombobulating. Just standing this close, which was a respectable distance by any social measure, her skin popped and fizzed like a live wire dancing in a storm.

This was what happened, she supposed, when a person neglected their baser needs. The doctors had warned her that the anti-anxiety meds might suppress her sex drive, and they had. But with the constant churn of adrenaline drowning everything out, it had been the least of her worries. Hell, she’d been wound so tight she’d have happily traded in her clitoris to make it stop.

But they hadn’t warned her it could come roaring back one day in the arse end of nowhere. That she could go from Siberia to the Mojave in the blink of an eye.

Unless. Maybe she was having a hot flush. Maybe she was menopausal. At thirty-six? Perimenopausal, then?

She’d take it, though. Over this very inconvenient sex thing.

‘I’m sorry if they’re overwhelming you. Just give them some time. Before you know it, you’ll be treated like any other townie. Well, except for the Morellis, of course—they’re probably always going to treat you like the queen of Acacia Junction.’

‘Lachlan.’ Rowena swallowed, her pulse ramping up at the words that were forming in her brain.

She couldn’t bear to make chitchat when every one of his deeply modulated words was like a squirt of accelerant to the bonfire already consuming her. And she couldn’t have a bonfire thing happening every time he was near.

This had to stop. Now. Tonight.

‘Ro.’

She wasn’t sure when Ro had become sexy, but hell if it wasn’t right now. Or maybe it was just the way he was looking at her.