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‘I don’t think you should do it,’ said Izzy, leaning against the wall of the hospital’s examination room. They’d been talking about Finn’s proposal since yesterday.

‘Only because you don’t want the Stock Squad’s quarantine station to get in the way of selling Dustfire.’ Craig started taking off his T-shirt to prepare for the doctor’s examination. ‘ Buck me! ’ His stomach clenched, with his shirt stuck on his shoulder.

‘Here.’ She helped him remove his shirt. Now there were no stitches or large patches of white gauze to draw her attention, she struggled to drag her focus away from the ridges and bumps of his very fine torso.

Craig had always been blessed with perfect abs.

Once upon a time, her fingers fed her desire, to slide under the edge of his T-shirt just to touch those abs. And at night, while in bed, she used to rest her hand on them, just to feel that warm smooth marble, made even better when he’d hold her hand to his chest. But that was so long ago.

Seeing him like this was so freaking hard.

Izzy tugged on an earlobe. She knew he was talking to her, she just couldn’t hear him, so she pinched her arm.

‘Hey.’ Craig grabbed her wrists. ‘Stop that.’

‘Stop what?’ It was his fault for having the best set of abs on the planet. He should never have taken off his shirt, so she didn’t have to stare at the flat muscular stomach and that treasure trail that disappeared into his jeans, that stirred up all sorts of bad girl fantasies. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be obsessing over them for the next—

‘Hey.’ Craig held the sides of her face, dragging her vision up to focus on his handsome face and his sparkly blue eyes. ‘Deep breath, baby.’

Damn him.

‘I’ve got you. Just breathe, baby.’

Left with no choice but to close her eyes, as Craig covered her ears to magically shut out the world both inside and out, where everything stopped spinning enough for her to sigh.

‘There we go.’ Craig let her go and leaned back against the examination bed. ‘Dare I ask what you were obsessing over?’

She shook her head, already feeling the heat prick across her cheeks. She turned her back on him to read the doctor’s diploma on the wall. Was it real? Or was it one of those fake certificates printed off the Internet?

She stepped in closer to look for any telltale signs. Even though she knew the diploma was real, it helped switch her focus away from Craig, despite being able to see his reflection in the polished frame.

‘Why don’t you think I should take Finn’s job?’

‘Because Finn’s a cop and you’re not.’

‘I know that.’

‘And they get paid danger money, meaning it’s a dangerous job.’

‘I don’t think I’ll be near any danger. Only the livestock, like I do now— if I ever get back to work.’ He sighed so heavily it made his shoulders slouch as he sank into the chair. At least she couldn’t see the abs anymore, just the fine structure of his muscular arms and solid shoulders.

No wonder the single women in this town were so desperate to have their one-on-one time with the infamous ladies’ man, Cowboy Craig. He was a top ten stunning male, who had the gift of making a woman feel special.

The sad thing was she’d had that taste, and even though she was never going back there— ever —it made it so much harder for her to move forward.

It was rare to find a man willing to put up with a female who had issues. At first, the men she’d dated liked her quirky oddities, until they realised it was more than that. It became easier to not date than deal with rejection, making the world so much simpler. Until all she had left was her job.

But then, it was her job that got her into the current boatload of trouble.

‘Are you worried about me?’

‘Huh?’ She spun around, suddenly remembering Craig was in the room. Dammit. She rubbed her forehead. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just…’

‘Overstimulated. I get it. Come on.’ He gently tugged on her wrist, making her sit beside him. ‘Do you still do that trick with your toes?’

‘Not for a while…’

‘You’re not on any medication?’

‘Haven’t needed it.’ But she started squeezing her toes in her shoes.

‘Because you had your morning routines, your treadmill and stair-master to help you cope. Your mantra…’

‘ Exhaust the body to tame the mind .’ They said it together.

She fidgeted with her fingers and her toes, but still her mind would not slow down, zipping from jobs she’d done in the past, to jobs to do at home, jobs she could do. Who came up with the word job? How many ways can you say job in other languages?

‘I don’t have a treadmill, but Dustfire has fifteen hundred acres for us to walk across. The physio said I needed to walk, so we should do that. Only if someone can give me my shoes back.’ He playfully nudged her side. ‘Would you rather use a treadmill or get out in the fresh air of the farm?’

She smiled at him, she didn’t mean to, but it just happened, along with her whole body simply relaxing and her mind slowing down. Craig was right. And he was being nice.

Why was Craig being nice? When he was going to hate her as soon as he realised what she’d done, putting them both in danger. Ugh, she was so selfish.

‘Oi.’ He grabbed her hand. ‘What’s wrong? Where did you go just then?’

‘I—’ Oh crap. ‘I…’ She swallowed hard, and kept on swallowing, desperate to stop the words clawing their way up her throat.

Thankfully, she was saved by the doctor bustling through the door, holding an open file. ‘Sorry I kept you waiting. Let’s take a look at you, Craig…’

As Craig got his examination, Izzy focused on the doctor’s words by watching how his lips formed the letters. This way, she’d be able to pull up the entire conversation, syllable by syllable, if needed. It was a skill that came in handy for cross-examinations in court.

According to the doctor, Craig’s ribs were almost healed. However, his damaged calf muscle and ankle were going to take a bit longer to come good. The doctor gave him a prescription of sunshine and exercise, plus adequate rest, then told him to come back in two weeks for another check-up.

She could do another two weeks, right? Play nice. Pretend that everything in the hive was sweet like honey and forget there was a meteorite coming to destroy all of mankind—in her mind, that is.

Izzy fingered her phone. She hadn’t looked at it, not with Craig watching her. But he was busy with the doctor, talking sports or something, so she took her shot. ‘Excuse me, I’ve got to make a quick call. I’ll meet you by the ute.’

She left the room, leaving Craig to explain her odd behaviour. Although he never did. Craig always said it was nobody’s business but theirs and theirs alone.

But in the corporate world, her work colleagues were always making excuses for her odd behaviour. The only reason they put up with her was because she won their cases because she saw the patterns, the details, and the loopholes. She’d remember snippets from the news, or overheard conversations in coffee shops, sentences in books or quotes in articles she’d read, and somehow her brain would churn it over to connect the dots in ways she never understood herself. But it got results.

Lots of people had ADD, or ADHD. A lot of them didn’t even realise it, especially women, many of whom were diagnosed later in life, like she had been. When she had assumed, like the rest of the world, that she was weird.

The relief that had come with her first diagnosis had been enormous.

Her list of oddities had an actual clinical explanation. It helped her understand her struggles, to know why she’d get so laser focused on something insignificant, while forgetting the important stuff. Why she’d get so bored or irritated, interrupting people who were speaking, because she already knew what they were going to say, and why she completed tasks more quickly than others. Why she’d surf through a hundred channels on cable and still find nothing to watch, except some random gardening show on exotic mushrooms, when she didn’t even like mushrooms.

Discovering that she wasn’t the only one out there with this condition had been soothing. And then she’d met a specialist who’d actually helped her, not only giving her tools to cope, introducing her to the mantra— Exhaust the body, to tame the mind —but he’d also told her to see her disorder as a gift and not a curse.

That mind shift unlocked a lot of doors for her, accepting her condition’s strengths helped her score a great job in one of the most prestigious firms in the country. It didn’t matter to her that the other lawyers in her firm tried to take the credit for her work, not when she got to use her badly misbehaving mind for good. It truly became a gift.

Right now, she needed to push past the constant chatter in her brain, while pushing through the small bush hospital’s front doors to the car park.

She winced at the sunshine, as she stepped out into the brisk morning breeze under a soft summery blue sky. Craig’s was the first outpatient appointment of the day, just the way they both liked to run their appointments, otherwise she’d be obsessing over it all day and get nothing done.

Making sure she was alone, she dialled the only number stored on her new phone.

‘Detective Mancini.’ The male voice on the other end of the phone line sounded tired and harassed, as normal.

‘Hello, Alistair.’

‘Hey, doll face.’ Alistair slurped on something, probably coffee in a takeaway cup, because she’d never seen him drink water. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’m checking in, like you told me to.’ It was as if Alistair had become her parole officer, when she’d done nothing wrong. ‘Have you made any progress?’

‘Nah. Sorry. Are you still in the outback near that town, Elsie Creek?’

‘Yes. I need to stay another two weeks. Is it safe for me to stay?’ She didn’t want to put poor Craig at risk by just being near him.

‘As long as you don’t draw attention to yourself.’

‘How would I? There’s nothing here.’ From the raised car park, the town of Elsie Creek lay on the right. Directly below her was the police station, then the fire station, which backed onto the tiniest airport. Then over the road stood the long train line with its mass of stockyards, bigger than the town itself. Beyond that, there was a whole load of lonely outback that stretched further than the eye could see. A person could get lost out there, or so she hoped.

‘Listen, doll, I’m doing my best, ‘k?’

Izzy rolled her eyes. She was no one’s doll. And Alistair Mancini was no one’s darling. Not with a dietary habit of pasta loaded with parmesan cheese, usually leading to red pasta sauce splattered all over his work ties. Alistair had a thing for parmesan cheese the way people had a thing for certain wines or cigars. But he was the only one she trusted. Which was strange when she’d gone up against Detective Alistair Mancini a few times in court and had stripped him down so badly he’d hated her for it. But over time an unexpected friendship had developed.

It wasn’t her fault she was good at her job that got her into this mess, being made to hide out in the middle of the outback.

‘Do they know I’ve gone?’

‘Someone tossed your apartment the other week, so yeah, doll, I’m pretty sure they know you’ve bolted.’

‘How bad is my place?’ Why hadn’t he told her sooner?

‘Trashed it. Your boss is speaking with the insurance company to see what he can do.’

‘Good.’ After all, this was her boss’s fault. ‘No—not good. When can I go home?’ Where she had her morning routines to keep her brain under control, and didn’t have to rely on her ex-husband to calm her down. She had a life. She had a damned good career, and a sweet apartment that had a glimpse of Sydney Harbour Bridge—if you stood on the couch at a certain angle and craned your neck you could see it.

And she had a pot plant, called Brian, who’d survived her many, many mood swings—either trying to kill it with kindness and overwater it, or forgetting to water it altogether. Or she’d spill champagne on Brian’s leaves like a leaf polish when sharing a toast with her pot plant for winning her latest case. She had no one else.

And the saddest thing was she’d never learned what plant variety Brian was. ‘Did you take Brian?’ Even though she’d stolen him from one of the mean girls at the office in the first place, she had asked Alistair to rescue Brian.

‘Huh?’

‘The pot plant.’

‘Jeez…’ He mumbled something under his breath. ‘I kill plants, so I gave it to your neighbours.’

‘Are they nice people? Will they take care of Brian?’

‘They had lots of house plants already, do videos about plants for social media. Don’t you know your neighbours?’

‘No. How come you do?’

‘I did a doorknock for information. It’s normal protocol. You know all this, Isobel, especially police procedures for a break-in.’

‘Yeah...’ She tapped her fist against her head, trying to knock some sense into herself. She understood police procedure, because she’d pick it to pieces to help find holes in their investigations. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Wasting my time talking to you.’

Ugh! Frustrated, she raised her fist to the clouds, imagining it was Alistair’s face. ‘We know it’s Everlight Energy.’

‘Knowing that they’re involved in illegal activities isn’t proof they ordered someone’s murder, doll. But I know they won’t stop looking for you, not after what they did to your assistant.’

The reminder of her assistant’s murder made her inhale sharply. She’d been so close herself. ‘Can’t we just pretend they’re busy underworld criminals who work hard? Surely, they’ll forget about me.’ She sounded so dumb! And dumb, she was not.

Unexpectedly, she gave a nervous giggle at the helpless irony of her situation as she watched a police van pull into the neighbouring police station. They were the good guys, who wanted Craig’s help, while she got paid the big bickies to fight the good guys, who were now trying to do their best to protect her. Or were they? ‘Is there anything I can do, Alistair?’

‘No. Sit tight, doll. I’ll call you if there is an issue.’

‘I’ll be out of range.’ Again.

‘I can email you.’

‘That’ll have to do, I guess.’ She was not going to share Craig’s number. The more she distanced herself from Craig—on paper—the better.

‘How come no one knows about him?’

‘Who?’

‘Your husband.’

‘It’s no one’s business. Do you tell criminals about your obsession with parmesan cheese?’

Alistair cleared his throat.

‘If it makes you feel any better, I have one for bees and their honey.’ She was very picky over the right colour, clarity, and consistency of her honey. It showed the magic of the bees themselves and their fascinating world. She could watch them for hours.

‘Yeah, right…’

She rolled her eyes, remembering herself. ‘Did you tell my boss where I am?’

‘I’ve told no one, not even my work colleagues. It’s safer that way.’

Then why didn’t she feel safe?

This was why she couldn’t relax. She couldn’t neatly fix the issue and file it away in a neat little box. Not when this box of information had grown to become a whole series of boxes, filling her mind, it’s the reason why she’d cleaned out a garden shed in record time.

‘Look, I’ve got to go. Keep your nose clean, doll, and as soon as we catch ‘em, I’ll call.’

‘I’ve only got two more weeks left with Craig, then he won’t need my help.’

‘Check in with me in a week, just so I know you’re alive.’ He hung up on her.

‘Who are you talking to?’

She spun around to face Craig, her chest squeezing at having said too much. ‘I didn’t hear you come out.’ How much did he hear? ‘What did the doctor say?’

Craig narrowed his eyes at her. ‘You were there for that part of the conversation.’

‘Oh, yeah, right.’ She went to open the door of the ute, but he grabbed her arm.

‘What’s going on, Izzy?’

‘Nothing.’ Everything . Did she lie? Technically, she could argue that she wasn’t lying because he hadn’t narrowed down the topic of conversation.

‘Izzy?’ He lowered his head. At that angle, his bright blue eyes seemed to pierce through her shields.

‘I’ve changed my mind. I think you should take another look at that job Finn offered you yesterday.’ She pointed at the neighbouring police station.

‘What made you change your mind?’

‘They’re the good guys, right? And you are too, Craig. I know you can do a lot of good for the local farmers, because you have the skills and the experience to excel at the position. Just promise me it won’t be near any gun stuff.’

Craig laughed, and it magically changed his features: the wide smile, the straight white teeth, smooth chin and blond hair that curled just under the brim of his hat. Oh, he was a heartbreaker—even if he was limping to the car with the use of a crutch.

‘Careful, sweetheart, I might start thinking you actually care about me with comments like that.’

She cared. The problem was she’d never stopped caring. But now it worried her that by simply being near him she was putting Craig at risk, especially when he couldn’t protect himself, when he couldn’t even drive a car.

It’s why her assistant was murdered, just for being with Izzy when the murderer came for her. Was she doing the same to Craig?

But someone like Detective Sergeant Finn Wilde could protect Craig until Craig had fully recovered, so she could then continue being a girl on the run. ‘Should we see Finn about the job?’

‘I’d rather we went and spoke to a woman about a bull.’