Du Rose Family Ties

by Bowes, K T

  Hana gulped and chewed her lip. “You heard.”

  Logan snorted. “Yeah. Picture the employment tribunal, babe, when my new stable manager stands up and repeats what you said to him.”

  Hana coloured a rosy shade and stared at the floor. When she glanced up, Logan’s amusement mocked her. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I’ll apologise.”

  “No, don’t,” Logan said, his hand snaking around her waist and drawing her in. “Stay away from him like you said you would. It’s sometimes good for the staff to see you’re not a pushover on the mountain. You’re mostly the buffer between them and me and it’s not always a good place to be. This new guy’s got major issues, babe, but he’s still a good man, deep down.”

  “He hated on Sacha,” Hana began and Logan raised his hand to stop her launching back into ugly territory.

  “Yeah, I believe you. But yelling at the top of your voice, ‘Touch the white horse again and I’ll shoot you in the balls,’ is probably not an appropriate form of discipline.” Logan’s grey eyes twinkled. “And anyway, I’ve seen you shoot.”

  Chapter 7

  The Proposal

  “This is nice.” Hana sipped a glass of merlot and looked around the restaurant. “I’m glad it’s not too busy.” She raised a hand to acknowledge Logan’s cousin through the serving hatch as he smiled and waved.

  “Yeah, this place is a gold mine.” Logan sipped his glass of cola and nodded to Alex. “There’s nothing similar nearby so it gets trade from passing tourists.”

  “Those don’t look like either,” Hana whispered, jerking her head towards a large group enjoying the French cuisine. Business suits and expensively tailored shirts set them apart from locals and tourists.

  “Oh, yeah. I recommended this restaurant to them. They’re a group of surgeons staying at the hotel and using the conference facilities. They fancied something different tonight.” Logan swilled the liquid in his glass, his brow furrowed as he processed an internal wrangle.

  “Mark seems settled at our place,” Hana said with a smile. “I forgot how messy he is though. He’s driving Wiri mad.”

  “Wiri?” Logan’s confusion raised a smile to Hana’s lips. He showed no clue that his obsessive tidiness and compulsive behaviour was reflected in his nephew.

  Hana nodded. “Yeah, Mark’s leaving things out and Wiri’s putting them away. I’m watching a mini version of you walking around the house tutting.”

  “I don’t tut!” Logan looked offended and Hana snorted.

  “Yes, you do; you think we don’t notice.”

  Logan shrugged and pursed his lips. Hana watched him plan his next sentence and dodged the subject, cutting back to the reason for their meeting. “So what’s wrong?” she asked, fixing her eyes on her gorgeous husband. “You’re looking very serious.” She tried to smile but gave up, nerves making her face muscles twitch.

  Logan’s grey eyes held a sheen of amusement as his gaze rested on Hana’s face and he shook his head. “You always expect the worst,” he said, his lips turning upwards. Hana grimaced, irritation snapping at her sensibility. Perceptive, Logan reached for her hand, clamping her writhing fingers in his and forcing them to be still. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he began.

  Hana interrupted. “Those words make me worry.”

  “Yeah, but don’t. No secrets; we promised, remember?”

  Hana nodded. “Just put me out of my misery.”

  Logan pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her tense fingers with seductive flare, making Hana squirm in her seat. “Someone’s offered me a job.”

  Her expression became stony and she froze in place. Fear danced across her eyes. “I don’t want to leave Mātakitaki!” Her use of the Māori name for the mountain softened her husband’s intense grey eyes and drew a firm squeeze of his hand on her fingers.

  “I love you so much,” he breathed, appreciation oozing from every pore. “You’re my perfect wahine, you know?”

  Hana’s features morphed from blank to miserable. “Then leave things as they are, Logan. I’m happy, the children are happy; please don’t make us move.”

  Logan dipped his head. “Fine, I’ll say no thanks.” Sadness leaked through his tone and Hana’s brow knitted. Guilt tugged at her heartstrings.

  “Tell me about it,” she ventured, unable to hide the dread in her voice.

  Logan shrugged. “It’s back at the school, teaching English. The principal rang me last week and I said I’d consider it.”

  “Angus rang you?” Hana screwed up her face and looked surprised.

  “No. Angus retired after Dobbs died.” Logan’s eyes took on a flint like quality and Hana knew not to probe for answers. Her husband smoothed his scarred thumb over the back of her hand and chose his words with care. “The new principal started two years ago and it sounds as if they made some decent changes. Malcolm Levine’s sick, so is retiring early. Someone recommended me to cover his classes.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Cancer.” Logan wrinkled his nose. “Unfair, hey?”

  “Yes. That’s terrible. How long would you be there?” Hana’s mind wandered to thoughts of the cramped staff accommodation and Logan’s endless work duties at the boarding house. The sigh escaped her without warning.

  “A term,” Logan said. “The Gatehouse is still empty and they’ve offered it to us until December. It’s still furnished after our last stay, so we only need a few suitcases and ourselves. It doesn’t matter now.” Logan smiled politely at the waitress who brought their dinner, terminating the conversation while she grated the pepper mill over his food. Hana gritted her teeth as the woman simpered far too long over him, feeling the sexual attraction coming off her in waves as she wiggled her young hips and made grinding pepper into a pole dancing routine.

  “Let me pull the blind for you,” the woman said, leaning over Logan to twitch the curtains. He leaned back as her breasts thrust into his face.

  Defensiveness rose in Hana, fuelled by an overwhelming sense of inadequacy which told her she was an average looking woman married to a demi-god. She stood and slammed her napkin on the table. “I’ll get out of your way if you want,” she stated, squeezing out of her seat in the corner. Logan’s expression channelled pained awkwardness as Hana stalked towards the bathrooms. She heard his quiet rebuke to the waitress as the door closed behind her, but rejection drove her into a cubicle to sit on the toilet lid and release her tears.

  Five minutes later the outer door clicked and Hana heard soft footsteps in the bathroom. Their early sitting meant the restaurant was quieter than usual and she’d cried undisturbed in her three square metres of peace. Dread snaked a hand around her heart as she saw Logan’s black cowboy boots in the gap under the door. He knocked with his knuckles, the sound jarring in the silence. “Hana, come out,” he said.

  “No!” She resented the sullenness in her voice, hating the petulance she heard. It smacked of a pure Phoenix meltdown at bedtime when separation from Wiri became inevitable.

  “Fine!” Logan did his mysterious thing with the lock and the door sprang open, revealing a dishevelled Hana sitting on the toilet seat. Her auburn hair hung from its clip like a curtain and her makeup had defected to her chin.

  “Go away!” Hana insisted. “I can’t come out because I look a mess. Leave me; I’ll climb through the window.”

  Logan snorted and squatted next to her. He rested his forearm on her thigh for balance. “I told her off,” he said. “She was out of line.”

  Hana shook her head. “The wiggling and flirting reminded me of Sylvia. She pulled out all the stops to get to you and if Jack hadn’t killed her, she’d have succeeded.” She sniffed and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her cardigan.

  “No, she wouldn’t,” Logan said, his voice controlled. “It takes two and I wasn’t interested in Sylvia any more than I’m attracted to the waitress.”

  “Tell her that, then!” Hana raised her voice and Logan dried her tears on the neatly creased handkerchi
ef from his breast pocket.

  “I did, but you walked away just as I opened my mouth. She apologised.”

  Hana grunted and blew her nose into the handkerchief. Logan’s eyes smiled up at her, making her feel even more of a fool. “Stop looking at me,” she bit and then hiccoughed, ruining the illusion of anger.

  “I can’t.” He reached up and touched her cheek, smoothing away damp tears. “You’re beautiful and you’re mine,” he soothed. “I want no one else, only you.”

  “I bet everyone out there thinks I’m an idiot now,” Hana sniffed, regretting her dramatic exit.

  “Nobody knows,” Logan replied. “I told her to stop being inappropriate and she scuttled away after apologising. I’ll phone Alex tomorrow.”

  “Does she know you own the restaurant? Is that why she did it?” Hana asked, mopping her eyes.

  “Part own and no, I don’t think she knows.”

  “That means she’ll do it to any good looking customer,” Hana sighed. “Ugly wives won’t dine here anymore.”

  Logan snorted with laughter. “You’re not ugly, Hana! But yes, it’s a fair point and I’ll sort it out.” He smoothed tears from underneath her eyes again, his expression attentive. “Come out and eat. It’s going cold.”

  “No thanks.” Hana shook her head. “I’m not hungry anymore. I want to go home to Mātakitaki and my children.”

  “Okay.” Logan stood and held out his hand. “You sneak out the front and I’ll pay.”

  Hana stood and pulled her dress straight, self-consciousness robbing her last vestiges of dignity. “Sorry,” she said, her voice subdued.

  “It’s fine.” Logan cradled her face in his palms and kissed her salty lips. “Jealous wahine are the hottest.” His eyes glinted with mischief and he covered Hana’s lips with his to still the next question. “No, I didn’t pay her to do it either.”

  Logan fished the ute keys from his inside pocket and Hana took them with a last wipe of her nose on the handkerchief. He kissed her nose and strode from the bathroom, ducking to avoid banging his head on the lintel. Hana ventured to the mirror and examined her ruined attempt at finesse, the eyeshadow long gone and a streak of red lipstick smeared across her cheek. “You’re a worry, Hana Du Rose,” she sighed, dabbing at it with Logan’s handkerchief. “The whole township will know about this by tomorrow.” She pondered on imaginary headlines and sighed, hating the small-town-goldfish-bowl mentality of the community surrounding the foot of Logan’s mountain. Hana leaned over the hand basin and stared at her reflection. “Maybe a break from here would be good,” she mused. “Just a little one.”

  Chapter 8

  Mātakitaki, Du Rose Mountain

  “The hospital rang; they’re releasing Caleb tomorrow.” Hana pursed her lips and stared at Logan with expectation in her green eyes.

  “So?” He flexed his biceps and loaded the bale of hay into the back of the ute without puffing.

  “I’m just saying,” Hana said, the pout making her face sour. Busy working her spoilt brat act, she missed Logan’s smirk as he hefted another bale and dumped it on top of the first. “Where are you taking that?” She pointed a finger at the sweet grass mixture from last year’s bumper harvest, the distinctive scent reminding her of the final throes of her pregnancy with Mac.

  “Twenty third paddock,” he said, raising the tailgate and slamming it shut. “The Friesian cross herd need bales. Spring’s around the corner but we’re still topping them up.”

  “Hey, Logan!” Toby’s booming voice cut across the yard, echoing inside the hay barn. Logan turned and pushed his hat back, greeting his head stockman with an upward tilt of his head. “Can you take extra bales and drop three off in the Nineteenth? I’ve moved the mares into there for now. There’s a storm brewing and I don’t want them near the bush line.”

  Logan’s face remained impassive but his remark sounded biting. “Your timing sucks, man.”

  Toby smirked. “Oh, sorry, boss.” He eyed the flat bed of the ute and winked at Hana. “Cheers bro’ that saves me a trip. See yas later.” He waved over his shoulder and Hana watched his neat butt filling his jeans as he stalked away. When he glanced back she averted her gaze, fixing it on her husband’s annoyed expression instead.

  “What’s wrong?” Hana asked, watching his temper flare and calm in the blink of an eye. “Don’t you want to feed the mares?”

  “Not really,” Logan sighed, punctuating his sentence with a swear word. “I wanted to finish for the day and he knows that. Asshole.”

  “So tell him.” Hana watched Toby climb onto the quad bike and drive away. “You own the place; he works for you.”

  “Whatever gave you that impression?” Logan’s smile betrayed his teasing. Hana dropped her indignant glare from Toby’s arrogant back as he wound his way up the mountain track and disappeared into the native bush.

  “What’s the joke?” she asked. Her finger stroked the dusting of dark hair peeking over the top of Logan’s tee shirt.

  “Do you really wanna know?” he asked, his voice soft. Hana nodded, hating being left out. “Come in here for a minute.” Logan jerked his head towards the hay barn and set off at a brisk walk. Confused, Hana followed.

  “Couldn’t you tell me out there?” she asked, irritated as Logan led her to the back of the barn. “I asked Leslie to watch the children while I nipped out to talk to you.” Logan disappeared behind a wall of bales piled so high they touched the rafters. “I can’t be hours, Logan!”

  Hana squealed as her husband’s strong hand reached out and dragged her into the tight space between the bales and the wall. He pressed his lips over hers. “I couldn’t tell you this outside,” he whispered, teasing Hana’s shirt from her jeans. His fingers contacted the thermal shirt beneath and he stopped and peered at the cream fabric. “Does this go all the way down, wahine?”

  “Might do!” Hana pushed at Logan’s chest and slapped his hand away. “It’s freezing on this damn mountain.”

  Hana’s reticence fuelled Logan’s curiosity and he unfastened her jeans and tugged them down, wrinkling his nose at the creamy coloured long johns. “They’re not sexy, are they?” he commented, fingering the ribbing.

  The look of offence pulled Hana’s pretty lips back in a sneer. “They’re not supposed to be! They’re practical.”

  “How do they come off?” Logan pushed his hat back on his head and tucked his fingers into the waistband. His eyes sparkled and danced as he worked it out. “Ah, I get it. For a horrible moment I thought they were a one-piece.”

  “Why do you never take me seriously?” Hana pouted and grappled with her jeans, cursing as they slithered to her knees, exposing her long johns to further scrutiny.

  “Babe, I take you dead seriously.” Logan pressed his body against hers and reached his hands into the thermal underwear, disappointed to discover knickers beneath. He sighed, fumbling with layers of material until his palms rested over Hana’s soft buttocks. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

  “In my thermals?” Hana sounded doubtful and Logan silenced her with a kiss.

  “In them. Out of them; I’m not bothered.” He smirked. “I don’t mind a challenge.”

  Hana held her breath and tensed at the sound of skittering in the bales and her green eyes widened. “There’s creatures in here!” she hissed.

  Logan smiled. “Yep, and I own them too.” His expression creased in determination as he lifted Hana under the thighs and pressed her spine against the prickly hay.

  Their muted cries of pleasure went undisturbed as Logan made love to his wife in the hay barn. Hana found grass seed in her underwear as she hopped into her clothing, wincing at the discomfort. “Someone might have walked in,” she complained, pulling her shirt over her head.

  Logan shrugged. “I think we made enough noise for them to work it out, Hana. Nobody’s that desperate for a bale of hay.”

  She pouted and yanked her thermals back into place. “This isn’t why I came here.”<
br />
  Logan grinned. “It’s a bonus then.”

  Hana turned to leave and he snagged her wrist in his strong fingers, keeping a firm grip on her while he pulled his zipper up one handed. “I need to go back to the children,” she grumbled and Logan shook his head and kissed her neck, burying his face in her hair.

  “Not yet,” he whispered. “Come up to the paddocks with me. I want to spend time with you.”

  “Do you?” Hana searched Logan’s face, thwarted by his butterfly kisses on her lips and cheeks. She giggled as his fingers probed the thermals again, alarmed as she sensed him working up to another round of seduction. Hana pushed at Logan’s chest. “Lend me your phone and I’ll call Leslie and ask if it’s okay.” She watched him bite his lip as she eased it from the front pocket of his jeans and turned her back on him. Big mistake. He lifted her clothing and fumbled with the catch on her bra. “Stop!” Hana held up a warning finger. “Behave or I’m not coming with you.”

  Logan sighed and wrapped his arms around Hana’s waist as she called his stepmother, hearing the pleasure in Leslie’s voice at the thought of an extra few hours with the children. Hana disconnected and turned in the tiny space, finding Logan’s chest near her chin. “I’m all yours,” she said with a grin, squeaking as her husband undressed her for a second time.

  The mountain put on its best show as Logan bumped the elderly farm vehicle over the rutted terrain. Exhaust fumes left a white trail in the chill air and it grew colder the higher they climbed. The rugged tracks contained pot holes and washouts which appeared without warning and the ute creaked and groaned around the hazards. Hana pointed to a hole next to the track and Logan stopped and peered at it from the driver’s seat. “What’s the correct name for those?” she asked, stroking his face as he leaned across.