She was distracted by the movement of his arms. Despite the fact he was wearing a shirt, she could imagine the limbs underneath, biceps bulging, muscles contracting and extending as the metal sheath lifted and pounded down hard, driving each post deeper into the—
‘Bel?’
‘Sorry? What?’
‘You can let go of the post now.’
‘Oh. Right.’
‘You okay? Maybe it’s too hot for you. I’m nearly done anyway, why don’t you go inside and get a drink? I’ll be in after I pack all this up.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah. All good.’
Bel didn’t bother trying to argue. She was glad of an excuse to escape and get a grip on whatever the hell that was. Maybehe was right—she probably had heatstroke or something. A nice cold drink would do the trick to unscatter her brain.
This was so inappropriate, she chided herself as she set things out in the kitchen. What kind of shallow best friend was she? She was supposed to be taking care of Emma’s children during a really stressful time, not having stupid X-rated thoughts about a guy who shouldn’t even be on her radar when it came to sex …
As soon as she thought the word, images of sweat rolling across a muscular torso flashed before her eyes. ‘Stop it!’
‘Sorry?’ Dean’s confused voice came from behind her.
Shit.‘Pardon?’
‘Stop what?’
‘Oh. No, not you. I was … never mind. I made some drinks and an early lunch. I thought it might be cooler out on the verandah.’
‘I’ll clean up,’ he said, squeezing by her as she piled some sandwiches onto a plate. Bel raised her eyes and caught his gaze. They simply looked at each other for a moment before Bel swallowed nervously and eased back to allow him past.
This is getting ridiculous.
A few minutes later, Jack the dog scrambled up from where he’d been lying under the table and jumped up and down excitedly, alerting her to Dean’s return.
She couldn’t be imagining this weird attraction thing, could she?Oh God … what if I am? What if it’s all me?Knock it off already! You are a mature, intelligent woman of the world—
‘Jack. Off!’ Dean ordered.
A chuckle escaped Bel before she clamped her lips shut.So mature. ‘I made sandwiches,’ she announced, pushing the plate towards him. He thanked her and took one.
‘Did you know that Elvis was stolen from the museum?’ she asked as a way to break the silence that had fallen as they began to eat.
‘Elvis?’
‘The rooster. Therealrooster.’
‘Really?’
‘I don’t get it. Why hasn’t there been a huge fuss made of it?’
‘Because it’s a dusty old stuffed rooster?’
‘It’s the centrepiece to the town’s tourism campaign,’ she corrected.
‘Then the town needs a better centrepiece.’
‘I bet Bob Baxter had something to do with it,’ she mused as she took a bite of her sandwich.
