Page 52 of Third Time’s a Charm

Heat creeps up my cheeks. Jasper makes a vague noise of agreement and glances at me with a faint frown.

“How’s your head, Eddie?” he deflects.

“Had a bloody Mary and a steak sandwich for breakfast. I’m right as rain now.” Eddie lifts his beer with a grin. It’s clear this is not his first rodeo.

We spend a few minutes congratulating Trevor on the baby and admiring pictures of him and his wife holding Trev Junior—who does indeed appear to have quite a big head—before we give Trev payment details for the repairs and climb into the car.

We’ve missed lunch again, so after we pick up our luggage, I grab some sandwiches and chips at the servo while Jasper fills up the car with fuel.

Once we’re on the road and the sandwiches are eaten, awkwardness settles in the car. Bullibingal has long disappeared in the rear-vision mirror, but the silence continues. I can’t even bring myself to put on my playlist because there’s bound to be songs from last night’s party on it and neither of us need that memory-jogger. And there’s no way I’m breaking out the road trip lollies either. I don’t need them forever tainted by association.

Rusty red paddocks dotted with towering gums and scraggly grass stretch into the distance. A kangaroo hops along the side of the road beside us, causing Jasper to slow down in anticipation of it jumping in front of us before it clears a barbed wire fence and bounds away.

“Is it just me, or does the car now smell of axle grease, pine and … is that meat pie?” Jasper asks with a sniff, finally breaking the quiet. It’s clear he’s trying to recalibrate our dynamic. The least I can do is try and meet him half-way. For the sake of our working relationship.

“Not just you.” I attempt a smile, although my cheeks are stiff and my mouth wobbles a little. “An interesting combination. Not sure it’ll take off as a candle scent. At least they cleaned out the red dust.” I look around at the console and the leather seats that are not quite gleaming, but certainly not as dusty as they were when we arrived in town. “Mostly.”

I check the time. It’s nearly three o’clock. We should make it to Mount Barker by six thirty, maybe seven o’clock. We have over three hours to fill with awkward small talk.

I feign a yawn and reach for the jumper I threw on the back seat earlier. With more ostentation than required, I roll it into a ball, tuck it against the side window and rest my head on it. I sense Jasper’s gaze brush over my face. But he says nothing, and I don’t open my eyes. Even if pretending to sleep only buys me half an hour, it’s better than nothing.

Turns out I don’t have to pretend to sleep. Because multiple orgasms, a hangover and a touch of heartbreak are apparently better than sleeping pills. I sleep through the whole trip. I don’t even wake up when we drive back through Malleup, or get searched at the border. Which is probably just as well. In my current state of mind, I don’t think I could have turned on a smile. Even for Janey and Wally and his almost-naked brother.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jasper

We’re barely twenty minutes into the drive when Louise falls asleep. At first, I think maybe she’s foxing, but the deep, even breathing and the way her head droops suggest she really is asleep. An inappropriate swell of pride blooms in my chest. I guess I wore her out. Then again, maybe it’s the hangover. Or the emotional fallout from our painful conversation earlier. The bloom shrivels and dies.

I drive in silence. I don’t want to wake her with a podcast or music. And I want to hear the notification if I get an email from Tate, although it’s still early London time and he isn’t known for his early morning starts. Still, once I hear from him, I’ll feel better. Assuming it isn’t an outright no. Which, no matter how you slice it, would be a bad business decision. He might be an arsehole, but he’s not an idiot.

We’ve spent the last couple of days in largely flat, dry land, but Mount Barker sits in the centre of a spectacular range of tree-covered hills. Which has meant the last half hour of the drive twisted and turned, rising sharply until we reached our hotel.

Unlike the quirky old places we’ve mostly stayed at, this hotel is modern architecture at its best. Perched along the ridge at the crest of a hill, with soaring, angular rooflines, its walls of glass, stone and cedar appear to hover suspended over the valley below.

As always, Louise is greeted with warmth and handed two tiny envelopes containing our swipe cards.

“Do you need a hand with your bags?” the concierge asks.

“No, thank you. I know where we’re going.” Louise leads me out onto a covered

sandstone path bordered by low hedges of lavender and rosemary.

“Well, this is not quite what I expected.” I’m referring to the ultra-modern style, but Louise misinterprets me.

“I know it looks expensive. I mean, it is expensive …” Louise stammers. “But they give me a really good rate, and I thought …” Her voice peters out.

“I’m not questioning you, Louise. It’s just different to everywhere else we’ve stayed.” This place is spectacular, but I’d give just about anything to go back to the drab little motel in Bullibingal right now.

We stop at the two doors at the end of the path, and Louise hands me my keycard.

“It was the only one they had available,” she whispers and disappears into her room without further explanation. The door swishes closed behind her, and I’m left staring at the smooth wood panel.

I move the few paces to my door and can’t help the whistle that leaves my mouth as the door swings open.

Floor-to-ceiling windows allow in the last rays of the disappearing sun as they gild the expanse of hills, the air slightly misty in the glowing light.

The view is nothing short of breathtaking. But the suite itself is just as beautiful.