Outback Dreams by Rachael Johns

her some. ‘This is just a minor setback, but we still have the loan to celebrate, right?’
    â€˜Right.’ She grinned, her eyes lighting up in that way only hers could.
    â€˜Thanks,’ he said. ‘You’re the best mate ever.’
    â€˜You too, Monty. You too.’

Chapter Eight
    Faith hung up the phone and put another tick on her spreadsheet. Between the household chores and collecting eggs from the chickens, she’d spent the morning drafting a list of businesses and individuals who might be able to sponsor the Barking Ball and had set to work straight away, contacting those she could on a weekend.
    She grinned at the impressive list: the Shire had offered the hall free of charge, the printer in Geraldton had offered a massive discount on the invitations, and loads of shops in Bunyip Bay had donated goods or vouchers. Two more calls and she’d reward herself with one to Monty.
    Monty.
    She sighed deeply as he once again took prime spot in her thoughts. Her heart had broken for him last night. How could the Paynes get his hopes up like that and then take it all way? If she hadn’t been drinking, she’d have climbed into her four-wheel drive, driven over and had it out with them herself.
    The night had been so good until then. Curtis had gone home with her number punched into his phone and left her with the imprint of his lips on her cheek, but when she’d lain down to sleep, all she could think about was how Monty’s arms had felt around her as they’d walked back inside the pub.
    She shivered at the memory.
    Last night she’d been cold and worried about him, but what was her excuse this morning? Thank God her sleep had been dreamless. She didn’t think she could look him in the eye after another raunchy dream.
    Focus. Two more calls and then you can ring him.
    She punched the number of a local textile artist into her mobile. Simone was Adam’s cousin and the widowed mother of one of her netball girls. They hadn’t had much to do with each other, but Simone’s animated personality was well known in Bunyip Bay. In addition to raising two girls and doing her art, she volunteered for a number of local committees and had organised a number of major events in her time. She answered on the second ring.
    â€˜Hello?’
    â€˜Hi, Simone. It’s Faith Forrester here, I wonder if I could steal a moment of your time.’
    â€˜Oh, hi, Faith. Sure. Is this about netball?’
    â€˜No. I’m actually organising a ball for a couple of months from now. Long story short, it’s a fundraiser for Dogs for Autism, an organisation that—’
    â€˜I know it,’ Simone interrupted. ‘My nephew in Sydney is autistic, and my sister-in-law is desperately trying to raise funds to get him one of those puppies. How can I help?’
    â€˜Well, I’m planning to have an auction on the night and I wondered if you’d consider donating one of your fabulous artworks.’
    â€˜Yes, yes, and more yes, but can I help with anything more practical? I’d be happy to assist with the actual organisation of the ball as well.’
    Faith grinned at the excitement in Simone’s voice. She was the first person she’d spoken to who had known about the charity already.
    â€˜Are you sure? That would be awesome. I will need to put together a small group of volunteers.’
    â€˜Consider me your first recruit. When do we start?’
    Still smiling, Faith spent the next ten minutes outlining her plans. After arranging to meet in town the following week, they said goodbye. Faith barely had time to tick Simone off her list when her mobile buzzed with an unknown number. Frowning, she answered. ‘Hello, Faith Forrester.’
    â€˜Faith,’ purred a semi-familiar voice down the phone line. ‘It’s Katarina Lamberusco-Cunningham. How are you?’
    â€˜Good thanks.’ Faith frowned, wondering why Kat would call