Barbara Hannay - Miracle in Bellaroo Creek

‘I’ll need to check in to the hotel. You’re still staying there, aren’t you?’

Milla nodded. ‘Until I get this place cleaned up.’

‘This place?’ Frowning, Ed looked around the bakery as if he was seeing it for the first time. His steely gaze took in the metal tables, the big gas cooker, the trolleys and baking trays and bins, the massive oven that filled the far wall. Finally, his gaze rested on the brooms and mop and bucket in the corner. ‘Are you having the bakery cleaned?’

‘In a manner of speaking—except I’m the one doing the cleaning.’

This time, Ed didn’t even try to hide his disbelief.

‘I’m not only cleaning the bakery. I plan to get it up and running again.’ Before he could comment, Milla hurried to explain. ‘The former owners went broke, along with several other businesses here, and the local council is offering peppercorn rent for people willing to restart. I’ve put in an application for this bakery and, as far as I know, no one else is interested.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. ‘One question.’ He stared at her again. ‘Why?’

‘My family used to own this bakery. I know how to run a place like this. I grew up here.’

Still, Ed looked puzzled. ‘So?’

Milla sighed. How did she explain everything she’d seen and felt since her arrival in Bellaroo Creek? How could she explain her longing to do something meaningful after years of unfulfilling luxury and wastefulness?

This billionaire standing before her in his high-end designer-label jeans and polo shirt couldn’t possibly understand how the resurrection of this humble country bakery was an important chance to do something positive, not just for herself, but for a whole community.

‘The town needs help, Ed. Bellaroo Creek is on the brink of extinction, but a local committee has started a plan to rescue it. Everything hinges on keeping the school open, so they’re inviting families to rent farmhouses for a dollar a week.’

‘Desperate families.’

‘People who want to make a new start,’ Milla defended. ‘People looking for fresh air and something better than a dark backstreet alley for their kids to play in. A place where people know each other by name and have a sense of community.’

‘You’ve been brainwashed, haven’t you?’

‘I’m looking for a way of life that makes me feel fulfilled,’ she said hotly. ‘And this is something I’m determined to do without touching my ex’s money.’

His mouth tightened. ‘It’s a knee-jerk reaction, Milla. You’re not being rational.’

‘I’m not asking for your approval, Ed.’

‘Look, I said I’m sorry about the baby, and I am, honestly, more than you can guess. And hell, I’m sorry your marriage to my brother didn’t work out—but I know business and commerce inside out, and I know for absolute certainty that you’ll regret this.’

‘I really don’t want to fight about it,’ she said firmly but decisively.

After all, what she did with her life now was her business. The Cavanaughs no longer had any kind of hold on her.

However, Ed had no choice but to stay in Bellaroo Creek tonight and the pub was his only accommodation option. ‘As you said, we can try for a civilised conversation over dinner.’

‘I’m glad you agree.’

‘At least we won’t be able to yell at each other in the pub dining room.’

‘That’s a relief.’

‘The chef is Chinese,’ Milla told him. ‘And he’s pretty good. I think you’ll like his duck with mushrooms.’

Ed’s eyebrows lifted and, at last, there was a hint of a smile. ‘Duck with mushrooms way out here?’

‘Bellaroo Creek has one or two surprises.’

‘OK. Sounds good.’ He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and noted the time. ‘I need to check in.’

It was, at best, a temporary truce, but Milla let out a huff of relief.

‘I’ll come with you,’ she said. ‘Unfortunately, Sherry, the girl on the reception desk, isn’t as professional as the chef. There are so few people who check in here, she often wanders off to help in the kitchen or the laundry. Sometimes you have to go hunting for her.’

* * *

Five minutes later, having checked the pub’s bar, the lounge, the dining room, the laundry and the kitchen without unearthing Sherry, Milla returned to Reception to find Ed in a spindly wooden chair with his eyes shut and his long legs stretched in front of him. He seemed to be asleep, although he looked dreadfully uncomfortable.

‘Ed.’ She touched his knee and he woke with a start. ‘I can’t find the reception girl and you look like you need to sleep.’

‘I’m fine,’ he insisted, blinking and frowning as he got to his feet.

‘You’re exhausted and jet lagged. I think you should come up to my room.’ To her annoyance she felt a bright blush as she said this. ‘You can at least have a shower while I track down someone who can organise a room for you,’ she went on brusquely.

‘A shower sounds good.’ Ed yawned. ‘Thanks, I won’t say no.’

The offer of her room had seemed practical and sensible to Milla until she climbed the narrow staircase with Ed beside her. In the confined space she was super aware of his height and broad shoulders and mega-masculine aura. Her heartbeats picked up pace and her skin prickled and even her breathing seemed to falter.

By the time they reached her room she was ridiculously flustered. When she pushed the door open, she took a necessary step back. ‘After you, Ed.’

‘Thanks.’ He set his expensive leather duffle bag on the floor and stood with his hands propped on his hips, surveying her double bed and the cosmetics scattered over the old-fashioned dressing table, the wardrobe with an oval, age-spotted mirror on the door.

‘It’s old-fashioned but at least there’s an en-suite. The bathroom’s through here.’ She moved to the louvre doors, newly painted white, and pushed them open. ‘It’s tiny, but adequate. There’s a spare towel on the shelf above the—’

Oh, help.

Why hadn’t she remembered that she’d left her undies hanging above the bath? Now her silky panties and lacy bras were on full display. To make matters worse, rosy light from the setting sun streamed through the high bathroom window, gilding the lingerie’s creamy fragility.

And Ed was smiling. ‘Nice decor,’ he said with a grin. But a darker glint in his eyes lit flames inside Milla.

Leaping forward, she hastily grabbed the offending articles, bunching them into a tight ball. If she’d had a pocket she would have shoved them into it.

She kept her gaze safely lowered. ‘The bathroom’s all yours.’

CHAPTER THREE

ED WAS COLD. As he clambered from a black hole of deep, drugging sleep he opened his eyes a chink and discovered chill grey dawn light filling a strange room. Everything was alien—the shapes of the furniture, the position of the windows.

He had no idea where he was.

And he was cold. Naked and cold. Instinctively, he groped for the bed covers, and as he lifted them he caught a drift of flowery scent. With a jolt of dismay, he remembered Milla.

This was Australia. He was in a hotel in Bellaroo Creek. He’d showered in Milla’s bathroom. This was her bedroom.

They were supposed to have had dinner together.

Where was she?

Shivering, he rolled under the covers, relishing the new-found warmth as his mind struggled to sort out his dilemma. Or rather, Milla’s dilemma. It was obvious now that he’d come out of the shower last night, seen her bed, and fallen onto it in exhaustion.

With that part of the puzzle sorted, he could all too easily picture the rest. Milla had come back to her room to find him sprawled, naked, on her bed. Out like a light.