Exiles (Aaron Falk #3)(92)

“She took the loss with humor and good grace?”

“You can imagine. I felt really bad, but what could we do? You can’t get down there, but she didn’t really understand the bushland around here. In the end I had to drive all the way around the perimeter to convince her she couldn’t hike in.” She smiled over at him. “So that soured the afternoon a little.”

“Good to know.” Falk turned away from the edge and headed back across the clearing. “I’ll keep hold of my belongings.”

“That’s a strong start.” Gemma watched with curiosity as he unlocked the car trunk. “What have you got there, anyway?”

“Well.” Falk pulled out his bags of shopping from earlier and carried them over to the small picnic table. “I know you said the other night at the festival that you didn’t need champagne and sunsets.” He unfolded a tablecloth over the battered surface, then laid out two glasses and unzipped a chiller bag. “But then I was thinking, no one needs champagne and sunsets. They’re just nice to have, like houseplants or free Wi-Fi.”

“Seriously?” Gemma came over to the table. She was laughing, but the delight was real, he could tell. “That’s what we’re doing tonight, champagne and sunsets?”

“Yeah, I thought we could give it a go. Although, it’s technically a multi-award-winning sparkling wine from the Marralee region,” Falk said, pulling the bottle from the chiller bag and reading the label. “It’s one of the world-class ones, so I thought it made more sense with your connections to the local producers. And—” He rummaged through another bag. “I’ve got a bottle stopper and some sparkling water as well, because as much fun as this is, I’m driving and you’re back on duty later.”

“That’s very responsible.”

“Also,” Falk looked at his watch, “I’ve checked today’s sunset time, and we actually have to head off pretty much as soon as it’s done to get you back on-site by the end of your break.”

He glanced up. Gemma was leaning against the table, her head tilted as she watched him, and he stopped.

“Is this all okay?”

“Aaron.” She stepped around the picnic bench so they were face-to-face. She put her hands around his waist and he could feel the warmth of her skin through his shirt. “Practical romance is my absolute favorite kind.”

“Yeah? Because some people don’t like it.”

“Some people don’t know how to live.”

He opened the bottle and she poured and they sat on the bench together, backs resting against the table as they watched the sun sink toward the hill. Overhead, the sky slowly changed, the colors growing rich and deep.

After a while, Gemma sighed contentedly and stretched out her legs in front of her. “God, this is nice. Pretty great for a Monday night.”

It was, Falk thought. Right up there. “I can see why you like living here.”

“Yeah?” She looked over. “Fair warning, it’s not always like this. Only when someone pulls out an unexpectedly lovely, sweeping romantic gesture.”

“You might find it hard to believe, but this is my very first sweeping romantic gesture.”

“Really? Amazing debut.”

“Thanks. I’m happy you like it. Although I have to say, this bloody sunset”—Falk tipped his empty glass toward the glorious dying blaze, beautiful but brief—“is starting to feel a bit like a metaphor. So Gemma, look, can we try to work something out for after I leave? Please.”

He really wanted the answer to be yes this time. He hadn’t realized quite how much until he’d asked the question.

“Well,” Gemma started, but she was already nodding, and he felt a wave of relief. “I mean, of course. Obviously. I’d love to work something out, too.” A tiny frown crossed her face. “That’s never really been the issue. It’s more what that would look like.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“But—” What was left of the light was dazzling, and Gemma leaned her head back and shut her eyes as she thought for a minute. “I mean, Joel leaves for uni next year.” She turned her head and squinted at him. “Maybe that changes the equation a bit.”

“Yeah?” An instant spark of hope flared, but Falk kept it contained. “The festival still needs to be run, though.”

“It does. But I suppose I’m hardly the only person in the world who could do that.”

“You’re too good at it to just stop, though. Would there be something similar you’d be interested in doing?”

“Something where?” He could tell she was considering it, at least. “In Melbourne?”

“For example. That would obviously be highly convenient for me.” Falk smiled. He put his empty glass down and reached for her hand, their fingers intertwining. “But it is also the nation’s cultural capital. Thriving arts and events scene.”

“I know that”—Gemma nudged him affectionately—“because Melburnians are always telling me so.”

“What can I say? We’re very proud of it. And it’s true.”

“Fair enough.” She laughed, and they looked at each other for a long moment. Finally, she shrugged. “And, yes, probably. I’m sure if I asked around I could find something else.”