Del was feeding out lucerne to the Babydolls when her phone rang.
‘How about helping me move in?’ said Vince.
She laughed. ‘What, you can’t carry a sleeping bag inside by yourself?’
‘It’s not just the sleeping bag,’ said Vince, indignantly. ‘I have a backpack too.’
Del threw her sheep the last biscuit of hay. ‘Will you cook me dinner?’
‘Absolutely. I think I have a can of baked beans somewhere. Can you bring a loaf of bread?’
Del grinned and felt a familiar flutter in her stomach. Tonight she and Vince would finally be alone together. Not at some campground with half-a-dozen kids lined up for lollies and bumper stickers. Not stealing a few minutes behind a town hall after a talk. But alone in a charming, renovated miners cottage with a country kitchen and cosy sunroom. A cottage with
