Outback Secrets by Rachael Johns
Chapter Four
As Liam poured Henri’s drink, he glanced towards the dining room and couldn’t hide his frown. He didn’t like everyone in town but the people she was here with were some of the best around. Like him, most of them had experienced some kind of hardship or heartache and it had shaped them into people who gave a damn about others. He knew much more about each of them than they did about him, but that wasn’t because they didn’t care or weren’t interested.
He slid her whiskey across the bar and watched as she downed half of it in one go. ‘Want to talk about it?’
She shook her head—‘It’s nothing really’—and took another sip of her drink.
‘I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Liam,’ he said, offering her his hand.
‘I know.’ She stared at it a few long moments before reaching out and sliding her hand into his. ‘Henri.’
It was one of the most innocuous gestures there was, but it felt anything but innocuous. Just having her tiny hand in his did weird things to his insides. He held it a fraction too long, but she didn’t seem in any hurry to let go either. Then again, she was quite possibly halfway to half-cut and thus her reflexes might be delayed, so he withdrew his hand and tried to collect himself before anyone noticed and started jumping to conclusions.
‘Henri. Short for Henrietta?’
She made a face like she’d just tasted something nasty.
‘What’s wrong with Henrietta?’ he asked, amused.
‘What’s right with it? It’s too many syllables for starters and so bloody old-fashioned. Not to mention girly.’
‘And you’re not girly?’
She glared at him over the top of her glass. ‘Are all publicans as chatty as you?’
‘I don’t actually know any others, and most customers would say I’m not particularly chatty.’ Listening was more his gig. ‘But I guess some people just inspire more conversation than others.’
‘Is that so?’ This earned him a smile and, as sexy as Henri was when she was scowling, her smile made him feel as if his chest was full of fireworks. ‘How about we talk about you then?’
Once again, he glanced towards the dining room—talking about himself was his least favourite pastime and these days it was rare anyone even tried to get him to. Of course, there’d been a bit of interest when he first arrived in the town, but then there’d been a scandal about a group of farmers who’d had a swingers’ club in the seventies and attention switched to that as everyone tried to work out who was involved. There was always something happening in a small town, and it wasn’t long before Liam blended into the background. People didn’t come to the pub to learn about him, they came to socialise and have fun with their mates or to drown their sorrows alone, which often led to them talking about themselves.
Honestly, the things he’d heard. Some of the locals seemed to have confused him for a priest in confession. He knew who was having an affair with who, who took medication for depression and other ailments they didn’t want friends and family knowing about, who had gambling problems, who hated their job, who hated their boss, who wanted to sleep with their boss, who’d cheated on exams, who’d lied on resumes … The list of transgressions was endless. If Liam were a different kind of person, he’d be able to blackmail half the people in this town and a few beyond, but instead he tried to be a welcome ear when someone needed it and the rest of the time he kept his mouth shut.
‘Shouldn’t you be getting back to your friends?’ he said.
‘Who are you? The social police?’
Another gulp of her drink—she sure was putting them away fast, and he hoped she could handle her liquor. He took his duty to serve alcohol responsibly very seriously, but he got the feeling Henri wouldn’t take too kindly to being told to slow down.
‘Trust me,’ she went on, ‘there’s plenty of time to talk weddings, bunyips and babies. Right now, I could do with a few minutes’ reprieve. So tell me …’ She planted her elbows on the bar and leaned towards him. ‘Where are you from? That accent’s American, right?’
Her question surprised him. People rarely asked about his accent; sometimes he forgot he even had one. ‘Yeah. I’m from Colorado.’
‘Long way from home.’ She swished the ice around her glass. ‘I’ve spent a lot of time flying in Canada and travelled a bit in the US, but I’ve never been to Colorado. Mountains, right? Snow? Big lakes? Cutesy small towns that look good on postcards.’
He nodded. ‘That’s about right.’
She glanced into her glass and then back to him. ‘So, what brought you down under?’
‘My mom was Aussie.’
‘Really? Where was she from?’
Always reticent to talk about his family, he hesitated a moment, but something about Henri made him want to continue the conversation. ‘Her parents had a farm near Dubbo in New South Wales.’
‘I know that area well. How’d you end up in Bunyip Bay?’
‘Well … I’d always been curious about my Aussie roots. In my mid-twenties, I decided to take some time out and this was one of the places I visited. I fell in love and never left.’
‘I don’t blame you. It’s a gorgeous place, and as infuriating as some of the people in Bunyip Bay can be, this is one of the prettiest parts of the country. There aren’t many towns that have good farming land on one side and a fab beach on the other.’
‘Yeah, this place also looks pretty good on postcards,’ he said, gesturing to a little stand on the bar, which was dusty because nobody really bothered with postcards anymore.
They shared a smile.
‘Do you get to go home much?’ she asked.
Home?At this one word, Liam’s chest tightened. He shook his head and changed tack. ‘You said you’ve flown in the US and Canada? Whereabouts? What exactly did you do there?’
The diversion worked. ‘There’s not as much flying work in Australia as there once was, so most of us travel a bit. The last couple of years I’ve taken a forestry contract spraying Spruce Budworm over there. After Quebec, I generally stay for a few months in the Prairie Provinces spraying fungicide on crops.’
‘That’s a really nice part of Canada—I went on a school trip there. You’re lucky your job takes you to such cool places.’
‘Yeah.’ That one word was long and heavy, and Liam got the feeling she had something on her mind, but she hit him with a wry smile and said, ‘It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to do it.’
‘How long are you back here for?’
She glanced over to the table where her sister and friends were deep in conversation, then sighed. ‘Almost four weeks. I don’t usually get as long between contracts and I thought it’d be nice to spend a bit of time back at home, but I’m beginning to second-guess my decision.’
‘Did you ever consider flying for a commercial airline?’
She scoffed. ‘That would bore me to bloody tears. At that level the details disappear, but low-level flying you can see everything from an angle and height most people never get to. You see cattle feeding, the wind rustling through crops and shimmering over entire fields. On a still morning in the mountains, sometimes the fog looks like a waterfall flowing over a precipice, tumbling down into a valley in beautiful slow motion. You see amazing sunsets and sunrises, and not one day or flight is the same.’
‘Flying that low in such a small plane must be pretty dangerous though.’
‘Oh my God!’ Her wistful smile faded and her eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t you start. I get enough of that from my mother, and I came here tonight to escape her.’
‘I’m sorry. I just—’
‘What’s taking you so long?’ Tilley came up to the bar and wrapped an arm around her younger sister.
Liam thought he noticed Henri flinch.
‘I’m only coming back if you promise there’ll be no more talk about setting me up with anyone,’ she said. ‘I swear if Grant mentions marrying me off one more time, I’ll rip off my sock and stuff it in his mouth.’
‘Henri!’ Tilley scolded and Liam stifled a smile. ‘No one meant any harm,’ she added with a bit of a pout. ‘We just care about you and want to see you happy.’
‘I am happy.’ Henri sighed and pushed her now empty glass towards Liam. ‘Top-up, please?’
‘How about you have a glass of soda water instead?’ Tilley suggested, glaring at Liam as if warning him not to refill her sister’s glass if he knew what was good for him.
Henri glared at him just as hard and although he agreed with her sister that maybe she should lay off the heavy stuff or at least slow down, he found himself unable to say no to her. Besides, she was a grown woman and he imagined being treated like a child when you were an adult would be infuriating. Without a word, he picked up a fresh glass and made her another whiskey on the rocks, slightly heavier than normal on the ice.
‘Thanks, Liam.’ Henri gave her sister a triumphant smile as she picked up the glass and sauntered back towards the dining room.
Tilley opened her mouth as if to give him what for, but he held up a hand. ‘Don’t involve me in your sister squabbles,’ he said and then moved along the bar to pour Rex his final pint for the night.
With a huff, Tilley went back to join her group and Liam did his best to focus on his job, resisting the urge to glance over at Henri and see how she was getting on. At about nine o’clock, things started to slow down. Rex and the Poker Pensioners had headed home and only a few youngsters around the pool table and a couple of contract workers who were staying above the pub remained. When Tilley, Frankie and everyone stood to leave, he assumed Henri would go with them, but instead he watched with interest as she hugged them all goodbye.
He wasn’t close enough to hear her and her sister’s conversation, but in his years owning the pub he’d become pretty good at reading body language and theirs was tense. It looked like Tilley was trying to encourage Henri to go with her, but she was having none of it. Eventually James said something—probably about needing to get home to relieve his mother, Susan, from babysitting duties—and Tilley gave in and went with him. Henri headed to the bathroom and when she emerged again, she went over to the group shooting pool, downing shots and generally having a grand old time celebrating the end of harvest.
He guessed they were all about five to ten years younger than Henri but the high-fives she gave a couple of them indicated they knew each other, cementing the fact in Liam’s mind that whether she lived here or not, Bunyip Bay was in her blood. She was part of it and it her. Damn pity, because he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had walked into the pub and set his blood boiling the way she had.
Deciding it was safer to steer clear of Henri, he didn’t allow himself to pay too much attention to the goings-on around the pool table, instead focusing on the few remaining patrons sitting at the bar. When things got a little rowdy, he sent Dylan over to deliver a warning and then grabbed a coffee and retreated into the office to do some paperwork, leaving the bartenders and his dog Sheila, who always slept in her basket behind the bar, to hold the fort.
As office work was his least favourite task, a massive pile of invoices awaited him. His nights were generally busy and during the day he favoured manual tasks, like hauling and replacing kegs or spending time in his workshop out the back. Being active helped keep his dark thoughts at bay, whereas when he sat down in the office, it was much harder.
He took a deep breath and sat down to tackle the paper beast.
Hours later, a knock sounded on his office door and he looked up to see Lara standing there.
‘You planning on working all night, boss?’ she asked with a smile.
Liam glanced at his watch and couldn’t believe it was almost midnight. ‘Time flies when you’re having fun.’
She laughed and nodded towards the pile of papers on his desk. ‘Rather you than me. Dylan’s just locking up and I’ve checked the bathrooms are empty. Anything else you want us to do before knocking off?’
‘No, thanks. You guys have a good night. See you tomorrow.’
She nodded and escaped quickly as if scared he might change his mind.
Liam filed the completed invoices and then switched off his computer. Only as he left the office did he notice the absence of his furry companion. He frowned. Sheila didn’t like to be left alone, so it was odd she hadn’t come to find him when Dylan and Lara had disappeared.
The pub was dark except for the lights above the bar and in the hallway, which led to the stairs up to the second floor. He whistled and called her name.
Just when he was starting to panic—could Sheila somehow have got outside?—she appeared from the direction of the pool table.
‘There you are, girl,’ he said as she ambled over to him. ‘Come on, let’s get to bed.’
But when he turned towards the stairs, she didn’t follow, and he looked back to see her returning the way she’d come from.
‘Sheila!’ he called, slightly annoyed now. It was late and he just wanted to fall into bed. ‘Come!’
Normally very obedient, she ignored him.
With a frustrated sigh, he followed her to find the reason for her reluctance lying curled up on one of the couches. He sighed. Clearly, Lara and Dylan hadn’t done a very thorough scan of the pub before they shut the doors. Although the lights were off in this area, enough moonlight spilled in through the windows for him to identify the squatter as Henrietta Forward.
There were no signs of vomit and she looked far too peaceful—and gorgeous—for someone who’d drunk enough to pass out. Maybe she was just really tired.
‘Hey, Henrietta,’ he said, reaching out to gently shake her shoulder. ‘Time to wake up.’
She made an infuriatingly cute noise and then rolled over and curled in on herself as if she were settling in for the night, but he couldn’t just leave her here. The men staying upstairs would be down early in the morning for breakfast and he didn’t want them to startle her. Not to mention the fact he couldn’t guarantee her safety here all alone.
‘Henrietta,’ he tried again, his voice firmer this time.
She moaned and turned slightly towards him. ‘It’s Henri,’ she slurred. ‘What d’you want?’
She did not sound sober enough to drive.
‘Sorry, Henri, but you can’t sleep here. Can I call Tilley or someone to come get you?’
Her eyes snapped open, and she looked at him in horror. ‘No! I’m fine. I’ll sleep in my car.’ But when she went to stand, she stumbled and fell right into him.
‘Hel-lo,’ she semi-sang as she looked up into his face. ‘You have very lovely eyes.’
He stifled a smile. The same could be said for her but now was not the time or the place.
‘There’s one free room upstairs. Why don’t you take that?’ he offered. ‘It’ll be much more comfortable than your car.’
She palmed a hand against his chest. ‘That, Liam, sounds like an offer too good to refuse. Thank you.’
Almost as if she could understand the exchange, Sheila trotted off towards the stairs and Liam put an arm around Henri, supporting her as he led her to the stairs. It took a great deal of effort—she kept stumbling and talking about how his eyes reminded her of a chocolate bar.
‘Do you have any schocolate?’ she asked, once again pausing on the stairs. ‘I’ve got the munchies.’
‘I might be able to find something, but you gotta keep walking to get it.’
‘O-kay. If you shay sho, Liam.’
Eventually, they made it up to the landing and past all the closed doors as they headed to the vacant guest room next door to his apartment. Still semi-supporting Henri, he dug in his pocket for his master key and then manoeuvred the door open.
‘Do you want to use the bathroom while I find you something to eat?’
She nodded, her eyes drooping again, but when he checked the shared bathrooms, they were both occupied. Dammit.
‘Look, why don’t you use mine quickly?’
‘Thanks, Liam, you’re shuch a schweetheart.’
With Sheila at their heels, he led her into his apartment and showed her into the bathroom. ‘There’s a fresh towel in the cupboard if you want and a new toothbrush under the sink. Anything else I can get you?’
‘Can’t brush my teeth till I’ve had my shococlate,’ she said.
Suppressing a laugh, he turned to leave. ‘I’ll see what I can find.’
He grabbed a bottle of water, painkillers and a Mars Bar from his midnight snack stash, then waited patiently outside the door.
After about ten minutes, he tapped his foot, starting to feel a little anxious.
‘Henrietta?’ he called, tentatively pushing the door open and stepping into his bathroom to find it empty and the other door, leading into his bedroom, open. He found her sprawled across his bed, snoring peacefully. ‘Shit.’
Guess he’d been relegated to the couch for the night.
Covering Henrietta with a light sheet, he looked at Sheila, who’d already taken her usual position at the foot of the bed. ‘Keep an eye on her for me, okay?’
And then, pulling the door almost shut, leaving just enough room for the dog to get out if needed, he headed out to spend what he already knew would be a restless night in the lounge room.