by Kris Pearson
“Mmm, better tidy it.” He pushed a long strand back behind her ear. “You planning on having any more piercings? There’s still a little bit of room right here,” he added, giving it a gentle pinch.
Mei twitched away from him. “My business,” she snapped. “Stop touching me. I hate it. How do you think we’ll be able to share that bed if you want to touch me all the time?”
He slung an arm around her shoulder in a quick apologetic hug. “Sorry. You’re right, given what you’ve been through, but you’re such fun to tease.” He released her immediately and pulled open the makeshift door to what would apparently be the wedding venue.
She hissed out an angry breath and stood there staring at him open-mouthed for a few moments. Then she stalked through the gap, only to pull up short as the explosion of a nail gun echoed around the enclosed space. A very dusty Cam had his back to them, khaki work-shorts slung low on his hips and bright yellow ear protectors clamped on his head.
“He’s lost weight,” she said, watching as he repositioned the nail gun, and covering her ears for the next explosion.
Ollie focused on the dusty apparition. Cam was indeed in a very lithe and lean condition. His tall frame was strung about with slabs of hard, defined muscle. If there’d ever been much fat, it had melted clean away. His big shoulders and long back rippled as he raised the gun to shoot another nail into some framing he was attaching to the far wall. “Maybe Jossy’s working him too hard?” he suggested to Mei when she uncovered her ears again.
Cam turned aside to lay the gun down and noticed them. He tugged the ear protectors down so they sat around his neck and flashed them a broad grin. “Whadda ya reckon?”
“Reckon you’re working too hard,” Mei called back. “How much weight have you lost?”
Cam looked down at his flat belly and hitched his shorts up. “Yeah, well, a bit. Eating like a horse though. Jossy sees to that. Never better. Never was a fat bastard. Did I look okay in that penguin suit at Jason’s wedding?”
“You know you looked fine,” Mei said. “Better than in those old jeans you wear on music nights.”
“Haven’t lost any weight since then. And I’d already worked months at the same rate – on the house, and setting things up for the farm, and rebuilding some of the old propagating areas. I’ll survive. Nearly there.”
Ollie watched as Mei trotted across the floor, boot heels tapping on the concrete. She prodded Cam’s chest, and Ollie clenched his jaw as he watched her willingly touch another man. But she wouldn’t touch him – or let him touch her. She was doing everything she could to keep clear of him.
Cam’s relaxed manner evaporated in an instant, and he peered closely at her face. “Geez, Mei. Anna told us. What a fucking bastard he turned out to be. Must say you’ve covered it up well. She said you had bruises all down one side.”
Mei gave a small shrug. “I’m used to putting on a public face, Cameron. In my job you have to be ‘up’ and happy the whole time when passengers are around. I can cover fatigue and bruises no trouble at all.”
“Bloody shame you had to.”
She flinched. “That’s all done and finished now. Over.” She tapped Cam’s chest again. “Back to you. Not much in reserve if you get the flu,” she suggested.
“Better not get the flu, then,” he said. “Not planning on it. Joss’d never forgive me. Anyhoo…..” He stood even taller and surveyed his rather untidy domain. “This will be the commercial kitchen once it’s fitted out – and it’s not far off.” He beckoned them to follow. “Bride’s room – God knows why we need one because I thought they turned up already dressed… storage for tables and chairs so Joss and Ma can set things out the way they want for the sizes of the different weddings. Storage for plates and glasses and all that sort of stuff…” He pointed to a waist-high open-topped elevator. “Can’t have the girls hauling heavy furniture up and down. Through here – the best-looking home for the best-looking car you ever saw.” He pulled a big sheet of plastic aside to give them a peek at the glass-walled box displaying the fantastic old Mercedes convertible they were planning to use as part of their business. “And up here,” he said, leading them toward a flight of stairs, “is the main reception area. You can see the car from the sloping entranceway up to this level. Easy access for disabled guests and so on. That was the staff entrance you came through.”
The space was super-impressive, with wide windows showcasing the surrounding countryside, and a high vaulted ceiling with beautiful timber beams. The wall at one end had been entirely faced with weathered rocks of various textures, giving it a grand and traditional vibe. Ollie noted the solid wall also concealed the house and courtyard from prying eyes so Cam and Jossy retained their privacy.
“We’ve got some final fitting out to do yet, but everything’s ordered and under way,” Cam said, looking up. “You like my beams? Repurposed from an old bridge out Waiweka way. And all the rocks are from the farm. Jossy and Jason nearly lost it when I suggested using them, but I’d been meaning to clear them away from some of the paddocks, and one thing led to another…” He smiled, almost shyly, looking down at the floor. “I’m still amazed I got her. It would have killed me if she’d turned me down.”
“Geez, you dopey bugger,” Ollie said.
“Smitten,” Cam agreed. “We hoped to have this all finished by Christmas, but the way things are going it’ll be at least a couple of weeks later. We’ll be the first wedding, so keep mid-January free.”
Mei raised both hands in exasperation. “This is very casual and very inaccurate, Cameron. What about people like me who have strict work schedules? The flight to Buenos Aires takes me away for seven days.”
He reached over and tweaked her hair. “We’ll work around you, Shortie. There’ll be a lot of folks still on holiday then. We hoped we could get away with giving people an approximate date so they had fair warning, and then confirming it as soon as it was definite.”
Ollie raised an eyebrow. “I’ll bet that’s giving Auntie Ruth and Uncle Mike an ongoing heart attack.”
“Yeah, probably. I’m letting Jossy handle them.”
Both men laughed. “But,” Cam added, “It’ll be good to have a practice run, so to speak. Better to have a few hitches with our own event than with someone else’s.”
“It’ll be perfect,” Mei said, a faint shimmer of happy tears in her eyes. “And don’t call me Shortie.”
Ollie smirked as he glanced around the big space one more time and nodded his approval to Cam. “So we shouldn’t hold you up any longer. Jossy went to deliver her cake, by the way.”
“Which was amazing,” Mei confirmed.
Cam nodded, pride evident in his smile. “Yep, each one’s better than the last. I can’t wait to get her commercial kitchen finished so she can get up to speed. Then we can polish off the one in the house.”
“Maybe squeeze a honeymoon in between them?” Mei suggested.
“If you’ve any energy left,” Ollie added, ducking sideways to avoid Cam’s long-armed retaliation. “We’ll leave you to it. Next stop Scarlet Bay Tavern for a bottle of wine. Okay with that, Mei?”
She huffed out an exaggerated breath. “You trying to get me drunk, Oliver? So things happen tonight? Not going to work.”
Chapter 6 – Cut Free
“She’s got you there, buddy,” Cam said, pressing his lips together as though hiding a smile. Then, more quietly, as Mei scooted up the stairs, “Is she really holding up okay? Refusing to press charges, I’m guessing?”
Ollie dragged in a deep breath. “Mei does what Mei wants. She’s hard as nails and soft as marshmallow by turns. I’ve known her forever and still have no idea what goes on in her pretty head.”
“But you’d like to?” Cam’s gaze was laser-sharp.
Ollie rubbed his chin. “I’d like all sorts of things, but right now my job is to keep her safely hidden and fly her back to town. And unpack and arrange a house-load of furniture in the meantime. Or half a house-load today. The rest a
rrives Monday.” He grimaced. “They didn’t send it all. One bed so far, which is less than ideal, especially after she’s been beaten up. I’m dead scared of rolling over and hurting her in the night.”
Cam shook his head. “Rolling over and touching something you shouldn’t, maybe. She’d stop you if you were hurting her.”
“She’d stop me if I was touching her, too!”
Their sudden laughter echoed between the walls enclosing the concrete steps.
“Ah, hell,” Ollie groaned. “Women.”
“Damned if you do and damned if you don’t,” Cam agreed, turning back to his work with a wave and a lingering grin.
*
Mei climbed onto the bike behind Ollie again, enjoying the vibration of the motor under her, and enjoying even more the press of her legs against his. He revved the motor as though to hurry her along, and she slipped her arms around him, linking her fingers to make her hold more secure.
Oliver Wynn. Who’d have thought? Had she been handed the ideal opportunity to get to know him better after all these years, or was fate simply playing cruel games?
When she’d been younger there was no way they could have been friends. She was constantly under her parents’ supervision, and obviously both her brothers had been charged with ensuring she stayed safe, too. During the long summer holidays – when other girls her age were free to go on picnics with friends, male and female – Mei had been pretty much confined behind the counter of the takeaway shop, or in the kitchen on food prep duties. A hopeful smile and a few words from Oliver had been the best she could hope for, and her father disapproved even of those small interactions..
She’d wanted to know more about Oliver back then. She knew he was from a family much richer than hers because she had better luck talking with his cousins, Anna and Josslyn and Rebecca. She’d gleaned a little information from them. Surely a boyfriend with money was desirable? Mei had heard her parents, Zhang Wei and Yu Yan, talking in hushed tones about the daughters of fortunate friends who had attracted boys with solid and successful backgrounds. Chinese boys, naturally, and that made all the difference, because who would want grandchildren who were of anything but pure blood?
Zhang Wei and Yu Yan lived simply and worked hard, with no displays of wealth or pretension. Indeed, Mei presumed there was no accumulated wealth, and it was not a daughter’s place to ask about that, anyway.
No such constraints for the Wynns, who chose scallops and crumbed fillets of prime quality terakihi instead of battered shark and chips from Scarlet Bay Takeaways. Who bought many bottles of wine and beer from the Scarlet Bay Tavern, as well as the vineyard boxes that had been reported by nosy neighbors. Who welcomed visitors from foreign countries – people with Greek and Italian and even African names.
Their old holiday cottage had been there forever, and Mei had watched from childhood as the assured couples arrived with their ever-changing, gleaming cars, their children, and then more children. She’d heard the music from parties, and wished she could be included in something so Kiwi. But even though she’d eventually escaped Scarlet Bay for Wellington and her tourism training – a hard-fought battle – she’d never truly felt at home on the noisy, boozy nights when groups of her friends insisted she accompany them. Maybe her family’s influence was simply too strong?
In the last couple of years she’d seen the land behind the Wynns’ cottage sold off and new houses built on it. Oldest daughter Anna had fallen head-over-heels for Jason the builder – surely an unlikely alliance, because Mei knew a lot about Jason – a local boy made good despite his alcoholic father and lack of mother. She’d introduced Kieran to Jason’s music group, and wished fervently she hadn’t. Mei was now a citizen of the world, but still, in Scarlet Bay, she felt the weight of her parents’ expectations and traditions. There was seriously no way out unless she hurt them.
Ollie revved the motor cycle again, and she drew a deep breath of his scent before pulling her visor down. He moved slowly beside the pretty flower beds and out between the impressive gateposts and past the Wildwood sign. Mei snuggled closer. He was as tall as Cam but broader, with enough muscle to make him just a perfect build in her opinion. This was the only way she’d be able to touch him, and not for long, either, but she’d make the most of him while she could.
That morning, she’d almost lost her courage when Ollie had leapt from his plane and strode, loose-limbed, across the tarmac to meet Anna. Once he’d taken his leather jacket off she’d wanted to tear the white tank away from his body as well. So she could read the tattoo. Or run her hands over his shoulders. Or lick his chest. All only dreams, but after not seeing him up close for so long, she found the old, deeply-seated desire had set its claws into her every bit as effortlessly as it always had. And this time, with him a dozen times more desirable than he’d ever been, those claws were sharper.
She pressed against him, leaning as the bike tilted into the curves of the road, and enjoying the salty air and the rush of being right out in the elements.
As they reached Scarlet Bay village, she saw Kieran’s yellow car parked next to the old house. She flinched, not wanting Ollie to know how badly she’d had her trust shaken, but it seemed he felt the tremor because he reached back and clamped a big hand around her knee for a second or two before pulling into a partly concealed area of the parking lot next to the tavern.
He eased his helmet off and passed it to her to hold. “Any preference for wine?”
Mei popped her visor up. “Well, as we’re having frozen dinners…?”
A rueful grin teased the corners of his mouth. “Yeah – totally classy. I’d love to take you out for a meal, but we’d probably better not risk it.”
“He’s home,” she said, flicking her gaze sideways. “Fifty yards away. Be quick, and I’ll hide behind this.” She pulled the visor down again.
Dinner out with Oliver Wynn? Easy to imagine and dream about but not likely to happen. She let it distract her for the few minutes before he returned.
“Can you hold these?” He passed her two bottles in a carry-bag, and once he was settled she wedged them against the front of her body before extending her arms around him again. Ollie chugged off slowly – the house was close now – and as he turned off the road, he pulled the garage remote fob from his pocket and signaled the door to open. He coasted inside and braked. Mei finally relaxed. Relaxed at the thought of being out of Kieran’s sight anyway. Being alone with Ollie again was a whole different challenge.
He reached for the bottles. “One for us and one to take to Jase and Anna’s tomorrow.”
“Yes, fine,” she said, distracted by the thought that if Kieran’s car was there he would have discovered by now that her belongings were missing and she along with them. She hadn’t left him a note, and had turned her cell phone off as soon as they’d departed. Surely she owed him nothing. Not even courtesy.
Now she pulled the phone from her pocket and hesitated, stomach clenching, as she checked for messages. Four texts, ranging from puzzled to furious.
12.15. Hey Babe, did you go back to town?
12.23. You’re kidding me? We’ll work it out.
1.34. Phone me NOW.
2.17. Fucking bitch. Hope it hurt.
Dismissed from his life in two hours flat. What else could she expect after the way he’d treated her? They’d been together, if somewhat tenuously, for almost eighteen months. Had seen Anna and Jason’s romance bloom into marriage, and played and sung at their wedding. Had watched the demolition of the old Wynn holiday cottage and the rise of this new one – not to mention the rise of Anna’s burgeoning belly and the transformation of Cam from an unsettled playboy to a besotted husband-to-be. No such luck for her and Kieran though. They were over and done with and would never be resurrected.
She drew a deep breath and caught Ollie’s dark brown eyes watching her. One of his brows lifted slightly. “Him?”
“And not happy.” She tilted the phone in his direction with the last message all too clea
r to see.
There was a momentary flash of pain on her behalf and then his expression turned to stone. “Bastard. Block him. Although maybe don’t delete those messages, just in case you need them for evidence.”
“Evidence?” she echoed, setting the phone on the counter and trying to peel Anna’s red sweatshirt off. “In case he turns nasty?”
“He’s already plenty nasty, but like I say – keep them in case. I’m a ‘dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s’ kind of guy. Never done me any harm. Hold on a mo.” He pulled his phone out and took a shot of her screen. “Double security. You want coffee? Juice?”
“Glass of wine?” she suggested. “I’d like something with a kick in it after finding that.”
His gaze drilled into hers. “You’re going to be okay, though?”
Mei finally removed her little shoulder bag, and then the tight-necked sweatshirt without tearing half her hair out by the roots. “I’ve lived through a lot worse. When you get passengers who’re super-nervous or had a drink too many before boarding, or the turbulence gets bad, then you sometimes need to have very thick skin to cope. And growing up with the kids at school yelling ‘Slitty-eyes, Slitty-eyes’ because you’re Chinese; that kind of hardens you up, too.”
“Shit,” he said, briefly cupping the back of her head in his hand. “Nasty.”
She leaned into his caress and then made herself pull away. “Thoughtless, for sure. Probably too young to know any better.” After a few seconds, she added with a grin, “Cam called me Shortie today.”
Ollie nodded. “So I noticed. But only affectionately. On the other hand, I was often called Shortie at school. Shortie Wynn. And with venom.”
Mei raised her gaze to meet his, remembering his lack of height in years gone by, and hearing all too clearly how much he’d hated it. “You sure grew once you got going, though. You’re about a foot taller than me now.”
“Shortie or Loser,” he said, ignoring her reply. “Loser because of Wynn, and they found that funny, but I didn’t.”