The Protea Boys by Tea Cooper Read Free Book Online Page A

again.”
    “Okay, okay. You’re right. He sounds perfect. Has he got a name?”
    “Yep. Morgan. Nice name, nice body, nice man.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Look, here’s Carl with the truck. I can’t wait. Oh yes, and I have something else for you. In my car. I’ll show you when we have sorted Carl out.”
    ***
    “This is so cool,” said Hillary as she clambered up behind the steering wheel of the truck. Looking totally incongruous in her yoga pants, oversize sweatshirt, and headband, she bounced up and down like a kid at the fair.
    “Here come the Protea Boys. I can’t believe it, Georgie. We’ve done it. We have made our mad idea come true. That reminds me. Hang on.” She jumped down from the cabin of the truck and ran across to her car.
    Georgie walked around the truck, running her hand over the paintwork. It appeared in pretty good condition. A few dints and bangs here and there, but nothing to make it unroadworthy. She leaned over into the tray. Carl was right, the back did need a new base; a few strips of timber and she could fix it with the old floorboards in the shed. She’d take the measurements, and she could easily cut the timber with the circular saw, oil it, and get one of the boys—she giggled, Hillary’s enthusiasm was infectious—to fit them.
    “Here you go, darling, the official Protea Boys uniform.” Georgie turned around. A laugh exploded out of her mouth, probably the first really good belly laugh she’d had in a long time, and tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t believe what she saw. Hillary sported a bright pink cap and a very tight navy blue singlet, both emblazoned with an embroidered logo—a large King Protea flower flanked by two rampant brush cutters.
    “You are an idiot!” She cracked up again. “They are perfect. Are they just for us, or are you expecting the boys to wear them as well?”
    “I got six—one for you and me and one each for the boys. It doesn’t really matter if they don’t want to wear them, but it might make them stand out—you know, so everyone remembers them and recognizes them. Nothing like a bit of free publicity.”
    “Oh, they’ll certainly be free publicity,” said Georgie, pulling her tangled hair through the hole at the back of the cap and tightening it. This business was going to be a lot more fun than the last one. “How do I look?” The cap felt pretty good, and she waggled her head from side to side, waiting for a response.
    “Bloody fantastic,” said Hillary, smoothing the tight blue singlet over her ample hips. “Here’s your shirt. Don’t forget your sunscreen.”
    “Thanks, Mum, I love it.” She gave her friend a hug, blessing the day they’d met. The big black cloud hanging over her since her return from Sydney finally appeared to be lifting. The sun was out, and she had a great hat to protect her. Life was good, and Dale and his not-so-ex-wife could go to hell. She had made the right decision. This was where she wanted to be, doing what she wanted to do. Dale, the jumped-up, two-timing rat, could keep his flashy dinner parties, sophisticated relationships, and his ex-wife. She wished him joy of it. She wasn’t going to allow anyone to try to run her life anymore.
    “So what’s the plan?” Georgie said, adjusting the brim on the pink cap so she could see Hillary.
    “Monday morning, seven thirty, you’ll have a paddock full of men straining at the leash, ready to go. Crunch time.”
    “We need to make a timetable so we know where they are going and on what days.” Slipping her arm around Hillary’s shoulders, she led her back up to the office, discussing the various jobs for the Protea Boys they had already lined up.

Chapter Eight
    Tom rolled over in bed and squashed the feather pillow over his eyes, allowing the blinding panic to clear, to seep away, and his tortured breathing to settle. There was no way he’d go back to sleep, past experience had taught him. The habit of waking in a cold sweat