He should have culled his furniture before moving, but he’d been too busy for that. So now here he was, with everything he owned crammed into this house. His only house. The Sydney penthouse had already been sold.
No going back now.
He’d painted the interior and cleaned everything, but nothing could disguise the fact that this was an old-fashioned, modest house. Funny, it had seemed perfectly adequate when he and Robbie had lived here. But then, a bed, couch, TV, and fridge were all his brother had required. As for the collection of modern paintings Nate had acquired, well, he could almost hear his brother cracking up over them. Nancy boy, Robbie would have teased.
He realized he was smiling, and that made him sigh. Sometimes he really missed Robbie.
He inspected the second bedroom. This small, crowded room was where he’d intended to set up his home office, but now he realized it wouldn’t do at all. He needed a proper office, preferably in the middle of town.
Instantly Ally’s gift shop came to mind. It would make the perfect address…but of course he couldn’t kick her out of the shop. Maybe her apartment upstairs? That would be even more suitable given he wasn’t going to be there full-time. But where would she move to? He shook his head, annoyed how his thoughts had circled back to Ally yet again. Something had happened last Sunday night. The spark of attraction he felt for her had grown stronger, but there was more developing now, and he didn’t like it. Sexual allure he could handle. Emotional involvement he didn’t need.
He’d come back to Burronga to rectify a few past mistakes, to find a piece of himself he’d lost along the way as he’d scrambled to the top of the heap. Not to get himself all tangled up with a complicated woman like Ally.
The house was faux American antebellum and in good condition, but the surrounding gardens were a bit worn and patchy, the stone wall lining the driveway crumbling in places. Nate could still recall working on that stone wall under Robbie’s instructions. He straightened his collar before ringing the brass-plated doorbell. He had his professional smile on when the door was opened by a fit-looking man in his mid-forties.
“Good afternoon. My name’s Nate Hardy, and I run a landscaping business. You may remember my brother, Robert Hardy; he did your garden a few years back. In fact, I used to work for him and I remember helping him with that wall over there.” He gestured toward the stone wall in question. “I couldn’t help noticing it could use a few repairs, so I wonder if you’d be interested in contracting me to do it for you, plus whatever else you might need around the garden.” He paused to hand his newly printed business card to the man.
The man didn’t say a thing. His long, horsey face stretched even longer as he scanned Nate’s card.
“Hardy Landscaping?” he said, his voice hard and dry.
“That’s right.” Nate nodded. “I’m re-establishing the business, and I’m contacting all the previous—”
“You can get off my property right now before I call the police.” The man scrunched up Nate’s business card and flung it over his shoulder.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Veins bulged on either side of the man’s neck as his face turned purple. “I don’t need your kind sniffing around here again.”
A feminine voice floated out from the depths of the house. “Babe, what’s all the yelling for?”
The man grabbed the door, as if he feared Nate would force his way inside. “Nothing to concern yourself,” he yelled over his shoulder before turning back to snarl at Nate, “I’m giving you twenty seconds to get off my land.”
“Look, I’m just here on business. I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
A woman appeared at the door, dressed in tight Capri pants and a clingy leopard print top, her hot pink nails holding the crumpled business card. “Hardy Landscaping? Oh, you must be Robbie’s brother. I can see the resemblance.” She gave Nate an appraising smile and batted her false eyelashes.
Instantly it all made sense to Nate. The over-familiar wife, the outraged husband. His heart sank. He retreated from the door, leaving the arguing couple, and drove off as quickly as possible.
Another of Robbie’s grubby affairs. He punched the steering wheel in frustration. What had made his brother think it was smart to seduce his clients? And why hadn’t he noticed it going on at the time? Perhaps he’d subconsciously blocked it out, unwilling to see his brother’s shortcomings. Either way, it made a mockery of him trying to drum up new business by visiting old clients. Not bloody likely he’d get a second chance if Robbie had been shagging his married customers.
He pulled up at a red traffic light and crossed the antebellum house off his list. So far he’d done five cold calls, with only one former client showing mild interest. At least the next client was female and not a potential cuckolded husband. Edith P. Montgomery. He pictured a nice old lady with a rambling garden crying out for some maintenance. Yup, that was the sort of client he needed to kick-start Hardy Landscaping.
Twenty minutes later he was back in his car, driving off just as quickly. He’d never considered himself a prude, but he felt in desperate need of a cleansing shower after being subjected to Edith P. Montgomery’s attentions. A nice old lady? More like a voracious middle-aged man-eater who remembered Robbie well and was all too eager to employ Nate. As soon as he’d cottoned on to what kind of “gardening services” she had in mind, he’d quickly cut short the meeting.
Christ, he must be feeling his age. Once upon a time his ego would have been stoked by Edith P. Montgomery’s flattery. She was good-looking, unattached, and not at all shy about stating what she wanted. But he hadn’t been tempted, not one bit.
Because he couldn’t get a certain other woman out of his mind. A woman who seemed all stitched up but had the most soulful blue eyes he’d ever encountered.
He passed a hand over his damp forehead. It was past four in the afternoon. Maybe he should call it a day.
Restarting the landscaping business might prove harder than he’d anticipated. Not because of the amount of work required—he was used to hard work. What he hadn’t realized until now was how much of himself he’d invested in this venture. His job in finance had tested his intellect, but getting Hardy Landscaping re-established was a much more personal thing. And being reminded of Robbie’s indiscriminate affairs was sobering. Burronga was a small place, and people had long memories. Maybe he was a fool to think he could remake himself here.
Turning a corner, he found himself caught in slow-moving traffic. As he inched forward, he realized the road led past Clifton Gardens, the site of a three-day spring festival. This was the first day, a Friday, and he knew Ally had a stall there; he’d called her the day after he’d hauled Seth’s sorry arse out of bed, just to check she was okay. The call hadn’t lasted long. She’d insisted she was fine, and then she’d rushed on to tell him about the festival, as if she didn’t want to talk any more about the night she’d spilled her heart out to him.
Now, as he thought about her, an irresistible urge to see her took hold of him. Instead of heading home for his afternoon jog, he parked his car and walked in, telling himself he was here for work. There were bound to be stalls offering gardening and landscaping services. He was just here to check out the competition.
Swaths of tulips in eye-popping colors greeted him as he strode into the gardens, and crowds of onlookers sauntered past. He hadn’t realized the festival would be so popular. Maybe next year he’d hire a stall for Hardy Landscaping. If he were still in business. If he were still here. Of course he’d still be here. He filled his lungs with the scent of flowers. Where else would he be?
A large statue surrounded by a bed of white tulips caught his attention. Hell, he’d forgotten about this: the bronze sculpture of Colonel Clifton, the local bigwig who’d donated the land for the gardens, showed a stern-faced man astride his horse. It was an imposing statue, and it would have been even more impressive but for the missing tail of the horse. Nate winced as he remembered exactly where the hacked-off tail was—stowed away at the back of his garden shed, right where he’d hidden it almost fifteen years ago after getting drunk and breaking into the gardens. He’d never told anyone, not even Robbie. He’d stashed the bronze piece away and forgotten about it. Until now.
What was he going to do about it? It was obvious everyone else had become used to the tail-free horse; they probably didn’t even notice it anymore. But he did. He couldn’t look the horse in the eye. He’d have to do something, but not now.
He pushed on, searching for Ally’s stall. As he passed the bandstand, he paused, blinking as he caught sight of a tall, blond woman, her spine straight and shoulders pinned back as she strode along. Paige Kerrigan. He’d recognize that haughty posture anywhere. She appeared to be alone, but what was she doing here? Judging from the way she was striding along, not looking left or right, her face set, her gaze fixed on something ahead, he guessed she was here to confront someone. He glanced toward the line of stalls she was headed for, and his lungs constricted.