“The manager,” Joyce whispered back.
Ah good, thought Ellie, surely he won’t turn down legitimate sales. But of course she was wrong. The manager, whom she recognized as a distant relative of Flynn’s mother, wasn’t even sure he wanted to let her buy one newspaper.
“I don’t want you causing havoc in my shop,” he announced, his pudgy arms folded over an impressive beer gut. “Perhaps you should just leave.”
To hell with being polite, Ellie had just about had it up to here with some of the people in this silly, back-of-beyond town. She thrust her finger at the sign that hung across the entrance. “Last time I checked, this was a co-operative.” She dragged the last word out, showing exactly what she thought of him. “And as I recall, co-operative means owned by the community, whereas you are just its manager. So I’m buying the damn food in this trolley and I’ll buy as many newspapers as I want.”
Upset and sweating, Ellie leaned forward and wrapped her arms around the thick pile of papers. She yanked them up and dropped them on the checkout, narrowly missing Simone’s fingers. Her sunglasses tumbled off the top of her head and the newspapers fell off either side of the ancient conveyer belt making a mess on the floor.
“I’ll pick them up,” said Joyce, her voice taking on a warning tone. “You go wait in the car.”
At Joyce’s words Ellie cringed. She looked at the faces now glaring at her from all over the store. She’d totally lost it, confirming what most of the town probably thought—that she was some up-herself celebrity who thought money could buy everything. Truth was, all she wanted was the chance to prove them wrong. That she wasn’t the evil Jezebel they’d pegged her as. What happened to being human? What happened to everyone making mistakes?
Her eyes brimmed with tears she didn’t want to shed in public. Years on the small screen had made her very good at being able to turn the waterworks on when she didn’t really feel like it, and an expert at switching them off when in the public eye. But right now, she was losing the battle.
Opting to accept Joyce’s out, she stooped to pick up her sunglasses, almost poking herself in the eye in an effort to put them back on. She left the store, walking briskly and failing dismally to hold her head high.
AS FLYNN MADE his way out of the sheep yards, where he’d been getting his sheep ready for the big ram sale, he saw Lucy running toward him from the homestead. She was shouting something, her arms waving crazily over her head as she did so. He started in her direction.
“What’s up, little sis?”
Despite almost losing it on the weekend and running into Ellie, he’d woken up in a good mood, optimistic about inhabiting the same town as her. The initial meeting was over and, he had to say, it had been less traumatic than he’d anticipated. He’d handled it a lot better than she had, that’s for sure. Probably because, when push came to shove, she was the one with something to feel guilty about. If she hadn’t loved him enough to settle down with him, she should have been woman enough to say so to his face.
As the gap closed between the siblings, Flynn noticed his mobile in Lucy’s hand. Instinctively, he patted his pocket where the phone usually lived. “Careful with that,” he said, reaching for it when Lucy approached.
“I wasn’t the one who left it on the kitchen table where it’s been ringing incessantly and almost vibrating off the edge.” She puffed a little to catch her breath. “The house phone’s been going crazy since the crack of dawn, too.”
Flynn frowned and glanced at the screen. Twenty-two missed calls. That had to be a record.
“Women’s Weekly has rung, TV Week, the Australian and even Sunrise.” Excitement bounced off every word. “Kochie and Mel want to interview you. And Cara says you’re on the front page of the West. You’re famous.” Two words he didn’t want to hear. Especially not for the reasons he guessed. Why else would the journos come sniffing around?
“Shouldn’t you be at school?”
“School holidays,” Lucy said with a grin.
He sighed as the phone buzzed again. “No point prolonging the inevitable.” He answered. “Good morning, Flynn Quartermaine.”
“And a very good morning to you, too, Flynn,” sang a woman’s voice. “How does it feel to have your first love back in town?”
He gritted his teeth. The audacity of the woman not even bothering to introduce herself, hoping he’d spill some juicy news before realizing she wasn’t an old friend. Yeah, right.
“If you’re referring to Ellie Hughes, that has absolutely nothing to do with me. Please don’t call again.”
“But, Flynn...”
He snapped his phone shut. He didn’t have time for this in the middle of shearing. But he knew someone who did. “Lucy, what’s on your agenda for today?”
She pouted. “We’re supposed to be studying for mock exams, but I need to practice my audition for the play. Casting is tomorrow afternoon. Only I’ve rehearsed so many times, I have no idea whether I’m getting worse or better.” Her eyes lit up a moment. “Wanna watch?”
“Yes,” he said, and smiled, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “If you screen my calls today, I’ll help you practice this evening. Deal?”
“Hell, yeah.” She held out her bawdy manicured hand—this time with glittery gold nails—for his phone. “I can handle the media. I can even write you up a press statement if you like. We learned about them last week in English.”
“Hold fire on the press release,” he said. “Tell the media I have nothing to say and take the name and number of anyone important.”
“Got it, captain.” Lucy saluted him.
He chuckled, trying to forget Ellie, forget the press and focus on the work that needed to be done. With not long until farmers from all around came to inspect his stock, he had plenty to organize.
“You’re a champ,” he told Lucy. “And I reckon you’ll knock everyone’s socks off at auditions.”
“I hope so,” she answered, before turning and walking back to the main house.
Alone again, Flynn thought of what the journalist had said and wondered if they were hassling Ellie, as well. Yeah, of course they were. The difference was, she probably relished the attention. But in spite of this, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Damn, she’d looked great yesterday. Not as polished as the photos he’d glimpsed over the years, her rich brown hair pulled back almost messily, her complexion paler, her body a little thinner than he liked but still...sexy as all hell. Sexy even in simple jeans and a rugby top. Sexier than any other woman he’d ever met. Just the thought of her had the blood pumping in a southerly direction. His hormones were only raring up now because yesterday they’d been suppressed by shock. He’d known sometime or other he’d bump into Ellie—Hope was a small town—but he hadn’t prepared himself well. He hadn’t thought about what he would say when the moment arose. Small talk should have been the go, to show her he’d moved on, that he didn’t feel anything in her presence and that he definitely didn’t want to rekindle their friendship. Discussion of the weather or the lack of rain would have been real insulting. Instead, he’d stared like some crazed pervert and pleaded, “Why?”
For a split second, he’d regretted the question. Maybe he didn’t want to know if there was an answer beyond the conclusions he’d already come to. Sometimes the truth was best left buried in the past. But he needn’t have worried. She’d looked through him as if he was a ghost—a blurry memory from long ago. Simply stared without the slightest inclination to acknowledge him. He’d felt small—real small—and the best thing had been to get out of there before he let loose on exactly what he thought of