A humiliating prickle started up behind his eyes and he willed it away. ‘I–ah . . . Yes. Yes. I love you.’ The words felt wrenched from his chest. His fists clenched at his sides as he watched tears course down Amy’s cheeks. ‘Amy—’
‘What you wrote was horrible, really, really horrible, and that apology in the paper was even worse.’
‘I know. I realise that now. If I could take it back I would. I was too stupidly arrogant to consider the fact you didn’t know—’
‘You can’t do that, write about me again, ever.’ She looked directly at him, pressing her lips together before speaking again, the tremor in her voice telling him just how close she was to breaking down. ‘If you wanted to apologise, you should have done it to my face.’
‘I tried. Believe me I tried.’ Ben injected every bit of the sincerity he felt into his tone, fighting every instinct that told him he was about to be gutted, that he wasn’t safe. ‘And if that’s what you want, I’ll agree to your terms, any terms. Just tell me we’ve got a chance.’
‘And you’ll have to apologise to my house. I know it sounds silly, but my house means a lot to me. I work hard for it. It’s mine and I love it. I love the life I’ve built for myself. I love who I am. If you can’t accept me as me, we . . . we can’t do this.’
Ben felt a wave of hope, so strong it almost crippled him at the knees. ‘This? Are you giving me a second chance?’
She kept speaking as if she hadn’t heard him. ‘And if you mean it, if you want to be with me, you’ve got to follow through. Words come too easily to you, Ben. You use them to push people away. You used them to push
me
away. I need to see you trust me enough that you won’t do that again.’
‘I mean it.’ Ben tried for his usual sardonic smile but even without looking in the mirror, he knew it was a poor facsimile. ‘Amy, I’d appreciate it if you made this clear for my feeble mind. Have you forgiven me?’
She looked at him for a long time and he felt every second of silence as a hard thud in his veins. ‘Not yet.’ She paused again and the wait was excruciating. ‘But I will if you behave. You’re on six months’ probation.’
Ben reeled back, confusion mixing with hope and a hint of elation. ‘Probation?’
She nodded, heaving in a shaky breath. ‘Six months, living at my house, sharing my life and no complaining, no making fun of anything. Can you do that? I’m going out on a limb here–I need you to meet me halfway.’
‘Six months?’ Ben mentally baulked. All the reasons why he couldn’t live in such a small place raced through his mind: the outdoor toilet, the abominable garden, Amy’s lack of decent television or internet. He’d have to temporarily get himself a cheaper car, one that wouldn’t be stolen or ruined. He’d have to find some way of talking her into upgrading her television. He’d have to–what was he thinking? Of course he’d do it. He’d do anything. He spread his arms apart, leaving himself open. ‘When do you want me to move in?’
He was rewarded with a pint-sized blonde barrelling into him, tears wetting the front of his shirt. His own eyes gave up the fight momentarily as he buried his face in her hair, inhaling apples and bubblegum, the most wonderful woman who’d ever walked into his life, and it looked like she was crazy enough to be his.
‘Tonight. Now get into the chair. If you’re gonna be my probationary boyfriend, you can’t go around looking like that.’
Relieved laughter shook Ben’s body as he rubbed his cheek against Amy’s, earning a squeal. ‘I thought you liked me like this.’
She poked him in the ribs, her voice radiating the relief he could feel shaking through her small frame. ‘I like you better quiet with a razor against your throat. Now sit in the chair and behave.’
Ben leaned back so he could see her face, taking in every detail. ‘I love you, you know.’
He saw the impact his words had, marvelled at them and then watched with relieved delight as baby-blue eyes, still shimmering with unshed tears, narrowed. ‘You can love me even better when you don’t look like a scruff. Sit.’
‘Your wish is my command.’
‘It better be.’
‘Unless your command shows a severe lack of judgement.’
‘It won’t. You’re moving in tonight, by the way.’
‘Tonight!’
‘Sit in the chair, be a good boy and be quiet.’
Ben took one look at Amy, hands on her hips, glaring him down, her mouth twitching, and felt pure joy course through him. His laugh echoed around the room. ‘Whatever you say, sweetheart. Whatever you say.’
Epilogue
‘This kind of heat should have a warning label on it. Remind me why you decided to traipse us all the way down here mid-week just to make me walk cross-country in an inferno?’ Ben squinted his eyes against the blinding white sunlight and took in the panorama around him. To the left stretched rolling, sun-baked vineyards featuring some large, miscellaneous, chugging machinery, and to the right stood the copse of trees and the gully dam he’d visited with Amy seven months before, looking almost unrecognisable through the summer haze.
‘It’s Australia. It’s supposed to be hot. Deal with it.’
‘That’s what I said to you when we visited Alex in New York last month.’
‘That doesn’t count. It was snowing. If it’s hot you can always take off more clothes or go for a swim. If it’s cold, you die of hypothermia. How are your silly shoes going?’
Ben looked down at his irreparably ruined Gucci sneakers, still showing signs of trauma from the last time he and Amy had made this trek. At least the ground wasn’t soggy with water. Instead, it was packed hard and dry, the green grass of late winter frizzled away to crackling gold stubble, chewed down by livestock.
The air was still. Ben felt a continuous trickle of sweat run down his back and his torso and thanked God that he’d worn a baseball cap, otherwise his head would look like a tomato, seventy-plus sunscreen or not.
The months spent living in Amy’s little sweatbox hadn’t prepared him for this. He could only be thankful they’d be driving straight to his house when they got back to Perth on Sunday night. The six months of his voluntary exile from the modern world was over. Never would he take air conditioning and an indoor toilet for granted again.
‘Do you think it’s possible to die of thirst out here?’ he mused, knowing full well there was plenty of water in his backpack.
Amy stopped abruptly and turned to look at him with an exasperated frown, hands swooshing the skirt of her filmy yellow sundress. ‘Don’t start, mister. I know you’re enjoying yourself. You only complain this much when you’re really,
really
, enjoying yourself.’
She was right but that wasn’t the point. ‘Care to tell me
why
we’re doing this in the heat of the day rather than at a more sensible time?’
‘Because I promised Jo we’d look after Tiffany. It’ll be the first night she and Stephen have had a breather for ages and I want to spend a bit of quality time with my niece before we leave for your book launch in London.’ She gave him a pointed look, then flicked her ponytail over her shoulder, marching towards the trees and dam in the distance again.
Ben was momentarily distracted, watching her pert little backside moving from side to side before he snorted and caught up, long strides eating up the ground. ‘Quality time? The child’s seen so much of you, she’s probably confused who her real mother is. Don’t even think of getting any ideas. We discussed this.’
‘Hmm?’ Amy’s voice was all too innocent as she paused to open a homemade wire and ring-lock gate, letting Ben through, then deftly closing it again.
Ben didn’t like the sound of that. ‘I’m not impregnating you until you get off your high and mighty horse and agree to marry me. That damn dog of yours is more than enough for now. One of these days I’m going to break my neck falling over him instead of merely bruising my ego.’
From the back he caught Amy’s cheeks plumping out as she chuckled and felt the urge to grin back, despite his exasperation.
Four times
. He’d asked her to marry him four times over the past six months, and every time she’d turned him down, saying he had to do his time in purgatory, living in her house, before she could agree.
He’d jumped through the hoops, passed the bloody test and she was going to agree to marry him today or he was going to do something unspeakable, which would more than likely result in him getting something Australian stuck in a crevice or two when he got her underneath him until she said yes.
He was prepared for a long siege. He had the engagement ring he’d picked out six months ago in his back pocket. He’d brought a picnic blanket this time and, unbeknown to Amy, he’d arranged for a gourmet packed lunch and a rather lovely bottle of champagne, currently residing in a compact chiller providing a blessedly cool patch on the otherwise overheated skin of his back.
It took them another ten minutes to reach the relative cool of the clearing next to the dam. Like last time, Amy inspected it in silence before walking forward. Taking his baseball cap off to smooth a hand over his damp scalp and letting the backpack slide off his shoulders to rest on the ground by his feet, Ben watched on as warmth bloomed in his chest. Damn, but he loved this woman.
‘Ben?’ Amy turned and held out a hand for him. She was standing right next to the large, gnarled tree she’d told him was the site of her old childhood hidey hole.
He walked forward, wondering at the sparkle in her eyes while being completely charmed and gratified by the happiness in her expression. He’d been a little worried that this place would still hold shadowy memories for her, not only of her childhood but of his much more recent stupidity that had nearly been the end of them.
He took her hand. ‘Are you happy?’
‘Yes.’ She nodded emphatically.
‘You’re not feeling down about the partnership?’ he asked, referring to Amy selling forty per cent of her business to her friend and colleague, Mel. The decision had been a hard one but both Ben and Mel had finally convinced Amy it was the right thing to do, along with hiring a second barber, Cathleen, who was turning out brilliantly.
Be that as it may, Ben couldn’t help but notice that Amy had experienced a few pangs of anxiety during her first ever trip overseas last month to see Alex in the opening night of Gaetano Donizetti’s
La Fille du Régiment
with the Metropolitan Opera in New York.
‘I was feeling a bit flat, but I’m not now,’ she replied. ‘I’ve done the right thing.’
‘You have.’ Ben saw she was rubbing her thigh with the palm of her hand, the way she always did when she was nervous or anxious. Something was up. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Even after six months of close proximity, he was still not fully versed in all her moods. She kept him on his toes.
‘Ben?’ She looked up at him, her expression earnest. Too earnest.
‘Yes?’ he asked warily.
‘There’s something I want to ask you. Could you promise me you’ll be quiet for a few seconds and not say anything?’
He felt a small curl of apprehension. ‘This isn’t going to be depressing, is it?’
She shook her head, a small smile playing around her mouth. ‘Nope.’
He nodded. He would have shut up for a bloody year if she’d keep smiling.
She pulled her hand out of his, looked up into his eyes, then bit her lip. ‘Close your eyes.’
He opened his mouth to protest but quickly snapped it shut when she raised her brows. He heaved a massive sigh instead and did what she’d asked, feeling a full wave of apprehension wash over him.
‘You still with me?’
He nodded and felt two warm hands pressing on his already overheated chest through his T-shirt. His mind was buzzing. What the hell could his little barber be up to?
‘Will you marry me?’
It took a few seconds for the words to register and when they did Ben’s eyes snapped open, his words coming out in an indignant roar. ‘
You devious wench!
’
Amy’s wide grin turned into hearty, full blown, head-to-toes laughter. ‘You’re supposed to say yes.’
‘
No!
’ Ben exclaimed in outrage. Six months he’d been asking and now the woman springs this on him. As if he hadn’t been sweating bricks the entire time. He shook his head emphatically. ‘Oh no. No way. You made
me
wait for six months and turned me down four times.
Four
times. And then you—’ He paused, momentarily lost for words. ‘Apoplectic, sweetheart, there’s no other description for how I feel right now. Start running because when I catch you, you’re backside’s going to be too damn sore for you to move for weeks.’
‘So yes, then?’ Amy stood on tiptoes, planted a quick kiss on his firmly closed lips, then turned to sprint away, her laughter trailing behind her.
Ben let her get a little bit ahead to keep things interesting, then gave chase, hounding her steps through the trees, across a patch of dry grass and up along the bank of the dam. Amy ran ahead of him, her head thrown back, her gleeful laughter filling the air, ending with a choked giggle as he picked up his speed, grabbed her around her waist and threw her over his shoulder.
‘Put me down!’
‘No. I’m afraid you’re getting what you deserve this time.’ Ben strode determinedly down the bank. ‘It’s not like my shoes aren’t already ruined, so trust me, this is going to hurt you far more than it does me.’
It took Amy a few seconds to gauge his intent before she really started struggling. ‘No! My hair—’
‘Will bloody well survive, never mind that my ego is in tatters,’ he said indignantly, holding her just at the water’s edge. It did look blessedly cool. ‘I want a “yes” in retrospect. No, bugger that. I want
four
in retrospect, or you are going to have a bath within the next thirty seconds.’ He made as if to let go.
Amy squealed. ‘Yes, yes, yes and yes–now put me
down
.’
‘Okay.’ Ben promptly dropped her in the water.
When she finally picked herself up, spluttering and cursing him, he was sitting on the bank only a few feet away, holding up a ten-carat diamond engagement ring between thumb and forefinger. ‘Love me?’
She stood on one foot, pulling off one sodden sneaker, then another. Her hair was a bedraggled mess around her cheeks; her dress was plastered to her body. She was perfect.