Indi nodded, giving Mia the pastries Clem had packed for dessert. ‘Yummo, these are my favourite,’ Mia said. She paused and frowned then, giving Spencer a gentle thump on the arm.
‘I hope you didn’t bring any for this tight-lipped guy. I was just telling him how unfair it is that we have to wait like every other bugger to find out theLove on the Landgoss. Nondisclosure agreements suck. I could be setting him up with any manner of gorgeous ladies if I knew for sure he was single, but nope, not after this injustice.’
She winked at Clem, her lips twitching as she fixed Spencer with another dirty look then ushered Indi and Reggie out the door.
‘You haven’t told Mia and Jeff what happened with Emily?’ Clem’s words felt strangled and she felt a flush rise up her neck. He’d toed the party line, even under Mia’s harsh interrogation, while she’d blurted it out to Hazel, not twenty metres from where they were standing.
This isnotgood.
She tried to think of a way to remedy the situation, but thoughts of damage control flew from her mind as they arrived at the props room.
He’d spread a tablecloth across the workbench, shifted the old props and paints to make way for picnic fare.
‘Jeff, yes, but not Mia. But I’d rather not talk about them right now, not when we’ve got a moment together. What do you say to a little prop painting, then a little picnic?’
Clem grinned, feeling shy all of a sudden. ‘This looks divine, but I must admit, I’m looking forward to a little alone time with you. Last night was amazing.’
He returned her smile. ‘Don’t remind me. Now, these are the first cupcakes I’ve baked in years,’ Spencer said. ‘So no promises about the quality, but if they’re dry and crumbly I’ve got juice and fruit salad too.’
Clem sat her handbag down, marvelling at the scene. She took one more look at the heavy stage curtains and partition dividers that hid them from the rehearsals and auditions next door, then closed the gap between them.
Sliding her fingers into his back pockets, she tugged him closer. For a guy with such broad shoulders, he was surprisingly easy to pull towards her, and when he was millimetres away, she pressed her smiling lips against his. He was kind, thoughtful, with manners as rare as her grandfather’s contemporaries. Had anyone ever made her such a romantic picnic, even if it was in the back end of a theatre hall?
‘This is a nice surprise,’ she said. ‘Did they teach you this dark magic on the TV set?’
His laugh rumbled against her, low and deep with amusement, and it felt as good against her lips as it did her torso. ‘Would you believe me if I said it was all my own idea?’
She kissed him again. ‘I’m in danger of believing anything’s possible when I’m with you, Spencer Hawkins.’
Instead of dashing past in a race to the door, three of his literature students dawdled by their desks when the bell rang at Wednesday lunchtime.
‘Am I dreaming to think you’ve been suddenly captivated by the classics, ladies?’ he asked, pulling his phone from his desk drawer and sliding it into his pocket.
‘Just checking our socials before we head to the canteen.’
He spotted their phones in hand. While mobiles were officially banned in South Australian schools, and he happily confiscated devices during lessons, he let it slide in break times.
‘And you can’t do that while you’re eating your lunch?’ It was what the majority of the students seemed to be doing these days, heads hunched over their phones while they shovelled God-knows-what into their hungry mouths. He wasn’t sure who had approved the canteen menu at Penwarra Area School, but he’d wager Clem’s catering would be a tenfold improvement. Maybe they’d at least look at the food every bite or two if it was more wholesome and flavourful. He was looking forward to the roast veggie wrap he’d bought at Sunny Cross on his way to work this morning.
‘Check it out, Mr H. There’s a thread about you and the other farmers going wild,’ one of the girls called.
Spencer paused. Was this just another tactic to get his attention?
‘Someone’s put together a montage of the clips and dubbed a bunch of voices over it. It’s funny.’ She clocked his wary look. ‘Well, maybe not funny for you, but for everyone else. Um, kinda.’
If I go over and watch it, I’ll be adding more fuel to the fire. Spencer told himself to ignore it. It couldn’t be much worse than a stupid meme, or the YouTube caricature a student uploaded of him the year before.
But as Spencer frowned, weighing up his options, he realised he didn’t have the app the girls were talking about, and even if he downloaded it, he might not be able to find the clip in question.
‘I should be confiscating this phone, but go on then,’ he said, folding his arms across his chest. ‘I need a laugh today.’
He watched, amused. It was easy to score a few cheap laughs by adding fake commentary for the farmers. It was the episode when all the blokes were standing in a room full of potential wives at the very start of the filming, before they chose their favourite five to take back to their farms.
But then the voiceover turned nasty.
‘Yeah, matey, she looks like she could iron my shirts and boil my jocks the way Mum used to. Won’t catch me wearing a skirt around here doing women’s work.’
Spencer rolled his eyes. ‘This moron isn’t worth listening to.’ None of the farmers were like that. He went to walk away, but the oldest student, who happened to be next year’s incoming school captain, paused the clip and put a hand on his elbow.
