by Kris Pearson
“Were you bullied, Oliver?” She’d watched his beautiful lips compress and his eyes narrow to fierce slits.
“Hell, yeah. All-boys school. A short-ass with a good brain was a sure target.”
Without thinking, she laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I was a short-ass too. Still am, I guess. At least my heels help. You have to act fierce, even if you don’t feel it.”
He fell silent, and Mei wondered what he was thinking. “Sounds like you should have some wine as well?” she suggested.
Ollie laid his big hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Might just do that. Better be the red, and leave the white for tomorrow in case it’s fish.” He scooped the bag containing the bottles off the counter and pulled out the red before taking the white to the big refrigerator. “Where did you put the glasses?”
She gazed along the line of cupboards. “Maybe there?” She watched his powerful arms as he reached up and pulled doors open. He’d got plenty of sunshine somewhere because his tan was impressive for so early in the summer. “You surf at Lyall Bay?” she asked.
He turned and grinned over his shoulder. “Anywhere I can get to when the surf’s good. Lyall Bay, Houghton Bay, and Propellers in the city.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Propellers? Never heard of that.”
“The Memorial Park that has the propeller from the Wahine – the big inter-island ferry that sank at the end of the sixties.”
“Huh. Haven’t been to that park, but lots of people were killed so it’s nice they made one. Bill Hughes once told me he helped to rescue drowning people from the ship when he was a young constable.”
Ollie set two glasses on the counter, nodding slowly. “I never knew that, but there were more than fifty deaths, including the wife of the old guy who made all the model planes hanging in the entranceway here. A cousin of Dad’s.” He reached for the bottle of wine. “Yep, Propellers is good, but the best surfing’s on the other coast – Riversdale Beach and Lake Ferry and Dolphin Bay. You ever been to any of those?”
“Riversdale, a long time ago,” she said, gazing across to the windows and remembering an unexpected camping weekend with her brothers and some friends. “The sand was so hot it hurt to walk barefoot on it. Sunny with not a single cloud. We had to hitch up extra awnings and put on a lot of sun-block.” She looked back at Ollie. “Some of the boys surfed, for sure. We barbecued fish on the beach…”
“Scarlet Bay’s okay, but it can get too crowded,” he said, unscrewing the wine’s cap. “Kapiti Island’s great. You have to get there by private boat though.”
“Cam would take you in his,” Mei said. “When he’s not so busy. He and Jason go fishing together out that way.”
Ollie’s mouth kicked up at one corner as the wine glugged into the glasses. “And surfing, too. The girls are choosing good blokes.” He set down the bottle and carried the glasses of deep-red Shiraz across to where she’d gone to sit, and flicked a glance toward the windows as he reached her. “We should pull those blinds up now the sun’s gone around a bit. The windows have tinted glass to stop people seeing too much inside. I’ll go out and check how it looks in a minute.”
“Do it now before we get settled,” she said, rising and walking over to raise the nearest blind to half-mast. The view out to the beach was spectacular; long waves rolled in under dazzling sun, and plenty of people were enjoying the water. No-one turned to watch her.
Without commenting further, Ollie loped out through the front door and appeared seconds later on the paved parking area in front of the house. Mei sat again, and grabbed two handfuls of her hair, flapping them at him, and smiling despite herself.
“Did you wave at me?” he asked when he returned.
“Wave what? Might have flashed my boobs?” She tried to keep a straight face at Ollie’s astounded expression.
“Didn’t… see… them…” he managed. “Vague waving, maybe. No details at all.” He swallowed. “Really?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, of course not really.” But she couldn’t contain her smile for long.
He scraped a hand across his bristly chin. “Hmm – that might have been trusting the tinted glass rather too much.” He raised a dark eyebrow. “Didn’t take you for a joker, Meifeng Chan. You’ve got a wicked sense of humor hidden away, even after everything you’ve gone through.”
“Can’t keep a good woman down,” she murmured, sipping her wine and then glancing across at the furniture that still needed unpacking. So far only the chairs they sat on and the bed were done.
The bed. She tried not to think too much about that, but after being pressed up against Ollie’s big muscular body on the bike she knew it was going to be easier sharing the bed with him than she’d expected. She loved his scent. If it was body-wash or cologne, it wasn’t overpowering. On the bike he’d smelled like fresh air and salt, with maybe the faintest hint of something herbal mixed with the warm leathery aroma of his old bomber jacket. She inhaled another breath of him as he settled on the chair next to her. This was so not fair. Why had she been landed with a man she couldn’t have?
To her surprise and annoyance, Oliver Wynn, who apparently had everything he’d ever wanted, was far from the abrasive go-getter she’d imagined him to be. He’d opened up about being bullied, and was obviously still haunted by it many years later. He was proud of the daunting job he did, and the machines he spent his no doubt generous salary on, but he was willing to rearrange his weekend to accommodate her and protect her from further harm, even though it was eating into his hoped-for surfing time.
Mei vowed to try and be more pleasant to him. He’d enjoyed the joke about flashing her boobs. Perhaps she could come up with a few other funny comments to make things more relaxed between them. Two days. She could do that before she had to give him up.
She looked out the window to the sandy stretch of Scarlet Bay beach, picturing him in board shorts, gleaming wet, shining in sunlight, balanced, flexing, sliding down the face of a wave as though he ruled the sea. Those massive shoulders. That deep chest. Maybe a double line of deeply grooved and tautly bulging abs leading down toward the shorts. Yes, she’d enjoy seeing that for real, but first there was all the furniture… She took another sip of wine, and he did the same. “Good choice,” she said after rolling it around her mouth.
“One of Dad’s favorites. He goes into long descriptions about hints of blackcurrants and so on, but I’m just going to agree it tastes good.”
“Don’t forget the lingering strawberries,” she added, smirking sideways at him.
He gave a soft laugh. “Like I said, you’re funny. Never expected that.”
Mei pulled the corners of her mouth down. “Sometimes a bit of silliness helps you get through bad times. I’m not making light of the situation with Kieran, but you must admit there’s something hilarious about stealing away at midday instead of midnight.”
He turned fully toward her and locked gazes as he grinned at her comment. “Pleased I could help you steal. Are you sure you got everything?”
Wouldn’t mind stealing your heart.
The thought made her catch her breath. It would never be possible. She had to keep focused on furniture. “We need to do some more chairs,” she blurted.
He raised his glass again and sipped, looking far too relaxed. “In a minute. It’s good catching up after so long. I barely caught a glimpse of you for years.”
Mei wriggled in her seat, impatient to be away from him, and plagued by disconcerting tremors right where the seam of her jeans pressed between her thighs. Totally not fair he could turn her on by sitting next to her and acting so casual. “Did you have many holidays here later on? I didn’t see you either.” She crossed her legs in case it would ease the pressure and reduce those too-pleasant tremors. “Saw the girls for a while,” she added, when no relief was in sight. “Then I did a tourism course, and after that I joined the airline. With all you know about planes you’ll see why I was never around much. Not at holiday time, anyway.”<
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He nodded slowly, gaze holding hers. “But you still came home?”
“To see my parents – yes. And when my nephews were born. And to music nights. Jason used to juggle the dates to fit in with my shifts when he could. It was easier once I was living here for that, but harder getting to work.” She set her half empty glass down on the coffee table. “How often did you come back?”
Ollie was still looking straight at her. “I came back a lot, later on. Hoping to see you. Once you were old enough that your father couldn’t object.”
She hitched a shoulder. “He would always object. And I wasn’t here that much.”
Ollie sat back in his chair, but his gaze didn’t waver. “Why would he object? Was it to me in particular?”
Mei squirmed and tried to change the subject. “Like I told Anna this morning, they hope for Chinese grandchildren.”
“Ridiculous,” he said softly. “They’re not living in the real world.”
“It’s the way things are for them. And so, also for me.”
“What – you want Chinese children?” The softness had left his voice.
“No, Oliver. I want not to disappoint my parents.”
“So you’re willing to disappoint yourself instead?”
She thought back to what Anna had said that morning about upsetting herself and Ollie instead of her parents. She was outnumbered. Ollie thought the same as Anna. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she considered the situation. “The best way is for me to stay single. My mother is a long way from well. The doctors say she’s living on borrowed time, but she’s very determined, and I think the brain sometimes governs the body more than any doctor can know.”
She watched as Ollie inclined his head. “So for now,” she added, “I choose no man at all for them to know about. Kieran was a huge mistake, and now that’s done with, it’s best they think I have no boyfriend.”
“Do they know? About him hurting you, or about you leaving him?”
She shook her head and glared at him. “They’ll never know about him hurting me. Promise me they’ll never hear it from you.”
He gave a bitter laugh. “I’ve no excuse to talk to them.”
“Good. Leave it like that then. I’ll phone them on Monday from my new flat once I’m safely away. I can’t tell them yet or they’ll expect me to go there and visit. Best this way and they won’t see my bruised face.”
Best for who, she wondered? Best for her parents perhaps, but not best for her, and maybe not best for Ollie, either.
Why did he have to burst into her life right at this moment? Sure, the private flight back to the city with all her bags would be wonderful. And if he had his fancy car somewhere close to where he parked his plane, maybe he’d even drop her straight to the flat which would save her having to find a taxi. Mei knew she was using him, but he’d volunteered readily enough and sounded ready to beat Kieran up in return for what he’d done to her. Which, she had to admit, secretly felt good. It was nice to be treated as though she was worth more than being everyone else’s servant – her parents, and Kieran, and the thousands of airline passengers she smiled at and served every month. However much she loved the job she was undeniably at their beck and call.
She tipped the last of her wine up, swallowed, and set the glass down. “Dining chairs. I’ll make a start.” She nodded toward his glass. “You finish that. Don’t hurry.”
She took out her resentment by chopping through twine and tape with his box cutter, slicing and tearing until she had eight chairs ready to unwrap. Ollie’s dark eyes watched her constantly as he sipped the remainder of his wine, licking the corners of his mouth occasionally. Mei didn’t want to look at him, but that was impossible. She moved around each chair, flicking glances in his direction, hiding behind her hair, and trying to make it look as though she was ignoring him. At last she set the box cutter down on the counter. “There’s a lot of recycling.”
Ollie shrugged. “More by Monday.”
“So we toss it into the garage for now?”
“I guess.” He rose and walked across to her. Even such a simple action fried her brain. The strength and grace in his big body set her tingling all over. She could easily imagine him on his surfboard, twisting and turning, balanced and taut.
She fumbled some of the cut twine off the chairs and began rolling it into a tangled, knotty nest.
He stepped closer, and she bowed her head so she wouldn’t have to look at him.
“Let me take care of the rest.” His voice so close sent shivers up and down her spine.
And she stood like a helpless child, watching his biceps tighten into strong slabs and his broad shoulders flex and ripple as he bent over each chair in turn, tearing and unwinding, and roughly folding all the paper and plastic wrapping into a big stack.
“I’ll take it out,” she said, gathering up an armful, and promptly dropping half of it so it slid across the gleaming floor.
Ollie moved to help her, and then stopped. “You don’t have to do it. I’m the one who’s here to work.”
Mei squatted to pick up what she’d dropped. “You didn’t expect to be playing bodyguard. You should be out there surfing. The ocean looks good.”
They turned together toward the roaring waves, so close across the beach road. “Best day of summer so far,” Ollie agreed. “Be a shame to waste it all. Let’s get the packing off these and go out on the bike again. Down the far end of the bay, way out past Anna’s. Not to surf, just to enjoy the beach. Do you get much chance?”
She sent him a faint smile. “To be a normal person? Doesn’t feel like it, no.”
Should she object to being taken out in public again? They’d been safe enough going to Jossy and Cam’s. Had even stopped fifty yards from where Kieran was plainly home because his flashy car was visible beside the house. The crash helmet and Anna’s red jersey had proved disguise enough, and it was pretty deserted where Ollie was suggesting.
“Okay then,” she agreed. “But let’s get the dining suite set up on that rug and then things will feel a lot more civilized here.”
“For our frozen dinners,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried to stifle a grin.
Mei moved to the second rug and unrolled it. “I’m sorry I’ve messed up all your plans. You can still do anything else without me, you know.”
He looked astounded at that. “It’s good having company. Especially your company.”
She stayed silent, lifting a couple of chairs aside so she could flatten the rug out where she thought it looked best. “This is hard, Oliver. Hard for me. Yes, I enjoyed seeing you come into the shop when I was a teenager, but that was hopeless with my father always there, and the way I was brought up. I think it’s exactly as hopeless now. Kieran’s made me distrust men –”
“Including me?” It was asked fast, and with a sharp glance from his dark brown eyes.
“Less than some,” she conceded, finally looking at him. “In fact I have to trust you now. If we’re going to share that bed.”
In answer he laid his arms over his chest. “Cross my heart. Like we did in games when we were kids.”
“Yes. I’d trust you more than many people, Oliver, but I’m still caught in the middle of a weird situation.”
“Will you go to the police?”
Her head jerked up. “No! I’m just pleased to be out of it, and away from him.”
“And if he tries the same with his next girlfriend?”
Mei shook her head and bit her lip. “I didn’t get the feeling he’d done it before. I think it was only something between us that didn’t work any longer.”
“On your conscience then, if he does.”
Her eyes shot daggers at him. “He won’t. I’m sure he won’t. He’s not cruel – just drinks too much sometimes and gets frustrated with situations.” She pulled an unwrapped chair to the far end of the rug. “I guess we should do the table first?”
“End of subject, huh?”
She drew a dee
p breath. “Leave it for now please, Oliver.”
She watched as he clamped his lips together and thrust his chin up. Annoyed male, but it was her business, not his, and he needed to know that.
He turned away and gave his attention to the long rectangle she presumed was the top of the dining table. Taped to it was a bundle which had to be legs. He separated the two, and pushed the legs parcel across the rug to her. “Can you get that with the scissors?”
She reached across for them, avoiding looking at him as though her life depended on it. He was right of course – it would be totally on her conscience if she heard Kieran had hurt another woman. She took her frustration out on the bindings, hacking and pulling until she had four solid-looking timber legs and a plastic bag of metal pieces lying on the rug. “Are you going to be okay putting this together?” she demanded.
He raised both eyebrows and the corners of his mouth quirked. “I’m an engineer, honey. I think I can manage.”
And suddenly she was trying to stifle giggles. However much at ease she managed to be with the thousands of passengers she dealt with every year, feeling relaxed with Oliver Wynn was a totally different deal. She adored her job, but part of its enjoyment was that the continuous flow of fleeting acquaintanceships never had to get serious. She could put on her charming façade when it was needed, and then drop it at will. It was easy to act as expected with her public face on. But in private with Ollie? He made her lose her normal cool, turned her inside out, and now he had her laughing. It felt good… great… fantastic… disconcerting. It was as though she hadn’t laughed properly in weeks as things went ever more out of control with Kieran. Now a huge weight had lifted but she simply had to drag it back down to earth again. Somehow.
“Can you help me deal with this?” Ollie asked with an answering grin. His big hands held the end of a long sheet of wrapping which had been protecting the table top. “There’s miles of it.”
“Eight seater, to judge by the chairs,” she said, grabbing the packaging where he indicated and pulling it slowly in her direction, rolling it tightly as she went, and concentrating on keeping it straight. Oliver held on to his end, and Mei soon found she’d rolled herself right against his chest. She gazed up at him, stifling a laugh and trying not to look at his enormous hands and strong fingers with their dusting of dark hair. He could probably lift her one-handed, and why did that feel dangerously good? “You knew this would happen,” she protested.