Will laughed. “But not a nice wedding ring.”
* * *
A couple of hours later, after coffee, chocolate marzipan, and a luscious muscat that made Allie think of honey and raisins and sweet summer evenings, Tarryn stood to leave. Allie glanced at her phone—gone midnight. Not late by Sydney standards, but Quandong was different. She stood, too, and her head swam in a pleasant haze of tiredness and muscat.
Will glanced at her. “Tarry, love, drop Sophie off on your way; she’ll fall asleep on Phyll’s doorstep if she has to walk.”
“It would save me calling her tomorrow,” Allie said.
Tarryn shot her a glance. Probably assessing the chances of her falling asleep between here and her apartment. “No problem.”
Allie kissed both Garrett and Will on the cheek. “Thank you for a wonderful evening. You can take your beef en croute recipe to the grave. It’s safe from my attempt.”
Will hugged her back. “You must come again before you leave. We still have to figure out some trips for you and places to go.”
Tarryn, having said her goodbyes already, waited at the bottom of the steps, jingling the keys to her truck.
As she walked down the path behind Tarryn’s tall shape, Allie glanced back at Will and Garrett, silhouetted by the light, arms around each other’s waists. They would make a great couple for the fake wedding.
Tarryn moved the welding helmet and gloves from the passenger seat of her truck to the floor and shoved the box of copper pipe to the centre of the bench seat. She started the engine and pulled away.
“Thanks for this,” Allie said. “Is it much out your way?”
“A little.” Tarryn shrugged. Her profile was shadowy in the darkness. The moon coming in the side window turned her iron-grey curls to silver. “I’m a few minutes out of town. It’s no trouble, though.”
“So we’re not going to pass Ally-paca and Elly-paca tonight?” It was as if Allie’s eyes were welded to Tarryn’s profile. A strong face, she thought hazily. Attractive. And when she smiled—Allie flicked her tongue over her suddenly dry lips—it made butterflies dance in her belly and heat curl its way into her chest.
“No.” Tarryn’s eyes crinkled. “They’ll be asleep in the barn. You can come and see them, though.”
“I’d love that. Cute, furry animals. What’s nicer?”
“Cute, smooth-skinned women, since you asked. But Ally and Elly come a close second. So you don’t have a cranky cat. Do you have any pets?”
“No. I live alone.”
“Nothing warm to snuggle at night?” Tarryn flashed her a quick glance, her quirky half smile lifting the corner of her mouth.
“Just my fleecy quilt. Every girl should have one. Especially you—it’s cold here!”
“I prefer my bed-warmers to be more active.”
Allie wrapped her arms around her midriff. Was Tarryn flirting? No, surely not. For all the warmth and banter of the evening, Tarryn wouldn’t do that. Not with her. This was a light-hearted comment, nothing more.
But what if she were the gay woman Tarryn believed her to be? What would Sophie do? A smile tickled her mouth at the thought of her twin. Sophie would laugh at that comment and tease right back. “Then curl up with the alpacas. I’m sure they snort and wiggle enough for you.”
“They also stink. So not an option.”
“The Hollowman might still be open. You might be able to find a less stinky bed companion there.”
Tarryn laughed. “I doubt it. At this time of night, it’s normally only Mike and Mal propping up the bar. They’re both in their sixties and don’t want to go home to their wives. See? That’s what marriage does to you.”
“I’m sure that’s nothing to do with marriage and everything to do with Mike and Mal.” Allie’s head spun as Tarryn took a corner fast. Too much wine. She wasn’t a big drinker, but it had been too easy to sip wine and laugh and enjoy the relaxed company. It was almost like being with her Sydney friends.
Jason’s arrival had thrown her, though. Damn Sophie for forgetting to mention him. She hoped he hadn’t noticed her vague answers. She thanked her lucky stars Sophie had immediately answered her frantic text from the loo. What were the odds of someone in Quandong sharing Sophie’s, quite frankly, weird interest in baseball cards? Allie had always glazed over when Sophie mentioned them. Tonight was the only time in living history she’d wished she’d paid attention.
She snuck another look at Tarryn, at her hands confident on the wheel. Would Sophie find Tarryn attractive? She was nothing like Bree, Sophie’s last girlfriend. But there was something very appealing about Tarryn’s long, lean figure, the combination of her olive skin and iron-grey tight-cropped curls. A shudder ran through her. She must have drunk too much to be thinking like that.
She forced her thoughts back to the evening. Tarryn hadn’t appeared totally relaxed. Her prickles had appeared a couple of times. Allie didn’t think it was their working relationship; that didn’t seem to faze her. More likely it was her antipathy to the whole marriage thing—and pressure from Phyll. Allie sighed. That was a job for tomorrow morning.
