“If this was the start of the season, I’d be happy to take this girl off your hands,” Phil replied smoothly. “But after the picking is done, our permanent staff take over things. Wine sales have been down the last few years. People aren’t buying red as much as they used to. I’m sorry, but I can’t help here.”
My fingers clawed at the arms of my chair. Brains were a curious thing and mine was showing me my own personalversion of the dumb ways to die ad, and Mackenzie featured in each accident.
“Does she have any experience with horses? I know the stud is looking for more people?”
My mind cleared, becoming crystal clear as I met Phil’s gaze head on.
“No,” I said, getting to my feet, even though I distinctly remembered there being a mention of that on James… Mackenzie’s resume. “Thanks for taking the time to talk to me, Phil.”
“Anytime, mate,” he said as I headed for the door. “And if Charlie ever wants to move into cellar management, just have her give me a call.”
She didn’t. Wine didn’t have fur, feathers, or fangs, so she was not interested at all, but that didn’t help me right now. Jumping into the car, I started back towards town, intent on driving through and back home to deal with whatever new emergency my family managed to concoct, only to get a message from my sister. Seeing a list of things she needed from the vet had me sighing.
What now? That’s what I wanted to ask, but I didn’t. Instead, I flicked on the indicator and then made my way over to the vet’s.
“Nugget got himself into a scrape, did he?” Deidre, the vet’s receptionist asked as I walked in through the door. “Here you go. The vet dispensed everything he’ll need, but said to bring him in if he gets disorientated, his balance seems affected, or he’s off his food.”
“Will do,” I said. “Thanks, Deidre.”
More money, I thought as I walked out the door. More bills, more animals, more issues. For just a moment, I stood by my car, hand gripping the door handle as I let my breath come in and out slowly. Sometimes it felt like the farm was like anavalanche, burying me under a fresh foot of snow every time I managed to dig my way to the top. Getting into the car, I turned the engine over, then was going to head back home, when I drove past the pub.
Maybe a beer at lunch wouldn’t be such a bad thing? Might calm the throbbing tide of fear and anger in my blood.
You’re just trying to avoid going home, a voice inside my head insisted.
And that was true most days. It took me a while, but I realised why Dad was so keen to skip out on the place. Work, work, disease, the right weather at the wrong time, and, you guessed it, more work. It’s what should have put me back behind the wheel and driving towards the farm to make a dent in the long list of things that needed doing. Instead, I walked into the pub.
“Troy!” Vance, the publican, looked up as I walked in. “Don’t see you here often.”
“A beer, thanks, Vance,” I said, “and?—”
“A chicken parma with vegetables on the side, no chips?” He winked when I nodded, then turned to put my order in. “So what brings you by?”
I settled down on a stool, my elbows hitting the wooden bar.
“Bad day.”
“Well.” He started pouring my beer. “You don’t usually come in here on good ones. Want to talk about it?”
Yes, that was my first thought, followed quickly by no. Don’t tell other people our business was Dad’s credo, a piece of advice he abandoned when he left home.
“New backpacker on the farm,” I said finally. “Charlie set it up, even though I expressly said no.”
“Charlie is a strong woman,” he replied. “Not sure any man could tell her what to do.”
“Yeah, well, she should’ve listened to me because this bloody American went stumbling into Wally’s paddock, running after a wounded wombat.”
He set my beer down, then pushed it my way. “She did what?”
“After hitting Nugget with her car.” I raked my fingers through my stubble. “So I was forced to jump the fence and get her out of the field before my bull killed her.” A long sigh escaped me. “Charlie signed us up for six months of this? The only way this girl is going back home is in a body bag.”
I took a sip from my beer.
“Need to find her somewhere else to stay. Tried Phil, but he’s winding things up on the winery. Do you know anyone that’s looking for people?”
The way Vance looked over my shoulder should’ve warned what was about to come next, but before I could look around, I heard this.
“Depends.” I turned slowly to see Beau Argyle standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his designer moleskin pants. “Is she hot?”
