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‘Finley’s more of a housemate, and he’s toilet trained. So don’t freak out if you see the plants move in his food forest. It’s just Finley getting his jungle on.’ Stone patted the back of the turtle’s shell so tenderly.

‘You’ve had him a while?’

‘Nearly ten years now. I’m hoping Finley will be a part of this family for another fifty years or more.’

‘Is this the only house pet, besides the fish?’

‘No, the rest of the pets are kept out the back.’ Stone stood, brushing down his jeans. ‘You’ll rarely need to do the boys, but I’ll let you know.’

She paused as he approached a wall made of clear glass panels like you’d find at some hotel pool area. ‘What else are you keeping here?’

‘Only the boys.’ He held the gate. ‘Remember, keep this shut—unless someone’s supervising Finley. The little bloke loves picking fights with the locals.’ Stone gave her a wink before strolling down a cemented path, with the turtle following.

The aroma reminded her of the crocodile farm but without the clinical smell. Its source was a group of massive pools surrounded by more tropical gardens, but with barriers made from thick walls of clear glass.

‘Let me guess, you have pet crocodiles.’ Yelp . ‘You don’t bring them inside, do you?’

‘Hell, no. But they perve on us, and we can perve on them from the pond.’ Stone pointed through the glass barriers, where the raised area gave them a view of the house and pond. Or was that the other way around?

The massively large open-air aquariums followed the curve of the walkway as they made their way uphill.

Swallowing her gasp, she clutched her throat at the view from the hilltop, where the outback unfolded in breathtaking layers of red soils and greenery.

Bathed in the warm afternoon sunlight, sprawling flood plains stretched endlessly in a mosaic of cracked red earth, to the shimmering waterways that snaked lazily through the land.

Dense clusters of pandanus and paperbark trees hugged the swamps. While billabongs, surrounded by deep green foliage, gleamed like jewels in the distance, where a pair of slender brolgas glided against the endless cobalt sky.

‘Is this really your backyard?’

Stone barely nodded. ‘I like to come out here and have a beer with the boys. We watch the sunset together.’ Stone pointed to the bench seat, perfect to take in that epic view of the land.

‘This place is amazing.’ That was an understatement, it was paradise of a different kind.

‘I like it. And the boys love it even more than me.’ Stone opened a cupboard that was part of the wall, releasing a mechanical chatter inside. It was the pump, where he checked over some valves and dials.

‘Will I need to do that?’

‘Nope. It’s on automatic timers. I just check the seals and the filter, now and again. Mostly it runs on solar, with a backup generator system if needed, so no need to touch it. These pumps do all the ponds, including the boys’ pens.’

‘Are you feeding them today?’

‘Just a snack. They had a big pig-out session a few days ago.’ He opened another cupboard, this one was full of labelled air-tight drawers. ‘You’ll find a stash of assorted foods to suit even the pickiest of Crocodylidae in here.’

‘What do they snack on?’

‘Dried fish keeps them busy.’ Stone held out three dried fish that were the size of flattened bowling pins.

‘Don’t they jump?’ The glass panels on the walkway didn’t seem high enough, especially the ones that faced the house and outdoor pool area.

‘Sure. But this is reinforced glass. They won’t break through, and it’s much nicer than mesh.’

Finley’s wheels rumbled beneath his turtle shell, his tiny front legs held out to the sides as he surfed downhill, following Stone like a dog.

‘I’m not feeding crocodiles.’

‘ Yet .’ Stone approached the first of three large pools. ‘Boys, this is the new backpacker, Romy.’

‘I’m not a backpacker.’

‘You have a backpack, because I carried it inside the house. And you’re passing through. What’s the difference? Besides, they understand the word.’

‘What about cleaning? I’m not your housemaid.’

‘I have a cleaner. Don’t stress.’

Crocodile wranglers must make a fortune for Stone to live in this impressive house with its elaborate five-star set-up. Compared to the ponds at the Saltscale crocodile farm, this place was like a luxurious private zoo.

‘Do you want to meet the boys? They could be the stars of your next documentary.’

‘What documentary?’ Yet, she couldn’t help but follow Stone and his beautiful denim butt.

‘They’ll be good test models as your captive audience.

Just never ever put your hand over these glass panels.

Even Finley knows that, eh, big fella?’ Stone leaned down to scratch under Finley’s chin, and the turtle smiled.

It almost reduced Romy into a puddle of feel-good-goo at how precious that little smile was.

‘The first contestant of who’s the hot croc in the pond is Bones.

He’s the stunningly snappy 15-year-old freshwater crocodile.

’ Stone sounded like a gameshow host as he tossed the dried fish across the pool where it floated on top.

Through the side glass panels, they watched the beast rise from the bottom of his crystal-clear pool, to circle the dried fish before taking it in its mouth.

‘Why Bones?’ The way it swam was so graceful.

‘I found him in one of the side creeks, undernourished, and severely underweight with an old leg injury. He couldn’t effectively hunt anymore.

Plus, the saltwater crocs had taken over his turf, leaving him a mud puddle, hoping to catch anything that wandered by.

Poor Bones was mostly skin and bones when I brought him home.

I didn’t think he’d make it, but he did. ’

Stone moved to the next pen as a loud guttural groan rose. ‘This is the flirt of the pack, Snag. He’s a 35-year-old mischievous saltwater crocodile who is trying to serenade you.’ Stone’s smile was singing to her soul, too—when it shouldn’t.

At the next window, a large beast stretched out across the sandy beach area, as if working on his suntan. Snag, the saltwater crocodile was not only bigger, but he had a much wider head and a squarer snout than Bones, who seemed a lot daintier as the freshwater crocodile species.

‘Here, it’s your turn.’ Stone grabbed her wrist, making her take a dried fish.

‘What do I do?’ She was helpless to stop him, or that spark skating under her skin every time he touched her.

‘Toss it in the air. Snag will catch it. He could do with the cardio.’

She swung back.

‘Wait.’ Stone held her hand back. ‘Let Snag get into position first. Go on, Snag, this is your chance to dance, big boy.’

From the small beach area, the crocodile groaned as it slid across the sand and dove into the water.

‘Now throw it as high as you can.’

Suddenly feeling game, Romy flung the leathery fish towards the sky. It spun over, tail to nose, again and again.

When an almighty splash exploded from the pool as the crocodile lunged into the air, sending a huge wave of water to hit hard against the glass wall.

Snag’s impressively wide jaws snapped shut like the crack of a shotgun, snapping the fish in half, as he rolled back into the pond creating another explosion of water, to then playfully tumble and roll with the fish underwater.

Hand to her chest, Romy was in awe of the mighty creature’s water dance that was as graceful as an underwater ballerina. ‘I felt that bite.’ It was like a stockwhip crack echoing through her chest.

‘It’s good.’ Stone nodded with approval at Snag’s underwater acrobatics.

‘So, it’s true they have the power to crush our skulls with their jaws.’

‘They could crunch on concrete if they wanted to.’

‘What is Snag’s story?’

Stone sighed, watching the crocodile play.

‘Snag has an underdeveloped jaw. It might have been a birth defect or an injury he copped when young, but it left him struggling to catch fish or larger prey. He’d been playing scavenger for a long time, barely surviving on prawns and baitfish when I found him.

Do you see how he only chews on one side.

’ Stone tapped on the glass panel that gave them an underwater view of Snag’s outdoor aquarium.

Romy nodded. ‘What if he can’t chew through that dried fish?’

‘He’ll leave it to soften in the water.’

‘How would Snag go in the wild?’

With his hands sliding into the pockets of his jeans, Stone leaned his shoulder against the glass wall to watch the crocodile.

‘Snag would have never survived. He was like Bones, pretty knackered when I found him in one of my back billabongs, which was nothing more than mud during a really long dry season. So I brought him home.’

‘How do you transport a crocodile?’

‘Bones and Snag were so stuffed they didn’t even put up a fight when I put them in the sling.

It was the easiest way to fly them home and I could drop them straight into these makeshift ponds that I’d just dug out with a bobcat.

Back then, I ran hoses to source water straight from the river, because I didn’t even have a pump and hadn’t even thought about building ponds.

I’d only brought them here to help them recover.

’ He patted the glass panelling. ‘But after many late-night beers while handfeeding these two, I ended up building their personal resorts around them, making sure they had plenty of room.’

‘And you feed them daily?’

‘Every few days. It’s how they’re built.’ He gave a casual shrug. ‘Once a month, I’ll do a haul of live fish from one of my creeks and drop them in their ponds so they can play. That keeps them busy for days.’

‘And that one.’ She pointed to the largest pond of all. ‘Who lives in there?’

‘Caesar.’ Stone pushed off the wall, opened a glass door and walked right up to a massive beast that looked like a log at first.

‘ Stone! ’ The panic in her voice echoed around them.

‘Calm down. This guy is too old to move around, not with his arthritis.’ Stone walked up to the largest crocodile Romy had ever seen.

‘How big is he?’