Page 5 of Where the Wattles Bloom

Parking his arse against the boot a respectable distance from hers, Lachlan drank from his bottle. Who knew saving lives was such thirsty business?

Her gaze was now fixed on the horizon and he wondered if she was admiring the stark beauty of the outback sunset or dissecting what she’d just been through. He knew from many years on the police force (another lifetime ago) that those minutes and hours after an incident such as this could be tough on a person.

Mentally tough.

‘Do you think he’ll make it?’ he asked. As a nurse, she was surely qualified enough to have an opinion on Silvano’s chances?

Stirring from her reverie, she shook her head. ‘I don’t know. It depends. He was down a long time. It took a lot of drugs and several shocks to get him back. I imagine it could be touch and go. But even if he does pull through, he might’—she hesitated—‘have a neurological deficit.’

Which, Lachlan assumed, was medical speak for totally rooted. He shook his head. That was too awful to contemplate. The Morellis had come to the district in the fifties and Lachlan knew that Silvano wouldn’t want a life where he wasn’t spreading his love through feeding everyone who crossed the threshold of the family patisserie.

‘You initiated CPR within a couple of minutes, though, right?’

‘Yes, but …’ She gazed at him. ‘The stats aren’t on his side.’

There was a tiny crinkle between her brows, which drew his attention to her eyes. They were a clear light green, which stood in stark contrast to their broody solemnity. Like they’d seen a lot.

The kind of eyes Lachlan saw staring back at him every morning in his bathroom mirror.

‘If it’s any consolation, the man’s been a heart attack waiting to happen for two decades.’

She gave a small smile, her full bottom lip curving upwards to expose two rows of even, white teeth. ‘He didn’t look like a man in prime condition.’

Lachlan hooted out a laugh at her understatement. ‘No. But we breed them tough out here. And the town has a Flying Doctor base so he’ll be in the city in a couple of hours. I’ve got a good feeling in my gut Silvano will be back.’

And Lachlan’s gut rarely let him down.

‘I hope so,’ she said. ‘I really do.’

She didn’t sound particularly positive, but Lachlan didn’t doubt her sincerity.

The fire engine that had been sent to the accident site pulled away, snagging their attention. It honked at them as it passed by and they watched as it picked up speed, heading back to town. Which just left himself, Rowena, the tow truck driver and Thommo, who was supposed to be taking their statements but didn’t seem to be in any hurry as he chinwagged with the towey.

‘I haven’t properly introduced myself.’ Lachlan offered his hand. ‘I’m Lachlan McCabe. My friends call me Lachy.’

Sliding her hand into his, she murmured, ‘Rowena Murray.’

‘Nice to meet you, Ro.’

She withdrew her hand abruptly. ‘It’s Rowena.’

‘Sorry.’ Lachlan grinned. ‘Force of habit. We shorten everyone’s names out here.’

Her expression told him she didn’t appreciate the familiarity.

‘So, are you just passing through or …?’

‘No. I’m moving to Acacia Junction, actually.’ She took a sip from her water. ‘I have a contract at the hospital. It’s only temporary, though. Six months. Back to Sydney in December.’

Lachlan wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself but she was clearly establishing boundaries. ‘Well.’ He grinned. ‘You sure know how to make an entrance, Rowena Murray.’

She seemed to flinch at that, before recovering with an answering smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes, and Lachlan’s cop instincts kicked in.

Interesting.

In his experience, city slickers who moved to the country fell into two camps. Those who were seeking a change in their life. And those escaping from it.

Which camp did Little Miss Boundaries fit into?