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By the time they reached the farm a couple of kilometres along the road, the rain was bucketing down. The small roof on top of the tractor sheltered Joe to some extent, and even though he was wearing an oilskin, Violet was sure he was getting pretty wet.

She was wet, but safe and snug in the cab of the ute, gripping the wheel as the steering was hard with the motor not on, and keeping the ute on the road as the tractor pulled it along. As they had feared it wouldn’t go into neutral and the wheels weren’t spinning. Her brand-new beauty was being skull dragged along a bumpy gravel road, probably shredding the tyres in the process. Despite being unsealed, the road wasn’t in bad condition, but occasionally they hit a big pothole, and as they approached each one Joe would slow down a bit so she knew it was coming up.

It was pitch dark by the time they turned into an open gate and approached a farmhouse where a light shone from the back porch. Violet wondered if she was doing the right thing; Joe lived alone and she didn’t know him. Her choices were limited: she could have stayed at the clearing and had her car washed into the creek and her campsite inundated with flood water, or she could stay with an unknown man in an isolated farmhouse. All the horror movies Violet had ever watched flickered through her head. She could always leave the car here and ask him to drive her into town.

“No, that would be unfair. There’s no reason why I couldn’t pitch my tent in his shed,” she reasoned with herself. “The rain can’t last all night, and I’d be dry.”

Joe pulled up beside the shed she’d noticed and hopped off the tractor. Violet got out of the car and quickly followed Joe as he ran across to the back porch of the farmhouse.

“Well,” he said. “They didn’t forecast that storm. It was supposed to be a clear night. The rain seems to come out of the valley, and it can be pouring here with not a drop in town. We’ve been known to go for weeks without rain in town, but up here in the valley near the national park, we can get two or three inches in the same period of time.”

“Good for the paddocks, I guess,” Violet said.

Joe hesitated as he glanced at her and then turned away. “You’re soaked. I’ll grab you a towel, and I’ll put the kettle on. I could do with a cuppa.”

He was back quickly and handed her a soft towel.

“Thank you.”

“Did you manage to eat your dinner before I came back?”

“Yes, I’ve eaten. Thank you.” A thought struck her. “But you probably haven’t. I feel terrible. I’ve dragged you out into the rain, and you got soaking wet, and you haven’t even eaten.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Joe reassured her. “I was painting and then I had a visitor. The day got away and I had a late lunch before I went out for a ride. I wasn’t planning on much for dinner. Come in and sit at the table while I have a quick shower, but don’t touch the walls. They’re probably still tacky. And make yourself at home.”

“Can I help? Can I make a pot of tea, or do you use teabags or coffee?”

“Are you a tea or coffee drinker?”

Violet had spied the brand-new coffee machine on the benchtop in the corner of the kitchen. It was the same brand as the one she’d left behind. Her mouth watered at the thought of real coffee. She’d been living on instant since she’d started camping. The machine was plugged in and it looked like it was well-used.

“A real coffee would be good, if that’s okay.”

“So, you’re a coffee addict too?” Joe grinned as he walked over and switched on the machine.

Violet nodded. “You?”

He opened the cupboard above the coffee machine, careful not to touch the walls with the cupboard door. She smiled as she saw an array of coffee pods in all different colours.

“Come and have a browse and decide what you want while the water heats up in it, and I’ll be back in a minute.”

Violet looked around the kitchen as she waited. After she had chosen her favourite Arpeggio coffee pod, she let her eyes wander around the room. The benchtops and cupboards were obviously new, and she could still smell the paint in the room. There was a gap beneath the sink where she assumed a dishwasher would eventually go.

Considering the room was in the middle of a renovation, it was remarkably dust free and tidy. She was fast picking up the impression that Joe was an organised and competent guy.

“He must think I’m an absolute twit,” she thought, rolling her eyes. “Camped next to a creek that was going to get flooded, the car broken down in the middle of the crossing. What else can go wrong?”

Joe came out and smiled when he saw the coffee pod on the benchtop. He reached up and pulled down two mugs. “Do you have milk in yours?”

Violet replied, “Yes, please. I waited to see which one you would like. You have a great selection.”

“Mine is the same as you’ve picked out. I love the woody flavour of Arpeggio.”

“Ah, a true afficionado.”

“The only coffee that beats home is at the Cyprus Café in town. I’ve picked Nic’s brains over how he brews their coffee, but he always taps his nose and tells me it’s a Greek secret. I’ll have to take you there when we take your ute to town.”

“My favourite—” Violet hesitated. She’d been about to say her favourite coffee shop was in the Valley in Brisbane, but she caught herself just in time. She didn’t want anyone to know anything about her. She stared again. “That’s my favourite type of coffee too.”