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tray.
    She checked the windscreen of the ute and saw Nick’s large body in the driver’s seat and her daughter’s smaller body in the passenger seat.
    Nick at her house? He’d never been to her house before, why would he be coming now? It had to be Janie-Louise. Something had happened to her.
    She ran to the back door and rushed outside, hugging her body with her arms and frowning as Nick drove up to the house and pulled up outside the old pig-pen.
    â€˜What’s happened?’ Lily called.
    â€˜Hi Mum. If you’re going to kill me, please do it quickly.’
    â€˜ What ?’
    â€˜It’s okay, Lily,’ Nick said, a smile playing around his mouth as he got out of his vehicle. ‘Janie-Louise had a small accident with her bike, but she’s fine.’
    Lily looked over to her daughter as she bounded out of the passenger seat and lifted her right leg to show Lily. ‘It’ll leave a huge scar, probably,’ she said, grinning as if she’d been given a medal.
    â€˜It’s fine,’ Nick said. ‘I washed it. It’s only a graze.’ He looked down at Janie-Louise and added, ‘A huge graze.’
    Janie-Louise laughed and Lily saw Nick’s smile grow. A real smile. One she’d never seen before. It lit his face, softened his masculine features and reached his leaf-green eyes.
    Tenderness leapt in Lily’s chest. Her daughter had always been a happy, giving child. Seeing friendship sparkling between her child and the tall man beside her revived a dream she’d once had but pushed aside. Her children having a father. One who loved. One who guided. One who cared.
    She lifted a hand and tightened the knot of her hair on top of her head, sticking the pencil in more firmly. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t had her head in those clouds for years. She stepped forwards, heading for the ute and the broken bicycle. How would Janie-Louise get around now?
    â€˜How bad is it?’ she asked, hands on the tray, peering at the bike.
    â€˜Buckled front wheel,’ Nick said. ‘I can fix it.’
    â€˜You can?’ Lily shot her gaze to him. He wanted to fix it?
    He nodded. ‘Sure. Easy. I’ll do it this evening.’ He looked around him then, as though searching for something. His gaze settled on Lily’s four-wheel drive parked at the side of the house. It had once been her mum’s and when new it had been dark brown, like leather. Now it was so old it was orange. Twenty-five years in the sun, wind and snow had burnt the colour off.
    â€˜Your car’s not running?’ he asked, walking over to it.
    Lily followed, embarrassed. It had been fine until three weeks ago when it had died in the night. All by itself. One day working — or rather, chugging — and the next day, zilch. No cough, no splutter, no tick-tick-ticking over.
    â€˜Would you like me to take a look?’ he asked, studying the orange bonnet.
    â€˜No need, it’s dead.’
    He looked over his shoulder and into her eyes and Lily’s heartbeat bumped.
    â€˜Are you sure?’ he asked.
    Was she sure her heart was beating irregularly? Or was she sure she’d read something in his gaze she recognised? A zing . Like the one from 12 months ago when he’d leaned in to her, bowed his head and almost kissed her.
    She blinked, shook herself mentally and took her gaze off Nick Barton, helpful townsperson, friend to her daughter, fixer of bicycles. It would be too easy to hero-worship a man like Nick. Too easy to imagine…all sorts of interesting scenarios.
    â€˜Got the keys?’ he asked, heading for the driver’s door.
    â€˜In the ignition,’ Lily said. She’d half prayed someone would steal it.
    Nick leaned inside and turned the ignition. Nothing. He took the keys out, popped the bonnet and walked to the front of the vehicle. He peered at the engine, reached into the mechanical fray and fiddled with something. Then