Picturing Perfect (Meet the McIntyres Book 2) Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Picturing Perfect

  Copyright © 2018 by Rebecca Barber. All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: January 2018

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  For Karenya and Tara…who are awesome.

  …or so they tell me

  The Meet the McIntyre books is a series surrounding a family of the five children. Each has their own story to tell.

  The intended reading order is:

  Beau

  Gage

  Holly

  Ryan

  Connor

  God damnit. I fucking hate paperwork. There is nothing more frustrating and time consuming than flipping through a stack of papers searching for the one piece you need to get on with your day. It was the bane of my existence. And as if sorting through it wasn’t bad enough, my handwriting was anything but readable. I mean, I made a doctor’s illegible scrawl look good. Being left handed meant I smudged everything, which didn’t help anyone, let alone the poor, long-suffering admin assistant, Alice. Alice agreed that her life would be infinitely easier if the company we worked for could be bothered spending the money needed to upgrade the systems so I could email my info through. I was a gun on the keyboard. My typing was flawless and it was readable. Some days, like right now, even I couldn’t make out what I’d been trying to say here.

  I’d been at the research station barely three months and already I was starting to slowly climb the walls. I was the youngest person in the place by thirty years. I hadn’t wanted to work here. In fact, it was the last place in Australia I wanted to work. It was close to home. Too close. I was only twenty minutes from the farm where I grew up. Now I had to watch as my family imploded. I didn’t want to. I’d gone as far as to apply for a scholarship on the other side of the world just to avoid the inevitable chaos and carnage that was coming. It seemed these days that every time we turned around, another cupboard full of skeletons was being opened. Who knew one country bumpkin-filled family could have so many deep, dark secrets? I sure as shit didn’t.

  Shaking my head, I tried to focus on the job in front of me. After a week out of the office at some boring ass conference in the city, catching up was proving more than a challenge. Between the barrage of emails, the nonstop flow of people just stopping by to chat but really, nosy gossips who wanted to hear the latest McIntyre family drama, the mile-long to-do list, I was in for a long ass day.

  “Gage?” Alice called.

  She was a plump, grey-haired woman who, for some reason I still didn’t understand, insisted on wearing the brightest coloured scarves to work every day. It didn’t matter how many times it got caught or something disgusting spilt all over it. Without fail the next day she’d show up sporting another wild scarf. She waddled into my office carrying a steaming mug which I hoped was for me. I was desperate. I’d only had two this morning and glancing at the clock, I realised it was almost eleven. I should be on my fourth by now.

  “Yes, Alice?” I cooed, rocking back in my chair, dropping the pen on my cluttered desk.

  “How busy are you this afternoon?”

  Waving my arms around dramatically, I pointed out the mountain of papers. Alice had been the one to show me the ropes when I’d first arrived. Even though she was drastically overweight, and old enough to be my grandmother, she was a spritely thing who didn’t back down from a challenge. I’d seen her tackle a sheep, get down and dirty with a set of shears, and argue with a stubborn mare until it relented and allowed her to silently lead her into the horse float. She didn’t even wince when we were castrating…something that brought a tear to my eye every time. I’d joked she didn’t have a heart, but she’d just laughed and said she just wasn’t worried about neutering something that needed to be neutered. That comment alone made me keep my distance and cover my crotch.

  “Great. So you can head out to the old Sullivan place and give Doug a hand?”

  Yep. No probs. I was going. Anything to avoid another papercut. Even though both Alice and I knew I already had one foot out the door, there was a certain dance we had to go through. Every. Damn. Time. “What’s doing, Alice? You know how important it is to Martin that I get caught up, don’t you?”

  Alice’s eyes sparkled as she silently giggled. Her massive boobs bounced up and down and I found myself feeling sorry for her back. Lugging those huge things around each day must make her back ache like a bitch.

  “Seems he needs a hand with one of the heifers. She’s in distress trying to give birth.”

  “And he’s paying a vet bill?”

  “Apparently this one is different.”

  Different, my ass. Sullivan was known around town as the biggest tight ass on the planet. Every shortcut he could find, he took. Every way he could think of to possibly save a dollar, he’d try. Usually it ended up costing him more than it would have if he’d just done it properly the first time, but he was old, stuck in his ways, and wouldn’t listen. Not to me. Not to his teenage son, Jeremy. Certainly not to the other old coots he drank with at the pub every other night.

  “Sure it is, Alice. Sure it is.”

  “This cow is his daughter’s.”

  “Huh?”

  “Do you remember Katie?”

  That was another problem of not moving far enough from home. You couldn’t forget. Anyone. Ever. It was like you were sucked into a time warp unable to break free. You were forever trapped here. Every memory, every bad decision, every heartbreak, it was all still here. Waiting for the moment when you were once again happy to barrel back into your life and upend everything.

  Not trusting myself to speak, I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded weakly.

  “About five years ago, Katie started hand raising calves and lambs. The ones abandoned by their mothers. Everyone in the district used to send them her way. You should see her with them, Gage. They fall all over themselves fighting for her attention. She’s got a gift.”

  “She always did have.”

  “Oh.”

  Shaking off the melancholy that was suffocating me, I remembered I had a job to do, and reminiscing about Katie Sullivan wasn’t it. “So, what’s wrong with this heifer?”

  “Distress calving.”

  “He bred Katie’s cow?”

  I was on my feet and fired up before I realised what was happening. Old man Sullivan had always been stubborn and thoughtless when it came to Katie, but even this was beyond him.

  “Now, don’t go getting all worked up about nothing. A fence came down and she wandered
off into the paddock. Of course it was the one where the bull was kept. As fate would have it, here we are. Now Gage Matthew McIntyre, calm yourself down and take care of this. Or am I ringing him back and telling him you’re busy finishing up some reports on locusts or moths or whatever the hell it is you’re complaining about?”

  Damn it! I didn’t need this crap today. Was it too much to ask for a peaceful, relaxed start so I could ease back into the swing of things? Apparently it was. Now the joke was on me. “I’m going. I’m going,” I grumbled as I yanked on my jacket and grabbed my hat.

  Four and a half hours later I staggered back into the office. It had been a shitty afternoon. I was covered in all that gooey gunk that comes from the wrong end of a cow. Usually I didn’t mind the fact that my arm felt like it’d been clamped down in a vise for the better part of the afternoon, and I stunk so badly that even flies were taking off in the opposite direction. After all, it was part and parcel of being a vet. Usually. On days like today though, it just plain sucked ass. We’d lost both the cow and her calf. Well, the calf had been stillborn, which was only the beginnings of the trouble. With the calf covered with a tarp, Sullivan and I worked to try and save the cow. I could hear Katie’s soul-destroying sobs over the grunting and panting off the distressed mother. I shouldn’t have paused to look over my shoulder. It was my undoing. Fat tears streamed down her pale cheeks and her nose ran. Katie was beautiful in everything she did.

  Kicking off my dirty boots, I stretched my arms high up above my head, grabbing hold of the door frame. I listened as my body creaked. The cracking and pulling burned, but damn, it was a good burn.

  “How’d it go?” Alice asked.

  “Shithouse.”

  “Oh.”

  “Lost them both.”

  “Katie?”

  I didn’t have to answer. Everyone in town knew and loved Katie. She was special. Always had been. “I’ll send flowers.” With that Alice was gone, leaving me to wallow in my misery.

  Throwing myself at the mercy of the paperwork, I powered through. By the time I looked up again, not only was my desk clear, but so was the office. With my ear buds in and my music cranked up, I’d missed seeing everyone head out. Feeling weirdly lonely, I opened my email and wasn’t surprised to see Alice had sent me instructions to set the alarm, switch off the lights, then to get my ass out of there and have a beer. She fussed like a mother hen.

  “Fuck it!”

  It’s like she knew. Speak of the devil and Satan shall appear. My phone vibrated on the desk in front of me. I know I should have answered. I should have picked up. I knew it the moment Mum’s name flashed on the screen. I didn’t. I was being an asshole. Right now though, I couldn’t deal with her shit.

  Staring, I watched it fall silent before the voicemail notification flashed on screen. I didn’t even want to listen to it. From the moment she found out her divorce wouldn’t be the cash windfall she’d expected, she’d morphed into someone I barely recognised. The mother who patched up my knees when I fell, who would get up at idiot o’clock and drive for hours to watch me play football in the rain and sleet, the woman who taught me to tie my shoelaces and held me when the monsters under my bed came out to play was long gone. Left in her place was some plastic, money hungry Barbie. Someone who, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t understand. And I wasn’t about to give her the ammunition to help her.

  Stuffing temptation in my pocket, I needed to get out of there. Suddenly the walls felt like they were closing in on me. I needed air. I needed to run. Swiping my keys and wallet, I shutdown my computer, scooped up all the left over papers on my desk, and dropped them into my in-tray. They were future Gage’s problem.

  Ten minutes later I was wearing nothing more than my boxers and a scowl when a pounding rattled my door. The last thing I wanted right now was visitors. I’d prefer a run. Or a bourbon. Okay, a run then a bourbon.

  “Gage honey? I know you’re in there. I can see your car.”

  Fuck it! I’d recognise that voice anywhere. Obviously since I’d ignored her call, Mum had decided an impromptu visit would be a better idea.

  “Hang on.”

  I grabbed the nearest pair of pants and shirt, not even caring if they were clean. It wasn’t like I was out to impress anyone.

  “Hurry, sweetheart. It’s so hot out here in the sun and you know how I hate to sweat!”

  My eyes rolled. They rolled so far back I swear I saw my brain. This woman would be the death of me. It was no wonder I was single and happy to stay that way.

  Yanking open the door harder than necessary, I took in the sight before me. It was like Christmas threw up all over her. The once prim and proper socialite had shiny silver presents dangling from her ears, a red shirt with what I assumed was fake white fur, but with Mum you could never be too sure. A tiny green skirt which was way too short for her age—let alone my own mother—and candy cane leggings with high heeled boots completed her look. God forbid she dressed like a normal woman…shorts, thongs, and some bad Christmas themed t-shirt if you were in the holiday spirit…which I was definitely not.

  “About time, Gage!” she snapped as she pushed past me and into the cabin.

  The urge to lock her in and bolt was tempting. Too tempting. Instead, like the dutiful son I was, I closed the door, keeping the flies outside, and followed her in.

  “Where’s your tree?”

  “What tree?”

  “Your Christmas tree, Gage? It’s only a week to go and you don’t have any decorations anywhere!”

  So? I didn’t see the point decorating. It wasn’t like I spent any time here. I slept, showered, and ate here. That was it. It wasn’t really a home. Just somewhere to store my crap and avoid the rest of the world. Thanks to technology, avoiding was getting easier and easier.

  “Come on, Mum. I’m too old for that…”

  “Oh bullshit. You used to love Christmas, Gage.”

  “Yeah, when I was ten!”

  “Didn’t matter. You always helped with the pudding. And don’t you remember the fights you and your bothers used to have over who got to put the star on top of the tree? I do. More than once it ended with at least one of you in tears and another bleeding.”

  “Yeah. And every year, Holly was the one who put it up there.”

  “Easiest way to solve the fights. None of you would ever hurt Holly.”

  I wanted to argue with her, but I knew she was right. Holly was the centre of our universe growing up, and these days, not a thing had changed. She may be off at boarding school living a cosy, cushy life, but it didn’t mean any of us wouldn’t move heaven or hell if she needed us to. Hell, Connor had taken to stripping just to send her extra cash. Not that she knew where the money came from. Thank fuck.

  I was tired and cranky and not in the mood to be lectured about my complete lack of festive cheer. It was bad enough that Alice had Michael Buble blaring through the office and tinsel hanging from every nook and cranny…I didn’t need Mum starting on me as well.

  “Look, I was about to head out for a run…” I hoped she’d take the hint and leave. Even though I didn’t want her here, I didn’t really want to be the asshole that threw her out, either.

  “What are you doing for Christmas?”

  And there it was.

  The reason for her visit. She was hunting for an invite. Well, if she was, she was barking up the wrong tree.

  “I’m pretty sure I’m going home for lunch. Payton is cooking, I think. Beau said something about Payton wanting to do a big family Christmas with all the trimmings.”

  I was officially an idiot.

  It took way longer than it should’ve for me to realise what I’d just said. Big. Family. Christmas. Even though she’d walked out and left Dad to drown in his bourbon before trying to take our home for all it’s worth, she was still my mother. For better or worse, she always would be. Which made her family. My family. Fuck!

  “Oh.” Her botoxed brow crinkled. Well, as much as it could.
/>   I felt like an ass. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. One look was enough to have me tossing out some half-hearted invitation to join us. I hoped she’d turn me down. After all, it would be the right thing to do, but Mum didn’t seem to follow social norms. She did what she wanted with little or no regard for anyone. Part of that, I guess, was our fault. We’d always just fallen in line and gone along with whatever she wanted. I mean, there was a whole photo album somewhere of the four of us boys dressed in clothes made from curtains. Damn woman was obsessed with Sound of Music at one point. Personally, I hoped that particular album had found its untimely death in a fire. Ryan probably would have taken care of that.

  “That would be lovely.” She clapped. She fucking clapped and bounced on the spot like a two-year-old. Beau was going to kill me.

  “Mum, I don’t want to rush you out the door,” I began as I bent down and stuffed my feet into my dirty runners. “But I really need to get out and get my run done before it gets dark. Can I text you the details?”

  Please say no. Please say no. The chants went through my head. Unheard.

  “Oh, okay then. That’d be great. Just let me know what time and what to bring.”

  “Great.” Thankfully she missed the sarcastic tone.

  As she hoisted her handbag higher on her shoulder, the faint sound of “Mummy Kissing Santa Claus” came out from her bag. As she dug through her ginormous purse, I followed her out the door, pulling it shut behind me. She air kissed my cheek…I mean, god forbid she had actual physical contact with her own son. I tried to not let it bother me. Sometimes her snobbery just annoyed the absolute fuck out of me.

  “Hi, Pamela. Can you just hang on a second? I’m just leaving Gage’s now.”

  It was almost comical the way she spoke to her friends. Like the stick was so far up her ass she couldn’t barely sit down. It was all airs and graces. It kinda made me sad they didn’t know the real Ebony. The real lady wasn’t a lady at all. She could swear and cuss with the best of them. I’d seen her scull a beer faster than the shearers and burp louder too. The real Ebony wasn’t afraid to get down and dirty in the garden and teach her boys about worms and manure, which she’d go and shovel from the yards.