Page 30 of Hometown Cowboy

He walked out of the busy shop like he always did, confident and self-assured. It wasn’t until he got around the corner heading toward his parked car that the reality of the situation hit him full force.

His hands started to shake, so much so that he couldn’t hold onto the packages properly. He leaned back against the old brick wall and held those packages as close to his body as he could. He dragged rapidly depleting oxygen into his lungs, desperately trying to catch his breath.

It refused to cooperate.

He closed his eyes and willed his body to focus and do what he wanted it to.

Breathe dammit, breathe!

Darby, pregnant?

No. That was ridiculous. Miss Appleton had the steer by the arse, as usual. It simply wasn’t possible.

Was it?

Ryan focused on short, sharp breaths to try and at least getsomeoxygen into his body.

Because if she was, a whole world of hurt was going to fall down on his head. He straightened against the wall and walked across the footpath to the busy little street. A cute little bubble of a sea-green coloured car putted past, headed toward the huge roundabout at the end of the open mall. Cat van Alden smiled and waved as she drove by. He lifted a hand to acknowledge her, his heart not in it. He watched as her little car negotiated the roundabout with the huge kurrajong tree in the centre and zipped out the other side to head down the street toward Mallory-Jayne’s small hotel.

He had to get it together. If too many people who knew him saw him standing there like that, they might put two and two together and actually come up with four.

He shoved himself off the wall and walked briskly down the pathway toward the back of the mall where his car was parked in the council car park.

He shook his head and muttered to himself, “No. No, she would have said something. She would have told me first. It’s just this town and its rumours.”

He straightened his shoulders. Yes, that had to be it.

By the time he got to his ute andblippedthe key fob, he was smiling.

Never let it be said that he was a negative person. Positivity and self-confidence were everything. He’d just ask Darby. She’d confirm that it was nonsense, and they’d both have a big laugh about busybodies and silly little rumours.

And everything would be fine.

*

Ryan walked upDarby’s driveway. It had taken him hours to get up the courage to come to see her. He’d put it off by doing all the chores he could think of at home, before climbing into his ute to head back into town.

The faint, tinny sound of a radio wafted on the air toward him.

The country hour.

A wide grin erupted as he rounded the corner and saw her with her back to him, elbow deep in her raised veggie garden.

“You’re such a dag, Darby Jameson.”

Darby spun around, her floppy, oversized hat nearly obscuring her whole face from him. She pressed her muddy hand to her chest.

“You scared ten years off my life. Bloody hell, Ryan!”

“Sorry.”Not sorry.

“And why am I a dag?” She glanced at her clothes. Denim shorts and a tank top, with bright pink leather work boots.

Nice.

“Nothin’ to do with the clothes.” He nodded in the direction of the radio and moved closer. “The country hour? Really?”

She raised an annoyed brow. “Excuse me? I happen to like listening to the stories. One would think—”