Nothing like a teenager for amping up the drama with some good old-fashioned exaggeration. ‘And you feel it’s unreasonable to be asked to do so many chores around the place?’

  ‘I don’t get time to do any of the things I want to do. Even on weekends, they have me working like a dog.’

  ‘What would you like to be doing instead?’

  ‘Riding my motorbike.’

  ‘You have a bike?’

  ‘An off-roader. I’ve been riding since I was a kid. Used to race until I had an accident and bunged up my knee. It’s fine now though. I could be doing it again but the olds won’t let me.’

  Ah, now they were getting somewhere. ‘Perhaps they’re worried you’re going to hurt yourself again.’

  ‘S’pose.’

  ‘Have you tried talking to them about it? Explained how important it is to you?’

  ‘No point. Dad just starts yelling and Mum backs him up every time. They said when I turn eighteen and I’m officially an adult I can do what I like but until then they’re not going to let me put myself in so much danger.’

  ‘Do you think it’s dangerous?’

  ‘Can be. But my accident wasn’t even my fault. And it wasn’t that bad. Only that my bike was trashed.’

  ‘So you don’t have one to ride now?’

  A sorry shake of his head. ‘They said I could work around the farm and save up for one for when I’m older, but that’s bullshit. Dad never even pays me for all the shit I do. It’s slave labour.’

  ‘Do you miss riding?’

  A glassy look came over Owen’s eyes. He shuffled down deeper in his seat and jammed his hands further into the pockets of his hoodie. ‘A bit.’

  Based on his body language, it was more like a lot. The boy was storing up so much anger and resentment she could almost see it seeping out his pores. Definitely something to explore in more detail.

  ‘Tell me about school? What don’t you like about it?’ Truancy had been a huge part of Owen getting into trouble, giving him a lot of free time to spend hanging out with a few older mates, and others like him who’d decided education was a waste of time.

  ‘Too many people telling me what to do.’

  ‘Like teachers, you mean?’

  A nod. ‘And the principal. A total dickhead.’

  Having met Principal Morrissey a few times now, Owen’s assessment of him wasn’t far off the mark. ‘But he and the staff are just doing their jobs, right?’

  ‘Doesn’t mean they can yell at you and order you around all the time.’

  ‘So that’s why you want to leave?’

  ‘Mainly. Plus, it’s boring.’

  ‘You don’t feel the need to get your HSC? Maybe go to university?’

  ‘I don’t need to do either to be a bike mechanic.’

  ‘That’s what you want to do?’

  ‘I would if I could. If Cole hadn’t butted in and said he’d take me on as an apprentice and got my mum and dad all excited. They want me to work on the farm but it’s not my thing. Neither is being a farrier. But no one cares what I think. They want to run my whole life.’

  So here was the crux of the problem: Owen felt disempowered, as if he had zero control over his destiny. The family’s attitude was understandable given he’d injured himself, but getting him to see that might not be so easy. And instilling some sense of respect for authority into a kid who was this oppositional was no easy task.

  Engaging him in conversation about his passion could be the way to make him more pliable. The next series of questions was all about his bike riding, racing, accomplishments and what he loved about the sport. By the end, he seemed slightly more amicable, if the marginally less confrontational tone and the hands resting loosely in his lap were anything to go by. A bulldog, rather than a Rottweiler.

  A phone alarm chimed and Owen pulled his phone from his pocket. ‘Forty minutes.’ He almost grinned. ‘Time’s up.’

  It wasn’t unusual for clients to watch the clock, but she’d never had one set an alarm before. Still, a better outcome than last week. For both of them. Even as she was thanking him for his time, Owen was out the door and closing it with a bang.

  ‘Well, that was interesting.’

  Hannah’s hand flew to her chest. How could she have forgotten she had company?

  A soft chuckle floated across the room. ‘Sorry for startling you. Good that you were so focused, though.’ Pushing herself to her feet, Lenore hinged herself upright with a quiet groan and made her way across the room. Her face was pale but her eyes bright. ‘You did brilliantly! Not that I would expect anything less. You really had him talking there towards the end. Great idea to home in on his passion and get his focus off the negativity.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘What was that he mentioned about you freaking out last week?’

  An icy chill sluiced through Hannah’s chest as if Lenore had tossed a bucket of water over her. So far she’d succeeded in keeping her unprofessional behaviour between herself and Owen, but Lenore was a hard person to hoodwink. Probably because she was so good at her job. But perhaps the truth could be watered down.

  Leaning against the desk, she hugged her notebook as if it was a teddy bear and forced herself to meet her friend’s gaze. ‘You read Owen’s notes.’

  Lenore gave a small nod.

  ‘I was tentative, but I took the case on because I need the work. And because I thought I could handle it.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘Not terribly well. When we started talking about stealing the car and his drinking and drug taking, I had these instant flashbacks. Completely lost the plot.’

  ‘Which he noticed.’ Lenore was playing psychologist, throwing out tidbits of commentary without passing judgement.

  ‘I feigned a migraine and we cut the session short.’ A rush of heat flooded her face. ‘It’s the most unprofessional thing I’ve ever done.’

  Lenore moved to stand in front of her, placing a cool palm against her cheek. Hannah leaned into it, the gentleness at once comforting and too much to bear. ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself. We’re all human and sometimes containing our own emotions is impossible. But you rectified that today, turned things around and made good progress. I don’t think the young man will be reporting you to the board anytime soon.’

  Hannah swallowed. ‘Thank you.’

  Lenore’s hand dropped and her expression darkened. ‘But—’

  ‘I knew there was one coming.’

  ‘If there are things still troubling you that are affecting your work, it might be time to address them.’

  That would not be happening. It was one thing to allow a crack in the memory vault, another thing entirely to willingly fling the lid open and dive into the contents.

  She stood, straightened her jacket and took Lenore’s arm. ‘It’s all under control. But I wouldn’t mind talking strategies for my next session with Owen over a coffee.’

  Ignoring the quirk of Lenore’s lips and the slight raise of her brows, Hannah led the way back into the house where they’d left Nancy baking gingerbread. The spicy scent of it filled every room, drowning out any lingering reservations about her competency. There was a good chance Lenore wouldn’t let it rest but the door had been closed on the conversation. For now.

  As they passed the lounge room, something different twinkled in her peripheral vision. The tree, unadorned the last time she’d seen it, was now festooned with sparkling pale pink baubles, draped in glittering silver tinsel. Nancy stood on a small step ladder, reaching to the topmost branch, where she placed the bejewelled star.

  Lenore clapped her hands. ‘Well, look at you, getting all Martha Stewart. Very pretty.’

  Nancy climbed down and looked directly at Hannah. The two of them had never openly discussed the past but based on the discussion they’d had about making this Christmas special, it was clear Nancy knew at least some of the story. Knew why the decorations had remained untouched in the bags on the floor.

  ‘It looks beautiful.’ Hannah mumbled the words through the cotton-wool dryness of her mouth. ‘Thank you.’

  Nancy’s shoulders dropped a fraction, as if she’d been holding her breath and could finally let it go. ‘My pleasure.’

  Another item ticked off the list. One step closer to the worst day of the year.

  Chapter 10

  Cole Harrison was the last person Hannah expected to see when she opened the door. But there he was, all six foot four inches of him, in his signature faded jeans and checked shirt, looking for all the world like a country-rock star.

  ‘Hi.’

  Was he here to find out how things were going with Owen? Sharing anything from the sessions would be crossing a boundary, but it wouldn’t hurt to give a general overview of how things were progressing. Maybe find out a little more family background in light of what Owen had shared at their last session.

  ‘Hello?’ Cole ducked his head, putting him at her eye level.

  Oh, shit. She’d been staring at him like a child adoring a puppy through a pet-store window. ‘Sorry. Off with the pixies.’

  He lifted his hands and between them was a copy of The Love Hypothesis. The one she’d bought—and he’d paid for—at the market stall? How and why was it in his possession? Hadn’t she put it in her bag?

  ‘You dropped this the other night. When you left the carols.’

  In a mad lunatic rush. Not the words he used but no need to state the obvious.

  ‘Oh.’

  Something about being in his presence either rendered her speechless or had her babbling like a kid who’d single-handedly gobbled a full bag of sweets. Today, apparently, it was the former.

  Cole scratched the back of his head. ‘I thought I’d return it. In case you wanted to read it.’

  He handed the novel across and the memory of the bookseller’s recommendation, his leery smile as he delivered it, tripped across her brain. Nice and spicy. Hopefully Cole had forgotten about the review.

  ‘Thank you.’ She forced a smile, despite the rising tide of warmth emanating from a certain part of her body. She really needed to do something about her celibacy. Just not right now. And not with anyone remotely connected to a patient. Or who was clearly younger than her—a good six years, if he was thirteen years older than Owen. And a farrier. ‘You didn’t need to go to so much trouble.’

  ‘No trouble.’ He swivelled as if to leave then turned back. ‘You wouldn’t have a minute for a quick chat, by any chance?’

  The house sat empty behind her, Nancy and Lenore having taken themselves on a day trip and Crystal having Friday off. All Hannah had on her agenda was paperwork. Easily delayed.

  ‘Sure. Come on in.’

  All the way to the living room, she waged an internal war with herself:

  What the hell are you doing?

  Being polite. The guy did bring my book back.

  He’s a client’s brother!!!

  Who’s asked for a moment of my time.

  Who you have the hots for!

  There’s no harm in acknowledging a person’s good looks.

  But there is harm in fantasising—

  I am not fantasising!

  ‘Tree looks good.’ Cole gave a vague wave. ‘Nicely decorated.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Not that she’d exactly been responsible for that but no need to share more than was necessary. She needed to stay in the here and now and get out of her head. ‘Have a seat.’

  He lowered himself onto the sofa, a safe distance away from the recliner on which she perched. Already clocked off for the day, she’d changed into shorts—thankfully not too short—and a strappy cotton top which left her feeling strangely exposed. She crossed her arms across her middle, holding onto her elbows.

  ‘What was it you wanted to talk about?’

  ‘Owen seemed a bit happier after his session. I know you can’t give details but any chance I can find out how it’s all going?’

  A tiny rainbow bubble burst inside of her. A professional question rather than personal. As it should be. ‘Okay, so I think we made some progress. He seemed more open to talking and we worked through a few potential sources of his frustration.’ How much should she say? Owen was a minor and Cole was technically his guardian. But breaking confidentiality was a strict no-no. ‘I can’t really say what those are.’

  ‘No. I get it. Sorry, I’m just looking to keep him out of trouble.’

  ‘I understand. Do you get to spend much time with him, outside of work hours?’

  Cole gave an instant shake of his head. ‘Not really. By the time I finish shoeing and check on things at the farm, I pretty much eat and fall into bed.’

  An image of him falling into her bed sizzled through her brain. Not acceptable. ‘I know it’s hard—’ Oh God, did she have to use that word? ‘But some one-on-one time with strong male role models in his life might be a help to Owen. I know his father is incapacitated, and that could be playing a part in his instability right now, so if he feels you’re on his side it could help.’

  ‘Okay. Makes sense. I’ll see what I can do.’ He tapped his hands on his knees and stood. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

  That was it? He was leaving? Her stupid heart sank. Of course he was leaving. Why wouldn’t he?

  They moved towards the door in unison, her bare arm brushing against his as they stepped forwards and backwards in an impromptu line dance.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  Cole laughed and the sound tinkled through her body like the glass beads of a dream catcher, soothing and melodious. Neither of them moved. The top of her head was level with his chin. It would only take one little upwards lift for their eyes to meet, for their lips to align.

  Do. Not. Do. It.

  But she did. She tipped her head back and stared into those deep, dark eyes. Got lost in the hypnotic, earthy scent of him. Pressed her lips to his when he leaned in closer. A tornado swirled deep in her belly, a vortex of heat spiralling through her centre, travelling north and south simultaneously, making her head spin and setting off an undeniable quiver between her legs. She sank into the kiss, her nipples hardening against his chest. The barely audible moan Cole made sparked a jolt of electricity through her veins, shocking her to her senses.

  She sprang backwards. ‘God, sorry.’ She tucked her hair behind her ears and crossed her arms. ‘I don’t know—’

  ‘It’s fine. Honestly. More than fine.’

  She looked everywhere but at him, at the splinter of timber poking out from the skirting board, the chipped pink polish on her big toe, the tiny bite mark the leech had left below her ankle, but she still heard the smile in his voice.

  She reached for the door handle and pushed it open. But he didn’t step through it as she’d supposed—hoped—he would. Instead, he gripped his neck with one hand as if massaging out a crick.

  ‘I know you’re Owen’s counsellor and you said you don’t date patients’ relatives, but are you sure there isn’t a loophole?’

  Oh God! He was asking her out again. Whatever was going on between them seemed to be a two-way thing. But she needed to shut it down. She hadn’t had sex in way too long and being around this guy was pure torture.

  She winced. ‘It’s not really—’

  ‘I get it. But Owen won’t be your client forever, will he?’ The grin he left her with as he sidled out the door was positively wicked. She closed the door behind him, still holding the book he’d delivered. She clutched it to her chest but her pulse continued to race. The thrum down below increasing rather than dissipating.

  No.

  No, no, no, no, no.

  She would not date a client’s brother. She would not date a man who was a farrier. Who worked on a farm. Who everybody in town seemed to know. Who was probably a good six years her junior. Even though her raging hormones were insisting she jump his bones sooner rather than later.

  There was no way she could concentrate on spreadsheets and reports now. Not after that invitation. Not after that kiss. It was time to lose herself between the pages of a book. And the one in her hand had exactly the right amount of spice.

  Chapter 11

  Going Christmas shopping was like willingly throwing herself into a blast furnace: her core temperature growing hotter while an everincreasing pressure seemed to be crushing her limbs. Not feelings she wanted to share with Lenore.

  On the drive south, they chatted about all things Yarrabee—small-town life, how the practice was going, the ins and outs of house purchasing—all the while skirting around the information Hannah had shared about her meltdown in Owen’s first session. It had been a blessing when Lenore dozed off. Today was supposed to be fun—finding the perfect gift for Nancy and exploring the village an hour south that had become famous for its quaint shops and gourmet delights. Any talk of trauma, present or past, was not on the agenda.

  Hannah followed the car’s navigation system into the car park and Lenore woke with a start when the engine stopped. ‘Oh, we’re here.’

  ‘Sure are. What would you like to do first, explore or grab a coffee?’

  ‘It’ll be a tea for me. But I know it’s coffee o’clock for you. Let’s do that.’

  Taking her old friend’s arm, Hannah led her to the nearest cafe. This town too was festooned with Christmas decorations, wreaths made from native flowers hanging on shop doors and giant kangaroo cut-outs in Santa hats bouncing across the rooflines. Being a Saturday, shoppers were out in force, jostling along the pavement, bags in each hand, diving through one doorway and then the next in a frenzy of retail therapy.

  Crossing the foot traffic and bustling Lenore through the jampacked cafe’s door was no mean feat but they managed to find a table for two in a corner.

  ‘I hope this isn’t going to be too much for you.’ Hannah peered at Lenore’s pale face over the top of the menu. ‘We can head back any time if it gets too tiring.’

  ‘Don’t you worry. Crowds don’t bother me, nor does Christmas.’ Lenore underscored the not-so-cryptic comment with a carefully raised eyebrow. ‘You on the other hand—’

  ‘I’m fine. What would you like to drink? The usual?’