Page 29 of Road to Rosalee

The frog ribbeted, as if replying.

With her heart rate returning to somewhat normal, Melody chuckled to herself. Her need to pee all but gone now, she tugged her knickers back up and, after washing her hands, returned to the kitchen. Not long after, and right on time, she heard Zai’s familiar husky voice approaching, along with the clomping of boots along the timber floorboards in beat with the clips of a dog’s nails. Irritatingly, her stomach dropped then swooped, and as much as she fought to remain nonchalant while she stirred the boiling water into oblivion, her breath caught, just like it always did every time he was anywhere near. My goodness. What powers did this man possess?

After kindly reminding the old station dog, Harold, to stay put on his blanket by the back door, Zai’s knuckles rapped against the timber door as he strode in. She turned to find him looking at her in that mischievous way he did, his blue eyes piercing. The room suddenly felt several degrees hotter. ‘Hey, you.’

‘Evening, Melody. Something smells bloody awesome.’ With long strides, he brushed past her, the scent of leather, sun-heated denim, diesel and heavy-duty hand soap lingering. ‘What’s cooking, good-looking?’

She dared a sideways glance while stifling a grin. ‘Bit forward for a first dinner, don’t you think?’

‘I always like to say it how I see it.’ He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Besides, no sense in beating around the bush out here, seeing we are smack-bang in the centre of it.’ His dark, cropped hair only accentuated his chiselled features and dimple-clad cheeks. Lifting the lid of the stew pot and sniffing it like it was the most amazing scent he’d ever inhaled, he flashed her a swoon-worthy smile. ‘Oh my god, is this what I think it is?’

‘If you’re thinking it’s beef stroganoff, you’re correct.’

‘Man, the guys are going to go nuts over this.’ He plonked the lid back down.

‘I hope so.’ She found herself softening, relaxing in his presence. ‘So, how’d your day go?’

‘Yeah, can’t complain.’ He flicked the kettle on and turned to rest against the kitchen bench. ‘How ’bout you, are you settling in okay?’

‘Aside from abruptly meeting the green frog in the staff loo and being chased away from the chook pen by a very grumpy duck.’ The low rumble of his voice whipped a warm sensation through her. ‘I’m settling in as good as I can.’

‘Yeah, Plucka is very protective of his girls. I swear, he thinks he’s a chicken. But don’t worry, he’ll get used to you soon enough. And the smiling croaker in the loo is named Kermit. He’s been residing there for the last couple of years.’

‘Ha, Kermit and Plucka. Classic.’ She chuckled, shaking her head in delight. ‘Only in the outback would someone meet characters like that.’ Her thoughts went to her cat, Magic, and her heart squeezed tight. The rise of sudden emotions shocked her. She quickly blinked back hot tears, straightening her shoulders as if it would somehow stop her blubbering.

‘Hey, what’s up?’ Zai’s hands, square and strong, came to rest against the bench as he closed a little of the distance between them.

‘I’m just not so used to the isolation, I suppose, that’s all.’ She wasn’t about to say she missed her cat, and besides, she was telling the truth – the isolation was foreign. ‘I thought it wouldn’t bother me, but it takes a bit of getting used to, being here by myself all day long, if I’m being honest.’

‘Of course it does. You’d be used to having people everywhere, coming from the big smoke. It’s the polar opposite out here.’ He gave her back a friendly pat. ‘Is there anything I can do to help you feel less isolated?’ He dropped his hand back to his pocket.

She could think of quite a few things and immediately felt bad doing so, being a married woman. ‘No, all good, but thank you for caring. I’ll be right. Just gotta tough it out and get used to it, which I’m sure I will, given time.’

He regarded her as if trying to read her thoughts. ‘There’s nothing to be gained from trying to be tough out here, you know that, right? You can just be yourself, however you might be feeling, at any given time.’

Something about what he said, or maybe the way he said it – she wasn’t sure what – got her defences fired up. ‘Is that so?’

‘Yup.’ He slid his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans and grinned, as if he found her anger amusing.

She looked away for a few brief moments, not even sure why she felt so challenged. ‘What makes you think I’m just trying to be tough? I might just be tough.’ She swept her hands to her hips and looked him straight in the eye, arching an eyebrow.

‘Oh, trust me, I know you have a quiet strength in you, Miss Melody. I just want you to know you’re not alone here, that’s all. And if you’re struggling with anything, anything at all, I’m all ears.’

‘Well … thank you.’ Feeling less defensive, she dropped her hands from her hips. ‘But sometimes, we have to fake being tough to make ourselves believe it too.’ As she had through her failed marriage, then losing her mum and now, finding her father.

‘Ain’t that the bloody truth.’ He plucked a few peanuts from a jar and tossed them into his mouth.

Melody went with the conversation – it was better than an uncomfortable silence. ‘So, tell me, Wellstone, do you consider yourself a toughie?’

‘What you see is what you get with me, whatever that might be.’

She recalled him mentioning how Sarah and Matt had helped him through some tough times, and something inside of her wanted him to open up to her about whatever it was, seeing as he was probing her. ‘So easy, breezy, would describe you, hey?’

‘Yeah, pretty much.’

She looked at him with scepticism. ‘So nothing ever really fazes you?’

‘Nope, my life is easy come easy go.’