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Izzy couldn’t stop pacing. She was trying to focus on making dinner, planning to wait for Craig to be busy or asleep before she did her own research about Everlight. It was a shock that they were in the same area as her, which was far too close. How long had they been here? Was it a coincidence? Did they know she was here? What were they planning to do to the locals? To her?

‘Oi!’ Craig whistled so loudly it bounced off the kitchen walls.

‘What was that for?’ She scowled at Craig standing on the other side of the kitchen counter.

‘You were too busy ignoring me with your inner head chatter.’

‘Why aren’t you resting? Or rope making?’

‘The rope lengths need to soak for a bit before I start weaving.’

She arched an eyebrow at the cowboy, he didn’t look like a weaver of sorts. Not just his boots—his jeans were filled out by a set of very muscular legs. Not to mention the broad chest beneath a worn shirt, washed so many times it was soft to the touch, topped off with a white stockman’s hat shading his blue eyes and deep, rich golden tan. Stunningly handsome didn’t seem quite a strong enough term for this mouth-watering male. Who she dared not touch.

She blinked, successfully pulling her thoughts back into their conversation.

‘Exactly what are these ropes?’ She turned away to point at the coil of rope hanging over the dining room chair, beside his leather rodeo vest. It was Izzy who’d carried them inside, not Craig, who didn’t want to touch them. ‘What makes those bull ropes so special?’

‘A bull rope is what a rodeo rider holds onto during their ride. We have no saddle, just that rope for control.’

‘And…’

‘They’re made from tough braided materials that I customise, using as much organic fabric as I can, which is better for the bulls. You see, the rope wraps around the bull’s chest, just behind its front legs. Then the bull rider grips the special handle that I weave into the rope itself. That’s the bit that gets covered in rosin for that extra stick.’

‘Is that the sticky stuff you make in that pot on your barbecue?’

‘Yep.’ Finally, he dragged over the rope Brodie had given him earlier. ‘See?’

‘I do.’ It was oddly soft, yet coarse for a rope, but it was thick, too.

‘The tail end of the rope gets pulled tight and tucked under or around the rider’s hand, giving them a better grip while the bull’s bucking like mad. The trick is making the rope tough enough to last ride after ride. But it also needs to be flexible enough for the rider to find their perfect grip when it matters most, as well as not harm the beast. I’ve seen some animals suffer from rope burns, which is wrong. These days, organisers and bull owners are particular about what riders use.’

‘Which is why Ginny wants more for her sons. Which is great advertising, having a rodeo bull owner trust your ropes.’

Craig dropped his head as if being humble. ‘I might ride the animals, but I never want to harm them. None of the rodeo riders do. It’s just a sport.’

‘That almost got you killed.’

‘That’s the game, sweetheart.’ He narrowed his eyes at her. It was a sore point with Craig that the stubborn fool couldn’t see past.

‘I heard you call it Russian roulette with the reaper once.’

His jaw clamped shut, the muscles shifting as he ground his teeth, rolling up the rope in his hand, then tossing it onto the couch. She was pretty sure, if his ribs weren’t so much of a bother, he would’ve tossed it out the door.

‘What were you asking me about? Before your whistled at me like a dog. Which—by the way—is not nice.’

‘Ignoring me isn’t nice, either. What were you obsessing over?’

‘Dinner.’ Liar. ‘I made salads, and I marinated some steaks. Think you can cook on the barbecue tonight?’ He needed to do something. The lack of work to occupy him was annoying for someone like Craig, especially after today. Craig was a hands-on guy, a stockman who was used to working in all kinds of weather. It was surprising that he’d lasted this long indoors, but after today, he’d be pushing to get back out there.

‘Then we’ll celebrate. But before you say anything, I’m not on anything that messes with alcohol, so don’t start. What about you?’

It was her turn to scowl at him.

‘Izzy, I’m not the enemy. I’ve never been the enemy.’

‘Why are you asking about my meds, when I haven’t used them in years?’

‘Because something is stressing you out. I can see it. I saw you go pale in Finn’s office.’

‘Your new work office, you mean?’

‘Don’t change the subject. I saw your fear.’

He couldn’t have, not when she’d been trained to be an expressionless lawyer.

‘What has you so worried?’

She shook her head, backing away from him. ‘I can’t.’ She couldn’t risk his involvement.

Craig crossed his muscular arms over his broad, toned chest, his sparkly blue eyes on her. His look told her he wasn’t giving up on this.

She mirrored his look, defensively crossing her arms over her chest. ‘What did you want to ask me earlier?’ She intoned with heat as if to control her temper, but it was more to do with controlling the tremor of fear, hoping he’d take it as a signal to stop asking.

‘Fine. But I’ll get the truth out of you, eventually. And you know it.’ He then hooked his finger into the waistband of her tailored trousers and dragged her towards him. She was helpless to resist. ‘You’re coming with me.’

‘Where?’

‘You’ll see.’ He slung an arm over her shoulders. ‘Head for your latest gardening project.’

She had no choice, knowing he was using her to walk steadier on the uneven ground instead of using the crutch. He’d dropped it earlier, only to boot it across the verandah, and that’s where it remained. Having the crutches rub against his bad ribs while trying to walk had to be painful. Each step would’ve been torture. But this way he seemed to walk a little easier.

The only problem was they were close. Too close. With his arm around her, his skin against hers, his masculine aroma filling her lungs, with her side touching his. And then, when he spoke, she felt the words brush from his chest to cross over her skin, gazing into his clear blue eyes that were focused entirely on her.

‘This will do. Just under the shade of the tree.’

‘Never got my hat, did we?’ She winced under the late afternoon sun as the day prepared for a stunning sunset. The settling dust sparkled like fire beneath the sinking sun, casting a golden-red glow over the land—showing exactly how Dustfire got its name. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ He wasn’t facing the land, only her.

She stepped away from him. ‘Why are we here?’

‘To show you something. First, I’m going to cover your eyes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because that’s the surprise bit.’

‘It’s not my birthday.’

‘I know. Just do it, okay.’ He frowned at her, the frustration clear in his voice.

‘Okay, okay.’ She closed her eyes, and his large hands blocked the sunlight awakening her other senses.

No matter the time of day, the outback air was always invigorating, that she had learned to track its daily changes. From sweet dewy mornings to mid-morning warmth, to scorching heat and dust by noon, through to the dry, toasty greens of late afternoon, heading into the sunset phase. That’s where the sun’s lingering kisses still warmed her skin, gradually fading as the dust settled on another day. This was the prelude to her favourite time—when the stars crowded the night sky, and the air carried the distinct perfume of the outback after dark.

Even though Izzy always wore a watch, she’d learned to recognise the time of day just by the aromas of the outback. This land was like a woman who changed her perfume with each outfit to suit the occasion, and this afternoon the outback was certainly putting on a pretty show.

‘No peeking.’ Craig’s breath was so warm across her collarbone, her skin broke out in a flush of goosebumps. ‘Just a few steps this way.’

‘Can you w—’

‘We’re doing it.’ He huffed with annoyance in her ear, yet it somehow ignited all her nerve endings to zap, tingle and pop.

‘Here we are.’ His hand fell away. ‘You can open your eyes now, sweetheart.’

It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the blended beams of dappled sunlight flashing through the tree’s leafy canopy. But even then she struggled to understand what it was she was looking at.

‘It’s a truck tarp.’ A well-used canvas tarp with grease stains and patches, lay in front of them as if dropped from the sky to fan out over some odd structures.

‘I put the tarp on as a cover.’

‘For what?’

‘Look and find out.’

‘There’ll be snakes under there. Is that why you brought me here? To do the heavy lifting because of your ribs.’

‘No.’

‘You could have just said, Izzy, can you roll up the tarp for me to take back into the shed. ’

Exasperated, he tore off his hat and swiped the sweat from his forehead. ‘Listen, it’s the only wrapping paper I’ve got. Okay?’

‘Oh…’ She spun around to the tarp hiding a present.

It was too small to be a new car. Oddly shaped, it was big enough to be a treadmill, but not tall enough to be a stair-master, and way too big to be a hat. ‘What is it?’

‘Fine, I’ll show you, just to prove to you I can roll up my own damn tarps.’ Craig grumbled as he limped over, grabbed the edge of the weatherworn truck tarp and pulled it back to reveal a series of tall wooden boxes.

Not that she was ungrateful, but she was still clueless as to what it was. ‘Um… They’re boxes.’

Craig’s laugh echoed down the soft hills that rolled to meet the sinking sun. ‘You don’t know what they are?’

‘Well…’ She shrugged.

‘It’s a hive, Izzy.’

‘A beehive?’ She gasped, gripping her hands to her chest. ‘I love bees.’

‘I know.’

‘And honey, and honeycomb.’ She stepped in closer, all fear gone, to see a real live beehive. Only to pause. ‘Any bees?’

‘Not yet. This is the best place to keep them, they’ll be dry here in the wet, and they’re close enough to the weeping paperbarks you like.’

‘It’s a pretty view, too.’ No, it was freaking perfect. Just perfect. It was too perfect. Izzy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the enormity of what he’d done for her. She then peered back at the house, discovering it had a great view of the sunroom.

‘Yes, Izzy, I’ve put them here so you could watch them from the sunroom while you work.’

Her eyes started tearing up as her heart ka-thumped in her chest. ‘Not too close to the house?’

‘No. But close enough to pollinate your vegetable garden.’

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. The way Dustfire shone under the late afternoon sun, and the house looking over it, with her vegetable garden started. It was a dream that couldn’t be real. Yet, even as she turned away, the view of her hives and the expansive countryside was so awe-inspiring that tears started to fall.

‘You can keep an eye on your bees while they get busy with the orchard and the first feed crops, I’m planting in that paddock.’ Craig pointed to the sloping field of long irrigation lines.

‘What happened to the last orchard?’

‘Died off. Not having water does that.’

‘Oh, right…’ Because they hadn’t stayed to make this place into the home they’d both dreamed about. Yet here it was. ‘Did you make these hives?’

‘Yeah…’ Craig’s smile was soft, as he patted the top of the pale timber hive, smelling of pine.

The three hives were made from a series of stacked boxes, with a small entrance hole and perfectly spaced slats inside, ready for bees to create honeycomb and fill it with delicious honey.

Some people obsessed about wine, Alistair was crazy about parmesan cheese, for Izzy it was always honey. It wasn’t about having a sweet tooth, not when she treated it like a sommelier would treat a fine wine. She could swirl a spoonful of honey to discover its origin just by the colour and aroma—the dark, molasses-thick ironbark honey with its smoky, caramelised bite, or the light, sunshine-gold clover honey, so delicate with its floral and vanilla notes. Her favourite was the velvety macadamia blossom honey, rich and buttery with a nutty, savoury complexity.

For Izzy, every jar of honey was a story of the land, the blossoms, and the bees that made it such a unique tasting experience, just like any vintage wine. And now she had a chance to capture the essence of the nectar from her favourite tree’s fluffy, cream bottlebrush clusters, all within her favourite part of the country, on their land they called Dustfire. It was truly breathtaking. Her heart couldn’t keep up.

Craig leaned against the wooden hive, wearing a sexy grin. ‘What do you think? You’ll have them buzzing around before you know it, because I can order the bees today.’

‘But…’ Hearing him tell Finn earlier that he was turning Dustfire into a quarantine station, she knew Craig wasn’t going to sell, not if he was planning future crops. So, this was his way of sweetening the deal to convince her not to sell.

In all honestly, she didn’t want to sell Dustfire—she had to.

‘Listen, my ever-sweet Bee Queen, you’ve always wanted to keep bees.’

‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’ She shouldn’t even be here.

‘You’ll learn fast. I know you will. You gave me the plans to build these hives years ago. From your own research, you told me it was the best style of hive for the bees to handle the outback weather. You’ve always wanted to produce your own honey, and you have this huge list of uses for the beeswax, too. The projects you had were endless.’

‘That’s true.’

‘And…’ He sighed, hands sliding into his jean’s pockets. His voice got low and soft, but his blue eyes never left hers. ‘I’d have to be the only one who knows why you like bees.’

‘Because they pollinate flowers.’ She hugged herself, feeling so exposed. Yet if anyone knew all her secrets, it was Craig.

‘Because busy bees remind you of what you’re like with your mind. I’ve seen you watch them on the laptop, searching for their patterns, and how you stop to watch them in the garden. I know they help keep you calm, knowing that you have to be calm with the bees, so they won’t sting you and die. And believe me, you’re just as sweet as any honey on the market.’

Her ears had to be deceiving her as her fingers ran along the boxed edging, so smooth, yet perfectly joined. ‘You made this for me?’

‘I did. Ages ago. They’re your plans.’

‘You never used it?’

‘I’ve been waiting for you to come home.’

Her heart fell at the words. Oh, how sweet they sounded, like a hum coming from deep in her soul, until her brain caught up. ‘We—I, us…’

‘Hush now…’ He tenderly cradled her face, his blue eyes so intently focused on her. ‘When you said today you didn’t have a job, that’s when I realised why you’re here, because if you were still working for that mob, you’d be on the phone nonstop with the office, tapping away on your laptop, ignoring me, like you used to, long before you got that job in Sydney.’

‘You told me to go.’ She stepped back, feeling cool away from his touch.

‘Because I never wanted to hold you back from your career—where you’ve done some amazing things. Me? I was happy just living on this land and being with you. But I wasn’t going to stand in your way when you needed to see how far you could go. I have always wanted to watch the stars with you, but first, you had to conquer the world. It’s who you are, baby. I get that.’

‘No, it’s not that easy.’ She took another step back with the need to distance herself. Her eyes landed on the hive he’d made for her. A dream hobby that she’d always wanted. ‘You told me to go.’

‘I did. I knew it was something you had to do.’

‘And now?’

He stepped in close, tenderly gripping her arms. ‘This time I’m telling you I don’t want you to leave and I’m not letting you go.’

‘But you did.’ She stepped back, the anger swift. ‘And then you had all those women.’