Barbara Hannay - A Parisian Proposition

She paid little attention. She was scanning the metal walkways above the pens for signs of Jonno and she thought she glimpsed him. This time she wouldn’t let him go till she got what she’d come for.

Her view was blocked by the press of men around the pen and she stood on the bottom rung of the fence to get a better view. Above her, a promising set of shoulders and a slow, almost insolent stride came into her line of sight. Yes, it was Jonno.

‘One-fifty-five!’ the auctioneer’s voice shouted.

She had no idea how to get up to that suspended walkway. If she could at least get Jonno’s attention…Standing on tiptoes, she waved.

‘Hup! One-sixty!’

Jonno was looking at a point just beyond her. She waved again.

‘One-sixty twice!’

Camille glanced briefly in the direction of the strident voice. The auctioneer was standing on the same walkway as Jonno but directly above her, pointing straight at her. All around her, men were moving away from the pen, heading off down the lane.

A ghastly suspicion sent shivers chasing down her back and arms. No, he couldn’t think that she—

‘One-sixty!’ the auctioneer shouted, staring straight at her. ‘Hup! I’ve got one-sixty! Going for one-sixty. Sold!’

‘Congratulations,’ said a voice at her side.

She whirled around to find the ruddy-faced man who’d fetched Jonno for her.

‘Oh, good grief!’ She gulped. ‘You’re not congratulating me, are you?’

His beaming, slice-of-watermelon smile widened. ‘Sure am. You’ve bought a fine pen of weaner steers.’

‘I have not!’ She gasped. ‘I can’t have. Tell me you’re joking.’

The man slapped his hand on the top rail of the pen. ‘This mob of little beauties here. All yours.’

‘But I was waving to Jonno Rivers. I…’ She flashed a frantic glance back to the auctioneer, but he simply gave a curt salute to the man at her side, then headed towards another pen. ‘It can’t happen like that,’ she spluttered. ‘I’m not a genuine buyer. How—how on earth could he have thought I wanted a pen of cattle?’

‘You were standing next to me.’

‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘I’m a stock and station agent. Brian must have assumed you were one of my clients.’

‘Oh, my God!’ She pressed a shaking hand to her forehead. ‘You’ll go and tell him it’s a mistake, won’t you?’

‘You don’t want these steers?’

‘Of course I don’t want them.’ She sent a scathing glance over the pen of cattle and let out a laughing groan. ‘What on earth would I do with them? I live in a one-bedroom flat in Kings Cross. My courtyard is smaller than this pen.’

‘You could put them out on agistment.’

A deep voice sounded at her back. ‘Is this woman hassling you, Andy?’

Camille spun around to find a scowling Jonno Rivers close behind her. His suspicious gaze was cold enough to freeze an ocean. Two oceans.

‘Jonno,’ greeted the ever cheerful Andy. ‘You’re just the man we need.’

Camille wasn’t so sure. She’d had about as much as she could take of this pesky cattleman and his sulky silence and his stinking cattle. Her fists curled against her thighs and she felt an overwhelming urge to thump him on the nose.

‘This young lady seems to have a little problem,’ the agent explained calmly. ‘But I’m sure you can help her, mate.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Sorry, Jonno, I’ve got to see a man about a bull. Catch you later.’ With a brief salute, he hurried away.

Camille’s stomach and head were spinning as she gaped after him. She felt exhausted as she turned back to Jonno. ‘At least you’ve had the guts to show up,’ she muttered. ‘This is all your fault, so you’ll have to do something about it.’

JONNO took ages to respond.

He stood with his long legs planted wide and his arms folded over his broad chest and he looked down at Camille without any sign of sympathy. ‘Before you get too carried away with accusations,’ he said at last, ‘could you please explain what’s going on?’

‘I was simply waving at you,’ she said. ‘And…’ She ran nervous fingers through her curls, annoyed by his air of remoteness.

‘And?’

‘And apparently I bought these cows.’

He glanced at the pen beside her. ‘They’re steers.’

‘Cows, steers, whatever. They have four legs and they say “moo” and I don’t want them.’

A muscle in his cheek twitched and he looked away, then heaved a deep sigh as he stared at something in the distance. ‘I knew you were going to be more trouble than the others.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

He swung his gaze back to settle coldly over her. ‘Did you reckon I’d find you more attractive if you threw in a pen of steers as a bribe?’

Camille gaped at him. ‘You think I bought them as some kind of…of bait—like a dowry? To make myself more appealing to you?’

He didn’t reply, but a slight inclination of his head suggested an answer in the affirmative.

Where did this guy get off? He had an ego bigger than the outback! ‘You really think I fancy you?’

His big shoulders moved in a faint shrug. ‘You’re trailing after me, aren’t you?’

She had to shove her curling fists deep into her pockets before she did something really foolish. He was actually far too big to punch. ‘How about you clean your ears out and listen, mate?’ she said slowly and loudly and with what she felt was an impressive degree of menace. ‘I came out here because you reneged on your agreement with Girl Talk magazine. I have absolutely no interest in you as a date.’

She flung her arms out in a wide, sweeping gesture to take in the mud and the cattle. ‘Could you honestly believe I would be way out here splashing around in mud and muck if I had a choice? It’s certainly not my idea of fun. As for boyfriends, I have as many guys in Sydney as I—as I need. And the last—the very last—kind of man I’m looking for is a cowboy!’

For good measure she added, ‘And I haven’t the slightest interest in getting married. Not ever. Not to anyone. In case you haven’t caught up with the latest statistics, there’s a whole generation of girls like me who are not desperate to sacrifice ourselves on the matrimonial altar.’

His obvious surprise gave her a measure of satisfaction. And for the first time she thought she saw a hint of amusement lurking in the depths of his hazel eyes.

‘I think I believe you,’ he said.

‘Well, hallelujah!’ Nodding towards the cattle, she finished her speech. ‘You might also be able to accept the fact that buying these guys was a complete accident that’s turned a rotten day for me into a total disaster.’

A suspicion of a smile played around his mouth. ‘Did you pay a good price for them?’

‘I wouldn’t have a clue. But that’s not the point.’

‘It’s very much the point. And so is whether or not you have the money to pay for them.’

‘But I don’t want them.’ Camille scowled at him and then at the cattle standing meekly in their pen. ‘I’ve no idea if I can afford them,’ she admitted. ‘How much are they?’

He shrugged. ‘Fifteen weaner steers…at a good weight. I’d say you’re looking at somewhere around six thousand dollars.’

‘No way!’ She suppressed an urge to add a few swear words. ‘I’m saving for a trip to Paris and that’s almost my entire savings! I’m not going to blow it on a pen of cattle.’

She’d been saving madly over the past twelve months. Hadn’t bought any new clothes in all that time! Well…hardly any. And now her dreams were toppling like a collapsed football scrum.

All her lovely dreams…of travelling to see her father again after twelve long years, of discovering her favourite sculptures in the Musée Rodin, of hunting for exciting little cafés in the back streets of Montmartre, or buying something chic and extravagant on the Champs-Élysées…