be lucky to last two days. What on earth had possessed her to book a cabin for four whole weeks? The advertisement he’d placed in the local tourism rag made no false promises. It sure as hell wasn’t the kind of advert designed to attract the attention of the likes of her.
‘Look, Ms Peterson, this obviously isn’t your cup of tea. Why don’t you go on into Gloucester? It’s only half an hour further on. You’ll find accommodation more suited to your tastes there.’ Behind his back he crossed his fingers. ‘I’ll even return your deposit.’
‘Please, call me Josie.’
She paused as if waiting for him to return the favour and tell her to call him Kent, but he had no intention of making any friendly overtures. He wanted her out of here.
When he remained silent, she sighed. ‘I have to stay. My brothers organised all this as a treat.’
He recalled her rant whilst she’d clung to his clothes-line. Marty and Frank, wasn’t it? His eyes narrowed. ‘Are they practical jokers?’
‘Heavens, no.’ For a moment she looked as if she might laugh. It faded quickly. ‘Which is why I have to stay. I wouldn’t hurt their feelings for the world. And they would be hurt if they found out I’d stayed somewhere else.’
Fabulous.
She smiled then. He recognised the effort behind it, and its simple courage did strange things to his insides. He wanted to resist it. Instinct warned him against befriending this woman.
‘Is Gloucester where I’ll find the nearest phone? It’s just…I’m not getting a signal on my mobile.’
Which was one of the reasons he loved this hill.
‘And I’d really like to check on my neighbour, Mrs Pengilly.’
For a mouse she could sure make him feel like a heel. ‘There’s a phone in there.’ He hitched his head in the direction of the house.
Josie’s face lit up. ‘May I…?’
‘It’s in the kitchen.’
She raced inside as if afraid he’d take his offer back. He collapsed onto the top step, shoulders sagging, and tried not to overhear her conversation, tried not to hear how she assured whoever answered the phone that the Gloucester Valley was beautiful, that the view from her cabin was glorious, that her cabin was wonderful.
He leapt up and started to pace. Two out of three wasn’t bad. The Gloucester Valley was beautiful, and her view was glorious. He had a feeling she’d give up both for the wonderful cabin.
He blinked when she reappeared moments later. He’d expected her to be on the phone for hours. It was what women did, wasn’t it?
She tripped down the back steps. ‘Thank you, I…’ She made as if to clasp his arm then stepped back as though she’d thought better of it. ‘Thank you.’
His pulse quickened. ‘How’s your Mrs Pengilly?’
He couldn’t believe he’d asked. Maybe it was time he had a holiday.
A smile lit her face. ‘Her son Jacob came down from Brisbane and he says she’s going to be OK. Apparently she has late-onset diabetes.’
‘Once they’ve stabilised her blood sugar and organised her medication she’ll be fine.’ The words rolled out of him with an ease that was disconcerting.
‘Yes.’ The gold of her eyes glittered with curiosity. ‘You sound like you know all about it.’
‘I do.’ But he wasn’t volunteering any more information. He’d already given enough away. He reached across and plucked the key from her fingers. ‘Let’s get you settled.’
To Josie, Kent’s words sounded more like ‘Let’s get you out of my hair’. Nope, not a friendly bone in his body.
He did have a nice body, though—broad-shouldered, lean-hipped, athletic. And he wasn’t all bad. He had let her use his phone. And he’d asked after Mrs Pengilly.
She trotted to keep up with him. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and noted the uncompromising line of his mouth. Maybe he was just out of practice. Living here all on his own, he wouldn’t get much chance at personable conversation. Anyhow, she was determined to give him the benefit of the doubt because the alternative was too bleak for words—stuck out in the middle of nowhere with a man who wouldn’t give her the time of day.
No. No. She bit back a rising tide of panic. Beneath his gruffness Kent had a kind heart.
On what proof are you basing such an assumption? a disbelieving voice at the back of her head demanded.
She swallowed. He’d asked after an old lady. And…And he had a dog.
Not much though, is it? the same voice pointed out with maddening logic.
No, she guessed not. The panic rose through her again. ‘Did you nurse Molly back to health?’
‘Yes.’
One uncompromising word, but it lifted the weight settling across her shoulders. See? He did have a kind heart. For dogs.
It was a start.
Kent leapt up onto the tiny veranda that fronted the cabin and pushed the key into the door. Josie started after him then swallowed. The cabins all looked really tiny. She’d hoped…
The door swung open and she gulped back a surge of disappointment. When Marty and Frank had said ‘cabin’ she’d thought…Well, she hadn’t expected five-star luxury or anything, but she had hoped for three-star comfort.
She was landed with one-star basic. And that was being charitable.
Kent’s shoulders stiffened as if he sensed her judgement and resented it. ‘It has everything you need.’ He pointed. ‘The sofa pulls out into a bed.’
Uh-huh. She took a tentative step into the room and glanced around. Where were the flowers? The bowl of fruit? The welcoming bottle of bubbly? There wasn’t a single rug on the floor or print on the wall. No colourful throw on the sofa either. In fact, there wasn’t a throw full stop, grey or otherwise.
Admittedly, everything looked clean, scrubbed to within an inch of its life. By the light of the single overhead bulb—no light shade—the table and two chairs gleamed dully. Would it really have been such an effort to toss over a tablecloth and tie on chair pads?
‘The kitchen is fully equipped.’
It was. It had an oven and hotplates, a toaster and kettle. But it didn’t have any complimentary sachets of tea or coffee. It didn’t have a dishwasher. She hadn’t wanted the world, but—
An awful thought struck her. ‘Is there a bathroom?’
Without a word, Kent strode forward and opened a door she hadn’t noticed in the far wall. She wasn’t sure she wanted to look.
She ordered her legs forward, glanced through the door and released the breath she held. There was a flushable toilet. And a shower.
But no bathtub.
So much for the aromatherapy candles and scented bath oils she’d packed.
‘What do you think?’
Josie gaped at him. The question seemed so out of character she found herself blurting out her first impression without restraint. ‘It’s awful.’
He stiffened as if she’d slapped him.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend you, but it’s a dog kennel.’ In fact, she bet Molly’s quarters surpassed this. ‘It’s…Do all the cabins have the same colour scheme?’
The pulse at the base of his jaw jerked. ‘What’s wrong with the colour scheme?’
‘It’s grey!’ Couldn’t he see that? Did he seriously think