Only We Know by Victoria Purman Page A

than a smashed vehicle. He moved next to her, leant against the car, crossed his arms. Together they looked down the main street and to the ocean for a moment, but he couldn’t keep his eyes there for long.
    Her shoulders were slumped in defeat, her arms crossed tightly in front of her. Her mouth was tight, and her curls fluttered around her pale cheeks like leaves on a tree moving in the wind. For the first time, he noticed the faint freckles dotted on her face, the top of her cheeks, her nose. That urge to comfort her rose up in him again, making his fingers restless, but he settled for gently nudging her with an elbow.
    â€˜So. What do you want to do?’
    â€˜I … I want to go home.’ Her voice hitched and he felt that too, somewhere in his chest.
    â€˜You’re sure?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜You can hire a car at the airport in Kingscote. I can drive you there to pick one up. That way, you can drive home.’
    â€˜Thanks, but no. Could I ask another favour, to add to the exhaustive list of things you’ve done for me?’
    â€˜Anything.’
    â€˜Is there any chance you can drop me back at the cabin before you head off to your father’s? I need to pack up my stuff and organise a ticket back to Adelaide.’
    Calla turned to look at him and let out a long, low sigh. Man, she looked like her dog had just died. And then he couldn’t stop it. He reached an arm around her shoulder, gripped her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. If he wasn’t mistaken, she leant in to him just a little, just enough so her breast brushed against his chest. He turned his head towards her and her soft hair caressed his jaw, his cheek and he moved closer, resting his chin on the top of her head.
    â€˜It’ll be all right, Calla.’
    Neither of them moved for a moment. A magpie on a roof trilled. The big blue morning sky chilled the air but Sam didn’t feel it. When he felt Calla’s shoulders stiffen, he let go and she slipped out of his embrace.
    â€˜All right? All evidence to the contrary,’ she said, and turned back to offer him a sad smile, ‘but thanks for the thought.’
    Sam wasn’t mistaken in thinking he heard a little sniff, and wondered if it was the cool air or her tears. He stood, motioned to the shop. ‘I’ve got to get some petrol and sort out what we do from here with your car. You want anything from inside? Juice? A coffee?’
    â€˜No thanks.’
    â€˜Chocolate?’
    Calla’s lips curved just a little. He was ridiculously happy that he’d managed to make her smile.
    â€˜I need some fresh air, I think.’
    â€˜Okay. Why don’t you go for a walk? I’ll come and find you. It’s hard to get lost in Penneshaw.’
    Calla remembered her first night on the island. She’d managed it with no problems at all. ‘I think there’s a little art and craft gallery around the corner. Do we have time if I walk over and have a look?’
    â€˜Sure. I’ll meet you there.’

    Sam twisted the petrol cap off and, as the nozzle gurgled and vibrated under his grip, he watched Calla walk away. There was something about a woman with long legs. And a nice arse. He studied the way it swayed. And that flaming-red hair swayed too, bouncing and bobbing on her shoulders. The weak winter sun caught it and it shone, red and gold.
    He wondered what she’d do now. He could point her in the direction of the SeaLink office so she could get a ticket home. Help her with her gear. In fact, he could even offer to drive half of it back to Adelaide for her. He had a big car. He travelled light. Maybe he’d offer it. And then he could check up on her when he got home, in a purely professional way, of course. Yeah, maybe he’d do that.
    There was something about the mysterious Calla Maloney. She’d got under his skin.
    Hell. He had to stop thinking that way.
    He couldn’t discount the fact that maybe he