small gathering for your birthday. Invite some friends. Maybe the Hoopers from down the road.’
She was matchmaking, again. That was an irony. For a moment he was tempted to tell her about Linda. And the baby. But he’d given his word. And besides, his mother would be on the next train west to come and visit. He definitely wasn’t ready for that.
‘Mum!’ Pete scolded gently. ‘I’ve told you before to stop matchmaking. I am not going to get involved with Joanie Hooper. Anyway, she’s not interested in me.’
‘You say that—’
‘I do, Mum.’
‘But she’s such a lovely girl,’ his mother persisted. ‘And let’s face it, son, you’re thirty now. It’s high time you settled down and started a family.’
The irony of that almost made him laugh out loud.
‘All right. I know. I promise I’ll stop nagging if you’ll promise me just to stay in one place long enough to meet some nice girl some time. And soon. I do want grandchildren, you know.’
That was going to happen sooner than she expected. He said goodbye and slipped the phone back in his pocket.
His mother meant well. She had been happily married to his father for thirty-five years. They lived in a medium-sized brick home on the outskirts of Toowoomba, where his father ran a car sales yard. They were good together, complementing each other’s strengths and weaknesses and still very much in love. On his last visit he had walked in on them kissing in the kitchen. It hadn’t just been a peck on the cheek. And they were best friends too. If he was ever to marry, that’s the sort of marriage he wanted.
But he wasn’t ready for a life away from the road. Tied down to one place. Going to the same place of work day after day. Staring at the same four walls while he tapped away at a computer or shuffled paperwork. That wasn’t for him.
It hadn’t been for him. It was beginning to look like he’d have to get used to that sort of life … and far sooner than he had ever expected.
Chapter Seven
Max sat at his desk, staring at his computer, oblivious to the words on the screen. Unusually for him, he was still in uniform and still at his desk as the clock ticked over to eight o’clock. Outside, dusk was turning into night. There was no reason to be working this late. No emergency was claiming his time. There wasn’t even outstanding paperwork to do. He was at his desk because from there he could clearly hear the sounds of traffic on the road. Not that there was much traffic. So far he’d heard a single truck and two cars. He hadn’t heard what he was listening for … a motorcycle.
Tia Walsh was a mystery to him. She hadn’t appeared again at Trish’s pub and Trish had offered no gossip about her on his visits. Nor had she been seen at the Mineside, the pub where the mine workers mostly drank. He’d been there to check too. According to Sarah Travers, Tia had bought supplies which had been delivered to the mine compound. Of course, that told him nothing except it seemed she was planning to stay a while, judging from the purchases Sarah had mentioned.
That was as far as his investigation had taken him, which was probably a good thing. He was already feeling a little uncomfortable. He really couldn’t argue that his interest in Tia was professional. She’d done nothing to provoke official enquiries. At least not since she’d arrived in his town. He knew his preoccupation with her was purely personal, aroused by a mane of dark auburn hair, a pair of brilliant green eyes and a set of motorcycle leathers that did more than just hint at a lovely body beneath. He looked at the screen in front of him. He could enter her name into the police system and see what it had to offer. He clenched his fingers into fists. No. He couldn’t do that. Tia had a right to her privacy.
Then he heard it. The throaty rumble of the Harley passing through the town on the road leading north. As she had done several times this past week, Tia was taking her bike
She was matchmaking, again. That was an irony. For a moment he was tempted to tell her about Linda. And the baby. But he’d given his word. And besides, his mother would be on the next train west to come and visit. He definitely wasn’t ready for that.
‘Mum!’ Pete scolded gently. ‘I’ve told you before to stop matchmaking. I am not going to get involved with Joanie Hooper. Anyway, she’s not interested in me.’
‘You say that—’
‘I do, Mum.’
‘But she’s such a lovely girl,’ his mother persisted. ‘And let’s face it, son, you’re thirty now. It’s high time you settled down and started a family.’
The irony of that almost made him laugh out loud.
‘All right. I know. I promise I’ll stop nagging if you’ll promise me just to stay in one place long enough to meet some nice girl some time. And soon. I do want grandchildren, you know.’
That was going to happen sooner than she expected. He said goodbye and slipped the phone back in his pocket.
His mother meant well. She had been happily married to his father for thirty-five years. They lived in a medium-sized brick home on the outskirts of Toowoomba, where his father ran a car sales yard. They were good together, complementing each other’s strengths and weaknesses and still very much in love. On his last visit he had walked in on them kissing in the kitchen. It hadn’t just been a peck on the cheek. And they were best friends too. If he was ever to marry, that’s the sort of marriage he wanted.
But he wasn’t ready for a life away from the road. Tied down to one place. Going to the same place of work day after day. Staring at the same four walls while he tapped away at a computer or shuffled paperwork. That wasn’t for him.
It hadn’t been for him. It was beginning to look like he’d have to get used to that sort of life … and far sooner than he had ever expected.
Chapter Seven
Max sat at his desk, staring at his computer, oblivious to the words on the screen. Unusually for him, he was still in uniform and still at his desk as the clock ticked over to eight o’clock. Outside, dusk was turning into night. There was no reason to be working this late. No emergency was claiming his time. There wasn’t even outstanding paperwork to do. He was at his desk because from there he could clearly hear the sounds of traffic on the road. Not that there was much traffic. So far he’d heard a single truck and two cars. He hadn’t heard what he was listening for … a motorcycle.
Tia Walsh was a mystery to him. She hadn’t appeared again at Trish’s pub and Trish had offered no gossip about her on his visits. Nor had she been seen at the Mineside, the pub where the mine workers mostly drank. He’d been there to check too. According to Sarah Travers, Tia had bought supplies which had been delivered to the mine compound. Of course, that told him nothing except it seemed she was planning to stay a while, judging from the purchases Sarah had mentioned.
That was as far as his investigation had taken him, which was probably a good thing. He was already feeling a little uncomfortable. He really couldn’t argue that his interest in Tia was professional. She’d done nothing to provoke official enquiries. At least not since she’d arrived in his town. He knew his preoccupation with her was purely personal, aroused by a mane of dark auburn hair, a pair of brilliant green eyes and a set of motorcycle leathers that did more than just hint at a lovely body beneath. He looked at the screen in front of him. He could enter her name into the police system and see what it had to offer. He clenched his fingers into fists. No. He couldn’t do that. Tia had a right to her privacy.
Then he heard it. The throaty rumble of the Harley passing through the town on the road leading north. As she had done several times this past week, Tia was taking her bike
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