Mend Your Heart (Bounty Bay Book 4)

by Tracey Alvarez

  So the impending late-morning brunch, with only his parents, Nat, and Olivia in attendance, was likely to be every bit as awkward as Isaac dreaded. His parents had greeted Natalie with hugs and kisses when she walked into their house. Ma briefly cupped Nat’s face in her hands, the mysterious empathy Ariana tuned into passing between them. Whether it was for this screwed up situation, or a silent acknowledgement that his mother understood why Nat had kept away from them for so long, Isaac didn’t know. But the moment passed, and Ariana returned to her role as family matriarch, ordering Isaac and his dad to “bring those platters of kai to the table before they get cold.”

  The five of them sat at the smaller kitchen dining table, passing around bacon, sausage links, fried eggs, grilled tomato, homemade hash browns, and thick slices of freshly baked rewena sourdough bread.

  “Not hungry, Olivia?” His mother eyed up Olivia’s plate as the girl once again rejected an offered platter. “You sure you don’t want a bit of bacon or sausage to go with that egg?”

  Olivia poked her fork into the white of the solitary fried egg sitting in the center of her plate like an evil eye. “I’m a vegetarian,” she muttered.

  Isaac bit into a slice of his bread slathered with a thick, comforting layer of butter. Chewing would stop him pointing out that Olivia hadn’t been a vegetarian a few days ago when he’d spotted her and her friends wolfing down beef burgers from the local burger joint. Nat’s mouth pinched shut, and she slanted her daughter a warning glance that Olivia pretended to not to see.

  “So don’t try to tell me its magical meat that just appears packaged like Mum did when I was a little kid. I’m not stupid. I know when I’m being lied to.” Olivia’s gaze slid sideways to him. “Most of the time.”

  Nat set down her fork. “We didn’t lie—”

  “You let me think you and Isaac were just friends, but you’re into each other.” Olivia stabbed her fork into the center of the egg yolk and it bled yellow tears. “And now everybody in the world knows you and Isaac are hooking up behind my dad’s back.”

  “Olivia.” A rising tide of pink spread up Nat’s neck.

  Olivia folded her arms. “What?” She sent her death stare skidding around the table. “Are you gonna send me to my room for time out like a kid? Oh, wait—you can’t. Because I can’t even go to my house because of all the reporters outside. Thanks, Mum.”

  Isaac stiffened, his fingers clenching his knife and fork so tightly that the carved bone handles dug into his palms. “If you don’t want to be treated as a kid, then you’ll speak to your mother with the respect she deserves.”

  Red spots of color blossomed on Olivia’s cheeks, and her eyes went shiny. “You’re not my dad and you don’t get to tell me what to do just because you’re…”

  A kaleidoscope of emotions flickered across Olivia’s face—hurt, embarrassment, confusion, grief.

  “Just because you’re screwing my mother,” she finished in high drama.

  Three sets of adult eyes and the weight of the world settled on Isaac’s shoulders. What he said in response to Olivia’s outburst could change everything.

  “No, I’m not your dad.” Isaac kept his voice even and dipped his head to meet Olivia’s tear-filled gaze. “But I am your coach and someone who has cared about your well-being since you were a baby. Part of caring for someone is speaking up when they’re out of line. You’re out of line, Olivia. You’re hurt and angry finding out about me and your mum this way, and I get that. But as your coach, it’s my job to train you to keep a cool head when you’re on the field, and to have your teammates’ backs when they fumble and drop the ball. Maybe your mum and I dropped the ball. Maybe we should’ve told you that things changed between us, but maybe at this stage it was nobody’s business but ours. How you choose to deal with this change in your life determines what sort of woman you grow into.”

  Olivia blinked at him and tears spilled down her cheeks. For a moment he thought she would shove away from the table and storm off, but she turned her face to Nat.

  “I’m sorry, Mum,” she said.

  Isaac’s mother stood and walked around the table to stand behind Olivia, lightly resting her hands on the girl’s shoulders.

  “It’s been a pretty roke morning for you, hasn’t it? Know what makes me feel better when everything goes pear-shaped?” His ma ducked her face down to Olivia’s level. “Rewena bread toasted and loaded up with butter and strawberry jam. How about you go and curl up on the sofa and get cosy with Netflix while I make you some?”

  “Okay,” Olivia said.

  While his mum got the girl settled in the other room, Isaac, his dad, and Nat exchanged glances.

  “Cat’s out of the bag, then.” His dad helped himself to more bacon. He offered the platter to Nat who shook her head.

  “Apparently.” Isaac took the offered platter and dumped another couple of forkfuls of bacon on his plate. Need to keep his strength up, as his mother would’ve said. “But the media won’t get any more fuel for the fire from us.”

  “They don’t need to,” Nat said. “They’re quite willing to make up whatever will sell copies. My phone number’s unlisted but Vee texted to say that two TV crews have already barged into Bountiful looking for me, and all the major women’s magazines have left voice mail and emails for me via Bountiful’s website.”

  His dad’s face crumpled into well-worn groves. “Ah, well, love. The vultures’ll soon find some other carcass to pick clean. Meantime, you’ll stay here with us until the fuss dies down.”

  “That’s very kind, but—” Nat began.

  “But you shouldn’t have to hide when you’ve done nothing wrong.”

  Isaac’s mum returned to the kitchen, wearing her maternal going-to-kick-ass-and-take-names battle expression.

  “Bunch of bloody gossipmongers,” she added, heading into the kitchen. “Never mind that there’s war raging overseas, or people dying because they can’t afford fancy cancer drugs. No, they’d rather stick their noses into people’s personal lives and flap their lips about that.”

  She picked up a wicked-looking bread knife and hacked off two thick slices of bread.

  “Watch you don’t lose a finger there, ay?” his dad said.

  “I’m just steamed.” His mum dropped the slices into the toaster, hit the button, and glared at the appliance as if her stare was enough to burn the bread to a crisp. “I’d been secretly hoping for years that you two would stop butting heads and see how good you could be together.”

  Ah, what? Isaac risked a glance at Nat who looked as shell-shocked as he felt. He glanced up to his mum’s knowing stare switching between them.

  “That’s right,” she said. “You both heard me. You’re both broken halves of the same heart, and the only way to mend a heart is with aroha—love.”

  Well, that came out of nowhere. His throat suddenly in lockdown, and the mouthful of bacon he chewed tasting like flour paste, Isaac caught Nat’s gaze. Nat’s panicked, wide-eyed WTF gaze.

  “I’d better check on Olivia.” Nat’s chair scraped along the floor in her hurry to stand up.

  Avoiding eye contact with any of them, she slipped from the room.

  His dad chuckled once the kitchen door creaked shut behind her. “Boy, you’ve got a wily one nibbling at your hook. Remains to be seen if you’ve got what it takes to hook her and reel her in.”

  “Natalie isn’t a fish, you silly old man,” his mother said. “But of course Isaac’s got what it takes to seal the deal with her—he’s your son, isn’t he? And you landed me, the most beautiful wahine in Bounty Bay.”

  “That’s right.” His dad’s face creased into a goofy smile. “I’m a helluva fisherman.”

  Thirty-six years of marriage, and Isaac’s parents were still like nauseatingly in love newlyweds. He forced himself to swallow the now cold ball of masticated bacon and followed it with a deep sip of his mother’s wicked strong brew of coffee. God knew he needed the clarity only a shot of high-octane caffeine could provid
e.

  Somehow in these next few days while they could hide from the world, he had to make a decision on the best way to protect Natalie and Olivia. And he was scared shitless that the only way to do that now would be to walk away from them.

  Chapter 16

  By Wednesday morning, the major news crews had long given up waiting at the Ngata farm gate, and only a few hardy reporters still cruised Bounty Bay hoping to spot them, according to Sam, Vee, and Owen, who’d become Nat’s eyes on the outside. Olivia had stayed home from school on Monday and Tuesday, with rugby training and practice canceled—leaving Isaac and Olivia as grouchy as two bears with sore heads.

  Vee had instructed her not to come into work, but to enjoy her mini vacation with Isaac and the Ngatas. As if three nights spent in Isaac’s old bedroom, tossing and turning in the single bed without Isaac—who’d bunked all three nights on a fold-out couch in the living room since Sam’s bedroom had been turned into Ariana’s hobby central—could be considered a vacation. Olivia had slept in Tui’s old room and was still in the single syllable response stage whenever Nat or Isaac tried to talk to her. Olivia and Ariana, however, had found common ground in their love of gossipy Netflix dramas and had chatted happily about them during the past two days. Which left Nat and Isaac sharing many long, lingering glances but with little privacy to do anything about them.

  Until this morning.

  With Livvy off to school and no real reason to hide out any longer, Nat could’ve asked Ariana or Pete to drop her off at Bountiful or at home. But Isaac sidled up behind her while she rinsed breakfast bowls. He leaned in, hands resting on her hips, and brushed his lips down the side of her throat. She shivered, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his freshly showered male smell, along with the faint undertone of…horse?

  “Wanna play hooky from real life today?” he murmured in her ear. “It’s about time I took you on a date.”

  “Does this date involve horses?” While the nine-year-old girl inside her clapped her hands at the idea of a pony ride, the woman with an R-rated imagination sat up and begged at the thought of seeing Isaac astride a horse.

  He chuckled and gave her hips a squeeze. “It does. You up for it?”

  Save a horse, ride a cowboy. Down girl, she ordered and made herself calmly finish rinsing her plate. “I’m up for anything.”

  Up to and including sex on the beach. Since getting sand in her girl bits was still preferable to the alternative of rationally discussing their future with Isaac. Adulting, in other words. Adulting, when she’d much rather give in to her hormones and make out with Isaac instead of confronting the issues of media attention, Olivia’s reaction, and whether this thing between them had gone past its use-by date.

  “Good. I’ll saddle up a couple of horses and meet you out front,” he said, and with another swift kiss, left her alone in the kitchen.

  Thirty minutes later, Nat swung herself into the saddle and patted the white neck of Storm, a fifteen-year-old mare, who according to Isaac belonged to Tui during her short-lived horsey phase. Beside her, with a backpack on his back, Isaac was mounted on Richie, who pawed a hoof on the lush grass of the back paddock and looked as impatient as a horse could to get going. Isaac hardly seemed to expend any energy controlling the animal. He continued to speak in a low, soothing tone until Richie settled and bent his head to crop grass. Isaac’s top half looked every inch the cowgirl’s fantasy in a tight black T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The cargo shorts and running shoes on his lower half caused her pulse to skip a beat. Beneath the inked design on his calf, muscles flexed as he readjusted his feet in the stirrups.

  He shot her a sidelong glance as Storm walked past him and bent her head to delicately nibble on a grassy tuft near Richie.

  “You do know how to ride, right?” he asked.

  Nat gave him her best oh puh-lease stare. “Olivia went through a horsey phase herself when she was ten. I put my foot down on buying her one, but we took riding lessons for a couple of months together.”

  “A regular cowgirl, then.”

  The grin that lit up Isaac’s face, boyish and sweetly vulnerable, caused Nat’s stomach to take a tumble to her feet lodged firmly in the stirrups. Her hands must’ve tugged on the reins as Storm snorted and lifted her head. The power of that grin, from a man used to keeping his stoic mask in place around people, knocked her knees out from under her. Luckily, she was sitting. Call her egotistical, but she felt deep into the very marrow of her bones that she was the one who’d caused him to start smiling again. And that was both wonderful and as scary as hell.

  With a confidence she suddenly didn’t feel, she clicked her tongue at Storm and said, “Cowgirl enough to beat the pants off you in a race.”

  “Those are fighting words, tahu.” Isaac laughed and guided Richie through the gate and to the path ahead that led into the bush-covered hills.

  They rode in easy silence, Isaac and Richie ahead guiding Storm along narrow tracks encroached on either side by native ferns, spindly manuka trees, and towering over them, stands of kauri, rimu, and totara. Fantails cheeped and darted among the branches, teasing with flashes of their white-feathered tails. As they drew closer to the coast, the track opened up to scrub and wide blue skies. Nat sucked in a deep breath of briny sea breeze and nudged Storm into a trot to catch up with Richie.

  “Is this all still your dad’s land?” she asked.

  Sunlight glittered off the Tasman Sea in front of them and the long stretch of pale sand stretching into the distance.

  “Yeah. All the way to the beach,” he said, “And even though the beach is private property, Dad doesn’t mind local iwi collecting kai moana or fishing. It’s not accessible by vehicles except four-wheeled bikes, unlike other fishing spots around the coastline, so it’s pretty pristine.”

  “It looks amazing.”

  The horses picked their way down another track leading onto the beach, nickering to each other as if in excitement as their hooves hit the sand.

  “Ready?” Isaac said.

  Richie fought for his head, angling toward the small waves curling up over the sand. Storm arched her neck forward, straining to follow him.

  “Go—” Nat hugged her knees against Storm’s side and leaned forward, the horse responding as if she’d been eagerly anticipating the cue to race.

  Isaac whooped and the two horses galloped along the deserted beach, hooves kicking up plumes of sand. It wasn’t a fair race, since Richie was younger and bigger than Storm, but Nat’s mare still put her heart into it. They spent the next hour exploring the coastline and letting the horses wander in and out of the shallow waves as they pleased. By the time Isaac dismounted from Richie and looped his reins around a low overhanging pohutukawa tree branch, everyone was wet, sandy, and tired.

  While the horses rested, happy with the patch of grass they’d found in the shade, Isaac unzipped his backpack and spread out a blanket. He then added a small wooden chopping board, a plastic container of a variety of soft cheeses, along with a packet of crackers, and another container of juicy black grapes.

  “I’m impressed.” Nat sat next to him on the blanket.

  “You should be.” Isaac pulled a wine-bottle shaped protective sleeve from his backpack and reached in again for two plastic wineglasses. “I remembered to grab the chardonnay instead of the champagne—which we both would’ve been wearing after our bumpy ride here.”

  She laughed and accepted a wineglass while he uncorked the bottle and poured them both some.

  He lifted his glass. “A toast?”

  What should she toast to that didn’t involve popping the happy bubble they’d been surrounded by up until Sunday morning, to uncover the stark reality beneath? Drinking to health and happiness seemed trite, and she wasn’t going anywhere near a toast to love and second chances.

  She forced her lips into a relaxed, I’m not overthinking this smile. “How about to fun first dates?”

  He lightly tapped his glass to hers. “Cheers. And to many mor
e.”

  A lifetime of first dates with Isaac. Nat sipped her wine and pretended she didn’t want that life as much as her heart told her it did.

  Two weeks after her and Isaac’s affair had been swept aside in the media eye and replaced with a Hollywood B-list actress’s drunken antics in a Queenstown bar while filming on location, Nat welcomed the peace and tranquility of a laboriously slow bus ride to Whangarei.

  If by the definition of peace and tranquility you meant being surrounded by wired-with-excitement teenage girls, some chatting without pausing for breath, others with earbuds plugged into their phones. But she was happy to be with them. Their pride and unbridled enthusiasm at making it to their first semifinal game, which took place tomorrow morning at St. Kilpatrick’s High School, was infectious. And kind of exhausting at the same time since she had to constantly fight the urge to turn around in her seat to watch Isaac sitting in the bus’s back row.

  Of course he was—Isaac was a back row kind of guy. While she, the good girl, sat up front near the driver. Nat closed her eyes and relaxed against the headrest. They were in a good place right now, with even Olivia rolling her eyes but smiling at her teammates’ acceptance of Nat and Isaac being an item. Though that wasn’t the term the teens used, Rangi-Marie’s statement to Nat and Isaac before they boarded the bus in Bounty Bay seemed to echo the other girls’ feelings.

  “We don’t care that Nat’s your girlfriend, coach,” Rangi-Marie had said with a grin. “So long as we win tomorrow.”

  The girls had whooped and hollered, pouring onto the bus ahead of them. Rangi-Marie had leaned in, her face angled close to Nat’s ear.

  “But I’m glad it’s you, Auntie,” she whispered. “He’s got his mana back, and he’s not so grumpy now, ay?” Then she climbed onto the bus to join her friends.