The Rock Star's Email Order Bride

Part 6

SIX

All out of f***s and forks to give, Xan collapsed on her bed. Burying her face in her pillow, she tried to shut out the world, but she didn't have time for that yet. She had to call home.

Easing her phone out of her bag, she checked that the wi-fi was active and started a video call to her parents.

Her dad answered the call, peering blearily at the screen. Was it just Xan's imagination, or was his nose red? Surely he couldn't be drunk at – she checked her watch – ten in the morning. He rarely drank anything.

"Xanthe, is that you? You look so tanned."

"Hi, Dad. Yeah, it's hard not to get tanned out here. The backpackers I manage is pretty open to the elements and it's only a short walk to Cable Beach, when I get time. They call it the wet season here, but we get fewer rainy days than you probably see."

After chatting for a few minutes about life in Broome and some of the strange things Dad's English students had said lately, Xan felt it was safe to ask, "Where's Mum?"

"Trying to single-handedly cure the plague, or that's what she says. I caught the dreaded lurgy from someone at work so your mother's at the supermarket buying ingredients for soup." He sneezed, then finished with a hacking cough. "Impressive, eh?"

Only her father could dramatise dying of man-flu. "Very. You make me really glad I'm on the other side of the world and it's summer here." She tried again. "Just that Mum emailed me, saying she needed to talk to me. It sounded ominous. You wouldn't know what she meant, would you?"

Her father shrugged. "No idea. Maybe she just wants to give you the recipe for her plague-curing soup. It can't be that bad if I haven't heard anything, can it?"

Xan finally relaxed. "No, that's true. Maybe she wants me to send more Vegemite for your birthday."

Her father failed to hide his horror. "Oh God, please no. Don't send any more of that stuff. Do Aussies really eat that? How are any of them still alive?"

Xan laughed. "It's the best hangover cure ever, or so I've been told. I've never had so much to drink that I wanted to try it. Watching tourists try it for breakfast at the backpackers never gets old, though. Their expressions...no words are necessary."

"So you like working there, then? Thinking of extending your stay?"

"Maybe." Xan thought about leaving it at that, but she'd always told her father everything. "I saw a better job advertised at a luxury resort near here. Well, a couple hundred kilometres from here, actually, on an island. They're looking for someone to manage all the activities at the hotel. That includes diving and snorkelling – they've got some awesome coral reefs there that I'd kill to dive, but you can only get to them through the hotel because of the shape of the island. They cater to VIPs, so you have to factor in anything that's within reach of a helicopter, light plane or luxury yacht...and they have access to all three. The pay's good and it includes accommodation and board on the island, so I wouldn't have to share a house in town and pay rent, either."

"Sounds perfect for you. That's what you want, right? All that time at university studying tourism management. I know we talked about history tours of the Greek islands, but with the economy the way it is...maybe you're better working in paradise in Australia. Perhaps one day I can persuade your mother to come for a visit."

Xan breathed a sigh of relief. She'd been thinking it, but to hear it from her father broke through all her remaining resistance. "I'll put in my application tonight."

A few minutes later, she ended the call and switched on her laptop. Yes, she wanted to do more diving before she settled down to a dull, married existence.