Free A Bush Christmas by Margareta Osborn Page B

though.’
    Jaime looked at him sadly. ‘No. I’m sorry.’
    Ryan frowned for a minute but then perked up. ‘Don’t be sorry. At least we can be friends now. This just gets all that boy-girl tension out of the way.’
    Unlike her and Stirling, thought Jaime. But that was another story altogether. ‘I guess you’ve got your sights set on McEvoy?’
    Jaime started in surprise.
    â€˜Tiffany Sutton, Irene’s townie niece,’ Ryan explained. ‘She was the same.’
    She could see the store owner was striving for nonchalance but not quite hitting it.
    â€˜She thought Stirling was a bit of all right too, until she realised he wasn’t a party animal. The man prefers a quiet life. Not like me. I like a good time.’ Ryan waggled his eyebrows in invitation.
    At her bland expression, he sighed and shrugged his shoulders. ‘It was worth a try.’
    Jaime nodded. It was. Ryan was lovely, but he wasn’t Stirling.
    â€˜Drive your ute around the front and fill it up. It’s the least I can do after your help today,’ he said.
    Jaime was about to protest but then stopped. She probably owed Valerie fuel for the use of the vehicle. It wasn’t as if she was really working for her $100 a week plus board and keep.
    â€˜Sounds great. Thanks, Ryan.’ Jaime peeled off Bluey’s overalls and gave them back to the store owner. She noticed he was valiantly trying not to ogle her legs, God love him. ‘One of us better get these back to Lake Grace. I think Jean might be missing them by now.’ Ryan grinned, slapping her on the back as they both walked out the door.
    â€˜You met Jean?’ called Ryan as she set off towards the ute.
    â€˜Nope.’
    â€˜Well, you will at the Christmas Tree.’
    Christmas Tree? She’d just got rid of the damn things. She wasn’t going back there again.
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    The McClymonts were blasting out the speakers with all the force of a low-flying jet. Jaime had the windows down, the still warm early evening air spilling into the ute’s cab. The smell of the bush on the wind was fresh and liberating. She dipped her hand out the window frame into the breeze flying past, allowing her fingers to duck and dive into the slip-streams of air.
    She felt … what? It took a couple of minutes to put her finger on it, but she came up with the one word that surprised her.
    Happy.
    That was until the ute’s engine started to rattle. She wasn’t sure if she was hearing right first up, but then smoke started pouring out from the exhaust. She could barely see the rear of the tray it was so bad. The ute started doing little bunny hops, followed by big bunny hops. She decided maybe it was time to pull over, just as the ute gurgled and ground to a halt.
    Hell. She’d only been here a week and now she’d killed the poor Suzuki. What had it ever done to hurt her?
    She tried to key the engine again. The motor rattled something awful before dying. She tried again. Nothing. This wasn’t good. What the hell was wrong? She couldn’t think what she could have done to it but then she was a fill-it, drive-it and park-it kinda girl. She left all the techno stuff to the experts at the garage.
    So, now she had two choices. Either stay with the vehicle or walk home. Doing a search of the cab she realised she was missing one vital item if she wanted to walk around in the fast approaching night. A torch. Plus, she was still just a little afraid ofthe dark. Okay, maybe a bit more than just a little, but she was sure she would have tried to hoof it if she’d had a torch.
    Jaime decided her best bet was to stay with the vehicle. Surely with all the four-wheel drives thundering along this road today, someone would come past and give her a lift. She just hoped it wasn’t that young buck in his Nissan Patrol.
    Â 
    It wasn’t.
    Stirling McEvoy came boring past on his V-Max about nine o’clock, going