Once Upon a Time in Tarrula / To Wed a Rancher. Myrna Mackenzie
Troy opened the passenger door for her and stood back.
Stacie caught her breath, caught the scent of the cologne he wore, and fought not to close her eyes to enjoy it all the more. If she did that she’d be right back in her thoughts to being kissed by him, and she couldn’t afford to think about that. She stepped blindly into the car.
During the drive they spoke of the rain, the plant, Troy’s almond orchards and the number of times Houdini had found a way to be over at Troy’s since Troy had first found him.
It wasn’t a long trip and it passed quickly while Stacie was trying to pull her thoughts together for the evening ahead. She couldn’t walk into this night overly aware of Troy. The work aspect of the evening had to be her focus.
It was raining lightly by the time they arrived outside the restaurant.
‘Perhaps the weather forecast will prove accurate and we’ll be rained out tonight.’ Stacie spared a thought for the possibility of frizzy hair, while Troy took an umbrella from the glove compartment.
He took her arm so they could share the umbrella as they approached the welcoming lights of the restaurant. Sensible efficiency shouldn’t have added to her ultra-awareness of him, but it did.
‘That’ll be him over there.’ Troy spoke quietly and guided Stacie to a man waiting at a table set for three to the side of the room.
‘Troy Rushton?’ The man got to his feet.
‘Yes. And let me introduce the plant’s administrative assistant, Stacie Wakefield.’ Troy shook their guest’s hand, and introduced the man to Stacie in turn. ‘Stacie, this is Marc Crane.’
Stacie smiled. ‘Hello.’
Marc was an athletic looking man in his mid-thirties.
His gaze rested on her for a moment before they all took their seats.
Stacie didn’t even register the attention. Well, she did, but just as a passing moment of being summed up.
And how could she even drum up enough interest to care, when the only man she could manage to think about like that was the man at her side?
Andrew had hurt her so much. She’d thought a part of her would go on loving him, even when she didn’t want to. Had those feelings gone now?
She wasn’t thinking of Troy in that way, of course, but she hadn’t expected even to notice a man for a very long time at least.
They settled into their seats at the table. Stacie made sure she took her part in the conversation. With every moment that passed, she struggled not to fall deeper under the spell of her employer’s appeal.
She’d never felt like this. It was as though, by sharing those kisses with him, she’d opened a pathway that she now couldn’t seem to step off, that she wanted to follow forward.
What was she saying—that she did want to try to pursue a relationship with Troy?
Out of the question.
She’d told Troy she didn’t want that, and he’d said the same right back to her.
‘We don’t have split shifts to work the plant around the clock, no.’ Troy answered Marc’s question and expanded to outline the current hours. ‘Thanks to a very good manager, the plant has locked in three new almond suppliers in the past year, Marc, and we’re now in negotiations with several more.’ Troy continued the discussion. ‘The plant shows every sign that it will definitely expand until it is running around the clock.’
‘All good to hear.’ The other man nodded. ‘I like to understand how a plant works if I’m thinking about doing business with it.’
Their meals arrived: pumpkin ravioli for Stacie; steak dressed with sautéed prawns for the men, with herb bread in a wicker basket and crisp individual salads. Stacie ate her delicious meal and watched Troy shine as he put the plant forward in its best light to this potential business-contact.
No one would ever have known Troy hadn’t been running the plant in a very hands-on fashion for years and years!
‘I’ve enjoyed the meal.’ Marc glanced at his watch and then met Troy’s gaze. ‘And I’m looking forward to dealing with you. I’ll email you when I get back to my offices to sort out our next step.’
‘I’ll look forward to that.’ Troy rose as Marc did.
The men shook hands and Marc left.
‘He’ll get soaked between here and his car.’ Stacie made the observation as Marc pushed the restaurant’s entry-door open and the sound of deluging rain and rushing wind met their ears.
‘I suppose he will.’ Troy took his seat again.
Stacie smiled. ‘You did a great job of winning him over, Troy. I don’t think you needed me here at all.’
‘I want the plant to progress. That’s just good business-sense. And don’t underestimate the benefit of your presence.’ Troy gestured to a waiter. As the man approached, he asked Stacie if she’d like coffee and dessert. ‘It’s still early.’
‘I would, actually.’ Stacie gave a half-embarrassed laugh. ‘The tiramisu here is really spectacular.’ It wouldn’t be wrong to stay, to talk a little longer, just the two of them would it? If they simply spoke of work matters, didn’t that mean it was fine?
‘I’d rather let that rain ease off a bit before we drive back.’ Troy’s words seemed to decide the issue, and in a wholly pragmatic manner.
So, you see it was obvious—Troy wasn’t thinking about anything even slightly close to memories of kisses. He probably had production schedules circulating in his head!
Stacie told herself she could relax, and if she felt a spark of something that rather resembled disappointment she didn’t allow herself to admit it.
‘You’re digging in.’ She hadn’t really realised it until just now. ‘You’ve taken the future of the plant to heart, not just to see it keep going, but to make the absolute best of it that you can.’
He was already doing the same with his orchards. ‘You’ll make your enterprises here successful, Troy. It’s in your nature to make that happen.’
‘No matter what the career path …’ He seemed arrested by the thought. And then he looked at her. ‘You’re doing the same. Pushing forward.’
‘Yes. I really want to make a success of the Bow-wow-tique as a full-time business, and I believe, now that I’ve positioned myself here at Tarrula, I’ll be able to.’
He blew over the top of his coffee and sipped. ‘I think you will, too.’
Will … what?
For a moment Stacie couldn’t recall the thread of the conversation. She’d been distracted by lips that she’d thought from the start were made for kisses; now she knew …
‘Tell me about growing up, Troy. Or life in the army. Both.’ Anything to distract her from wanting his kisses again.
Too late.
And how would getting to know him more fix her problem of trying not to desire him as a man?
‘I left my home at seventeen.’ Troy took a spoonful of his dessert. ‘I go back for visits, but my parents are retired and travelling a lot. I can’t say we’re particularly close. Dad’s a quiet man, keeps to himself pretty much, and Mum’s always found me a bit hard to … accept, I think.’
He was giving her a chance to get to know him, to glimpse his past world—where he’d come from and what made him tick.
It felt right to reciprocate, at least to a degree. ‘I had a good childhood, a happy one.’ Maybe that was why, as they had all got older, she hadn’t wanted to notice when men started to gloss over her existence and