Eddie and the Show Queen

Book 5: A Levenham Love Story

by Cathryn Hein

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Small-town Romance; Western Romance; Second Chance Romance; small town romance; Second Chance Romance; rural romance; australian romance

Synopsis

Can Levenham's biggest ladies' man make good – and recapture the heart of the girl he's always loved?

When horticulturalist Alice Lindner goads her ex-boyfriend Eddie Argyle into a fundraising contest, she doesn't expect him to take it seriously. Winning small-town Levenham's inaugural Wine Show crown will take dedication and hard work, and all Eddie cares about is chasing skirt. Besides, a win will be Alice's tribute to her late mum. No way is Eddie getting his hands on the crown.

Big-hearted farmer Eddie never understood why love-of-his-life Alice dumped him. Yeah, it'd been a difficult time with her mum's illness, but he'd loved her the best he could and losing her left him adrift. Now he has the opportunity to prove himself by winning not only the crown but maybe Alice's heart in the process.

Will Eddie's enthusiasm ruin Alice's tribute and with it all hope of a second chance? Or will Alice realise that the real prize isn't in the past but with the man who wants to be her future?

Release date: September 10, 2019

Print pages: 267

Sample

One

 

Melanie Argyle snapped her fingers at her sulking son. ‘Come along, Eddie. I haven’t got all day.’

Eddie groaned. He really did not want to go to Lindner’s. Even the thought of it made his goolies shrink up protectively.

‘Don’t you groan at me, Edmond Argyle. Put your boots on.’

‘But I haven’t finished my morning tea.’

She snatched the remaining bite of lemon slice off his plate and popped it into her mouth. ‘Have now.’

Eddie’s brother, Harry, who was standing behind her, grinned. Eddie threw him a sneer, then gave a longing look at his empty plate. He’d been enjoying that slice.

‘Why can’t Harry do it? He’s always bragging how much bigger and stronger he is.’ Which he wasn’t. Not much, anyway.

‘Your brother has work to do.’

‘And I don’t?’

‘You do. Coming with me.’

There was never any defying Melanie Argyle when she wanted something. Eddie straightened from the kitchen table and dragged his socked feet to the door. His mum didn’t allow dirty farm boots in the house. The only dirty things allowed were looks, and then only from her, although Eddie and his brother exchanged their fair share with each other behind their mum’s back.

Harry was still grinning. Not that that was anything unusual these days. Since meeting his girlfriend, Summer, jug-eared Harry had turned into an even bigger bumbling twit than he’d been before.

‘You’ll keep,’ Eddie muttered, earning himself a cuff under the ear from his mum.

‘What did I say about fighting in the house?’

Harry’s grin turned even broader. There would be pain when Eddie got him alone, serious pain.

Hat pulled down and hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, Eddie followed his mum out to his ute. Why she needed him was anyone’s guess. Lindner’s was a well-run garden centre. There was always someone on hand to hoist potting mix or whatever, and while his mother might be half the size of her gigantic sons, she was strong. You didn’t help run a farm or raise two strapping boys without developing a muscle or two.

She was up to something. He hoped like hell it had nothing to do with Alice Lindner.

Eddie sulked the entire drive into Levenham. His mum ignored him, humming along to the radio and checking Facebook on her phone, all with her mouth half lifted in one of her smug you-can-sook-all-you-like, doesn’t-bother-me smiles.

Mondays were the nursery’s quietest day and the carpark held only a few cars near the entrance. Eddie chose a space a bit further away, in a patch of sun. Autumn was fast drifting into winter, and the air was chilly despite the clear sky. At least the wind wasn’t up. Levenham was a small town only twenty or so kilometres from South Australia’s isolated southernmost coast, and that separating strip of land did nothing to warm a wind that could sweep straight at them from the frozen plains of Antarctica, when the mood took it.

Though an Antarctic wind would probably feel cosy compared to any welcome he’d get at Lindner’s.

Eddie dug his fists deeper into his pockets as he followed his mum to the entrance. Lindner’s had been operating for over twenty-five years and the entrance was a showcase of Ross Lindner’s expertise. A shaded stone path with bright moss growing between the joints led to a lush, leafy bower and pond spanned by a sturdy timber bridge. The effect was like entering a room where the only sound was the plinkety-plink of water as it tumbled over a raised rock formation. It was pretty, ridiculously so, but the sound of all that running water made Eddie wish he’d gone to the loo before he left home.

Like he wasn’t uncomfortable enough.

At the end of the bridge a pair of automatic doors slid open, gusting out a warm peaty smell. Eddie trailed his mum inside, his gaze darting immediately to the counter and the information desk. He breathed out. Maybe he was in luck and Alice was out the back or not working today.

There were plenty of places she could hide, though. The indoor area was well lit thanks to skylights in the roof and industrial pendulum lamps, but Alice was tiny, an energetic blonde pixie who could be anywhere among the lush plants, stacks of pots and shelves of garden paraphernalia.

‘Oh, look,’ said his mum, ‘there’s Ross. Just the man. Grab me some snail pellets, would you, Eddie? I won’t be long.’ Without waiting for an answer, she hurried through another set of glass sliding doors to the outdoor section.

Eddie took a long look around. Still no Alice. He sauntered towards a likely looking shelf and peered at the multiple options for snail destruction. A hand-written sign dangled from below the boxes of pellets. He recognised Alice’s loopy script and experienced a painful tug on his heart. Once upon a time, she’d written him notes and cards in that same script. Words telling him how much she loved him. How they’d be together forever. Teenage stuff – stupid but nice.

Did you know, read the sign, that there are non-chemical ways to get rid of snails? Simple solutions using things you already have at home. Just ask!

He fingered the sign for a few seconds and with a quiet sigh picked up a box and scanned the back. The active ingredient sounded hellish.

‘You could try crushed eggshells instead of chemical warfare, you know.’

Eddie muttered a mental shit and closed his eyes. Taking a breath, he shoved the box back on to the shelf and turned.

Alice regarded him with folded arms. Eddie was a big bloke. Really big. Six feet five and one-quarter – that quarter mattered – and built, as his equally enormous gramps liked to joke, like a concrete blockhouse. Yet this tiny person had the capacity to hurt him like no other.

‘Alice.’

‘Eddie,’ she replied, without a scrap of warmth.

‘I’m just waiting for Mum.’

Why did he say that? It made him sound like a tool, as if he didn’t have anything better to do than hang around a garden centre, waiting for his mother. He had plenty of better things to do. They were drenching cattle this week, and as soon as the paddocks had dried out enough after their recent soaking, Eddie planned to be out on the tractor seeding.

‘You might be waiting a while. She just disappeared into the roses with Dad.’

Bugger. If there was one thing his mum was mad for, it was roses. The front garden at Talanga was a maze of the thorny things, though they did look good in bloom.

Alice stepped closer and Eddie’s lungs locked, then she reached around him and straightened the snail pellet box he’d hastily dumped. Casting him a look he couldn’t interpret, she swung towards the counter, the end of her long blonde ponytail clipping him across the chest as she went.

Eddie’s focus dropped immediately to her body. Even in her uniform of heavy-duty khaki work trousers, matching shirt and steel-capped boots, she was glorious. Fine-boned, slim and pert, but strong, too. A fascinating combination of female softness and athleticism. He’d once spent ages tracing his hands over her curves, marvelling at her beauty, at how, despite their size difference, she perfectly fitted him.

His Alice of the wonderland.

She slid behind the counter and started tapping at the computer.

Eddie scratched his head. Maybe he should go find his mum before she really got lost in roses stuff. Or maybe he could stop behaving like his bumbling brother and talk to Alice. They used to talk for hours when they were an item, surely they could make civilised conversation for ten minutes?

He wandered over to the counter. Alice glanced up, pursed her pretty lips and went back to whatever she was doing.

Another tug hurt his heart. With everyone else, Alice was a cute-as-a-button girl whose sweet bubbliness was so infectious people couldn’t help but smile in her presence. With him she was stiff and cold, and nothing like the Alice he once had loved.

Still loved.

In front of the till was a raffle book with its cover folded back and a pen jammed in the join to keep it open at the next ticket. Eddie bent to read the details and let out an amused humph when he realised it was promoting the Show Queen contest.

‘Something funny?’ asked Alice.

‘Just this Show Queen thing. Bit stupid, isn’t it?’

‘What’s so stupid about raising money for local charities?’

‘Well nothing, but it’s all a bit …’

Old-fashioned, is what Eddie thought. A Show Queen competition? Where the winner was crowned at a big ceremony and expected to parade about like royalty afterwards, shaking hands and kissing babies? That kind of stuff went the day of the dodo years ago. It didn’t matter that the Levenham Wine Show committee, who were running the event, had made it open slather, with every man and his dog – literally – eligible to enter, and the winner determined solely by who raised the most money, it was still pretty dumb.

But from the way Alice was standing, arms folded and weight cocked on one hip, saying so might not be smart.

‘Just because you don’t care about anything, doesn’t mean you can make fun of others who do. Oh, sorry,’ she touched a finger to her chin, ‘silly me. You do care about one thing. Pity it’s just where your next easy lay is coming from.’

‘Hey, hang on.’

That wasn’t fair, on either count. Eddie cared about a lot of things. The farm, his family. His mates. His football team, the Gerrinton Giants. His cricket team. His red kelpie, Blue.

Her.

As for easy lays, there hadn’t been one of those for a long time.

She waved a dismissal. ‘Don’t bother defending yourself, Eddie. I’ve seen you in action, remember.’

Eddie gritted his teeth. ‘That was …’

Hard to explain. And now wasn’t the time for it.

‘Yes?’

He shook his head. What was the point? Alice wouldn’t believe him anyway.

Eddie picked up the raffle book and read the fine print. Bugger. He’d forgotten that the new cancer centre at the hospital was one of the charities. Alice’s mum, Kate, had been diagnosed with a grade-three brain tumour the year Eddie and Alice started going out and it had claimed her life barely three years later.

Kate and her family had been fortunate, if you could call it that that. Most sufferers of her kind of tumour were lucky to survive a year or two. Local oncology services had been minimal to non-existent then, and Kate’s endurance was more a testament to willpower than any medical intervention. No wonder Alice was defending the Show Queen competition. She wouldn’t want anyone to suffer like her mum.

‘I care about more than you realise,’ he said, flicking through the raffle book and counting. He pulled out his wallet and checked his cash supply. He had enough. ‘I’ll take the rest of the book.’

For a heartbeat, Alice’s expression seemed to soften. Then she looked away. ‘Nice gesture.’

‘It’s not a gesture. I want to help.’

‘A few raffle tickets won’t make much difference.’

He glanced at her. Something in her tone suggested that she wasn’t referring to the charity. ‘What would, then?’

‘Nothing you could do.’

‘You’d be surprised.’

For a long moment, Alice remained quiet. Eddie held his breath as her gaze raked over his face. A chance was all he wanted, to prove that he wasn’t whom she thought, and to make amends for the hurt he’d somehow caused her and still didn’t understand.

That he was still the bloke she’d once loved.

‘Go on, then,’ she said finally. ‘Surprise me.’

He tapped the raffle book. ‘This Show Queen thing is open to anyone. I could have a go.’

Alice laughed. Eddie didn’t. He’d considered it quite a clever idea.

‘What’s so funny about me entering? No reason I couldn’t win this thing.’

‘You? As Show Queen?’

‘King, not queen.’ There was nothing queenly about Eddie. ‘And why not? It’s not like it takes any special skill. It’s just running a few raffles.’

‘Just a few raffles, huh?’

He shrugged. ‘Maybe a sausage sizzle.’

Alice’s blue eyes took on a dangerous glitter. ‘Do it, then. Enter. I dare you.’

He didn’t like that glitter. It made him nervous. ‘I bloody might.’

‘Might? Thought so. All talk.’ She returned her gaze to the computer and began clicking the mouse.

‘All right, I will.’

‘Sure. Whatever.’ She kept clicking. A printer whirred.

‘Will.’

Alice bobbed down then rose holding a piece of paper. She slapped the printout on the counter and banged a pen on top of it. Eddie eyed both warily.

‘Show Queen entry,’ she said.

Bugger. Now he’d have to fill it in, and everything in Alice’s expression told Eddie that he had no idea what he was committing himself to.

She pushed the pen and paper closer and arched a fine blonde eyebrow.

Eddie rubbed his mouth to hide a grimace. This is what you got for being a big-mouthed idiot still crazy about your ex-girlfriend four years after you’d split up. With a shallow sigh, he picked up the pen.

When he’d finished, Alice snatched up the form and checked it through. Satisfied, she passed it back. ‘You need to drop it in to the Tourist Office. They’ll pass it on to the Wine Show committee.’

Eddie folded the sheet and pocketed it, only for Alice to curl her fingers in a ‘gimme’ gesture. Assuming she meant the form, he reached for it.

‘Not that. Money for the raffle tickets. You were going to buy the rest of the book, remember?’

Oh yeah. So he was. Eddie dug out his wallet and handed over the cash, wishing he’d never looked at the rotten raffle book. Too late now, and at least filling out his name and address and tearing off tickets gave him something to do besides freak out over the Show Queen thing.

Harry would piss himself laughing when he found out. As for the footy boys, that didn’t bear thinking about. His mum? She was too aware of Eddie’s feelings for Alice and would know straightaway that he was up to something. Perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing. If he asked nicely, she might even lend him a hand.

He’d bloody need it if he was to pull off this stunt.

Alice didn’t say a word, but he could feel her gaze lasering the top of his head and had to stop himself from scratching at the itchy feeling it left.

‘Who’s running this raffle anyway?’ he asked as he tore off the final ticket.

‘Who do you think?’ Alice leaned forward, eyes wide in her biggest ‘derr’ look. ‘Me, Eddie. You’ve just helped fund your greatest Show Queen rival.’