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Lily. ‘Shall I hang onto these?’ he rattled the car keys in his fingers.
    Lily nodded.
    Nick got into the ute, closed the door and leaned his arm on the open windowframe. ‘And as I’ll be here that early, I might as well give you a lift into town.’
    â€˜Great,’ Janie-Louise said.
    Great. Another favour. How many was that now? Janie-Louise had obviously answered on her mother’s behalf — she was unlikely to be up at six thirty in school holidays.
    â€˜I’m used to walking,’ Lily said.
    â€˜No need if I’m here anyway.’ Nick fired the engine, lifted a hand to Lily without looking at her directly, then winked at her children. ‘See you tomorrow.’
    The kids waved him off then turned for the house.
    â€˜He’s cool,’ Janie-Louise said.
    â€˜And smart,’ Andy answered. ‘I can’t wait to see all the interesting bits of the engine. It’ll be good research for an up-and-coming machinist.’
    The children went into the house and Lily kept her focus on the now empty driveway winding down her back garden until it became the paddock and the pastures beyond that. She wrapped her arms around her body as a sigh escaped her.
    The last 10 minutes had held the most dialogue between Nick and herself in the entire time he’d been in town. Neither had kept the other’s gaze for long during this exchange, apart from the zing moment when Nick had held her focus, eye to eye over the orange car bonnet. According to the kissing books, that could mean he was attracted to her.
    She squeezed her eyes closed. What an impossible fantasy. She had nothing to offer a man like Nick. Unless he had a partiality for a hardworking, blushing woman in a jam with two children and little money. They had nothing in common. She really ought to take up knitting and forget the kissing books.
    She turned for the house and her family pizza-Sunday but her mind wasn’t ready to dismiss thoughts of Nick Barton that quickly.
    Had he ever been married? Uncommon for a good-looking catch like him not to be. He’d been in the Navy though. Probably hadn’t had time to get married. A 20-year man, according to SFS — Swallow’s Fall Speculation — as Lily liked to call the gossip mill. He looked to be in his late thirties, probably around 38. Four years older than Lily. So both around the same age. Both had green eyes. Lily halted by her back door and pondered this. Her eyes were plain old green, his were dangerous green. Lily’s nature said careful . Nick had dare me written all over him, no matter his quiet, serious exterior; and all that masculine boldness was visible in his eyes.
    No wonder she trembled so much when she saw him. And no wonder he hadn’t dared her again, after the Easter Bunny Ball.

Chapter 4
    Lily froze at the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside the house, her back on the carpet of the living room, her body stretched out in her final yoga-relaxation pose. She glanced at the wall clock. Six a.m. Nick wasn’t supposed to arrive for another half-hour.
    She shot up, nearly twisting her ankle as she tripped over the yoga mat. The kids were still asleep. This time of the day was Lily’s. She practised her yoga, waking herself up slowly, enjoying a cup of coffee before the morning fray started with school lunches and yells of, ‘Mum, where’s my shirt?’ or ‘Have you seen my hairbrush?’. In school holidays the children slept in till eight or later.
    By the time she got to the back door she could hear car doors opening and closing. She unlocked the door and pulled it open. ‘Hello,’ she called to Nick’s back.
    He turned, and froze.
    â€˜You’re early.’
    He nodded, still staring fixatedly in her direction, but not at her. Sort of at her head. Or even above it. Lily couldn’t tell, even from the distance. ‘I can walk into town, if you like.’ She shrugged and