Wildflower Ridge Read online

  ‘Wash your mouth out with soap, Cam. My sisters are way better bakers than me. I’ve done everything else the doctor asked, I’m just leaving a little early. Vince and I …’ Penny trailed off as she realised her niece was watching her closely. Evie had just dealt with her parents’ break-up; no need to introduce more drama, especially seeing they’d never actually met Vince.

  ‘Sometimes, guys, you just have to do what you think is best.’ Penny’s voice was more confident than she felt. Am I doing the right thing? she wondered, looking around at the forlorn faces. She’d loved their company in the last eight weeks. Their faces were anxious, but she was pleased that they didn’t let her news spoil their appetites. The zucchini cake she’d baked that morning was disappearing at lightning speed.

  ‘Like when Dad gets mad with Mum and then he’s really sorry. Mum said us moving into that weird house is for the best. But …’ Evie considered the fruit in front of her, prodding at a strawberry with her fingernail. ‘But I’m not really sure it’s for the best. Our old house was way better. My room was heaps bigger. The carpet in our new house smells like it’s been sitting underneath Grandpa’s shearing shed.’

  Diana shot Penny a look.

  Penny smiled gently, stroking her niece’s long, blond hair. ‘Sometimes adults have to make tricky choices, honey. Even if it doesn’t seem like a good idea at the time, it can often be for the best. And yes … I’ll miss you all too.’

  ‘But Grandpa’s house is your home, Aunty Penny. Why can’t you keep living there?’ Cameron pointed out the window at his interpretation of south.

  Although she knew it was the wrong direction to McIntyre Park, Penny followed the small pointed finger, taking in the same view of the mountain ranges that were visible from the farmhouse, the similar tree-studded paddocks, the same rolling green paddocks.

  Penny took a sip of her tea, hoping the hot liquid would burn away the tiny part of her that agreed with everything they had said. Forget all about Vince and his wandering eye, banish the seventy-five-hour working week she was rushing back to. Stay here sipping tea and eating cake to the soundtrack of happy children and magpies in the garden. But she dismissed the notion with a soft shake of her head. I’ve long since buried that dream, and I’d only be a third wheel for Dad and Tim.

  ‘It’s because of Vince, dummy,’ said Evie. ‘Don’t you know Aunty Penny is going to get married and wear a beautiful princess dress, and then they’ll live happily ever after?’

  Penny spluttered as a zucchini cake crumb caught in her throat. Diana hid a smile as Evie sipped her glass of milk, a condescending expression settling over her face. She eyed her cousins with a withering look. ‘You boys wouldn’t understand. I’ll be a flower girl, won’t I, Aunty Pen?’

  The girl had a memory like an elephant. Why’d I craft such a soppy bedtime story? In light of this week’s turn of events, the fairytale wedding featuring Prince Vince and Princess Penny seemed a heck of a lot closer to fantasy than reality. She closed her eyes. How could I have been so blind, so confident that the rift in our relationship was repairable?

  ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Evie. Give Aunty Penny a chance to settle back into things before you go practising your royal curtsey,’ said Diana, her hand settling on Penny’s shoulder.

  ‘Perhaps you two can be the final pair in the baking class this week, the last one before I leave,’ Penny offered, blinking away tears.

  Cameron’s frown and Evie’s pouting lips both softened at the suggestion.

  ‘All right, but only because they sound like lots of fun. We’re still not happy that you’re leaving,’ said Evie.

  Penny looked at her empty coffee cup, unfurled herself from the couch and headed into the kitchen for another refill. A spoon rattled against china as Angus snored in his armchair, cradling an empty dessert bowl. She looked out into the night, rain was still beading down the windows and pots full of white flowers danced to the tune of a strong southerly wind. Despite the overnight frost, a freestanding fire kept the farmhouse toasty warm. The ambiance of a wood burner was high on the list of things she would miss.

  Penny sighed, running a weary hand through her hair. She remembered her melancholy on the journey from the city to the farm two months ago, convinced the secondment would be like a penitentiary sentence. She thought of the times when she’d been so homesick for her city life and suffocated by the proximity of her family. But as she sat nestled in the couch, drinking yet another cup of coffee to try and unfuddle her puzzled brain, she felt a sense of gratitude. She was grateful for the weeks surrounded by her niece and nephews, the smell of much-needed rain on parched paddocks, the feeling that came from nurturing a sick animal back to health, and the beautiful simplicity of baking herself better.

  Penny drained the last drop of coffee, hoping the brew would give her the strength to close the tiny door that niggled and waved the flag for country living. She stood up, collecting the pudding bowl, and reminded herself she would return to Melbourne at the end of the week. Absolutely. Definitely. Certainly.

  Twenty-eight

  Puddles splashed up over Penny’s boots as she ran across the community hall parking lot. She could hear Tim’s V8 engine purring down the main street of Bridgefield, the creak of its aged suspension as it negotiated the potholed surface and knew without looking that Eddie and Bones were accompanying him. She fumbled with the hall key, her back to the driving rain, as their car doors slammed. The wind pushed the hall door open for her, and she dripped her way across the wooden floorboards to the kitchen, her arms singing from a load of heavy groceries and cooking equipment.

  ‘Ready for one last class?’ she called to the pair as they came through the doorway, their jackets saturated and their hair slicked down against their wet faces.

  ‘Penny, Penny, Penny,’ called Eddie. His face lit up like a sunbeam as he ran over to hug her. She smiled back at his cheerful greeting and wondered whether he understood this was their last session together. For a fleeting moment, she envied his simplistic view of life, his full focus on the present.

  ‘Mac.’ Tim nodded as he passed her, his voice quiet as he unpacked their supplies.

  Tim, on the other hand, thought Penny, he’s probably delighted to see the back of me.

  The hall door reopened and a wave of keen bakers raced across the room. In the flurry of excited footsteps, she felt Tim’s presence beside her; an earthy smell of firewood and cut grass. He picked up the wooden spoon she had just set down and rolled the implement between his large hands.

  ‘You okay, Mac? Nanna Pearl told me about Vince,’ he said, raising his voice to be heard above the chatter between Eddie and his friends.

  Penny turned, surprised at his gentle tone. Her arm inadvertently pressed against his as she met his grey eyes. She searched for a hint of sarcasm or condescension, but found nothing other than concern. She debated how to reply when a familiar voice piped up.

  ‘Are you talking about Aunty Penny’s boyfriend, Vince? Dad says he’s a knob, but I’m not sure what kind of knob he means … a doorknob? Or a knob of butter?’ asked Cameron, appearing by their side with a puzzled look on his face.

  Tim laughed.

  ‘I’m sure your dad means he’s a snob, mate. Some of those city blokes are a bit like that,’ he said, ruffling the boy’s blond hair and sending Penny a wink over the top of Cameron’s head.

  Penny shook her head with a smile, watching him as he flicked through the recipe book with her nephew. The fifteen years that had passed since they were together felt like two lifetimes ago, but in this hazy light, with a sunshower illuminating the hall kitchen, he looked more like the young man she’d fallen in love with. The way he joked with Cameron reminded her of the way they’d horsed around as teenagers. Friendly teasing, bad jokes. Anything to foil teenage awkwardness until they were comfortable with one another, sure of the other’s feelings.

  ‘Righto, Aunty Penny, we’re ready. Don’t forget to wash your hands, Tim,’ said Cameron with
a cheeky grin.

  Penny smiled. It would feel good to tie up loose ends before she returned to the city. She couldn’t change the past, but she could end the final baking session on a good note, with something akin to friendship.

  She watched as Tim organised their young charges, tying aprons and overseeing the hand-washing process as she set up the baking equipment. He carefully lifted a shy teenager from his wheelchair to wash his hands at the sink, tickled Evie as she tried to evade the soap pump, and quietly outlined the morning’s recipes.

  A thought rose to her mind and, as unbidden as it was, she couldn’t bring herself to block it out. I bet Tim isn’t the cheating kind.

  One of the children had commandeered the portable radio in the hall kitchen, and Tim found his toes tapping to the tinny pop music. The mood was buoyant in the room, excited voices from happy bakers going about their tasks with smiles on their faces. Even Mac’s happy, Tim noted, watching her juice lemons with effortless efficiency.

  He’d almost got used to sharing the tiny kitchen each Monday and realised with surprise that he might miss her when she headed back to Melbourne. He coughed, trying to dislodge the uncomfortable feeling. You’ll miss this—the group sessions—not her.

  Like a dog with a bone, Nanna Pearl had taken it upon herself to update him on Mac and Vince’s relationship dramas during last night’s roast. And as much as he tried to tune out, and nod in the right places so it seemed like he was listening, his ears had pricked up when he heard just how rocky their relationship was.

  For all of her faults—and there are quite a few—she doesn’t deserve to be cheated on, he thought, an unexpected surge of protectiveness bubbling out of nowhere. It was the same feeling that had crept into his thoughts as Sam had ranted about Lara and the McIntyre family, as if he were an innocent bystander in their marriage breakdown. Tim hadn’t missed that since Sam had left town. Not one bit.

  He looked away, searching for something else to focus on. He landed on Evie as she poured condensed milk into the blender. She had her father’s colouring, but thankfully neither of her parent’s perpetual pessimism.

  ‘Nice work there, Evie.’

  ‘Thanks, Tim,’ she said, her round face turning up to him with unabashed adoration.

  He walked around the room to where his group were pressing biscuit bases into fancy hinged tins. What did Penny call them? Springform tins.

  ‘Lasagne took longer than I thought. We’re almost out of time, Mac. Reckon the blender will hold a double mix?’

  ‘Of course it can. Piece of cake,’ said Penny.

  She flashed Tim a sudden smile. His body responded as her face transformed from pretty to beautiful. He spun around. Although his hands were already clean, he thrust them under the running water to clear his mind. It was the first time in years he’d seen that smile. He recalled the last time, sitting beside a bonfire with country music blaring from his ute speakers, moments before she had tugged him closer and kissed him with unbridled teenage enthusiasm. C’mon, Patterson, get a grip. You obviously need to get back into the dating game if one smile has you rehashing old memories.

  Tim threw back a glass of cold water. He watched Penny pour lemon juice into the blender and open the second tin of condensed milk. She set the ingredients aside, wiped her hands on the frilly apron, and watched the students finishing up with the biscuit bases. He followed her line of vision.

  ‘Those smiles say it all,’ he said.

  Penny beamed again, happiness relaxing her face and making her eyes crinkle at the corners. She was so infuriating at times, self-focused and city-centric, but somehow, she softened during baking classes.

  ‘Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve enjoyed it. Turns out measuring butter and scooping flour are soothing. I’d forgotten how much I love baking,’ said Penny.

  ‘Anything would taste better than kale stir-fries and chia seed protein balls. I don’t know why you’ve deprived yourself of decent food for so long.’

  She glared at him; a stern expression with a teaspoon of mischief and a shot of straight-up sassiness.

  ‘Says he who couldn’t bake a cupcake a month ago. And what’s this I hear about you fixing gourmet roasts? Nanna Pearl is sending Olive batty with all the details. You know she’s going to land on your doorstep one day, right on 7 p.m. You’re a dark horse, Tim Patterson. I’ll give you that.’

  Tim laughed, glad she couldn’t read his mind and discover just how dark his thoughts ran, mainly when she gave him that smile. Lucky she’s leaving in a day or two, he thought. Something inside him realised being friends with Penny McIntyre was a lot more dangerous than being enemies.

  Penny folded her arms across her chest, enjoying the newfound camaraderie between her and Tim. It was an improvement on the strained awkwardness that had marked the previous eight weeks. A screech from the blender and a shriek made them turn in unison.

  ‘Erghhh,’ cried Evie. Her hands clamped over her mouth as the blender sprayed its sticky contents everywhere.

  With the mixture dripping down her brow, Penny blindly searched on the benchtop for the absent lid. Tim’s arms reached around her to flick the machine off at the power point.

  The younger children gasped, the older students giggled, and Penny felt her lips twitch as she took in Tim’s face. Chunks of cream cheese hung from his stubbled jaw. Beads of condensed milk oozed off the tip of his nose. He pursed his lips, nostrils flaring with amusement as he scanned her face. She smelled the lemon, felt the thick droplets rolling down her cheek and a roar of laughter pealed from her lips.

  From the sight of Tim’s broad grin, Penny knew she was as much of a spectacle as him. His laughter also echoed around the room, sending the junior chefs into stitches.

  Emboldened by the eager audience and feeling suddenly playful, Penny kept her gaze locked on Tim as she reached for the blender.

  ‘You missed a spot, Evie.’ She scooped out a handful of the mixture and rubbed it into Tim’s hair.

  The children went wild as Tim maintained a deadpan expression, lifting an eyebrow and looking back at her quizzically. He leaned in closer, smelling like sweet citrus.

  Penny bit her lip with a combination of mischief and anticipation. She felt the heat of his body next to hers and the room faded away as his face took up her entire field of vision. She caught her breath as he ran his finger gently along her cheekbone. She wrenched her eyes away from Tim’s to watch his fingertip then travel to his mouth.

  ‘Mmmm, tastes good to me … still, reckon it needs more lemon juice though.’ His voice was low and husky as he stepped away with a smile, still sucking on his finger.

  Hoots of laughter brought a flush to her face. Penny flicked on the tap, allowing the cold water to bring her back to her senses. What the hell was that? And in a room full of children, to boot. She recruited helpers and started cleaning up the mess.

  ‘And here I was thinking you didn’t like getting your hands dirty,’ said Tim. Two shirts dangled from his outstretched arm. ‘Lucky I picked up a clean basket of shirts from Nanna Pearl this morning. The green one should fit you.’

  Penny smirked.

  ‘Your nanna does your washing?’

  Tim shook his head mournfully.

  ‘She kidnaps my laundry basket when I’m at work, holds it to ransom until I agree to let her iron. You don’t know how many times I tried hiding the washing before I finally gave in.’ His voice was wistful with a hint of humour—a side of him she had yet to experience.

  ‘But if you don’t want it … ?’

  He dropped the shirt on the bench and walked away. Penny looked down at her sodden and sticky clothing, knowing clean and dry was a much better option. She wiped her hands on the apron.

  ‘I’ll be back in a second,’ she told the group. ‘You guys can finish cleaning up.’

  She grabbed the shirt and headed into the depths of the community hall. The brown and orange toilets she remembered from her childhood had since been replaced with a single unisex, wheel
chair-friendly restroom. But it wasn’t the tiling or the new sink that caught her attention. She stood rooted to the spot at the sight of Tim facing the wall as he pulled the wet T-shirt over his head. His body was toned by farm work rather than weights or gym machines and, try as she might, she couldn’t help but stare.

  Look away right now, Penny McIntyre. You have absolutely no business ogling another man, especially Tim Bloody Patterson. She took a step backward and tried to reason with her body, turning an unbidden sigh of appreciation into a cough. To distract herself, she lifted the fabric to her nose, curious to know whether it would hold his scent or his grandmother’s trademark lavender. Her senses were rewarded with the fresh smell of line-dried cotton and a hint of Tim’s woodsy outdoors.

  Tim heard Penny cough to announce her arrival. He stayed where he was, changing his shirt slowly, and hoped the straining against his zipper would hurry up and subside.

  Have I really gone back to high school days, when hormones trump common sense?

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been turned on in a public setting. He was pretty sure Penny hadn’t noticed, but it was embarrassing all the same. He turned around, holding the soiled shirt in front of him, trying not to notice the ripples under her damp shirt that suggested lacy underwear.

  ‘I’ll give you some privacy.’

  She nodded and took a step into the tiny room. Tim could smell her lemony sweetness again, which pushed him back towards the state of arousal he had just overcome. Two steps closer and they would be chest to chest.

  ‘Thanks.’ Her voice came out soft and inviting and before he knew it, he had bridged the gap between them with another step.

  Tim felt his pulse quicken as he looked down at the freckles sprinkled across her nose. He watched her eyes darken. Her lips parted. Tim tried to conjure up the reasons why he should walk away, but his brain couldn’t think beyond helping her out of that wet shirt and appreciating the body underneath it. He ran a tentative hand over the delicate skin on her arm. It goose-bumped at his touch. Tim studied her, saw the lust that reflected his own, and leaned closer.