Barbara Hannay - Outback With The Boss

‘I guess not,’ she agreed, but she pulled a face that allowed just a hint of doubt to linger in the air as she lifted her carefully packed kit bag and heaved it onto one shoulder.

‘Here, let me take that,’ he offered.

Finding it rather a strain to remain ungracious in the face of his helpfulness, Grace allowed him to take her pack. As she did so, he dipped his face close to hers and his dark eyes danced as they studied her. ‘Aha! I think I detect a faint smile,’ he teased.

‘A slip of the lip,’ muttered Grace.

Mitch sighed as he hefted her bag into the back of the truck. ‘So that’s the way it’s going to be, is it, Ms Robbins?’ His glance slid to her jeans. ‘Five days of venom in denim.’

His words found their mark and Grace’s cheeks burned. Perhaps she was behaving unprofessionally—more like an immature kid.

‘Sorry,’ she said, shooting him a fair attempt at a smile. ‘I’m a bit tired.’

‘Then you should just sit back and relax and let me take care of the driving. Did you want to bring any of your favourite CDs to help while away the miles?’

She stared back at him, surprised. ‘That’s a great idea! I won’t be long.’ About to dash into her flat, she paused. ‘Do you have any preferences?’

Mitch leant his long frame against the truck’s door and sent her a slow, conspiratorial smile. ‘I think there’s a very good chance we have similar tastes, Grace. I’m prepared to go along with whatever you choose.’

As she collected a pile of CDs, she sensed her mouth softening into the beginnings of a genuine smile.

Grace wasn’t sure who was more surprised, she or Mitch, when they covered the six-hour journey up the narrow road to Undara without any sparring or tense silences. They only saw a few vehicles during the journey. They listened to her music, chatted about New Tomorrow, about people they knew in the film industry, or sat in comfortable silence as the countryside flashed past them in streaks of brown and grey-green against a bright blue sky. There were even moments when she actually laughed out loud at stories he told about colourful Hollywood personalities.

But whenever she started to relax Grace quickly reminded herself to be wary of her boss. He could pour on the charm when it suited him, but she knew from bitter experience that she must never lower her resistance.

From time to time Mitch stopped the truck to look at a point of interest. A flock of emus caught his attention, and he slowed to take a closer look.

‘I’ll bring them in near us,’ he told her.

Grace eyed him dubiously. ‘So what exactly are you going to do? Warble their mating call?’

He darted a withering glance in her direction. ‘Just watch this, city girl.’ Winding down his window, he held out his wide-brimmed hat and waved it at the emus. The birds stopped abruptly, staring at the movement. As Mitch continued waving, one of the scraggy, long-legged birds slowly stepped forward, a beady eye fixed on the hat. Then the others followed cautiously, until several dark-feathered adults and three stripy chicks were all gathered at the edge of the highway, staring fiercely at Mitch and his hat.

‘That’s a cool trick,’ breathed Grace. ‘Where’d you learn it?’

‘Oh, I knocked about in the bush quite a bit when I was younger. I’m not a complete city slicker. Look!’ He pointed as one of the adults herded up the chicks. ‘You don’t often see the mother emu with her babies.’

Grace cleared her throat. ‘Actually, city boy, it’s the male emu that incubates the eggs and looks after the chicks.’

‘Poor bloke,’ Mitch muttered under his breath as he accelerated back onto the highway. He shot Grace a baleful glance. ‘And where did you learn that?’

‘Oh, I read a lot…’ she answered airily.

They travelled on, companionably silent, as the bush flashed past them—the rough black trunks of ironbarks, the silvery smooth limbs of woollybutts and the deeper red of bloodwoods.

Later in the day, more animals emerged. A butcher-bird startled Grace when it took off suddenly from the side of the road with a long, thin snake in its beak. In the shadowy verges, kangaroos and wallabies slowly edged out for an afternoon graze. It was late in the day by the time they rattled down the final stretch of dirt road to reach Undara.

‘You’ve organised our accommodation, haven’t you?’ she asked warily.

‘Sure have,’ Mitch assured her. ‘We’re also booked in for a meal tonight and our underground tour in the morning. I’ll just head into the office there and pick up our keys.’

Grace watched as he bounded up the three steps and crossed the timber veranda to the reception area. Somehow, despite his city lifestyle, Grace had to admit that Mitch had avoided the urban cowboy image. He really looked as at home in faded blue jeans and scuffed riding boots in the bush as he did in his expensive Italian suits and hand-stitched, shining shoes in the city.

She had the uncomfortable feeling that Mitch was the kind of guy who would look good in any setting—in any clothes. Or without clothes, came the errant thought. She dismissed it quickly.

As he headed back to the truck, he was frowning. He flipped open the door and swung his long frame into the driver’s seat. ‘Minor hitch,’ he mumbled.

Grace’s heart jumped a beat or two. ‘How’s that?’ she whispered.

‘I don’t know how it happened, but there’s been a misunderstanding about our accommodation.’

‘A misunderstanding? Didn’t you know the accommodation here is converted railway carriages?’

‘Yeah. That’s not the problem.’ His dark eyes rested on her and his mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. ‘Actually, there’s no problem really. At least, there won’t be if you don’t throw a tantrum.’

Alarm sent tiny shivers darting through Grace’s innards. ‘Tantrum?’ she squeaked and then she struggled to gain more composure. ‘I haven’t thrown a tantrum since I was two years old. For heaven’s sake, what are you rambling on about?’

He twisted the key in the ignition and, as the engine chugged back to life, he told her. ‘A couple of busloads of tourists have filled the place up and there’s only one spot left for us. Honestly, I don’t know how they got the idea we were a couple.’

Grace shot him a suspicious glare. ‘You—you mean we have to share a…’

‘A room,’ Mitch supplied.

‘Twin share?’

‘’Fraid not. Double.’

‘We can’t!’ Grace yelled back. She ran nervous hands through her hair. The comfortable safety shield she’d been building all day had suddenly developed huge gaping cracks. ‘This is ridiculous!’ she shouted.

‘We’re not in the city now, Grace. In the bush you take what’s offered.’ Mitch nudged the truck towards the distant row of brown-painted railway carriages lined up in the shade of gum trees. ‘In case you didn’t know, beds are for sleeping, not just for sex. We can build a little barricade with pillows.’

Grace clamped her teeth closed as a screech of frustration threatened.

Mitch shot her a sideways glance. ‘I didn’t think you’d take this news too calmly. Look, it’s a long drive back to anywhere else and we’d only have to come back out here again in the morning,’ he commented. ‘You get all kinds of hazards in remote areas, but I’m game if you are.’

‘Of course you are!’ she cried.

Mitch stopped in their allotted parking bay, outlined by rough bush timber, cut off the engine and turned to her. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It’s no skin off your nose to spend one more night in bed with a woman you hardly know. It—it’s your—hobby!’ She flung her hands upwards to emphasise her words.