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no mood to finish any interviews, and the sight of Hillary leaning back in the chair with a beatific smile on her face simply made her want to scream.
    “It’s done. You missed the last one. He was perfect. Jim—he’s a stonemason but has just moved into the area and hasn’t had much work so he’s looking for something to tide him over. Apparently, dry stonewalls are his specialty, so I’m pretty taken. I can see a beautiful, terraced vegetable garden at my place, and he’d have to be pretty fit if he’s been working lifting rocks. So, it’s almost a goer. We have three of our four Protea Boys.”
    Georgie stared out across the paddock, her mind on green eyes and taut, tanned skin.
    “Hello. Hello.” Hillary’s hand waved in front of her face. “Is there anybody there?”
    Georgie blinked slowly and shook her head. “Oh, yes—sorry. I was thinking. I’m sorry I was so long.”
    “Is everything okay? Who was on the phone?”
    “It was Tom,” Georgie relied blankly.
    “Tom? Tom who?”
    “The guy from the restaurant. I told you about him the other day.”
    “Oh yes, I remember.” Hillary winked, and her blonde curls bounced around her face. “The guy you fancy.”
    She might as well have dumped a bucket of cold water over Georgie’s head. “I do not.” She stamped her foot, punctuating her statement, and balanced her hands aggressively on her hips. “He’s a pigheaded, arrogant know-it-all.”
    “Whoa. Methinks the lady doth protest too much ,” quoted Hillary. “What did he want?”
    Georgie sucked in several deep breaths, determined to regain some sort of equilibrium, embarrassed by her ridiculous outburst. She drew her shoulders back and groped for control. “To tell me the wombat we rescued on the road was okay.”
    “ We rescued?” Hillary’s eyes widened, and Georgie stuffed her hands in her pockets, restraining her overwhelming desire to cover her reddened face. “Since when was there a we ? Is there something you’re not telling me, Georgie?”
    She narrowed her eyes at Hillary’s teasing tone. It did nothing to make her want to confide in her. She certainly wasn’t going to admit to her mindless infatuation. “No, there isn’t. And it’s none of your business.”
    “Right. Okay. Take it easy. Let’s change the subject. Back to the Protea Boys. We have three perfect candidates, and they’re all going to be here at seven thirty on Monday morning.”
    If Hillary stuck to the matter in hand, Georgie hoped she would get her wayward mind under control.
    “We could do with one more applicant, but three is a good enough start. Carl will be here tomorrow morning with the truck.”
    Dragging her mind back, she tramped down her warring emotions. They’d have to wait until she had time and space to sort them out on her own.
    “Are you okay to handle it?”
    Of course she was. “Yes, yes, that’s fine.” She shook back her hair and tried a conciliatory smile. “I’m sorry, Hill. My outburst was uncalled for. I think you’ve done an amazing job. Thank you so much.”
    Hillary gave her a reassuring hug, but it did little to appease the feeling of guilt or sort out the mishmash of emotions filling her.
    “I’m off now. I’ll talk to you soon. Try and give yourself a bit of a break this afternoon.”
    Georgie waved and slumped down in the chair. This had to stop. She had to get her head in order. And her body under control.

Chapter Six
    Tom placed his cup of black coffee on the table and rocked back against the old sandstone wall. A horse and carriage clopped past the general store. The excited bride perched inside waved, thrilled to be meeting her groom waiting in the little church down the lane. He shook his head. The path of true love.
    No thanks .
    Restoring the old inn had been good though. Using his hands and not his brain, he’d almost stopped thinking about the mayhem of the last few years in South Africa. Australia had been a great way to escape, help his brother out.