Just for Fun

by Rosalind James

  They made their way down the long hallway of the gigantic Les Mills gym toward the locker room, Finn matching his long pace to Nic’s gait. Nic glanced into the big window of a group fitness room, then came to an abrupt halt, swinging around on the crutches to take a closer look.

  Finn peered curiously into the room, where a miked-up instructor was calling out instructions to a crowded roomful of men and women balancing barbells on their shoulders as they dropped into a series of squats. “Looking for a bit more?” he asked quizzically. “I knew you backs weren’t up to any real work, but I didn’t think you’d descended to Body Pump.”

  He gave Nic a light punch on the shoulder when he didn’t respond. “Oi. Nico. What’s up?”

  “It’s Emma,” Nic said slowly. “There.” He pointed at a trim figure in shorts and a tight, sleeveless top. “In the pink, see? In front.”

  “Ah. Emma,” Finn said after a moment’s perusal. “Can’t see much from here. But if the front of her looks as good as the back, she must be as pretty as Jenna says. Your son’s mum, eh.”

  That got Nic’s attention in a hurry. “What? She told Jenna? I didn’t think she’d told anyone.”

  “Nah, mate. She didn’t say anything. But if you’re going to have your kid and his mum coming to games and sitting with those girls, and he’s going to look as much like you as Jenna says he does, they’re going to pick up on that. I’d guess they all have a pretty fair idea.”

  “Zack doesn’t know yet,” Nic said with concern. “So I hope none of them says anything to him.”

  “No worries,” Finn reassured him. “They wouldn’t do that. Jenna told me, that’s all. And I’m not much of a gossip. But I had no idea you had a kid, until she did say. That surprised me.”

  “Surprised me too,” Nic admitted. “I found out by accident, a couple months ago. And that’s what it was. An accident.”

  “I’ve heard that can happen,” Finn answered, a smile lightening his craggy face. “One of these days, I mean to find out what it’s like to have one some other way.”

  “All of yours were?” Nic asked, startled. “You have one coming now, don’t you?”

  “Any moment.” Finn pulled his mobile from his shorts pocket and checked it for what Nic realized was the umpteenth time that day. “Late already. We’re just waiting for her, trying to be patient. But yeh, all accidents. Happy accidents. Because I wouldn’t trade any of them, I’ll tell you that.”

  “Still getting used to it, myself,” Nic admitted. “It’s so much . . . responsibility. I want to do it right, and I don’t always know how.”

  “It is,” Finn agreed. “But there’s nothing better. Footy’s the best way in the world to earn a living, and it’s a hell of a lot of fun, but it’s not a life. My family, being a dad—that’s my life. I cried like a baby when both my kids were born. And I’ll cry this time, too.”

  “You?” Nic asked in shock.

  Finn laughed. “Yeh. Me. Biggest baby in the room. I don’t care how much of a hard man you are. When you see your kid come out, become a person, that’s a miracle. And if you’re lucky enough to love his mum, that’s even better,” he said, serious now. “Better for your kids, too.”

  “We aren’t there,” Nic said. “Not now, anyway.”

  Finn nodded. “Fair enough. You’ve been through some upheaval lately, I know that.”

  Nic turned away at last, and they started down the hallway again. “But one thing I’ll say,” Finn offered as he held the door for Nic to swing inside the locker room. “Do everything you can to stay in that boy’s life. Because he needs you. And whether you know it or not, you need him too.”

  Nic took the final hop down the steps to Emma’s front door the following Monday evening, one hand on the rail, the other awkwardly holding both crutches and the bag with the wine. Emma had invited him for dinner again, to his relief. The house had begun to seem much too big and lonely since his injury. The breakup with Claudia had meant the loss of most of their mutual friends as well. Which only made sense, since they’d mostly been her friends in the first place. What hurt more was his exclusion from the squad, his real home. And there were only so many hours a man with one working leg could spend in the gym.

  Zack opened the door at his knock, and Nic immediately felt better at the boy’s warm greeting.

  “Does your foot really hurt?” Zack asked once Nic was situated on the couch.

  “Nah,” Nic assured him. “Healing up pretty well now. I’ll be off the crutches in another week, and into a brace. And back playing again in a few more weeks, touch wood.” He knocked lightly on the coffee table.

  Emma came out of the kitchen, cheeks a bit flushed from the heat of the stove, carrying two glasses of the Australian Shiraz he’d brought. Well, there were some compensations for injury. Wine, and being here with her. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she promised. “Spaghetti. Another exciting culinary adventure, here at Chez Martens.”

  “Suits me,” he said. “Nothing wrong with a bit of mince. And by the way,” he remembered. “Meant to tell you. I heard that Jenna had that baby, on Saturday.”

  “At last,” Emma said with relief, sinking into the armchair and picking up her glass. “And?”

  “And what?” he asked in confusion. “She had it, and everyone’s fine. Just thought you’d like to know.”

  “How big was she?” Emma pressed. “The baby?”

  “How big?”

  “How much did she weigh? How long was she?”

  “I don’t know. How would I know that?”

  “Didn’t you ask? Or didn’t somebody say?”

  “Nah,” he said in confusion. “Was I meant to ask?”

  “Well, it would have been nice. Never mind. I’ll find out. What’s her name? I don’t think they’d decided. Or I didn’t hear before, at any rate. All I knew is that it was a girl.”

  “Can’t remember. Some flower.”

  “Some flower?” she asked incredulously. “What the heck do you remember?”

  “I told you. I heard she had the baby, and I thought you’d like to know. So I remembered to tell you. Don’t I get any points for that?”

  “Not many. Try harder. Rose? Poppy? Uh . . . Daisy? Violet? Lily?”

  “Lily,” he said with relief. “That was it. Lily.”

  “Thank you. I’ll ring Jenna tomorrow,” Emma planned. “And see if I can take Sophie and Harry off her hands, the next time Finn’s out of town. I can deliver her baby present then as well. And see that baby, and find out how much she weighed.”

  She brought the subject up again later, once Zack was in bed. Nic was pitching in on the drying as usual, crutches and all, while she did the washing-up. He seemed taller than ever, balanced on one foot beside her. His T-shirt was stretched tight over his chest, and her eyes kept drifting despite herself to his big, clever hands working the tea towel over the dishes, his solid forearms with their ridges of muscle, that bit of bicep revealed by his short sleeves. She could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. He’d always been warmer than she had, she remembered. Sometimes, in the tropical Fijian climate, he’d felt a bit too hot. But now, in a New Zealand winter . . . that heat would feel so good against her skin.

  “The All Blacks will be in Australia this week, right?” she asked, trying to give her thoughts another direction.

  “You’ve got the schedule memorized, I see. Yeh, they’ll be gone from Wednesday morning, back Sunday.”

  “I’ll see if I can take Jenna’s kids Saturday, then. How are you feeling about not being with the team? Is it pretty bad?”

  “Yeh. I’m gutted,” he said bluntly. “Injuries are part of the game, and this one wasn’t too bad. Being knocked out of the Cup, now, that would’ve been a real blow. But you always hate being left behind.”

  “On the other hand,” he went on, “it gives me a chance to spend some time with Zack. I was thinking about a few days at my bach, just outside of Leigh. School holidays now, right? And you said you were taking a h
oliday yourself next week.”

  “Right,” she agreed cautiously.

  “I was planning on going up next Sunday, soon as I’m shed of these bloody crutches, and coming back again on Thursday. I thought the two of you might like to come along, unless you’ve made other plans for your holiday.”

  “I haven’t.” She didn’t want to tell him that she hadn’t been able to afford to go away, even to visit her parents. Instead, she’d been planning a couple of museum visits, a trip to an indoor pool, playdates with Graham and Zack’s other friends. A seaside bach might be the Kiwi holiday ideal, but it was as far out of her reach as another trip to Fiji. “The whole week, though?”

  “Why not?” he asked reasonably. “Give Zack and me a chance to spend more than a couple hours together. And as long as you’re there to make sure he knows where the toilet is, and that I don’t damage him psychologically, where’s the harm?”

  “Don’t joke about it,” she warned.

  “I’m not,” he said, sobered. “Seriously. It’d be better if you were there too.”

  “OK.” She felt her breath coming a little faster, her heart beating a little harder, at the thought of spending nearly a week with him. Tried hard to focus. “It’s a long time to take him by himself, though. If it rains, he could get pretty restless. And it’s likely to do that, this time of year.”

  “I was thinking about a friend for him. Maybe invite Graham as well?”

  “You want two six-year-old boys on your holiday?”

  “I want Zack. And whatever makes that work.”

  “I’ll check, then. But, Nic,” she hesitated.

  “Yeh? What is it?”

  “Are there enough bedrooms?” she asked, unable to come out with the real question.

  “Ah.” He smiled ruefully. “Yeh. There’s the original bach, what we call the Little House. I thought the boys could sleep there. It’s just one room and a bath, but kids like it. A bit like camping out, in a good way. And another two bedrooms in the main house. One for you, and one for me.”

  “I just don’t want you to be . . . expecting anything.” Because she suspected he’d been having some of the same thoughts and feelings that had kept her awake and restless for weeks now. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do about them. Well, she knew what she wanted to do. She just wasn’t sure what she ought to do.

  He was looking annoyed now. “I’m not that bastard Ryan. I’m not expecting a bloody thing. A girl can even go out with me and say no afterwards without needing self-defense training. I’m asking you and Zack—and Graham—to come spend a few days with me, so I can get to know my son better. Are you asking if I’d like to sleep with you? If I want to start up again with you? Yeh, I do. I’ve wanted you from the first moment I met you, and nothing’s changed. If we’re talking about what I want, I want to kiss you, and touch you, and make love to you all night. I’d be doing it right now, ankle and all, if you said the word. But I’m not pushing it, am I? Because you haven’t said the word.”

  She felt the color rising all the way from her chest to her face. And a flash of heat below as well, arrowing straight to the center of her. Because she felt exactly the same way. “I don’t know if I can, though,” she said slowly, to herself as much as to him. “I can’t do it for . . . for fun. Not like before. Because you broke my heart, Nic. You hurt me so much. If we got involved again . . . you could hurt me even more, now. And Zack too, this time. It feels too scary. Too risky. Not to mention,” she went on soberly, “that you’re on the rebound. I don’t want to be your consolation prize.”

  He shifted on the crutches to face her, completely serious now. “I know what I did. And I’m sorry for it. But I’m not that man anymore. If you give me your heart again, it’ll be safe with me.” He reached out to brush her cheek with the back of his hand.

  She looked up at him, saw only sincerity in the dark brown eyes. “I’m not sure. It’d be a big step for me. Not casual.”

  He smiled a bit at that. “Not casual, no. And not about any rebound. It’d be about you and me. It’s your choice to make. If you want to make it, I’m ready and willing. And if not . . . I’ll be disappointed. But I’ll still be here for Zack, whatever you decide.”

  Chapter 23

  “Are we almost there?” Zack demanded.

  “Pretty close!” Emma said cheerfully. “Good thing Leigh’s not very far,” she said quietly to Nic. “Just imagine if your bach was in Taupo.”

  He shuddered theatrically and grinned back at her. “Yeh. By the time we get there, it’s going to have been a pretty long hour, eh.”

  “What are we going to do today?” Graham asked now.

  “Well, let’s see,” Nic considered. “How about weeding the garden? I haven’t been up there for a bit. It could probably do with some attention.” He laughed at the groans from the back seat. “Nah. Just joking. And it’s too cold for snorkeling, in July. But what would you boys think about going out around Goat Island on the glass-bottomed boat, seeing the fish at the marine reserve?”

  “It’s a boat made of glass?” Zack asked in puzzlement. “Doesn’t it get broken? Wouldn’t we get wet?”

  “Or cut!” Graham chimed in. “My mum says to be careful, because glass can cut you. And then you can get bloody!”

  “The boat isn’t made of glass,” Nic tried to explain. “It’s the bottom . . . Oh, never mind. I’ll show you when we get there, how’s that?”

  “When is it going to be?” Zack asked again.

  “Soon,” Nic said in exasperation. “If your mum wasn’t up here with her eye on the speedo, I’d be putting my foot down about now, no worries.”

  “But this is really nice!” Emma exclaimed, when Nic had pulled up to the house with a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving. “I was expecting something a lot more rustic, but it’s beautiful!”

  “Yeh, not too bad,” Nic agreed, hopping out and beginning to haul suitcases and bags of groceries from the back of the ute. “Give us a hand, boys.”

  “Look at the view,” Emma said with pleasure once Nic had the front door open. Wide ranch sliders on the back and side of the modern beach house opened onto a wraparound deck, and offered a sweeping vista of the garden and the sea beyond.

  “Yeh. Not big, and not too flash, but not bad either,” Nic acknowledged.

  “Would you stop with the Kiwi understatement?” she demanded with a laugh. “It’s great!”

  “Where do we sleep?” demanded Zack, unimpressed with views.

  “Ah,” Nic smiled. “Let me show you. You boys get the best spot of all.” He took them through a breezeway that led from the kitchen, and opened another door to a cottage set next to the larger, more modern building.

  “Cool,” Zack and Graham breathed together, at the sight of the single big room with its twin beds, large round woven rug, and wood stove in the corner. “Look, Graham!” Zack said happily, pulling open the door and stepping onto the patio made of weathered brick. “We have our own place out here! We can play with our soldiers!”

  “Got your bath, and even your own fridge and table,” Nic showed them once the boys were back inside. “A cooker too, which you’re not to use. A bit like a campervan, eh.”

  “This is the original building?” Emma asked him.

  “Yeh. This was my great-uncle’s bach,” Nic explained. “When he died, I bought it, built the new house. But I kept this one too, partly out of memories, all the family holidays we spent in it. And partly because for some reason, the kids always want to sleep in here.”

  “You had family holidays in here?” she asked doubtfully.

  He laughed. “Yeh. There was a big bed, and bunks for Dan and me. It was cozy, all right. But you can run straight down to the sea from here. I’ll show you the track, once we get all this gear unloaded.”

  “How did you manage the clean sheets and towels?” Emma asked, inspecting the bathroom.

  “That would be Mrs. Jones. She lives down the road a bit, does the cleaning and that for me. Keeps me fro
m chipping my nail varnish when I’m up here. Because you know how much I hate that.”

  The glass-bottomed boat had been a success. Nobody had got wet. Or cut. But they’d seen enough fish to keep both boys excited and well occupied, then had walked the shoreline and the rocky outcrops to find more, had let Zack and Graham explore before coming back for showers and a quick dinner of steak and salad. Now the boys were in bed, and Nic was sitting on the couch with Emma, watching her curled up opposite him, the pale blue of her snug little T-shirt setting off the light flush of her cheeks from the heat of the wood fire and the wine they’d had with dinner.

  “I shouldn’t have had this second glass,” she sighed. “I’m getting too sleepy. Can you drink the rest?”

  “Reckon I could,” he said with a smile. “As I’m on holiday.”

  She stood up and stretched languidly, her back arching, arms reaching overhead. He paused, arrested in the act of drinking, watching that little shirt ride up, exposing a couple centimeters of belly. Bloody hell. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him?

  “I’m going to bed,” she said, running both hands through her curls, her breasts lifting with the action and sending another surge of heat through him. “Being at the beach always does this to me. Makes me so sleepy. And I don’t know what you have planned for us tomorrow.”

  He set his glass down, stood up as well. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

  “What?” she asked in obvious confusion, her eyes widening.

  “Being so . . . so sexy? I didn’t think I was such rubbish at reading women, but I don’t have a clue if you’re trying to send me a message or not. So I’m just going to come straight out and ask.”