The Lonely Paddock

By Laurelle Cousins

For readers of Karly Lane and Rachael Johns comes a compelling romance that proves forgiveness is possible and fighting for love is worth the heartache.

Country vet Ross Harrington would rather throw himself into his work than face the memories of a tragic childhood accident. But the protective animal-lover cannot forgive himself, tied by the belief he is unworthy of love. So, when the adorable Flick Parker bounds into his clinic with her unruly dog and a smile that threatens to dissolve his protective walls, he's torn between his fascination with her zest for life and the overwhelming desire to turn-tail for the hills.

Meanwhile, Flick is falling for the handsome vet but doesn't know if her heartfelt desire to care for terminally ill children can be in her future or if it's the very thing that will keep her and Ross apart. Finding the balance between offering too much heart or guarding it like an open wound feels like an impossible task, but can Flick show Ross it's worth taking the risk of opening up to find love?

PRAISE

'Written by someone who knows the land and the seasons, The Lonely Paddock shows the ebb and flow of country life, and the good baking of a farm kitchen.' Goodreads review

'The Lonely Paddock is a delightful Australian rural romance set in and around the Victorian town of Ballarat.' Goodreads review

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jun 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781867255734

Laurelle Cousins

Laurelle is a country girl through and through, having owned and bred animals all her life, including pedigree rabbits, working kelpies and now superfine merino sheep. Three months of the year she is a wool classer, classing superfine clips. The rest of the time she is either writing, catching up with friends over coffee and cake (a definite pre-requisite), attempting to become a green thumb in a world of endless weeds (grrr) and baking when a hankering overtakes her. You can find her at: Email: [e-mail] Facebook: @laurellecousins.writes Instagram: @laurellecousins.writes Website: laurellecousins.com/blog

Book preview

Chapter 1

Ross Harrington swallowed against the sharp lump in his throat. He ran a slow hand over his clean-shaven face, the deep breath he’d been clasping within his lungs steadily seeping from his lips. His eyes opened and closed with weariness as he stared at an old photo on his phone, catapulting him back to a day that refused to leave him alone.

And as he sat alone on his suede couch, he broke his one golden rule, allowing himself to remember how things used to be, how his life had been.

His sucked in a deep breath as the day’s date circled around in his mind. For three hundred and sixty-four days of the year he could forget, push the memories aside and, to the best of his ability, work hard to prove he was a worthwhile human being. But on that one day of the year … today, there wasn’t a chance. It was the one day he knew he didn’t deserve the love of anyone.

Pain stabbed him in the chest as he glanced over to the TV cabinet, staring at it as though he were using X-ray vision on a forbidden door. He pressed his lips together, shoving himself from the couch and striding away from the crushing memories prickling the forefront of his mind.

He had to get to work.

***

Barking echoed throughout the clinic walls. Pitches of varying nuances yelled for morning attention as furry felines clambered to the back of their cages, cringing from the canine calls. The odour of urine hung in the air as Ross breezed past the patients; it was a smell he rarely noticed these days.

The brisk morning outside snuck its way inside as the glass sliding door scooted open. Ross heard his favourite vet nurse’s cheerful voice as he started up his computer in a back room of the clinic.

‘Good morning everyone,’ he heard Sandra holler. He briefly poked his head around the corner, offering her a welcoming smile, only to see her lips vibrating as she hugged her scarf closer to her neck.

Ross ducked back into the surgery room, grateful to know the woman who kept his tight ship afloat—and could handle any situation he threw at her with a wave of her hand and a ‘sure thing, boss’ attitude—had arrived.

Ross loved his job. It gave him permission to make a difference. It meant he could give an animal a second chance or at the very least a fighting chance. Treating animals gave him the ability, and the privilege, to care for patients unable to rescue themselves. To save just one ... that mattered more than anything.

‘Anyone here yet?’ Sandra called out.

A young kitten began climbing its cage, whining at Ross to be set free as he listened to the light ‘humph’ that slipped from Sandra’s lips. He opened the cage door and gave the kitten a gentle pat, its soft fur comforting beneath his capable hand.

Ross poked his head around the corner of the door again, his head tipping to the side.

‘Morning Sandra.’ His voice carried down the hallway, and his chest warmed like butter in the winter sun.

‘Oh, there you are. I was beginning to think I’d left the door unlocked last night,’ Sandra chuckled, tossing her eyes to the ceiling like she believed she must’ve been going mad.

‘Who you? Not a chance.’ Ross gave her a teasing look.

The large waiting room was pristinely clean, thanks to Sandra’s enthusiastic efforts the night before to scrub the floor after a precious cat hurled a large deposit of puke just on closing time. It had to be done each night—Ross’s direct instructions—but second-hand sardines fermenting with a serious hairball still tainted the air of the Southern Vet clinic.

‘Nothing gets dry in this miserable Ballarat weather,’ Sandra muttered from beneath her scarf as she ducked behind the counter. A rueful grin lifted Ross’s lips as he shook his head and disappeared out the back again.

The resident clinic cat whined a mournful meow, batting his eyelids towards Ross as he sauntered past from another room of the clinic. It had been a rescue mission for Ross, saving the cat from certain death two years earlier. But there had been no microchip, which suggested the feline was a backyard variety. After a lot of advertising and Facebook callouts, Ross was no closer to finding a willing owner.

So, he’d called him Rajah.

Ross peered around the corner once more, noticing his cat glimpsing Sandra as she busied herself behind the bench of the desk, starting up the computers and organising a run sheet for the expected patients arriving that day. The number of unexpected patients equalled the booked-in ones at times, with all manner of emergencies plus non-urgent cases belonging to uptight owners. As Sandra worked, Ross heard her take a sharp breath. A familiar sound.

Rajah now sat with his back to her on the tall bench, intolerance oozing from his swishing tail as it swept back and forth across her computer screen.

‘Will you move your butt? Seriously Rajah, get over yourself. You ain’t no prince!’

Ross let out a sombre chuckle as he continued searching the database, an image now fresh in his mind of his cat with its nose in the air at the injustice of such a human involved in his life.

Only when Ross stepped behind the front counter did the conceited feline look up, blink, and assess the mood of the man he might, on a good day, call his saviour.

The cat side-glanced Sandra with feline scorn before turning his attention to the rattle of the sliding door. Showing only mild interest at the flurry of wild strawberry-red hair that burst in, Rajah lifted his furred paw with casual ease, licking it with his bristled tongue.

Ross’s body tensed as he watched his first customer, an unruly dog, drag its owner into his clinic, her body tumbling towards the floor as she lost her balance with a thud.

And for a day he’d hoped would be over quicker than it had begun, right now, he sensed his chances were Buckley’s and none.

Chapter 2

‘Ugh. Oh no, no, please don’t, don’t do this. Ted!’

Felicity Parker’s enthusiastic chocolate and white English springer spaniel leapt about the floor, soft ears flapping as he bounced up and down around Flick now sprawled across the clean veterinary floor while her dog’s tongue lolled in happy delight. Her oversized handbag spilled open with its contents, including her wallet, keys, scrunched tissues and coloured pencils and pens, spewing across the clinic floor. The young dog pounced at them like a playful kitten, scattering her belongings further from reach as she scooted on her knees, trying to gather them into her flailing arms as she wrestled with his lead.

With fresh opportunity presenting itself, the dog snuck a loving slurp across Flick’s face while her knees slipped on the slick floor as she snatched and shovelled the pencils and bits and pieces back into her bag, flowing hair cascading around her face towards the floor. Her bottom lip puffed her bedraggled locks out of the way in defeat.

Flick cringed as she knelt on the floor, gawking in horror at her outlandish dog from behind her untamed mane of hair. She clung to a handful of her drawing pencils and some art brushes she’d managed to scoop back, and as she tugged her bag closer, her despairing eyes stilled as two imposing legs stepped into view in front of her. Her heart skipped a beat, her wide eyes flicking in every direction as her curly mop tickled her cheeks. If she didn’t move, those legs would turn and leave. Right?

Wrong.

And then she saw it, the wayward tampon rolling just short of the arresting boot. No, no … no! Flick gave an inward gasp, her head dropping closer to the floor as mortification filled her. Of all the things that had spilled from her bag, that little treasure took the cake. She wasn’t sure if she’d have any dignity left by the time her outlandish dog was vaccinated.

‘Get a dog. You’ll love it,’ her besties had told her. She squeezed her eyes tight, her curls swaying as she shook her downcast face. Yup, she nodded to herself, just lovin’ it!

As she hid her face behind the shield of her curls, Flick’s hand crept out from under her like a snake slithering its way towards its next victim. She laced fingers around the offending item and drew it towards herself as her gaze shifted from the remainder of her belongings covering almost every inch of the surgery floor to the R.M. Williams workboots with what looked like damp cow manure clinging to their sides. She scrunched her nose, catching a whiff of the offending muck. As she urged her eyes to inch higher, long legs in denim jeans stretched up to a deep brown plaited leather belt with masculine brass buckle, neatly tucked-in checked shirt of white, pale blue and dark blue with the logo ‘Southern Vet’ embroidered on the left-hand pocket above a paw print encircled by a red heart. Masculine forearms exposed by rolled-up sleeves lay folded across a broad chest, her googly eyed pink sheep looking at her cross-eyed as it dangled from his little finger.

Flick’s eyes widened as she forced herself to swallow hard against her dry throat. A stethoscope lay draped around his tanned neck. She felt a wave of embarrassment as her eyes continued upwards, observing a clean-shaven jaw. She sucked in a short breath, detecting a whiff of aftershave. It smelt masculine, attractive.

Her brows lifted a little further as she caught sight of grey eyes, deep and focused, and she was all too aware her face reflected the shade of her strawberry hair. A neat, short haircut gave this six-foot-plus man—who was watching her with an intense stare—a structured, organised look, something so different to her.

You’ve really done it this time, Flick. But as she sucked in a wary breath, his greying complexion confused her. He was now looking at her keys as though he’d seen a ghost.

He glanced at her with a perplexed expression. ‘I have your keys and, um,’ he frowned, ‘photo here.’ She heard his deep voice catch with the slightest hitch when he offered them back, as though the fluffy sheep had nipped him on the hand.

‘Oh … thanks.’ She offered a brief smile and hesitated, lost for words, before leaning back on her haunches and accepting them, returning her gaze to the floor with a frown before daring to sneak another look at him from behind her curls.

‘I’m, um, sorry about all this.’ Still clutching the tampon, her arm brushed the air as she drew attention to the disaster scattered around her. Flick had just spilled her life story all over his floor, and a seemingly meaningless one at that according to her family. She was the art student who had no idea where her life was heading.

‘He’s a bit headstrong, I think.’ She paused, frowning as she tried to gauge if this guy was cross, bemused … unimpressed. ‘Ted, I mean.’ Flick leant back, her cautious eyes watching him as she brushed her hair aside to catch his eye.

Ohh, that’s definitely unimpressed. She cringed, turning from his gaze just in time to see her dog lift his leg and proceed to pee against the counter wall, all the while appearing to smile at her as he panted. Her eyelids clamped shut. Could this day get any worse?

‘No, nooo … Ted.’ A tired sigh left her lungs. ‘Bad dog.’ Her hand reached out, urging the dog to stop, her shoulders collapsing with her hand as the words dribbled out of her mouth and she gave up, knowing it was pointless to stop him mid-stream, in fact any stream at all. She couldn’t tug him away from their local streetlight if she tried, and she had.

‘Oh,’ her voice trailed. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up for you. Um,’ she hesitated, scrambling to her feet. ‘Would you mind holding him? I can do it right away.’ Her pleading eyes begged for forgiveness as she offered him the dog’s lead. She winced, his eyes glued to her, and she hoped the rush of heat resurfacing up her neck was disguised by her hair.

A disheartened half chuckle slipped from her lips, both at the exasperation of the embarrassing situation and the fact she hadn’t been able to do a thing to stop it unfolding. This was her life, all wrapped up in one exploding minefield just waiting for the next detonation to discharge.

She looked at him, waiting for him to smile back, brush her dog’s outrageous actions off with a wave of his hand … Anything?

He’s … not smiling back. She shied from his gaze, her eyes widening as she had a brief idea to take him on as her next smiling challenge. No one had defeated her yet, and that included the cranky school crossing lollipop lady who had relented to her persuasive happiness. After two years of stopping trucks and cars for Flick to cross the road, it was only when Flick helped usher a clutch of black ducklings with their mother through the crossing that the woman chuckled, laughing at the lagging runt Flick tapped on the backside to keep up.

‘Don’t worry about it. Sandra will sort it out.’ He acknowledged her with a brief nod, his gaze looking almost sorry for her before he began to step away.

Her hand dropped back to her side, her chest deflating with defeat as a head bobbed up from behind the tall counter.

‘Sorry, Ross, did I miss something? Had my nose buried in the computer,’ came the assistant’s cheerful voice.

‘Yes, there’s a bit of a’, he glanced towards Flick, ‘mess, here.’ He waved a finger towards the fresh puddle and Flick noticed the way he let out a weary breath. ‘Can you clean it up right away, please?’

‘Right onto it, boss.’ Sandra smiled, peeling her rotund backside from the stool to retrieve a mop and some disinfectant. Flick noticed the happy tone of the vet nurse and the pleasant interaction between them. She chanced a look back at him, his eyes locking on hers once more, unmoving, sending a current of … something, she wasn’t sure what, through her. There was no doubt about it. This guy needed a serious lesson in lightening up.

‘My name is Ross, Ross Harrington. I don’t recall having seen you in before.’ Curiosity filled his face. ‘I usually remember dogs who behave,’ he looked over at Ted, who was now nosing the bags of dog food in the display shelves on a tight lead, ‘badly.’ His eyebrow raised as his gaze slid back to her in time to watch her arm almost yanked from her shoulder socket.

‘Oh, ha! Um, yes … n–nice to meet you too,’ I think, and she regained her footing, giving the lead a sharp tug, which did nothing to curb Ted’s interest in the canine culinary delights. What the heck was wrong with her? She may not have her life worked out, but she was never lost for words. Her besties would attest to that.

A cautious smile crept onto her face as she tried to work out what he was thinking. She could soften even the toughest of customers, given time, but this guy was proving harder than most.

Feeling her sense of inadequacy growing, Flick glanced around the waiting room, noticing the two large jars sitting on the shelves behind the reception bench, one filled with dog treats and the other with a handful of jelly beans.

Flick turned back, noticing the lines on his forehead furrow as he studied her. She blinked, cursing his impossible manner, or was it just his businesslike approach? She couldn’t decide as a reminder of her inherent clumsiness flagged its presence and she nudged yet another coloured pencil towards her with her foot. She gave a nervous chuckle, wishing she could curb her instinctive reaction, especially when someone didn’t deserve it. Even at her best friend’s wedding only three months earlier, she’d smiled so much as a bridesmaid, the best man was sure her cheeks would be fused that way for good.

‘Well, I guess Ted and I haven’t earnt one of those rewards today.’ She indicated the jars with a small toss of her head, all the while keeping her eyes on him. She heard the receptionist give a slight chuckle as she happily busied herself cleaning up Ted’s territorial mess.

‘Never you mind,’ said Sandra, waving a hand in front of her own face to ensure Flick brushed the calamity aside before pushing the mop back into the bucket and lifting it to carry away. ‘This happens all the time.’

An awkward pause entered the room and Flick’s hand tapped the side of her thigh as her eyes darted around, horror filling them as she spied yet another wayward tampon on a rendezvous with the fish tank in the corner of the clinic. She smothered the urge to giggle.

‘And you are …?’ Ross began, his voice strong, his words curious as his gaze held her with slight curiosity.

This time she held his eyes, pushing aside the new flush of heat threatening to engulf her, an affable smile radiating from her face. ‘I’m Flick. Well, Felicity, actually.’ A wary chuckle escaped her lips. ‘Everyone calls me Flick.’ She bit her lip, not knowing what to say next to a guy who obviously had his life all worked out. If only she could say the same.

Ross’s face remained deadpan except for one eyebrow that gave the slightest tweak before settling again. ‘Ah, Flick. Do you have a last name, by chance?’ She saw the piqued interest in his cheek, ever so brief. She could do little to stop her eyes widening as she watched his eyebrows rise with obvious interest this time.

But waves of doubt washed over her, reminding her who she really was. Just a girl with no clue where life was taking her, with disappointed parents who believed she’d never make her four-year art course turn into a career, all as she waited for a miracle, or three, to happen.

With resolve, she stood a little taller. ‘Yes, I do. My name is Flick Parker.’

Chapter 3

Ross stood in the doorway of the consult room, staring towards the front door, speechless. What had just happened to his peaceful, ordered workspace full of structure and timelines? Or should he be asking what had just happened to him?

He had watched as Flick left the surgery in a flurry, pulled through the door yet again by the outlandish Ted, and he spotted another coloured pencil beneath a waiting chair, and a wayward tampon resting at the foot of his tranquil fish tank. He pressed fingers to the top of his nose, closing his eyes for a brief moment. Why does someone need so many coloured pencils?

He’d seen all manner of out-of-control dogs desperate for leadership from their adoring but ignorant owners who believed loving their dogs meant letting their animals rule over them. In each circumstance he would offer them tips and guidance, but mostly these people didn’t want any help. They wanted the perfect dog without the hard work.

So why had this patient, and more so his owner, hit Ross’s pause button with such abruptness? Hell, he should have left the consult to Kim, his small-animal vet, anyway.

So, why hadn’t he?

An image of Flick swam in his mind. Eyes that smiled, flushed cheeks that reflected so much more than the temperature of the room. A presence that refused to let the challenge of a circumstance still her curious soul. He’d never met anyone like her before. Or more accurately, he’d never looked.

He couldn’t afford to.

But still …

Sandra caught his eye as she ambled past the doorway, pausing to look up at him with a mischievous grin. Her gaze slipped to the sliding door, then back to him, her knowing eyes narrowing. ‘Everything okay, boss? You seem a little lost.’ The sparkle in her eyes danced.

Completely distracted was more like it and his gaze dropped to the floor with haste, out of pure embarrassment or fury at himself for dropping his guard he wasn’t sure.

This woman had captivated him; stopped him in his tracks. That never happened, ever. Her face … how could she smile so easily? He thought back to her strawberry red hair, stunningly untamed. He’d never been affected by a woman so powerfully, drawn in by her irresistible magnetism. He stood, bemused, only glancing up when Sandra spoke from over her shoulder as she made her way to the front desk.

‘Wasn’t she a little sweetie?’ She glanced back, offering him a motherly wink before saying a friendly hello to the next client, a relaxed golden retriever who schmoozed up to her with a lick to her hand as he pushed his head hard against her leg.

Ross caught that wink like it was a dog about to snap at his hand and took a slight step back. ‘I’m fine,’ was all he could offer before he turned, evading her pointed comment by grabbing his work bag and marching out the back door towards the ute.

His four-wheel-drive had managed to get him out of many sticky situations in the past, and this was categorically another one of them. The dual-cab ute was the only work vehicle worthy of his veterinary farm practice, with the challenge of boggy mud and numerous horse and cow patties ever present, although the current mud he found himself in was the stickiest he’d known yet. In a determined attempt to shake it off, he dialled Fraser Pierce as he threw his work bag in the back. ‘I’m on my way now, mate.’

Ross pulled up at Trentham Park, a superfine merino stud Fraser owned and ran. Fraser stood at the entrance to the shearing shed and Ross grabbed his gear, turning towards him. ‘Hey, how ya doin’?’ he called, warm air rushing from his lips in a puff of air that danced in front of him.

‘Not too bad. What about you?’ Fraser rubbed his cold hands with vigour to warm them up as he waited for Ross to join him.

For reasons that evaded Ross, he hesitated with his answer, instead slowing, staring at the gravel on the driveway as he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. What exactly was this odd feeling that had compelled him the whole drive over? He looked up at his friend of several years and paused.

Fraser crossed his arms, waiting, his expression perplexed at Ross’s out-of-character behaviour. ‘Hey, what’s up man? You okay?’

Ross shook his head, both fingers and thumb pressing against his forehead to clear his fast-approaching headache. ‘Woah, sorry.’ He held up an apologetic hand. ‘I’m fine.’ He shook his head, widening his eyes to rouse himself. ‘Just got a lot on my mind is all. Had this crazy mutt career into the surgery this morning, with an owner who needs to learn how to discipline her dog. Dogs want to be disciplined. They cry out for it.’

Ross looked up. ‘Honestly, Fraser, she had no idea.’ He paused, his forehead creasing. His recollection of the image attached to the googly-eyed pink sheep taunted him.

An astute smile formed on Fraser’s lips. ‘Sounds like you’ve had a busy start to the morning. Let’s get this ram dealt with and you can come in for a cuppa. Charlotte has arrived and brought some of Jayne’s brownie slice. You know how good that is.’

Fraser gave Ross a knowing nod and much to Ross’s relief, his smile back felt somewhat unforced. He’d always wanted to smile easier, live a little more carefree, but somehow he couldn’t allow himself the luxury. He could only do that if he deserved it, and that wasn’t going to be any time soon.

‘Yes, I do know.’ Charlotte’s mother’s cooking was renowned within the wider Western District community.

With the ram bandaged up and poly pipe holding his leg straight, Ross tossed his work bag in the ute before they headed towards the welcoming front steps of the homestead.

Fraser and Charlotte were recently engaged, and while Charlotte remained at the large station next door, Sheepwash Creek, with her mother, Jayne, Fraser lived at Trentham Park.

Ross admired Trentham Park, and particularly Fraser for what he’d done to turn the place around. It was a grand enterprise, with a homestead to match. It sported a dedicated visitors’ car park to the left and standard iceberg roses lining the entire wide-brimmed verandah. It was noted as a merino stud of high reputation. Fraser had taken over the running of the station, implementing substantial changes to both the property and his breeding program after the farm’s demise. The stud was now on the map once more as a place to acquire excellent rams for breeding.

Charlotte walked around the kitchen table in the centre of the room, offering Ross a greeting kiss on the cheek. She stepped back with a grin, watching him, and he writhed in his own skin. He’d never been one to hug; an element of discomfort and awkwardness had been associated with it for him since he was three. Even his mother had to hold him still long enough to snatch an ever-so-brief squeeze before he slipped from her embrace.

Desperate for a distraction, he sucked in a quick breath and flashed her a brief smile, taking a seat at the kitchen table. The sooner the focus was off him, the better. ‘So, how’s the wedding plans coming along? I hear you’re going to have the reception in the shearing shed at Sheepwash Creek. Great idea.’ Ross tried to show some enthusiasm as he nodded thanks to Charlotte when she passed him his steaming coffee, fighting off the urge to rub his prickling skin as she continued to study him like she knew he was hiding something.

For him, relationships were done and dusted, a luxury he could ill afford to have in his life. Why? Because he’d never be able to earn back his family’s love or respect … not after what he’d done.

Ever.

No, head down, tail up. That was his motto. Act like you can’t love and no one will want to get close.

Guilt had trained Ross to focus on the things that required little emotion from him. His job was perfect. Animals never judged or spoke back. It was the owners that were more of the problem.

His thoughts whizzed back to the chaotic flurry of a woman and her dog that had bowled into his clinic, threatening to disarm him with her contagious smile, her wild red locks and her endearing gaze. He blinked, searching the tabletop as he fought to pull his attention back to Charlotte now sitting beside him, watching him.

‘We’ll trial it by having our small engagement party there first. Spring is just around the corner and it’s going to get a little warmer. Make sure you keep Saturday the fifteenth of September free.’ She nudged Ross in the side with her elbow hard enough for him to know it wasn’t a suggestion.

Ross nodded, dropping his head to stare into his steaming coffee. ‘Sure. Will do.’ His voice faded as the coffee sent its relieving aroma towards his senses. Another damn party to go to. Alone. But that’s what he deserved, wasn’t it?

He took a sip, ever aware that Charlotte’s scrutinising eyes were still trained on him, and he rolled his shoulders to ease the tightness that hugged him like a best friend.

‘Make sure you bring someone. The more the merrier.’ The twinkle in her eye bounced and her smile lifted as he tipped his cautious gaze towards her.

But her words fell heavy on Ross. He was bemused. Who would he bring? Would his best mate Shaun count? What about his sister, Megan? Nope, wouldn’t work. She was a young mother of two with a loving husband. Sure, Michael wouldn’t care if he took her, but …

He tossed the idea as he mulled on a piece of Charlotte’s mother’s brownie he would normally have devoured with vigour. I don’t deserve to take anyone.

What about his other sister, Sarah? Now she