Page 21 of Whispers of Sweetwater

As the call ended, Brianna stared beyond her window, coffee cradled in her hands, her heart somewhere in between her intentions and the pull of something she wasn’t sure she could resist. But she needed to find a way. And stay strong. Her mum was right; she didn’t even really know Hayden. Their connection was surface level. And that was it. There was no sugar-coating that. She needed to stop trying to.

She decided it was time to give her cottage a bit of a clean, then she would go to the local IGA and grab some fresh food, maybe a nice bunch of flowers to pop in the empty vase in the middle of the four-seater dining table, and then, if she had the time, and she felt like it, after walking Sherlock, she might even try reading one of the books she’d brought with her – she hadn’t read a fiction novel in what felt like forever.

She did all of that, and more. By late afternoon, the warmth of the day had mellowed into a soft gold and she found herself in Molly’s battered ute, bumping down a narrow back road lined with towering gums and bright purple jacarandas.

‘So tell me, Molly, what exactly is this thing again?’ Brianna asked, one hand gripping the overhead handle as the suspension groaned over a pothole.

‘Oh, you know, just a low-key community fundraiser slash bush cook-up slash live-music shindig thingy,’ Molly replied breezily. ‘They hold it biannually, behind the showgrounds. Nothing fancy, just fire pits, damper, a bit of two-stepping if you’re lucky.’ She glanced sideways for a split second and grimaced at Brianna’s sceptically raised brows. ‘Come on, you said you wanted to meet more locals.’

‘I did,’ Brianna conceded. ‘I just didn’t expect it to happen at some low-key community fundraiser slash bush cook-up slash live-music shindig thingy.’ She couldn’t contain her smirk – Molly always had a witty way of explaining things.

Molly shot her an equally wide grin. ‘Well, trust me, that’s the best place to meet the locals.’

They pulled up to a grassy clearing where people were already milling about, kids running between hay bales, dogs trailing behind utes, and folding tables loaded with everything from homemade chutneys to sausage rolls wrapped in red-and-white-checked napkins. A four-piece bush band was setting up near a makeshift stage, tuning guitars and arguing about whose amp cable was missing. One of the members looked like he belonged in ZZ Top, with his long silver beard and banjo in hand. Stepping out and into the countrified soiree, Brianna felt her tension begin to dissolve. It was simple. Unpretentious. Honest. Just like this town. Just like Molly had made it out to be.

‘You hungry?’ Molly asked, already marching towards the food tents.

‘Always.’

They grabbed enamel plates heaped with smoky brisket, coleslaw and butter-slathered damper, then found a patch of shade under a gum tree near the edge of the gathering. Sherlock, who’d come along and was now curled by her boots, looked perfectly content. And as the music kicked off and the first few dancers braved the makeshift dance floor, with the warm approach of twilight, the scent of firewood and barbecued meat, it all felt disarmingly easy. Brianna was just polishing off the last bite of her delicious apple crumble when she felt it.

That unmistakable shift in the air.

And then she saw him.

Hayden Pierce in all his knee-buckling, handsome glory.

He was over on the far side of the crowd, laughing at something Gavin said beside him, a guitar slung casually over one shoulder. He wore a navy button-up with the sleeves rolled, jeans that fit just right, and that same relaxed stance that made it look like he belonged to the land.

‘Oh no,’ Brianna muttered under her breath.

‘Oh yes.’ Molly followed her gaze, her expression the picture of innocence. ‘He knows how to play a great tune or two; you just wait and see.’

Brianna turned away quickly, pretending to focus on the stage. But it was too late. Hayden had seen her. His eyes met hers, all the way from across the crowd. And he paused as if somebody had pressed a button, mid-laugh from something Gavin had said, but whatever the joke was evaporated as his focus landed squarely on her. And then, in another couple of quickened heartbeats, he and Gavin were heading in her direction. As much as she fought to remain composed, indifferent even, her heart betrayed her as it thumped against her ribs like a warning bell.

‘You okay?’ Molly asked, nudging her lightly.

Brianna forced a breath through her nose. ‘Yes, I’m dandy.’

‘Dandy hey.’ Molly’s smile was a little too knowing. ‘He looks happy, our resident horse whisperer.’ She glanced back at Brianna. ‘Does he look happy to you?’

‘Maybe, I couldn’t be sure,’ Brianna muttered, grabbing her drink for distraction. ‘But I am certain that he looks like trouble.’

Molly gave her a wicked grin now. ‘And you look like someone who’s about to flirt with it.’

Before Brianna could protest, Hayden and Gavin were within earshot. And Molly was right, Hayden looked relaxed, happily so, in a charming, quietly dangerous kind of way. Gavin, on the other hand, looked like a labrador off its leash, grinning from ear to ear, with two beers in hand and mischief radiating from his entire being.

‘G’day, ladies,’ Gavin greeted, tipping his hat like a parody of an old-school stockman. ‘Don’t you two look like trouble.’

Molly beamed. ‘That’s because we are.’

Brianna smiled politely, keeping her gaze mostly on Gavin. She didn’t trust herself to meet Hayden’s eyes just yet.

Hayden, standing just slightly behind his mate, offered a simple, ‘Hi, Molly, hi, Bri.’

Her name, spoken low and deliberate, wrapped around her like a silk scarf. Mustering every single little incy-wincy bit of resolve, she finally looked at him. Up and down, down and up – covertly, of course. He had a fresh cut on his knuckle, the kind that told stories about wire fences or stubborn stallions. His hair was still slightly damp at the edges, like he’d showered not long ago. And he smelled leathery, spicy, delectable.

Damn it.