‘Aren’t there laws against that kind of thing?’ her father asked.
‘Entrapment, you mean? Only if you’re in law enforcement,’ Jemma snapped, angry that she’d been manipulated into revealing the truth about her mother. Her history was something she rarely allowed into her constructed present, aware that it created a chink in her armour. ‘Doesn’t apply to me. And in any case, our aim is to protect Tara, not to prosecute her. So we’re not coming from the same place at all.’
Hamish pointed at her with his fork. ‘The thing is, you and Tara are … vastly different.’
‘So?’
‘So, no offence, but I’m not sure that she’s going to see you as friend material.’
That sounded like a challenge. ‘You’ll be amazed at just how irresistible I can be.’
Hamish looked at her in complete silence for a long moment, as though they were the only people at the table. ‘Actually, I won’t,’ he said.
The laidback drawl was infuriating, yet, by taking his time, Hamish had her hanging on every word, waiting to hear what outrageous thing he came out with next.
‘But Tara will know you’re only passing through, so she’s not going to strike up a friendship.’
‘You’re not into ships in the night, then?’ Jemma said. If Hamish wanted wordplay, she could best him any day of the week. The farmer was proving unexpectedly fun to spar with.
‘No, that’s precisely what makes Jemma perfect for this,’ Sam interrupted. ‘It’s her … I don’t know,foreignnessthat will attract Tara.’
‘You mean exoticness adds to her allure?’ Hamish suggested.
Sam shook her head, obviously accustomed to his lines. ‘You know what I mean. Jemma’s difference is what makes her attractive.’
‘Among other things, I’m sure.’
Hamish’s comment earned a snort of exasperation from Sam. ‘Tara’s desperate to get out of Settlers Bridge, so being friends with someone socosmopolitanwill be the next best thing. She’ll be so keen to copy your language, your mannerisms, your way of dressing, Jemma, that she’ll be blinded to the unlikelihood of your friendship.’
‘I’d better remember to put my pants on around her, then,’ she said, though it stung a little to realise that Sam seemed to judge her unlikeable. Not that she needed friends; since primary school she’d deliberately distanced herself rather than trying to excuse her mother’s behaviour or explain why she was living with her grandparents.
She caught the flash of memory cross Hamish’s face, quickly followed by a guilty glance toward her father.Good. If they were to be locked in an undeclared contest of trying to make one another uncomfortable, she would win.
‘Definitely make sure you have your pants on this afternoon, Jemma,’ Sam said. ‘I don’t think Pa’s heart will cope otherwise.’
‘Ah, yeah, that’s today,’ she said, a pleasant thrill fluttering through her. The elderly couple were hilarious in their odd, mismatched way, and, thanks to Gerard’s agreement, she’d be able to spend some time helping them out. She might need to keep an eye on the hours, though: evidently country life was insidiously relaxing, as she’d already lost track of the days.
She tapped the table, bringing the focus of the meeting back to where it needed to be. ‘We need to engineer an opportunity for me to run into Tara.’
‘Tomorrow night, after the footy. She’ll be at the clubrooms,’ Sam suggested.
Jemma wrinkled her nose. There was nothing appealing about that sentence.
‘You can introduce them, Hamish?’ Sam continued.
Perhaps the plan did hold a little appeal. She could rely on Hamish for some verbal skirmishing.
Hamish raised his left arm. ‘I’m not playing this season, so I’ve not been hanging around the club. Don’t need to rub it in that I’m missing out.’
‘There’s that lack of drive again,’ Jemma teased. ‘Thwarted by a sporting injury?’
Hamish reefed up the sleeve of his sweatshirt, displaying a livid scar along his muscular forearm. ‘Car rollover.’
‘At fault?’
‘Jemma,’ her father said on a groan. ‘Ambulance chasing …’
‘Sorry,’ she lied. ‘Work habit.’
