Chapters (48)
- Cover
- Praise
- About the Author
- Also by Tricia Stringer
- Title Page
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgements
- Excerpt
- One
Natalie lifted her head and stared at her reflection. Bloody hell, Laura! She’d forgotten her youngest daughter was coming home today.
Five
Five
Bree pulled a brush through her tousled hair, studying herself in the mirror at the same time. There was a glow in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes, and the reason for that was now taking a shower. Owen had got away early from work and arrived at the farm by six o’clock. She’d been going to give him a guided tour of the house, but they hadn’t made it further than her bedroom in the quarters.
All that activity had reminded her she was hungry and then she remembered the lasagne she’d popped in the oven when she’d heard Owen’s ute pull up. She hurried out along the narrow quarters’ passage, smiling as she passed her bathroom and the happy sound of Owen singing, and into the main house and the kitchen.
She was greeted by the delicious smell of food cooking, not burning as she’d feared. Peering through the glass she could see the top layer of cheese bubbling to a nice golden brown. She removed the lasagne from the oven, put the radio on and immediately the kitchen was filled with the sounds of Ed Sheeran singing ‘Shape of You’. She moved her body in time to the music as she put together a green salad.
A pair of strong arms slid around her waist drawing her backward. She rested against Owen’s bare chest, savouring this rare time alone.
“I forgot to bring a clean shirt,” he murmured.
She twisted in his arms and kissed him. “I’m not bothered about eating my dinner sitting beside that body…” She trailed a finger down his torso and shivered. “Perhaps I should find you something though. I’d hate you to drop some lasagne and burn yourself.”
He grinned as she slid from his arms.
“Help yourself to a beer,” she called and almost skipped from the kitchen, thankful for whatever meetings had kept her parents in Adelaide.
Laura’s eyelids sprang open. She blinked, trying to focus on the room, her brain not registering where she was, then the soft fur pressing up against her neck reminded her. She was home. She sat up. Bubbles stretched, opened one eye and curled into a ball.
Laura lowered her legs to the ground. A sound had woken her. Now she realised it was the thump of music drifting through the open door that had disturbed her. She glanced in the old dressing-table mirror, the outer edges covered with stickers from every fad the girls had been through, tugged her hair back into a ponytail and pulled on the cap that hung over one of the posts suspending the tilting mirror. She decided a cap and a splash of bright lipstick might distract from the brilliant-coloured stripes through her hair.