The Contract Marsh, Nicola (sad books to read txt) 📖

She didn’t have time for his teasing. “Tell me what happened.”

He folded his arms and drummed his fingers as if he had all the time in the world to make her squirm. “Are you always this obnoxious or is it just me?”

If she’d been the dramatic type, she would’ve wiped the infuriating smirk off his recently-shaven face with a curse or two. Instead, she settled for, “It’s you. Now, if you can manage to dismount off that incredibly tall horse you seem to be stuck on and wipe that look off your face, I might actually get some answers.”

To her chagrin, he laughed. Rather than being chastised, he found her amusing?

“I’ll tell you everything if you come for a ride with me.”

“You’re joking.”

By his sudden seriousness, she knew he wasn’t. “I have a proposition for you. One I’m sure you’ll find interesting.”

She’d had enough of this. “I doubt that. I’m going to find my father now and I suggest you leave.”

“What I have to say could save the carnival.”

He turned and walked away, leaving her gaping.

She’d never run after a man in her life. But he’d dangled the one carrot in front of her guaranteed to make her nibble. Swallowing her pride, she called out. “I’ll come with you on the damn ride. But this better be good.”

She quickly focussed her attention on his face as he turned around. That was all she needed, for him to catch her staring at his butt. He had enough attitude already, without her infatuation compounding the problem.

His knowing grin did little to soothe her already frazzled nerves. “Trust me.”

He may as well have asked her to bungee-jump from the Sydney Harbour Bridge but what choice did she have? If she could do anything to save her father’s business she would, even if it involved schmoozing with the likes of Steve Rockwell.

* * *

Half an hour later, she couldn’t believe how a guy could splash money around so liberally. The hire car, the dinner and now this. When she’d accepted Steve’s offer for a ride, she hadn’t expected a cruise up a canal on some fancy boat he’d hired.

“This is nice.” She’d never sailed on the canals though she’d lived in Queensland her entire life. Trying not to ogle, she took in the impressive mansions lining the shores, each palatial home sporting a private landing dock and accompanying boat. An easy life for some.

“Careful.” Steve handed her a glass of chilled chardonnay. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

She sipped the wine, enjoying the icy bite of the Barossa grapes. “I call it as I see it.”

“Does that philosophy extend to all areas of your life?” He sat next to her in the bow of the boat, a little too close for comfort. Heck, if his sexy body was anywhere within five feet of her, it was too close.

“Sure does. I’ve never understood people who talk in riddles. Why hide behind words when the truth is so much better?”

He nodded and she noticed the way the sun glinted off his dark blond hair, curling at the collar of his polo shirt. He wore it slightly too long to be professional and that surprised her. She’d picked him to be a total conformist, a man who bowed to the pressures of society. Maybe he could lighten up when needed?

Taking in his immaculately pressed khaki shorts, the designer emblem on his polo shirt and the four hundred dollar Italian deck-shoes, she seriously doubted it.

“I happen to agree, though the truth can often hurt,” he said, staring at the horizon behind her, not quite meeting her eyes.

She wondered what or who had caused the momentary pain she’d seen flicker across his face. “Only if you let it,” she said, resisting the urge to smooth the slight frown that marred his forehead.

“It’s difficult to ignore the truth when it’s hitting you in the face every day.”

She had no idea what he was talking about and decided silence would be the best course of action at this point. If he needed to unburden some great, dark secret before they discussed the carnival, so be it.

He drained the rest of his wine before continuing. “Have you ever felt so stifled you’d do anything to run away?”

She shook her head. “Not really. I’ve led a pretty charmed life. My parents let me make my own decisions from an early age. I’ve never felt restricted in any way, though the grief when my mum died was overwhelming. I did feel a tad stifled then.”

“How did she die?”

She sighed, amazed at the stab of pain after all these years. Her mum had been a kindred soul, a child of the hippy era who had instilled her gift of peace into Amber at an early age. She’d even been named after her mum’s favourite stone.

“Cancer. A long battle.”

She noted the sudden tightening of his body, the rigidity of his neck muscles. “My Gran’s dying of cancer at the moment.” He spoke so softly she barely heard.

“I’m sorry.” She reached out instinctively, knowing words were inadequate at a time like this and hoping her touch would sooth. She believed in Reiki and the healing power of hands, not that she would let him know it. He’d scoff like many did.

He didn’t remove his hand from under hers and she longed to stroke her thumb over the back of it. “It’s an awful disease. I feel so helpless. There’s nothing I can do.”

“You must love your Gran very much.”

He nodded and she watched a hint of a smile curve his mouth. “She’s the best. When I was growing up, she was the only one who gave me