Praise for Barbara Hannay

‘Barbara Hannay’s name on the cover is a sure-fire

guarantee of a good read.’

—www.cataromance.com

‘Stories … rich with emotion and chemistry.

Very layered and lifelike characters …’

—RT Book Reviews

‘Barbara Hannay will take you on

an unforgettable journey …’

—www.cataromance.com

About the Author

Reading and writing have always been a big part of BARBARA HANNAY’s life. She wrote her first short story at the age of eight for the Brownies’ writer’s badge. It was about a girl who is devastated when her family has to move from the city to the Australian Outback.

Since then, a love of both city and country lifestyles has been a continuing theme in Barbara’s books and in her life. Although she has mostly lived in cities, now that her family has grown up and she’s a full-time writer she’s enjoying a country lifestyle.

Barbara and her husband live on a misty hillside in Far North Queensland’s Atherton Tableland. When she’s not lost in the world of her stories, she’s enjoying farmers’ markets, gardening clubs and writing groups, or preparing for visits from family and friends.

Barbara records her country life in her blog, Barbwired, and her website is at www.barbarahannay.com

Also by Barbara Hannay

Molly Cooper’s Dream Date

A Miracle for His Secret Son

Executive: Expecting Tiny Twins

The Cattleman’s Adopted Family

Expecting Miracle Twins

The Bridesmaid’s Baby

Her Cattleman Boss

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

Bridesmaid Says, ‘I Do!’

Barbara Hannay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

I wish to remember those who suffered the devastation of

the Queensland floods in January 2011.

Many homes and lives were lost

in the very places where this story is set.

CHAPTER ONE

IT BEGAN on an everyday, average Monday morning. Zoe arrived at the office punctually at eight forty-five, clutching her takeaway coffee, a necessary comfort when facing the start of the working week. To her surprise, her best friend Bella was already at work.

Bella was usually a bit late, and as she’d just spent another weekend away visiting her father in the country Zoe had expected her to be later than ever. This Monday morning, however, Bella was not only at her desk early, but she had a huge grin on her face. And she was surrounded by a semicircle of excited workmates.

She was holding out her hand as if she was showing off a new manicure. No big surprise. Bella had a thing for manicures and she often chose very out-there nail polish with an interesting assortment of decorative additions.

But as Zoe drew closer, curious to check out her friend’s latest fashion statement, she saw that Bella’s nails were painted a subdued and tasteful taupe. And they were not the focus of everyone’s attention.

The grins and squeals were for a sparkling ring.

On Bella’s left hand.

Zoe’s cardboard coffee cup almost slipped from her suddenly weak grasp. She managed to catch it just in time.

She was stunned.

And a bit stung, too.

Struggling to hang on to her smile, she hastily dumped the coffee and her handbag on her desk and hurried over to Bella.

She told herself she was misreading this. Bella couldn’t be engaged. Her best friend would most definitely have told her if wedding bells were in the air. Zoe knew for a fact that Bella wasn’t even dating anyone at the moment. Together, they’d been commiserating about their date drought, and they’d talked about trying for a double date online.

They’d even considered going on an overseas holiday together—a reconnaissance tour, checking out guys in other countries. Deepening the gene pool, Bella had called it during one of their regular Friday nights together.

Admittedly, for the past three weekends in a row Bella had travelled to her country home on the Darling Downs, and Zoe had been beginning to wonder what the attraction was. Bella had said she was worried about her widowed father, which was totally understandable, as her dad had been in a miserable slump for the past eighteen months ever since her mum died.

Bella had also mentioned her close and supportive neighbours, the Rigbys, and their son, Kent—literally, the boy next door, whom she’d known all her life.

Was something going on with this guy? Had he given Bella this ring?

Bella hadn’t breathed a hint about a romance with anyone, but it was abundantly clear that the sparkle on her friend’s finger was most definitely a diamond. And the name on her lips was …

‘Kent Rigby.’

Bella was grinning directly at Zoe now, an expectant light shining in her pretty green eyes.

‘Wow!’ Zoe managed, squeezing her cheek muscles to make sure she was smiling and not still looking like a stunned mullet. ‘You’re engaged!’

Bella dipped her head ever so slightly, as if she was trying to read Zoe’s reaction, and Zoe cranked her smile another notch while she hunted for the right things to say. ‘So— does this mean you and the boy next door have taken the plunge after all?’

She was trying not to sound too surprised, and she hoped she looked happy. She certainly didn’t want the entire office to realise she was totally clueless about her best friend’s romance.

Just in time, she remembered to give Bella a hug, and then she paid due homage to her ring—a solitaire diamond, very tasteful, in a platinum setting, and appropriately delicate for Bella’s slim, pale hands.

‘It’s gorgeous,’ Zoe told Bella with genuine honesty. ‘It’s perfect.’

‘Must have cost a bomb,’ commented one of the girls behind her in an awed voice.

Eric Bodwin, their boss, arrived then and an awkward hush fell over the office until someone piped up with Bella’s happy news.

Eric frowned, dragging his bushy eyebrows low, as if an employee’s impending marriage was a huge inconvenience. But then he managed to say ‘Congratulations,’ with a grunting nod in Bella’s direction, before he disappeared into his private den.

He’d never been the type of boss who chatted with his staff, so everyone was used to his gruffness. Nevertheless, his dampening presence put an end to the morning’s excitement.

The semicircle of onlookers melted away. Only Zoe remained, her head so brimming with a thousand questions she was reluctant to go back to her desk. And she couldn’t help feeling a tad put out that Bella had never confided in her.

‘Are you all right, Zoe?’ Bella asked cautiously.

‘Of course, I’m fine.’ Zoe touched Bella’s ring finger. ‘I’m stoked about this.’

‘But you didn’t reply to my text.’

‘What text?’

‘The one I sent you last night. Just before I left Willara Downs, I texted you with my good news.’

‘Oh?’ Zoe pulled a sheepish face. ‘Sorry, Bell. I took myself to the movies last night, and I turned my phone off. Then I forgot to switch it back on.’

‘Must have been a good movie,’ Bella said dryly, but she was smiling again.

‘It was. A lovely, mushy romance.’

Bella rolled her eyes, but they grinned at each other and Zoe was ridiculously pleased that she hadn’t been left out after all.

‘Meet me at The Hot Spot at lunchtime?’ Bella asked next.

‘Absolutely.’ The busy little café on the corner was their favourite, and a meeting today was top priority.

Back at her desk, however, Zoe’s spirits took another dive as she came to grips with the reality of Bella’s startling news. She was losing her best friend. Bella would move back to the country to live with Kent Rigby and that would be the end of her close friendship—their mutual support over office grumbles, their lunchtime chats, their Friday night cocktails and joint shopping sprees.

It was definitely the end of their overseas holiday plans. And it was very puzzling that Bella had never confided in her about Kent. What did that say about their supposedly close friendship?

Glumly, Zoe retrieved her phone from her handbag and flicked it on to find two unread messages—both from Bella.

At 6.35 p.m. last night:

The most amazing thing! Kent and I are engaged. So much to tell you. B xx

And then at 9.00 p.m.:

Where r u? Gotta talk. x

Zoe winced. If she’d been available for a heart-to-heart chat last night, she’d know everything now and perhaps she’d understand how this engagement had happened so quickly.

Instead, she had to get through an entire morning’s work before she received a single answer to her thousand and one questions.

‘You’re getting married?’

‘Sure.’ Kent pitchforked fresh hay into the horse stall, then angled a meaningful glance to his mate Steve who leaned on the rails, watching. ‘Why else would I be asking you to be my best man?’

Steve’s eyes widened. ‘So you’re dead-set serious?’

‘I’m serious.’ Kent grinned. ‘Getting married isn’t something to joke about.’

‘I guess it isn’t. It’s just that we all thought—’ Steve stopped and grimaced.

‘You all thought I’d carry on playing the field for ever,’ Kent supplied.

‘Maybe not for ever.’ Steve’s grin was sly. ‘But heck man, you never gave the impression you were planning to settle down just yet, even though plenty of girls have tried their hardest.’

Kent’s jaw tightened as he thrust the pitchfork back into the hay bale. He’d anticipated Steve’s surprise—and yeah, maybe his disbelief—but his friend’s reaction still rankled. It was true that he’d dated plenty of girls without getting serious. In the past. But those days were over now. He had responsibilities to shoulder.

Steve’s ruddy face twisted into a baffled smile, and he scratched at the side of his sunburned neck. ‘Crikey.’

‘You’re supposed to say congratulations.’

‘Of course, mate. Goes without saying.’ Balancing a booted foot on the rail, Steve leaned into the stall, holding out his hand. His eyes blazed with goodwill. ‘Congratulations, Kent. I mean it. Bella’s an ace girl. She’s terrific. The two of you will be a great team.’

He shook Kent’s hand.

‘Thanks.’

‘I shouldn’t have been so surprised,’ Steve added, accompanying the words with a shrug. ‘It makes sense. You and Bella have always been like—’ He held up a hand, displaying his index finger and forefinger entwined.

Kent acknowledged this truth with a nod and a smile. He and Bella Shaw had been born six months apart to families on neighbouring properties. As infants they’d shared a playpen. As youngsters they had joint swimming and riding lessons. They’d gone to school together, travelling into Willara each day on the rattling school bus, swapping the contents of their lunch boxes and sharing the answers to their homework.

From as far back as Kent could remember, their two families had gathered on the banks of Willara Creek for regular barbecues. Their fathers had helped each other with shearing or mustering. Their mothers had swapped recipes, knitting patterns and old wives’ tales.

When Kent was just six years old, Bella’s dad had saved his life …

And now, with luck, Kent was returning the favour.

He felt OK about it. Honestly, he was happy with the future he and Bella had planned.

Just the same, Kent would have been relieved to get a few things off his chest to Steve. In the past few years his load had mounted steadily.

When his dad had hankered for an early retirement, Kent had taken on the bulk of the farm work. Then Bella’s mother had died, and her father, the very man who’d saved his life when he was a kid, had started drinking himself to death. Desperately worried, Kent had helped out there as well, putting in long hours ploughing fields and mending neglected fences.

Bella, of course, had been distraught. She’d lost her mother and now she was likely to lose her father, and if these weren’t enough troubles to bear, her family’s property was rapidly going down the drain.

A host of heavy emotions was tied up in their decision to marry, but although Kent was tempted to confide in Steve he wouldn’t off-load his baggage, not even to his best friend.

‘I hear Bella’s dad’s in a bad way,’ Steve said. ‘He’s been keeping very much to himself and he needs to slow down on his drinking.’

Kent’s head shot up. Had Steve guessed things were worse than most people realised?

‘Tom has the beginnings of heart failure,’ he said slowly.

‘That’s a worry.’

‘It is, but if he looks after himself, he should be OK.’

Steve nodded. ‘And once you’re his son-in-law, you’ll be able to keep a closer eye on him.’

Clearly, Steve thought their decision was reasonable, but then his eyes flashed as he sent Kent a cheeky smirk. ‘You and Bella are a sly pair though, keeping this under wraps in a gossipy town like Willara.’ He snapped a piece of straw between his fingers and raised his eyebrows. ‘So, when’s the happy day? I suppose

I’ll have to wear a penguin suit.’

When Zoe burst into The Hot Spot, Bella was already there, waiting in their favourite corner booth with salad sandwiches and two chai lattes.

‘That was the longest morning of my life,’ Zoe moaned as she hurled herself into a seat. ‘Thanks for getting lunch.’

‘It was my turn.’

Reaching across the table, Zoe touched the diamond on Bella’s left hand. ‘This is real, isn’t it? You’re properly engaged. I’m not dreaming.’

‘It’s totally real.’ Bella gave a crooked little grin. ‘But I must admit I still have to pinch myself.’

‘You, too?’ Drawing a deep breath to calm her racing thoughts, Zoe asked carefully, ‘So … you weren’t expecting this engagement?’

‘Not really,’ Bella said, blushing. ‘But it wasn’t exactly a surprise either.’

Zoe blinked and gave a helpless flap of her hands. ‘I’m sorry, I’m lost already. You’re going to have to explain this.’ She took a sip of her chai latte, but she was too intent on Bella’s response to register the sweet and spicy flavour she usually loved.

‘There’s not a lot to explain.’ Bella tucked a shiny strand of smooth blond hair behind one ear. ‘The thing is … even when we were kids there was a lingering suggestion from Kent’s and my parents that we might eventually—you know—end up together some day. They teased us when we were little, then toned it down later, but all the time we were growing up it was there in the background as a possibility.’

This was news to Zoe and she couldn’t help asking, ‘How come you’ve never mentioned it?’

Bella looked contrite. ‘You must think I’m crazy, talking so much about guys without ever really mentioning Kent.’

‘You spoke about him, but you said he was just a friend.’

‘He was. For ages. We were just … neighbours … and good mates …’ Her shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. ‘To be honest, I’d never seriously thought about marrying him. But then—’

Zoe leaned closer. ‘Is Kent the reason you’ve headed for home every weekend lately?’

Pink crept into Bella’s cheeks and her green eyes took on a touching mistiness as she held out her left hand and admired her ring again. ‘It sort of crept up on us. Kent’s been so sweet.’

‘Oh-h-h …’ Watching the dewy smile on Bella’s lips, Zoe was overcome by the romantic possibilities of her friend’s situation. Her skin turned to goose bumps and she could picture it all: a wonderful, long-term friendship where a couple felt really comfortable with each other, and knew each other inside out—all the good bits and the bad. Then, suddenly, they were hit by a blinding and beautiful truth.

So different from Zoe’s soul-destroying experience with Rodney the Rat.

‘Out of the blue you just realised you were in love and meant for each other,’ she said.

Bella nodded.

‘And you definitely know Kent’s Mr Right?’

Another nod.

Zoe couldn’t believe the way her throat was choking up. ‘I thought those blinding flashes of insight only happened in movies, but look at you. This is a real life friends-to-lovers romance!’ To her embarrassment, a tear spilled down her cheek.

‘So you understand?’ Bella’s smile was a mixture of sympathy and relief.

‘My head’s still trying to catch up, but I guess I understand here.’ Not caring how melodramatic she looked, Zoe pressed a hand over her heart. ‘I’m happy for you, Bell. Truly.’

‘Thanks.’ In a blink, Bella was out of her chair and the girls were hugging. ‘I knew you’d understand.’

‘Your dad must be thrilled,’ Zoe said when Bella had sat down again.

To her surprise, a flood of colour rushed into Bella’s face and then she paled and looked down at the sandwich in front of her. She pulled at a piece of lettuce poking out from the bread. ‘Yes, he’s very happy,’ she said quietly.

Puzzled, and just a little worried by the reaction, Zoe wasn’t sure what to say next. Something wasn’t right here.

Or was she imagining Bella’s tension?

She wondered if Bella’s dad had expressed mixed feelings. It would be bittersweet for Mr Shaw to watch his daughter’s engagement blossom so soon after his wife’s death. He’d miss having her there to share the joy with him.

Zoe thought about her own parents, settled at last, running their little music shop in Sugar

Bay and raising her little brother, Toby. After

Toby’s unexpected arrival when Zoe was fourteen, her mum and dad had undergone a dramatic transformation. By the time she’d started work and Toby was ready for school, they’d given up their nomadic existence, travelling round the country in a second-rate rock band.

But becoming conventional parents hadn’t dimmed their love for one another. They’d remained fixed in a crazy love-struck-teenager groove and, although their relationship had always left Zoe feeling on the outside, she

couldn’t imagine either of them having to manage alone. Not for ages, at any rate.

Poor Mr Shaw …

‘Earth to Zoe. Are you there?’

Zoe blinked, and realised Bella had been talking, and by the look of frustration on her face she’d been saying something important. ‘Sorry. I—ah—missed what you said.’

Bella sighed and gave a little, heaven-help-me eye roll. ‘I said I was hoping you’d be my bridesmaid.’

Zap!

Zoe’s heart gave a jolt, like a soldier jumping to attention. She’d been so busy getting her head around Bella’s new status as fiancée, she’d given no thought to her actual wedding. But bridesmaid?

Wow!

She had a sudden vision of Bella looking lovely in white, with a misty veil … and herself in a beautiful bridesmaid’s gown.

There’d be bouquets … and handsome guys in formal suits.

She’d never been a bridesmaid.

Warmth flooded her and she felt quite dizzy with excitement. ‘I’d love to be your bridesmaid. I’d be totally honoured.’

This was no exaggeration. In fact, Zoe was quite sure Bella could never guess how over-the-top excited she was about this.

She’d heard other girls groan about being bridesmaids. They seemed to look on the honour as a boring chore and they told war stories about having to wear horrible satin gowns in the worst possible colours and styles.

Talk about ungrateful! For Zoe, being a bridesmaid was a wonderful privilege. She would wear anything Bella chose—puce coloured lace or slime-toned velvet—she wouldn’t care. Being Bella’s bridesmaid was clear, indisputable evidence that she was someone’s really close friend.

Finally.

Oh, cringe. Anyone would think she was a total loser.

Well … truth was … she’d actually felt like a loser for much of her childhood. She’d had so few chances to make close friends, because her parents had dragged her all around the country, living—honest to God—in the back of a bus. There’d never been time for her friendships to get off the ground.

Her best effort had been in the fifth grade when the band broke up for a bit and her parents had stayed in Shepparton for almost twelve months. Zoe had become really good friends with Melanie Trotter. But then the band had regrouped and her parents had moved on, and the girls’ letter exchange had lasted six months before slowing to a trickle, then, inevitably, dried up.

It wasn’t until Zoe started work at Bodwin & North and met Bella that she’d finally had the chance to form the kind of ongoing friendship she’d always longed for. And now, here was the proof—an invitation to be Bella’s bridesmaid.

Zoe beamed at Bella. ‘Will it be a country wedding?’

‘Yes—on the Rigbys’ property—Willara Downs.’

‘Wow. That sounds utterly perfect.’ Ever since her childhood, travelling through endless country towns, Zoe had known a secret yearning to drive through a farm gateway instead of whizzing past. Now, she wouldn’t merely be driving through the farm gate, she’d be totally involved in the proceedings.

Wow, again. She could picture Bella’s big day so easily—white-covered trestle tables on a homestead veranda. A ceremony beneath an archway of pale pink roses. Male guests with broad shoulders and suntans. Women in pearls.

‘So … how many bridesmaids are you planning’ She tried to sound casual, which wasn’t easy when she was holding her breath. Would she be sharing this honour with six bridesmaids? Hadn’t she read somewhere that a celebrity had eighteen attendants—all of them in purple silk?

‘Only one,’ Bella said calmly as she spooned fragrant froth from the inside of her glass. ‘It won’t be a big flashy wedding. Just family and close friends. I’ve never wanted a swarm of bridesmaids.’ She smiled. ‘I just want you, Zoes. You’ll be perfect.’

Perfect. What a wonderful word.

‘I’ll do everything I can to make the day perfect for you,’ Zoe said.

There was no question—she would try her utmost to be the perfect bridesmaid. She would research her duties and carry them out conscientiously. No bride had ever had a more dedicated wedding attendant. ‘So, do we have a date? Is there a time line?’

‘Actually, we were thinking about October twenty-first.’

‘Gosh, that’s only a few weeks away.’

‘I know, but Kent and I didn’t want to wait.’

How romantic.

Zoe supposed she’d hear the phrase Kent and I rather a lot in the next few weeks. She wondered, as she had many times, what it was like to be so deeply in love.

But then another thought struck. Leaning closer, she whispered, ‘Bell, you’re not pregnant, are you?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Just checking, seeing you’re in such a rush, in case my bridesmaid’s duties involved knitting bootees.’

Bright red in the face, Bella slapped her wrist. ‘Shut up, idiot.’

‘Sorry.’ Zoe smiled. ‘Well, a tight deadline can focus the mind wonderfully.’

‘It shouldn’t be too hard to organise. Everything will happen at the homestead, so we won’t need to book a church, or cars or a reception venue, and the local rector is a good friend of the Rigbys.’

‘So you only have to buy a wedding dress and order a cake.’

‘Yes. Too easy,’ Bella said with a laugh, and then as they started on their sandwiches her face grew more serious. ‘I’ve made an appointment with Eric Bodwin. I’ll have to resign, because I’ll be living at Willara, but I was also hoping we might be able to arrange time off for you as well, so you can come out and help with all the last minute organising. I don’t want to burden Kent with too much of the leg-work. But I know the time off would eat into your holiday allowance—’

‘That’s fine,’ Zoe said quickly. ‘I’d love a week or so in the country.’ She was feeling a bit down at the thought of Bella resigning, but then she grinned. ‘As a bonus, I might have a chance to wangle a nice country romance of my own.’

Bella’s eyes danced. ‘Now that’s a thought.’ It wasn’t just an idle thought for Zoe. As a young girl, experiencing constant brief tastes of country towns before moving on, she’d developed something of a penchant for the jeans-clad sons of farmers with their muscular shoulders and rolling, loose-hipped strides.

‘Mind you,’ Bella said, ‘I’ve grown away from country life since I moved to Brisbane.’

‘But you’re looking forward to going back and settling down as a farmer’s wife, aren’t you?’

Bella gave her lower lip a slightly troubled chew. ‘It will certainly be an adjustment.’

‘I think it sounds idyllic,’ Zoe said honestly. ‘But then I probably have a romanticised idea of life on a farm. I’ve never actually been on one.’

‘Why don’t you come home with me next weekend?’ Bella suggested with a sudden beaming smile. ‘We could go together after work on Friday. It only takes a little over an hour. You can meet Kent and I can show you where we’re planning to have the wedding, and you can help me to nut out the details.’

‘Wow. That sounds wonderful.’

‘Actually, you know how hopeless I am at organising. I’ll probably hand you pen and paper and a list of phone numbers for caterers.’

‘That’s OK.’ No doubt it was pathetic, but Zoe loved to feel needed. ‘I’d love to come. Are you sure there’s room for me to stay?’

‘Of course I’m sure. We won’t stay with my dad. He hasn’t been well and he’d get in a stew about clean sheets and things. We can stay at Willara Downs. The homestead is huge and Kent’s a wonderful host. His parents live in town these days, but they’ll probably come out and you can meet them, too. They’ll welcome you with open arms.’

Again Zoe thought of all the times her parents had whizzed in and out of country towns when she’d longed to stay. She’d been constantly looking in from the outside, never really getting to know the locals.

Now, for a short time, for the first time, she would be an insider.

‘I’d love that. We can take my car,’ she offered, eager to help any way she could. ‘It’s so much easier than getting the bus.’

Already, in her head, she was compiling a list of her bridesmaid’s responsibilities.

Number one—she would support Bella and help her to stay calm through the next nerve-wrangling weeks. Perhaps she would also help her to address the wedding invitations, and then there would be a hen night to arrange … and a bridal shower …

It was going to be fabulous. She was determined to carry out every task to the very best of her ability. Her aim was nothing less than perfection.

CHAPTER TWO

THE next weekend, fifteen kilometres from Willara Downs, Zoe heard an unmistakable flap, flap, flap coming from her car’s rear tyre. Her stomach took a dive. Not now. Please, no!

But it was useless to hope. She’d heard that flapping sound too many times in her childhood—her dad had always been changing flat tyres on their bus. Now she knew with sickening certainty that she had no choice but to pull over onto the grassy verge and try to remember what to do.

It wasn’t fun to be alone, though, on the edge of an unknown country road at dusk on a Friday evening. Zoe wished she hadn’t been so convincing when she’d assured Bella she’d be fine to drive on to Willara Downs by herself, while Bella visited her dad.

Two days ago, Bella’s father had been admitted to hospital. Apparently, Kent Rigby had found Mr Shaw in a very bad state and insisted on rushing him in to Willara.

Understandably, Bella had been beside herself with anxiety and Zoe had dropped her in town.

‘Kent’s not answering his phone, so he’s probably out on the farm, but he’ll understand if you turn up alone,’ Bella had assured her.

‘And one of us will come back to pick you up in an hour or so,’ Zoe suggested.

‘Yes, that will be great.’

And so … after expressing the wish that Mr Shaw was much improved, Zoe had set off happily enough—at least she was driving her own car and she felt at ease behind the wheel. And apart from concern about Mr Shaw’s illness, she was dead excited about this weekend away and getting to meet Bella’s fiancé … seeing the wedding venue … being part of the planning.

The very last thing she needed was a flat tyre.

Damn.

Briefly, Zoe toyed with the idea of trying the Willara Downs number to see if Kent Rigby could help. But it was such a bad way to start the weekend, to be seen as a useless city chick who wouldn’t even try to fix a simple problem by herself.

Resigned, she climbed out. The tyre was as flat as a burst balloon, and she went to her boot to hunt for the jack and the thingamabob that loosened the wheel nuts.

Mosquitoes buzzed as she hunted. The jack was, of course, buried under all the luggage—two overnight bags, two make-up bags, two sets of hot rollers.

‘You never know, there might be a party,’ Bella had said.

Now, with their belongings scattered haphazardly on the side of the road, Zoe squatted beside the wheel, positioned the jack and got on with turning its handle.

So far so good … except she didn’t really know how high she was supposed to raise the car. And once that was done … she wasn’t certain she was strong enough to loosen the wheel nuts. They looked mighty tight. And even if she did get them off, would she be able to tighten them up again?

Zoe’s unhelpfully vivid imagination threw up a picture of her car driving off with the back wheel spinning free and bouncing into the bush, while she struggled with an out-of-control steering wheel.

Maybe she should try to ring for help.

Standing again, she reached into the car for her handbag. As usual, because she really needed it, her phone had slipped from its handy side pouch to the very bottom of her bag, so she had to feel around among movie tickets, keys, lipsticks, pens, old shopping lists, tissues …

She was still fumbling when she heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. Her spirits lifted. This might be nice, friendly country folk only too happy to stop and help her.

The thought was barely formed, however, before Zoe felt a shaft of hot panic. If only she hadn’t watched all those horror movies. Here she was—totally alone in the silent, empty bush wondering if the driver was an axe murderer, an escaped prisoner, a rapist.

She made a final, frantic fumble in the bottom of her bag, and her fingers closed around her phone just as a white utility vehicle shot around the curve.

There was only one person in the ute and all she could see was a black silhouette, distinctly masculine. He was slowing down.

Zoe’s nervous heart gave a sickening thud as his ute came to a complete stop and he leaned out, one strong, suntanned forearm resting casually on the window’s rim.

In panic, she depressed the call button on her phone and glanced quickly at the screen.

No signal. She was out of the network. Oh, terrific. There was no hope of a rescue.

‘Need a hand?’ the driver called.

At least he had a friendly voice—mellow and warm with a hint of good humour.

Zoe gulped, and forced herself to look at him properly. She saw dark, neatly trimmed hair and dark eyes. Not threatening eyes, but genial, friendly, and framed by a handsome face. Nicely proportioned nose, strong jaw and a generous mouth.

Already his door was swinging open, and he stepped out.

He was wearing a crisp blue shirt with long sleeves rolled back from his wrists and pale cream moleskin trousers. His elastic sided riding boots were tan and well polished. Zoe had always fancied that look—clean cut with a hint of cowboy. Surely, an axe murderer wouldn’t go to so much trouble?

‘I see you’ve got a flat,’ he said, coming towards her with the easy loose gait of a man of the land. ‘That’s rotten luck.’

He smiled and his eyes were deep, coffee-brown—friendly eyes, with a spark of fun, and with laughter lines fanning from the corners.

In spite of her fears, Zoe couldn’t help smiling back at him. ‘I’ve just about got the car jacked up, but I wasn’t sure how far I should take it.’

‘I’d say you have it just right. The perfect height.’

Perfect. It was fast becoming one of her favourite words.

Suddenly, she couldn’t remember why she’d been scared of this fellow. There was something about his smile and about his face that was incredibly, importantly right.

In fact … Zoe felt as if a gong had been struck deep inside her, and it took a magnificent effort to force her attention away from this stranger to her problem. ‘I was—um—about to tackle the wheel nuts.’

‘Would you like a hand with them?’ He was smiling again and her skin tingled deliciously. ‘If that doesn’t offend you.’

‘Why would I be offended by an offer of help?’ From a gorgeous man, she added silently.

He shrugged. ‘Thought you might be like my little sister—the independent type. She hates it when guys assume she needs help when she doesn’t.’

‘Oh, I see.’ The mention of his sister relaxed Zoe even further. Actually, she was so relaxed she was practically floating, and she offered him a radiant smile. ‘I’d love to say I could manage this tyre on my own, but, to be honest, I’m really not sure I can manage. I was just about to phone for help.’

‘No need. It won’t take long.’

‘That’s awfully kind of you.’ Holding out the wheel thingamajig, she hoped her saviour didn’t get grease on his clothes.

Clearly not sharing her concern for his pristine trousers, he hunkered down beside the wheel and began working smoothly and efficiently.

Nice hands, Zoe noticed. He was nice all over, actually. Tall and muscular. Not too lean, not too beefy. She suppressed a little sigh, and told herself she was a fool to feel fluttery over the first country fellow she met. Before this wedding was over she’d meet tons of cute rural guys.

But there was something special about this man, something totally entrancing about the warmth in his brown eyes and the quirk of his smile, a subtle something that made her heart dance and her insides shimmy.

Strange she could feel so much when all his attention was focused on her car’s rear wheel.

‘Now for the spare.’ Having loosened the wheel, he was standing up again, and he glanced Zoe’s way.

Their gazes linked and.

He went very still. And a new kind of intensity came into his eyes. He stared at Zoe … as if he’d had a shock, a pleasant, yet deeply disturbing shock.

Trapped in his gaze, she could feel her face glowing hot as a bonfire, and she was struck by the weirdest sense that she and this helpful stranger were both experiencing the same awesome rush. Deep tremors—happy and scary at once—as if they had been connected on an invisible wavelength.

This can’t be what I think it is.

Back to earth, Zoe.

She realised that the stranger was frowning now and looking upset. Or was he angry? It was hard to tell. His brow was deeply furrowed and he dropped his gaze to the ground and his throat worked as he stared at a dried mud puddle.

Zoe held her breath, unable to speak or even think, and yet incredibly aware that something beyond the ordinary had happened.

Then her rescuer blinked and shook his head, as if he was ridding himself of an unwanted thought. He cleared his throat. ‘Ah—the spare tyre. I guess it’s in the boot?’

Turning away from Zoe, he made his way to the back of the car, skilfully stepping between the scattered pieces of luggage.

‘I’m sorry,’ Zoe spluttered, struggling to shake off the unsettling spell that seemed to have gripped her. ‘I should have fetched the spare tyre and had it ready for you.’

‘No worries.’ He spoke casually enough, but when he looked back at her he still seemed upset, as if she’d done something wrong. But then, without warning, he smiled.

His smile was warm and friendly again, and once more Zoe was electrified. Instantly. Ridiculously. She found herself conjuring a picture of him in a farmhouse kitchen, smiling that same yummy smile across the breakfast table at her, after a night of delicious lovemaking.

Good grief. Next minute she’d be imagining him naked.

Could he guess?

‘Excuse me.’

His voice roused her. Blushing, she stepped out of his way as he carried the new wheel and hefted it into position. But, heaven help her, she was mesmerised by the strength of his shoulders and the sureness of his hands as he lined up the wheel as if it weighed no more than a cardboard button, and fitted it into place.

‘You’ve done this before,’ she said.

‘So many times, I could do it in my sleep.’

*********

Zoe wasn’t sure it was wise to let her mind wander in the direction of this man’s sleep. Better to keep the talk flowing.

She said, ‘I’ve watched my dad change tyres on country roads enough times. I should have picked up a few more clues.’

He looked up at her, clearly surprised. ‘Which country roads? You’re not from around here, are you?’

‘No. My parents were in a band and they toured all around the various country shows.’ She hoped any resentment she felt for those nomadic gypsy years hadn’t crept into her voice.

‘Which band?’ he asked, pausing in the middle of tightening a nut.

‘Lead the Way.’

‘You’re joking.’

Laughing, Zoe shook her head. ‘No, I’m afraid I’m serious.’

‘Were both your parents in Lead the Way?’

‘Yep. My dad was the lead singer and my mum was on drums.’

‘So you’re Mick Weston’s daughter?’

‘His one and only.’ It wasn’t an admission Zoe needed to make very often. Since she’d started work in the city she’d hardly met anyone who’d heard of her parents or their band.

‘Amazing.’ To her surprise, he threw his head back and laughed. ‘Wait till I tell my old man. He’s a huge fan of Mick Weston. Never missed a Lead the Way performance in Willara.’

Fancy that. Zoe beamed at him. It was heartening to be reminded that her dad had been very popular out here.

But, heavens, now she and this stranger had something in common and she found herself liking him more than was sensible. Perhaps encouraging conversation wasn’t such a bright idea.

She busied herself with securing the punctured tyre in the boot and restowing all the bits and pieces of luggage.

By the time she’d finished, her good Samaritan was removing the jack. ‘That’s done,’ he said, straightening and dusting off his hands.

‘Thank you so much. It’s incredibly kind of you. I really am very grateful.’ And just a little sad that we’ll have to say goodbye now …

He stood with his feet apart, hands resting lightly on his hips, watching her with an enigmatic smile. ‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Do you sing or play the guitar?’

‘’Fraid not.’ Zoe returned his smile—seemed her face was permanently set in smile mode. ‘The musical genes totally bypassed me.’

‘But you inherited your dad’s talent for flat tyres on country roads.’

‘Yes … unfortunately.’

Wow. Instead of rushing off, he was making conversation with her. And Zoe loved it. She was no longer bothered that he was a stranger. She was too busy enjoying this amazing experience—the most awesome sensation of being swept high and pumped full of excitement, as if she were riding a magnificent, shining wave.

Were her feet still touching the ground?

She’d never felt like this before. Not with a complete stranger. Not with this bursting-from-a-geyser intensity. Rodney the Rat didn’t count. He’d been a work colleague and she’d known him for twelve months before he asked her out.

Truth was—Zoe usually lacked confidence around guys. She guessed it was part of an overall lack of confidence, a problem that stemmed from her childhood when she’d always been the new girl in town, always arriving late in the term when all the friendship groups were firmly established. She’d grown up knowing she’d never quite fitted in.

But this man’s gorgeous smile made her feel fabulously confident and suddenly her biggest fear was that he would simply drive away—out of her life.

‘I’ll tell my dad I met the son of one of his fans,’ she told him.

‘Do you have far to go?’ her helper asked.

‘I don’t think it’s much farther. I’m heading for Willara Downs.’

He stiffened. ‘Willara Downs?’

‘It’s a property near here—a farm.’

‘Yes, I know.’ Now, he was frowning again. ‘It’s my property.’

His property?

Really?

A sudden chill swept over Zoe. He wasn’t.

He couldn’t be.

‘You’re—you’re not—a Rigby, are you?’

‘I certainly am.’ He smiled, but it was a shade too late, and with only a fraction of its former warmth. ‘The name’s Kent Rigby.’ His smile wavered as he asked uncertainly, ‘Should I know you?’

Oh, God, he was Bella’s Kent … Bella’s boy next door.

Kent’s been so sweet, Bella had said.

No wonder he was nice. He was the man her best friend was about to marry.

A cool breeze made icy goose bumps on Zoe’s skin. The purple tinged dusk crowded in and she felt suddenly, terribly weary. And wary.

‘We haven’t met,’ she said quietly, hoping she didn’t sound as ridiculously disappointed as she felt. ‘But we’ll soon have a lot to do with each other. I’m Zoe. Bella’s bridesmaid.’

Kent Rigby’s eyes darkened and his features were momentarily distorted, as if he tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.

But if he’d been caught out, he was very good at covering it up. ‘Sorry, I should have guessed,’ he said, speaking smoothly once more, with no hint of disturbance. ‘But I expected you to be with Bella.’

Calmly, he held out his hand.

Unhappily, she felt the warmth and strength of his hand enclose hers in a firm clasp. ‘Hello, Kent.’

‘Hi, Zoe.’

‘I dropped Bella off at the hospital. She tried to call you to explain that I’d be arriving on my own.’

Kent had forgotten to let go of her hand. ‘I’m actually on my way back from seeing Tom myself,’ he said.

‘How—how is he?’

‘Slightly improved, thank God.’

Suddenly he realised he was still holding her hand. Letting go, he cracked a slightly embarrassed grin, then thrust his hands into his jeans pockets. He straightened his shoulders, then looked to the sky in the east where a huge full moon was already poking its golden head above a dark, newly ploughed field. ‘I guess Bella will ring when she’s ready to be picked up.’

‘Yes.’

‘We’d better get going, then. Would you like to follow me? I’ll keep you in my rear vision, so I’ll know you’re OK.’

‘Thanks.’

As Zoe followed Kent Rigby’s ute she tried to laugh at herself. What a fool she’d been, getting all hot and bothered about a stranger she’d met on a road side.

Shouldn’t she have guessed that a hot-looking guy like Kent would have already been taken? Hadn’t she learned anything from her experience with Rodney?

OK, so she was feeling ridiculously disappointed right now, but she’d get over it. She’d been looking forward to this weekend too much to let anything spoil it. She’d been so excited about Bella’s wedding and being her bridesmaid. She’d wanted to be the perfect bridesmaid.

That was still her goal. Having a fan-girly moment over the bridegroom had been a minor hiccup, but she’d recover in no time.

In the fading light of dusk, which just happened to be Zoe’s favourite time of day, the track she and Kent were driving along emerged out of a purple-shadowed tunnel of trees onto sweeping lawns, dusky and magical in the twilight.

Zoe saw an archway of rambler roses and a weeping willow … an elegant, Federation-style house, long and low, with lights already glowing on the veranda.

The car’s wheels crunched on white gravel as she pulled up behind Kent’s ute in front of smooth sandstone steps flanked by garden beds filled with agapanthus and lilies. When Kent got out, she saw him silhouetted against the backdrop of his home. Damn. It was such an attractive image—but she had to stop thinking like that.

She had no choice. This gorgeous man was Bella’s future husband and there was no way she would let her silly imagination give into any more reckless fantasies.

‘I’ll show you to your room,’ Kent said with the gracious charm of a perfect host, which showed that he at least knew exactly what his role was.

Zoe followed him down a hallway past an elegant lounge room with deep squishy sofas and rich Oriental rugs to a pretty bedroom that was the epitome of comfort and tasteful country-style décor.

With her things stowed, she was taken out to a wisteria-scented back veranda, and soon found herself sitting in a deep cushion-lined cane chair, sipping chilled white wine while she and Kent looked out in the fading light to the most beautiful view of fields and distant hills.

She suppressed an urge to sigh. Everything about Kent Rigby’s home was as gorgeous as he was. And it was all so beautifully presented she supposed he must have a housekeeper and a gardener. Lucky Bella wouldn’t be a slave to housework.

As a child, looking out of the bus window, Zoe had dreamed of living in a lovely farmhouse like the Rigbys', but she’d never been the jealous type and she wasn’t about to start now.

Very soon Bella would return from the hospital and take her rightful place at Kent Rigby’s side. And Zoe’s silly road side mistake would be a thing of the past.

Clutching an icy glass of beer as if his life depended on it, Kent struggled to ignore the girl sitting beside him. Not an easy task when he was her host and hospitable manners had been ingrained in him from birth.

Problem was, he was badly rattled and he couldn’t really understand how he’d got this way. Anyone would think he wasn’t used to meeting new girls—when the truth was quite the opposite.

He could only assume the problem arose because he hadn’t adjusted to his newly engaged status. No doubt that would explain the crazy chemistry that had gripped him from the moment he set eyes on Bella’s bridesmaid.

Why the hell hadn’t he introduced himself to Zoe Weston as soon as he stepped up to help her? If he’d known who she was, he could have avoided those telling moments—those shocking spellbinding seconds when he’d felt drawn to her, as if a bizarre spell had been cast over him.

Chances were, he’d never have noticed her inexplicable appeal, that special something in her eyes, and in the sheen of her hair or the tilt of her smile—a quality that rocked his easy-going nature to its very foundations.

How crazy was that? He’d exchanged nothing more than a few glances with her.

Kent knew it was nothing more than an illusion. A mistake. It was more than likely that every man experienced a similar difficulty in his pre-wedding weeks. Commitment to one girl didn’t automatically stop a guy from noticing other girls. Learning to ignore their appeal was part of the adjustment to being engaged or married.

In Kent’s case, his commitment was binding on all kinds of levels, and there was no going back. No regrets. He was a man of his word.

Besides, if he was rational about this, there wasn’t even anything particularly special about Zoe Weston. Her brown hair and blue eyes and slim build were nice enough, but her looks were average. Surely?

The imagined attraction was merely a blip, and now he could put it behind him.

That settled, Kent took a deep, reassuring draft of beer, pleased to realise he’d been overreacting.

It wasn’t as easy as Zoe had hoped to relax while sitting beside Kent on his veranda. She found herself crossing and uncrossing her legs, fiddling with the stem of her wine glass, or sneaking sideways glances at her host’s stare-worthy profile. Hardly the behaviour of a perfect bridesmaid.

Desperate to stop this nonsense, she jumped to her feet and leaned on the veranda railing, looking out at the parklike sweep of gardens that stretched to a timber fence, and fields of golden crops and grazing animals.

Concentrate on the wedding—not the groom.

Casually, she asked, ‘Are you planning a garden wedding, Kent?’

He looked surprised, as if the question had caught him out, but he responded readily enough. ‘An outdoor ceremony would be great and the weather forecast is promising. What do you think?’

Rising from his chair, he joined her at the veranda’s edge, and once again Zoe was struggling to ignore his proximity. Now there was the tantalising whiff of his cologne to deal with as well.

She concentrated on the lawns and banks of shrubbery. ‘A garden wedding would be perfect. Would you hire a caterer?’

‘That’s one of the things we need to discuss this weekend. But Bella’s a bit … distracted.’

‘Yes, her dad’s health is a big worry for her.’

Kent nodded, then let out a heavy sigh.

‘You’re worried, too,’ Zoe said, seeing the sudden tension in his face.

‘I have to be careful what I say around Bella, but I’m angry with her dad.’ Kent sighed again. ‘Don’t get me wrong. Tom Shaw’s a wonderful guy. In many ways he’s been my hero. But his wife died eighteen months ago and he dropped his bundle. He started drinking heavily, and now he has the beginnings of heart failure.’

‘From drinking?’

‘From drinking and generally not looking after himself.’ Kent’s hand fisted against the railing. ‘Bella’s beside herself, of course.’

‘I hadn’t realised his health was so bad,’ Zoe said with concern. ‘Poor Bell.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Kent spoke quietly, but with unmistakable determination. ‘I’ll look after her. And I’m damned if I’ll let Tom kill himself.’

Wow, Zoe thought. Kent had sounded so—so noble; he really was Bella’s knight in shining armour.

And clearly he was happy in that role. He was turning to Zoe now with a smile. ‘Bella said you’re going to be a great help with the wedding.’

‘I—I’m certainly happy to do all I can to help.’

‘She claims you’re a fabulous organiser and list-maker.’

‘I suppose I can be. I’ve never organised a wedding, but I quite like planning our office Christmas party. A smallish wedding won’t be too different.’ To Zoe’s dismay, her cheeks had grown very hot. She shot a quick glance out to the expanse of lawn. ‘I imagine you’d need to hire tables and chairs.’

‘Yes, definitely.’

‘And table cloths, crockery, glassware et cetera.’

‘I dare say.’ Kent flashed a gorgeous crooked smile. ‘If you keep talking like that you’ll land yourself a job, Zoe.’

And if he kept smiling at her like that she wouldn’t be able to refuse.

CHAPTER THREE

IT WAS late on Sunday night before the girls arrived back in Brisbane. As Zoe drove they discussed practical matters—the style of wedding gowns and invitations, and the things they needed to hire for the garden reception. They were both tired, however, and, to Zoe’s relief, they spent much of the journey in reflective silence.

She dropped Bella off at her flat in Red Hill, declining her invitation to come in for a drink with the excuse that they both had another Monday morning to face in less than ten hours.

‘Thanks for spending the weekend with me,’ Bella said as she kissed Zoe’s cheek. ‘And thanks for offering to help Kent with organising the reception. Well, you didn’t actually offer, but thanks for agreeing when I pleaded. We all know I can’t organise my way out of a paper bag.’

‘That’s OK,’ Zoe responded glibly, hoping that she sounded much calmer than she felt about ongoing communication with Bella’s fiancé—even if it was only via email or telephone.

‘And thanks for taking your car, Zoe. So much better than bumping along in the old bus.’

‘My pleasure.’ However, Zoe couldn’t possibly share Bella’s opinion on this matter. If she hadn’t taken her car, she wouldn’t have had a flat tyre and she wouldn’t have had a private meeting with Kent. And her weekend would have been a darned sight easier.

‘Thanks for inviting me, Bell. It was—wonderful. You’re going to have the most gorgeous wedding ever.’

‘I know. I’m so lucky.’ Bella’s green eyes took on a wistful shimmer. ‘You do like Kent, don’t you?’

Zoe’s heart took a dive, but she forced a bright smile. ‘Of course. What’s not to like? He’s lovely. Perfect husband material. You should have snapped him up years ago.’

Bella smiled, looking genuinely happy now, as if she’d needed this reassurance. Then she grabbed the straps of her overnight bag, slammed the door and called, ‘See you in the morning.’

Zoe watched as Bella hurried up her front steps, pale hair shining in the glow cast by a streetlight, then she drove on, feeling the last of her strength ebb away.

All weekend she’d held herself together—remaining upbeat and excited for Bella’s sake, while keeping a lid on her own private turmoil. Dropping any interest in Kent had proved much harder than she’d expected, and now the ordeal was over she was totally drained. She just wanted to crawl into her own little space and let go.

Finally, she reached her flat in Newmarket, let herself into the kitchen, dumped her bag in the corner.

She loved her little home. For the first time in her life she had a proper place to call home that had four walls instead of four wheels.

First she checked her goldfish—Brian, Ezekiel and Orange Juice. They’d survived beautifully without her. Then she dashed out onto her balcony to make sure her pot plants were still alive.

Zoe had always kept pot plants, even when they were in the bus. Her mum said she’d inherited Granny Weston’s green thumb, and Zoe saw it as a sign that she was meant to have her own plot of land.

One day.

Back in the kitchen, she reached for the kettle. First priority was a comforting mug of tea, accompanied by a long soak in a warm bath. She could sort out her laundry tomorrow night after work. For now, she was going to be totally self-indulgent.

Five minutes later, warm, rose-scented water enveloped her, and at last she could set her thoughts free.

Unfortunately, her thoughts zeroed straight to Kent Rigby.

She let out the loud groan she’d been holding in for two whole days, ever since the road-side revelation on Friday evening. All weekend, honest to God, she’d tried unbelievably hard to stop liking Kent.

It should have been easy. He was her best friend’s fiancé, and Zoe had already dated a previously engaged man. She’d been burned. Horribly. After she’d dated Rodney for several months and helped him to get over his break-up, he’d moved in with her and she’d been deeply in love with him. Then she’d come home unexpectedly early one evening and found him in bed with Naomi, his former fiancée.

Rodney the Rat.

Never again would Zoe set herself up for that kind of heartache.

So why hadn’t she found the ‘off’ switch for her attraction to Bella’s fiancé?

It was ridiculous, as if she’d contracted a mutant strain of a virus that was resistant to all known treatments.

The truth was that deep down she was genuinely thrilled for Bella. Willara Downs was the lifestyle her friend had been born into. Bella’s parents had always lived in the district. Her father would soon be out of hospital and home on his farm, and her grandfather still lived in an aged care facility in Willara township. On top of that, the Shaw and Rigby properties were adjoining and so Bella and Kent had the whole dynasty thing happening.

Beyond all these practical considerations, Bella and Kent were so sweet together, and so very at ease. Maybe they weren’t all touchy-feely, but that was to be expected when others were around. Just the same, it was clear as daylight that they belonged together.

Without question, Bella fitted in. She’d found where she belonged, while once again, as always, Zoe was the outsider.

Oh, God.

Zoe dunked her face under the water to wash away her stupid tears. She had to get a grip. Had to stop this nonsense now.

Curse that flat tyre.

This problem would never have arisen if she and Bella had driven to the homestead together. If Bella had been there, from the moment Zoe met Kent she would have known who he was, and the first thing she would have seen was Kent embracing his bride-to-be. She would have been excited for Bella, and her heart would have stayed safely immune to Kent’s charms.

Instead, cruel fate had delivered her a punctured tyre and twenty minutes alone with a wonderful man who’d arrived like a gift from heaven.

She kept reliving that thrilling moment—only a few seconds admittedly—when their gazes had connected. She could have sworn something huge and earth-shattering had passed between them.

Had it all been in her stupid head?

She hated to admit that she’d deluded herself, but there was no other explanation. Thank heavens Kent hadn’t noticed.

His behaviour had been beyond reproach. He’d been unfailingly polite and friendly to Zoe, and he’d been wonderful about her damaged tyre, organising a replacement to be sent out from a garage in Willara and then fitting it for her.

Appropriately, he’d devoted the bulk of his attention to Bella. There’d been no sign that he was remembering the moment when he and Zoe had looked into each other’s eyes and the world had stopped.

And she was going to be just as sensible.

It was time for self-discipline and maturity. Time to get a grip on reality.

Kent-slash-man-of-her-dreams-Rigby was going to marry her best friend in less than two months and she, Zoe Weston, was going to be their happy, loyal, non-jealous, and perfect-in-every-way bridesmaid.

Kent couldn’t breathe. Pinned at the bottom of a dark muddy pool, he could feel his lungs bursting, his legs thrashing. He couldn’t see a thing. Couldn’t hear anything either, just a dull roaring in his head.

Fear, blacker than the night, pressed down with a weighty and smothering hand.

He fought, struggling, gasping … shooting awake out of a tangle of sheets.

He dragged in air. His heart raced, but he wasn’t panicking. He knew it would slow down soon. He was used to this dream. He knew its familiar pattern, even though he had no real memories of almost drowning in Willara Creek.

The dreams were based on what his family had told him—that he’d been pinned under a rock and Tom Shaw had saved him, and that little Bella had been there, white-faced and sobbing.

Don’t let Kent die. Please, please don’t let him die …

It was years later, in his teens, that the dreams had begun. By then it had finally sunk in that all life was tenuous and that Kent’s own life had nearly ended when he was six years old.

A kid showing off. All over red rover. Then a man with good instincts diving down and dragging him free.

Tom Shaw had given Kent a second chance at life, and with that gift had come responsibility.

The dreams never let Kent forget. He owed. Big time.

To: Kent Rigby<willaraKR@hismail.com> From: Zoe Weston<zoe.weston@flowermail.com>

Subject: Caterers etc.

Dear Kent,

Thanks for your kind hospitality on the weekend. It was great meeting you and having the chance to see where the wedding will take place.

I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear that my spare car tyre held up splendidly, so thanks for your help with that as well.

As you know, I had a good chat with your mother about the best caterers to approach for the wedding and I’ve rung them all and am sending you their quotes as an attachment for your perusal.

I showed the quotes to Bella, but she has enough to think about with finding her dress and worrying about her dad and she’s more than happy to leave the planning details to us.

I thought the menu supplied by Greenslades sounded delicious and it also provides a range of dishes to suit most tastes, but they’re a little more expensive than the others.

I’m also sending a link to a website with the table settings that Bella and I think will be perfect. If you like them, I’ll go ahead and place an order.

Oh, and are you still happy to use the homestead verandas if there’s a threat of rain, or would you like me to look into hiring a marquee?

If there’s anything else I can do to help, please let me know.

Kind regards,

Zoe Weston

To: Zoe Weston<zoe.weston@flowermail.com> From: Kent Rigby<willaraKR@hismail.com> Subject: Re: Caterers etc.

Hi Zoe,

Thanks for your email with the quotes and the link. Has it occurred to you that you may have missed your calling as a wedding planner?

I agree that the Greenslades menu is a standout, so let’s go with them, especially as they’re based in Toowoomba and they can send out a mobile kitchen. Great find.

The table settings look terrific—I’m happy to go with whatever you girls choose.

Zoe, you might be Bella’s best friend, but I think you’ve just become mine, too. Such a load off my mind to have this sorted so quickly and easily.

Cheers

Kent

P.S. I was wondering—do you have a favourite colour?

To: Kent Rigby<willaraKR@hismail.com> From: Zoe Weston<zoe.weston@flowermail.com>

Subject: Re: Caterers etc.

Dear Kent,

All the bookings are made and both Greenslades and the Perfect Day hire company will be sending you their invoices with details about deposits etc.

Ouch. I hope you don’t get too much of a shock.

I’m leaving the ordering of drinks to you. Bella and I will look after the flower arrangements and decorations. So now the major details are planned, but I’d also like to have a bridal shower and a hens’ party for Bella, so there’s a bit more to be sorted. I guess you and your best man will be having a bucks’ night?

As Bella has probably told you, she’s found a dress she loves, so it looks as if everything is coming together.

I can’t imagine why you want to know my favourite colour. I’m not even sure I can answer that question. It depends if you’re talking about a colour to wear, or a colour to look at. It can make quite a difference, you know.

Regards,

Zoe

To: Zoe Weston<zoe.weston@flowermail.com> From: Kent Rigby<willaraKR@hismail.com> Subject: Re: Caterers etc.

Hi Zoe,

Once again, thanks for all your help. I can’t imagine how this wedding could have happened without you.

As for the question about your favourite colour, I’m afraid I can’t really explain. It’s a small but pleasant task Bella has assigned to me.

That’s a fascinating observation you’ve made about colours. For now, could you give me both your favourite colour to wear and your favourite colour to look at? Cheers Kent

On the following Saturday morning, Bella bought her wedding dress. Zoe had been with her when she’d first seen the dress on the previous Saturday, and they’d loved it. Twice during the week Bella had been back to the shop to look at it again, and now she’d dragged Zoe along with her to approve her final decision.

‘Each time I see it, I love it more,’ Bella had confided, and as Zoe watched her parade across the store’s plush carpet she totally understood why. The floor-length gown was very simple, but its elegant lack of fussiness totally suited Bella’s blond, country-girl beauty. Its style, with beautifully embroidered straps and Grecian draping, was perfect for an outdoor country wedding.

‘Kent will adore you in this,’ Zoe said as she pictured Bella coming across the lawn to her waiting bridegroom. ‘You’ll stop him in his tracks.’

She was proud that she said this with a genuine smile, although putting the Kent nonsense out of her thoughts hadn’t been as easy as she’d expected. Emails in which he asked about her favourite colour hadn’t helped.

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