The House On Burra Burra Lane Read Free Page B

thought he’d be meeting the bashful, retiring type of woman this afternoon, he was wrong.
    Ethan slowed the ute half a kilometre from the driveway. There she was, sitting on the wooden crossbar of the gate, swinging her legs. He’d been six years old when the gate had first been hung. The grass had been kept short then.
    He turned the truck into the entrance of her driveway and swallowed the uneasiness thickening his throat. A five minute drive could sure unsettle a man. He didn’t look at the house. Let’s get this meeting over with first.
    ‘Hello,’ he called through the open window. ‘Is this a good time?’
    She smiled, raised a hand to shade her eyes. ‘Yes. I was taking a break.’
    ‘Want a lift up to the house?’
    ‘Could I hitch a ride on the running board?’
    Surprise stopped him from answering immediately, but she was waiting, her smile hovering. ‘Sure. Hop on.’
    She kicked her legs to push off the gate. ‘I’ve always wanted to do this.’ She stepped onto the silver plate at the base of the passenger door and caught hold of the window frame. ‘Go as fast as you like.’
    Was this a game? ‘Never had a damsel on my running board before.’
    She lowered her face to the window. ‘When I was young, I hung around with a gang of boys who never allowed me to join in their dangerous adventures. Now I want to be perilous. Believe me, it’s long overdue. Just floor it.’
    He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. What had happened to yesterday? He’d expected wariness between them this afternoon but he was being pulled into something that felt like an old friendship.
    ‘All right then.’ He put the ute into gear and took off slowly. Into second gear, a slight pressure on the accelerator.
    ‘You’re disappointing me!’
    He gave it more thrust and struck the gear into third. If she wanted to fly, he’d oblige. ‘Hold on!’
    As the vehicle curved at speed at the bend in the driveway and her laugh rang in the air, something warm hit the pit of his stomach. A thirty second ride … it was like giving a present, although he wasn’t sure which of them had received the gift.
    She hopped down, flicking tendrils of hair from her face. ‘Where shall I start the tour?’
    His mind wasn’t quite in tune. He needed another few minutes for all this to register but she was moving them right along. Perhaps she’d been teasing him yesterday. He found that notion less frustrating than rejection, and he didn’t need a tour, he knew every inch of the place.
    He got out of the cab, his gaze wandering the property. The sandstone blocks of the house in need of re-pointing, the dulled white paint flaking on the veranda railing and posts.
    She glanced his way. He gave her his friendly-at-a-distance look, and almost saw the veil of relief lift from her shoulders. She was nervous. He eased down a notch or two. He hadn’t wanted to be the only hesitant one, as though yesterday had never happened.
    He stepped around her. ‘I’ll take a look at the porch then. Don’t want it collapsing on you.’ He hadn’t seen it since he’d sold the house six years ago when he’d moved back to town, and it was in a worse state now.
    She followed. ‘I haven’t used the porch.’
    He stamped his boot on the decking. It cracked. ‘These boards will need replacing.’
    ‘Let me show you the kitchen.’
    ‘I don’t need to see inside.’
    She didn’t hear, maybe. He made a move to grab her as she walked across the deck … and missed. At least she’d placed her feet carefully, where the boards joined and were stronger.
    ‘How’s Duke?’ he asked, walking into the kitchen with no choice in the matter. A smell of toast lingered in the air. A few pieces of white crockery waited to be washed at the sink. He didn’t look too hard at the old benchtops or the stove; at any of it.
    ‘Wandering happily and feeding madly. So you were right, he’s glad to be here and away from the city.’ She slapped her thighs. ‘Me