Once Upon a Time in Tarrula / To Wed a Rancher. Myrna Mackenzie

little room for emotion, and to do well in that field until injury had taken him out.

      God, he missed that life. It was the only thing that had made him feel right about himself, a vocation where the emotional lack his mother had constantly bemoaned was a benefit.

      ‘I’m sorry Carl’s not here again, Troy.’ Stacie’s words were apologetic, professional, but also just a little breathless. Soft flags of colour stained her cheeks. ‘He’s out at a meeting with one of our key orchardists.’

      ‘It’s okay. I wanted to check on the plant briefly, that’s all.’ Troy hadn’t stopped by hoping to see her. He told himself this, but his gaze still lingered on that soft colour.

      Stacie was a nice woman, kind, determined, and with her own life plan. And, if creating dog-coats and accessories as a successful home-based business seemed a rather unusual goal, it was still a very hard-working one. Particularly while she was holding down another full-time job at the same time. Troy should value her for those things and leave the rest alone.

      This had never been a problem for him before. And Stacie was completely unlike any woman he’d have said might be even a halfway suitable match for him.

      Linda had been the only one he’d felt was right, and she’d walked away quickly enough once it had become clear that the damage to his knee was permanent. Not that Troy would have expected anything else of her. If she hadn’t made that choice, he’d have made it for her.

      Yeah? So why did it sting, then?

      A sting against his pride and plans, he supposed.

      ‘Did you come to town to join in the after-work hour we’ve got on at the pub?’ Stacie held a bunch of invoices in her hands. She shuffled them as she waited for his answer.

      It was raining outside again, another light fall just audible on the roof of the building. The machinery had come to a stop on the processing floor below.

      Stacie followed his glance through the plate-glass windows to the floor. ‘Most of the crew goes. It’s a good social event.’

      For some reason, Troy pictured Stacie with water droplets gilding her fall of straight hair. He would lift his hand and brush the droplets away …

      ‘When I think of off-duty team-bonding exercises the ideas usually involve extreme sports and other calculated-risk activities.’ But he couldn’t do those now, and Stacie was waiting for his answer. ‘Carl did mention this at the start of the week.’

      Troy had had no intention of entering any kind of social whirl in Tarrula, work-related or otherwise, so he’d pretty much put the idea out of his mind.

      Nevertheless, it might be a good opportunity to get to know staff in an informal setting. He’d briefly greeted them all on the first day, but that was about it.

      ‘Do you go to these staff get-togethers, Stacie?’ It shouldn’t have been a particularly important question, yet the thought of her out at a pub with a bunch of men from the plant brought about a jealous and protective instinct in Troy that he didn’t want to acknowledge. It was quite ridiculous, and one-hundred percent inappropriate.

      ‘I go along most weeks.’ Stacie shifted to start tidying the contents of her desk. ‘It’s usually a fun time.’

      ‘Then we’d best get going.’ The rest of the plant was quiet now. Troy started downstairs to check the building while Stacie gathered her things and secured the office for the night. Stacie watched Troy’s broad back disappear down the staircase that led from the offices, and she noticed that the descent was awkward for him. She made her way downstairs to join him and they drove separately, with Troy following Stacie as she led the way. Minutes later they walked into the pub together. It was silly, but for a moment Stacie almost felt as though they were on a date.

       Sure, Stacie. A date that includes every other employee at the plant.

      She mustn’t think of it in that light, anyway! Yet, as she walked at Troy’s side, she was very aware of him, of the breadth of strong shoulders as he moved at her side, of that uneven gait that he seemed to hate so much.

      She’d seen the definition of muscles honed by years of attention to physical fitness. She’d held her breath and hoped he would kiss her, and pushed all those thoughts and reactions aside since. They threatened her equilibrium, the fragile truce she’d built with herself.

      So this work hour was fine. She’d introduce Troy around again, if he wanted that. Enjoy the social outing for what it was. And she would not think about the appealing and intriguing aspects of him—case closed!

      Stacie’s sigh was audible enough that it reached Troy’s ears, even in the pub’s noise-filled environment. He glanced her way, and then wondered if perhaps he shouldn’t have. She looked rather lovely in profile, as she had with her head bent over her desk. And when he’d nearly given in to the temptation to kiss her …

      How had he missed the depth of her subtle loveliness at first? Yet even then he’d been aware of her.

      Well, he would just have to stop being aware, before thoughts like that got both of them into trouble.

      Troy looked around. The pub was a decent-sized place, with bistro dining in a room tucked away to the left and a separate room dedicated to poker machines. The bar was long with dark wood polished to a dull sheen and green hard-wearing carpet on the floor where it wasn’t bare, wooden planks.

      The smell of beer and a low buzz of after-work humanity filled the place. For a moment Troy saw another bar, another bunch of people: army mates relaxing at their favourite haunt in a Melbourne suburb they frequented when they were off-duty.

      His guys. Their pub. A whole other world that had been all of Troy’s world.

      ‘Stace, how about a game of pool?’

      ‘Getting a bit dry over here, Stace. How about a round of beers for us?’

      A couple more calls accompanied Stacie’s entry into the pub.

      Stacie gave a general smile. ‘Maybe a bit later. I’m busy just at present.’

      As he and Stacie stepped further into the room, Troy heard one man say to another, ‘She’s a nice girl, but she always keeps her distance, doesn’t she?’

      ‘I reckon some bloke’s hurt her along the way.’

      ‘Nah. She seems happy enough.’

      Stacie wouldn’t have heard the interchange, but Troy tended to agree with the first man. He, too, suspected Stacie had withdrawn from the game because she might have been hurt in it.

      She was made to be in a relationship, to share all those soft and tender emotions with someone who would welcome and appreciate them. If she’d tried that and it hadn’t worked out …

       Oh yes, and you’d be more suitable for that?

      Of course not. Absolutely not. It would just be a shame for Stacie to go through life alone, in Troy’s opinion. Although, Troy himself couldn’t pursue such a path; he wouldn’t have enough to offer her on that emotional level.

      ‘Good to see you here.’ Gary Henderson stepped forward, clapped Troy on the back and nudged Stacie with his elbow. ‘Well done on bringing Troy along, Stace.’

      ‘It’s a nice way to end up the week, Gary.’ Stacie’s words were cheerful. Her glance dropped to the beer in Gary’s hand. ‘You’re set, so I’ll just get drinks for us. Troy—what would you like?’

      She walked to the bar to order for both of them.

      Troy spoke with Gary for a bit and then chose a table towards the back of the bar. Stacie joined him with their drinks. One and two at a time, men made their way over to speak to them. Stacie greeted each person and exchanged a few words, making Troy’s second-time around getting-to-know-you job easy for him.

      It was teamwork, and Troy appreciated