More Than A Promise (A Mindalby Outback Romance, #3)

By Lauren K McKellar

Asher is barely keeping her head above water, which is impressive given the drought–stricken land around her. Between her job at the real estate agent, her father's reliance on the bottle, her estranged mother's pushy texts, and her gorgeous daughter, Dakota, she has no time for relationships…even if Flynn Carmichael is the most beautiful man she's ever seen. But Flynn is only in Mindalby for a short time, and Asher and Dakota have no space in their lives for a man not willing to put down roots.

Mindalby, a small town, a community, a home. But when the mill that supports the local cotton farmers and employs many of the town's residents closes unexpectedly, old tensions are exposed and new rifts develop. Everyone is affected and some react better than others, but one thing is certain: living on the edge of the outback means they have to survive together, or let their town die.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jul 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781489263629

Lauren K McKellar

Lauren McKellar grew up in a beachside town north of Sydney, Australia. A self-confessed nerd, Lauren spends every spare second she has writing books and hungrily devouring new releases from her favourite authors. With a passion for Young Adult and New Adult fiction, she especially loves stories that are real and flawed. Lauren is a magazine editor and freelance fiction editor. She juggles her time between editing, writing, and going for long walks on the beach with her partner and their two puppies. She loves to meet new people, so feel free to chat with her on Twitter, Facebook, or on her blog.

Book preview

Chapter One

There were three smells in life that stuck in Asher Easterby’s brain. One was the scent of her mother’s favourite perfume—it smelt like jasmine, and spring, and mistakes.

The second … she didn’t want to think about.

And the third was the scent of coffee. She rubbed her eyes and inhaled some of the good stuff before taking a long sip from her second cup in three hours. This morning, she needed it.

‘Your drinking is getting to be a problem.’ Mark Swanston winked as he walked past her desk, headed for the kitchenette at the back of the office. ‘Dakota having bad dreams again?’

‘Yes.’ Asher pressed her eyes shut for a moment too long. It would be so easy to fall asleep right there at the desk. ‘Sorry I was late this morning. I didn’t get back to sleep until five, and then when the alarm went off …’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Her boss smiled. ‘So what happened this time?’

‘She dreamed her Babba rabbit toy had gone missing. The stuff three-year-old nightmares are made of.’

‘And let me guess—she spent the night in your bed?’ he asked, pouring hot water over a teabag settled in a mug.

‘Yes. I know I shouldn’t let her, that it’s teaching her bad habits, but …’ Asher couldn’t say no to that wobbling bottom lip, that soft hair, that sweet smell that was a combination of baby powder and something so uniquely her daughter that she couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

She protected her beautiful little girl from the monsters in this world. From the good people in her life who did bad, bad things.

If only she could protect Dakota from the monsters in her head too.

‘They’re only young once.’ Mark dunked the teabag then tossed it in the trash. ‘You have to do what you have to do.’

Wasn’t that the truth.

Asher watched him head back into his office before heaving in a deep breath and turning her attention back to the computer in front of her. The screen showed a house older in style, with a wraparound verandah that looked as if the next storm might tear it apart. The gutter ached with the burden of too much leaf litter; the eaves on the left-hand side of the house reached away from the building in protest. Paint cracked like fragments of an eggshell on the northern side, no doubt a result of the harsh year-round sunshine that beat down on Mindalby as if the small country town were the planet’s centre. To the left of the house, a white cedar towered, its branches old and gnarled.

She’d spent many an afternoon climbing that same old tree. Located right across the street from her father’s place, Nash Hamner’s home was one she was very familiar with. What a shame the old man treated the dilapidated homestead with the kind of care he did everyone else in town—very little.

As she hit ‘upload’ to put the property up for sale, she reached for her coffee cup and took another sip, but no liquid reached her lips. Empty. Again. Darn it. ‘I’m headed out for a coffee,’ Asher called to Mark, and he waved a hand goodbye, his eyes fixed on his computer. Busy as usual.

Outside, the cold winter air assaulted Asher’s senses, and she clutched her trench coat tighter around her waist to try and ward off the chill. Thank goodness it was only a block’s walk to the best coffee in town.

As she pushed open the door to Joe’s Café, a wave of noise hit her. The cafe was packed. Men and women huddled around tables, some observing the chaos, others speaking loudly to be heard over the din, their arms communicating as much as their voices.

Becky rushed past, three plates of sandwiches balanced on her arm. ‘Grab a seat wherever you can find one, Ash.’

‘Thanks.’ Spotting a table in the corner by the window, she pulled out a chair and glanced at the menu even though she already knew what she’d have.

Five minutes later, Becky placed a flat white in front of her. Caramel-coloured liquid sloshed around the lip of the cup, and Asher wrapped her hands around it gratefully, appreciating the warmth it offered. ‘Thanks, hon.’

‘Anytime. Sorry I can’t stay and chat—this place is off the hook today.’ Becky shook her head in acknowledgement as a woman in the corner waved her hand next to her tight grey curls, asking to be seen to next.

‘What’s going on?’ Asher asked.

‘You haven’t heard?’ Her best friend’s perfectly painted black eyebrows shot to near her hairline. ‘And I thought small-town gossip was a sure thing.’

‘The only thing sure about it is the fact that most of it isn’t true,’ Asher mumbled.

‘Sorry, Ash. I know you don’t like that kind of stuff.’ Becky’s tone softened before turning all business again. ‘Anyway, there was a meeting in here, people talking about forming a co-op.’

‘A co-op?’

‘Yes. A group of people trying to raise funds and buy the factory. Save Mindalby Cotton, and all that. Has your dad mentioned anything about it?’

‘You know we don’t really talk.’ Asher studied the thick white coffee cup. ‘But it’s good that there’s a group trying to save the mill. It’s hard to think of Mindalby without it.’

Ever since the Mindalby Cotton Company had closed its doors three weeks ago, the small community on the edge of the outback had turned into a ghost town. Swanston Real Estate, however, was doing a roaring trade, as people tried to shut up shop and move somewhere else. If only there were buyers around.

‘Becky, can I please grab a refill?’ a voice shouted, a white mug waving in the air.

‘I gotta go.’ Becky scribbled something down on her notepad before her friend could reply. ‘Oh, and is there any chance you could get someone else to look after Dakota this afternoon? Joe doesn’t know how long it’ll take for this lot to clear out, and I’d hate to miss the day-care pickup.’

Asher gripped her mug tighter. ‘You really think they’ll stick around that long?’

‘Sorry, Ash. Boss’s orders. I’ll see you at home tonight.’ She bit her lip. ‘Maybe Mark will let you off early?’

‘We’re really busy at the moment …’ Asher trailed off, but Becky was gone, hurrying to meet the needs of the many coffeehouse patrons.

Asher took a desperate sip of her coffee, scalding her tongue. She winced, placing the mug back down and sending burning-hot liquid over the sides. This was a disaster. Who would pick her daughter up?

No way could she leave work early. Not with the phone ringing off the hook like it was.

Grayson was out of the question. Asher hadn’t spoken to her ex in almost four years, after she’d told him she was pregnant, and he’d told her she wasn’t the one. He’d left the relationship holding a university degree and the promise of a job in Bourke, waving it around like a get-out-of-jail-free card. She’d left it holding a baby.

The other parents at day care weren’t an option either. Asher had never fit in there, not as a single mother, and not as a working one, either. Their whispers and not-so-subtle glances paid testament to that.

That left only one option.

Asher groaned as she pulled her phone from her handbag, ready to make a deal with her father. Her phone dinged.

Someone else had found her first.

Someone worse.

Mum: I’m thinking of coming to town to see Dakota. When’s a good time?

Asher clutched her phone tighter. Some things you could forgive, but you never did forget.

‘Is this seat taken?’

Asher didn’t look up as she replied, ‘No.’

‘Thanks.’ The chair scraped back over the brown lino and a shadow fell across the lime-green formica table in front of her.

‘Oh. I thought you meant you wanted to take the chair …’ Asher stopped mid-sentence as her eyes properly met those of the stranger in front of her for the first time.

Sitting across from her was a sight for sore eyes. Dark hair curled around his tanned face, and cheeky hazel eyes twinkled out at her from under long, black lashes. Impossibly long lashes. The kind that really should have been saved for a girl.

‘Is it always this busy here?’ His voice was molasses-smooth and just as rich.

‘Not usually. But there was a meeting here earlier, and …’ Her stomach flipped. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and took another sip of her coffee.

The stranger ran tanned fingers along his chiselled jaw as he met her gaze straight on. He opened his mouth to speak and, despite herself, Asher leaned closer, eager to hear what he had to say.

‘Do you like what you see?’

Heat flooded her cheeks. Oh, God. Had she really been staring at him like a schoolgirl with a crush?

She shook her head. It wasn’t like her to let a good-looking stranger rattle her. A handsome face had landed her in trouble once before—she wouldn’t let it happen again.

‘No, I just—no.’ Asher willed her cheeks to stop burning. She turned her gaze back to her phone, closing the message from her mum and then typing out a text to her father. ‘It’s just been a weird day.’

Asher: Any chance you could please pick Dakota up from day care this afternoon? I wouldn’t ask, but it’s an emergency.

‘So you don’t like what you see.’ The stranger cocked his head, then grabbed at his heart as if wounded. ‘That’s a blow to the self-esteem.’

‘I apologise if I offended you. We don’t often see strangers in town.’ Asher’s voice was back to normal. Cool. Calm. Composed. Professional.

‘Ah well. No harm, no foul, right?’ He smiled, those pink lips curving up. ‘Still, you were sitting here alone in a room crowded with people. I figured asking your thoughts was worth the risk.’

Asher frowned. ‘The risk of what?’

The man shrugged. ‘Getting rejected.’ He glanced down at his hand as it traced a pattern over the tabletop.

‘Well that’s the thing about risks. They don’t always work out the way you planned.’ Something Asher knew all too well.

‘But a life without risk is—’

‘Safe. Stable. Secure.’

‘Completely unsexy,’ the stranger said.

Asher narrowed her eyes and ignored the part of her that felt as if he’d just twisted her stomach. ‘Look, I’m sorry that your risk has gone unrewarded. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get going.’ She moved to push back in her chair, but the ding of her phone captured her attention.

Dad: Should be fine.

Doubt crept in, and Asher bit her lip. Was this really the best idea? Only, she was fresh out of options. And while her father may have drunk too much occasionally, he loved her daughter, of that she was sure. He treasured their monthly visits, and he’d never let anything happen to her.

She glanced at Becky, frantically frothing milk at the coffee machine with one hand while punching the buttons on the cash register with the other. I have no other choice.

As Asher fished around in her wallet for some change, she felt the handsome stranger’s eyes on her back, but she didn’t turn around. Once, she would have loved to have stayed and flirted. She’d have laughed, perhaps stared just that beat too long into his eyes. He’d have said nice things, touched her hand, maybe whispered sweet words about her looks, about how he’d love to take her out some time.

Now, there was only one person who could win Asher’s heart.

Her daughter.

She left some change on the counter to pay for her coffee and headed back to the office where the day moved past quickly. So many people wanted to sell their properties, cancel their leases—it was as if the cotton factory hadn’t just closed, but issued a mass exodus of Mindalby. By the time Asher looked at the oversized mint-green clock on the wall, it was six o’clock.

The streets were quiet. Only three other sets of headlights swooped past as she navigated her way to the house on the outskirts of town. She parked her car out front, taking a moment to stare at the building she’d once called home.

Red bricks looked even redder in the fiery light of the setting sun. The curtains were drawn, shutting the house off from anyone and everyone who happened to look in. Overall, the house was neat. Tidy.

It was only the garden that gave it away. When Asher had grown up here, it had been vibrant and overflowing with neatly kept native plants. Now, it was a weed-filled wasteland. Wild. Unkempt. The scrub tossed and turned in the gusts of wind. A total mess.

Asher sighed and picked up the tea cake she’d grabbed from the bakery after lunch, her peace offering for her father. After all, he’d done her a huge favour today. Maybe it was time she extended her own olive branch in return.

As she rapped on the front door, the scent of sugar and cinnamon wafted to her nose. Perhaps she’d stay for a coffee. She and her father could talk. Reminisce about old times, when the two of them had worked in that garden together.

Asher’s knuckles smarted against the wood as she knocked a second time. Why hadn’t he answered? Her ears strained for the noises of Dakota playing in the yard, some kind of sign that perhaps the two of them were having so much fun that they simply hadn’t heard her.

Wind hummed through the trees.

A crow called its lonely hunting cry.

No sound of her baby girl.

Nothing.

Asher fished in her pocket for her keys, jamming the oldest one into the lock. It stuck a little, and each second that passed as she tried to shove the door open sent a small tremor of panic through her.

‘Dakota?’ she called, but there was no reply from her daughter or her father.

Dad’s probably out the back, she told herself. Or he’s gone down the road to get them both some dinner. Even through these rational explanations, her heart rate picked up as she slammed her shoulder against the wood.

Finally, the key turned the last millimetre. Asher wrenched the door wide, tumbling into the house. Her breath caught short and shallow in her throat as she blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the low light.

A purple blanket was draped over the armchair in the corner, her father’s favourite. On the side table next to it was a glass tumbler and a pizza box, the lid open to display a single crust left to rot. The frames that had once lined the mantelpiece were all turned to face the wall except for the one that held an image of Dakota, as if the smiling faces of Asher’s mother and herself were too much for her father to bear. Perhaps they were.

But none of that took Asher’s attention. What knocked the breath from her lungs, what caused her heart to constrict as if her father himself had wrapped his meaty fist around it, was that smell.

After all, there were three smells in life that stuck in Asher Easterby’s brain.

And the other one was whiskey.

Chapter Two

The cake fell to the floor, the scent of cinnamon cloaked by the dark tang of alcohol Asher tasted in the back of her throat.

She raced through the house, flinging open doors, rushing into the kitchen. Where was she? Had he even picked her up from day care?

‘Dakota?’

Into her old bedroom, with the pink bedspread and the wooden desk. What if Dakota was alone, wondering where her mother was?

‘Dakota?’

Out to the backyard. Hurt. Could she be hurt?

‘Dakota!’

Back through the house, checking each room again. Please, let my little girl be okay.

‘Dakota? Dakota!’

As she stumbled through the sunroom out the back of the house, something blue caught her eye, a flash poking out from under one of the couches. She knew that blue anywhere. Dakota’s stuffed rabbit, Babba.

With her heart in her mouth, Asher clutched at it, pulling it close to her chest. Her little girl had been here. Her father had at least picked her up from day care, no matter how inebriated he might have been. Where were they now?

She opened the interior door that led to the garage. The shadowed hulk of her father’s car took up most of the space, and once again, Asher thanked a god she wasn’t so sure she believed in. Her dad hadn’t driven. He had her daughter, he’d been drinking, but he hadn’t driven.

But he has my baby girl.

Asher’s pulse pounded as she ran back to her car. Her hands trembled as she jerked open the door and reached inside for her phone, still clutching Babba to her chest, still unable to believe this was happening. No, no, no, she thought as she dialled her father’s number, but it rang out, his gravelly voice blaring in her ear: G’day, you’ve reached Hamish. You know what to do …

‘Dad, where are you? Where is Dakota? I … I—’ Frustration built, and she threw her phone across the front seat. There was no use making threats. What was done was done. Her chest ached. It was all about finding her baby now.

Think, Asher, think, she told herself. Where could he be?

One answer was glaringly obvious.

The pub.

***

The Ace in the Hole pub was packed, just as crowded as the cafe had been earlier that day. Flynn Carmichael was more than intrigued as he ordered another beer and leaned his body against the bar.

‘So the co-op sounds like a real goer,’ a guy standing to Flynn’s left said.

‘Well, we needed to do something. It’s been three weeks! ’Bout time we stopped standing around, talkin’ like a bunch of old biddies.’ His mate knocked back the remaining third of his drink, letting out a satisfying belch after.

Flynn took a sip of his cool amber ale, trying not to look too interested. So the people of Mindalby had decided to form a co-op. Interesting.

‘We have to sort out finances, but once we do, then we can present an offer to the bank and buy it out. Back to work in July. Minimal loss,’ Guy Number One continued.

Flynn’s ears pricked up. Back to work in July.

He’d have to move quickly if he was going to get the job done in ten days.

The only problem was, Flynn had come here hoping to spend time. A long, long stretch of it.

A chill prickled his spine, and Flynn took a deep sip of his ale. He tapped the phone in his