Tame Your Heart: A Small Town Romance (Bounty Bay Book 6)

by Tracey Alvarez

  Arguments suddenly forgotten, Kyle and his brothers exchanged worried glances.

  Eric lived in a small trailer behind the main house and had done since he’d left school at sixteen. Dave, tight-fisted with money, had saved enough over the years to build a small house on the smaller section of Griff’s land, separated from the main bulk by the five hundred acre strip owned by the Ngatas. He’d moved out of the family home four years ago. Matt was the only son remaining at the big house, though now that Griff had left him his tiny cottage up near the honey production sheds, Kyle suspected he’d be moving out soon.

  “Mum?” Dave rushed to her side and wrapped his arm around her thin shoulders, nudging Kyle aside. “Are you feeling okay?”

  There was a loaded pause, then their mother gave a sad, confused chuckle. “Silly me. I don’t know what I was thinking. Must’ve been in dreamland for a moment.” She shook Dave’s arm off and straightened her spine. “I want to go home. And you boys need to sit down together in the front room and figure things out like grown men. Like brothers.”

  Netta Griffin sailed out of the lawyer’s office with her head held high, with Kyle glimpsing a hint of the steel-spined woman she had once been.

  “You heard her.” Dave shot him a wry smile. “Better do what she wants before she makes us wear the get-along jersey.”

  The huge woolen sweater—one of Griff’s castoffs—that whichever two brothers were fighting would be forced to don together in an itchy nightmare until they’d made peace.

  “Right.” Kyle clapped his younger brother on the shoulder and followed him out of the lawyer’s.

  Half an hour later he and his three siblings sat in the homestead’s front room—the living room, really. Mum called it the front room because it sounded posher than it actually was. Kept for guests, it was like an old-fashioned formal parlor, with elaborately decorative crown moldings, fussy upholstered sofas, antiques that dated back to his grandmother’s taste, and carpet that was a hideous swirl of gold and red—colors that clashed with the striped wallpaper and floral upholstery. As boys, they’d been given dire warnings about expected behavior in this room.

  Now as adults, the four of them sat on the edges of the uncomfortable sofas, beers in hand, eyeing up the coasters on the coffee table between them, aware of the consequences if one should leave a ring on the polished oak.

  Kyle’s gut churned in turmoil, and the last thing he wanted was a beer, but he’d taken the bottle from Eric as a kind of peace offering. As the eldest, he guessed it was up to him to speak first.

  “We can only guess why Griff did what he did. I don’t agree with it—”

  “So sell us the shares.” Eric set his beer down on the coffee table—not on the coaster, but that was Eric all over—and glared belligerently at him. “Then go back to Auckland. Simple solution.”

  “It’s not that simple.” Dave leaned forward and moved the offending bottle onto the coaster. “Griff probably thought that out of all of us, Kyle has the most experience with running a successful business.”

  “A successful architectural business,” Matt pointed out. “He doesn’t know squat about farming free-range cattle or bees. No offense, man.”

  “None taken.” Kyle finally took a sip of his beer. “But I’m not going to just sell you the shares for a buck each and disappear back to the city.”

  Eric let out a harsh snort, devoid of any humor. “Why the hell not? That’s your signature move, isn’t it? Leaving your family behind to deal with crap that, like it or not, you’re part of.”

  Leaving us behind was the unspoken accusation.

  It felt as if Kyle’s chest were encased in invisible armor and an invisible squire had strapped him into it too tightly. Eric wasn’t entirely wrong, but none of the four of them was blameless for the raging gorge of past waters that swept beneath the family bridge.

  “Yeah, I’m part of it. Which is why I’m putting up with your moaning instead of planting my boot in your ass. I need a couple of days to think this through, and I need us to work together to make sure Mum is taken care of.”

  “You need,” muttered Eric. “Because it’s all about you.”

  Kyle ignored him and turned to Dave and Matt. “We’ll make a time to discuss both the honey and cattle sides of the business, see where you’re at.”

  His brothers nodded, although Dave’s eyes didn’t quite meet his. Kyle didn’t need to see the books to know the last couple of years had been tough for them.

  “Matt, we’ll lend you some muscle to clear out Griff’s place. I’m sure you’ll want to move in as soon as possible.”

  Kyle had crashed in his old room for the past couple of nights, and he guessed he’d have to get used to the uncomfortable single bed and sharing a bathroom with Eric and his mum for a bit longer.

  Matt shook his head. “I can’t go back in there. Not yet. I keep seeing him on the kitchen floor. If there’s such a thing as ghosts, man, Griff’ll be in that house. One pissed-off spook.”

  Dave, sharing the sofa with him, reached over and gripped his brother’s shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. “It’s all right, mate. The three of us, we’ll sort it, won’t we?”

  Dave delivered a warning glance to both Kyle and Eric.

  “’Course we will,” Eric said. “It’ll be like old times, with Kyle telling us what to do while we do all the dirty work.”

  “Oh, shut it, Eric,” Dave said, “before Matt and I hold you down and kick your butt for him.”

  White teeth flashed under the scruff of Eric’s beard. “Yeah? Well, it would take the two of you girls to hold me down. Wusses.”

  With a laugh, Matt launched himself around the coffee table and captured Eric in a headlock. “Who’s a wuss?”

  Eric slumped sideways, pulling Matt off balance. The two of them tussled, exchanging even more inventive insults. Dave propped his feet on the coffee table and gave a running commentary, as if he were reporting a wrestling match.

  Kyle rose and moved around the table, collecting beer bottles and transferring them to a side table out of harm’s way. Watching his brothers horsing around, thanks to Eric’s calculated move to bait Matt into forgetting his grief for a moment, he’d never felt more the outsider. He gripped the sides of his bottle, condensation chilling his palm—or was it a cold sweat?

  What a brilliant way for Griff to punish him from beyond the grave. Ghosts, indeed.

  Chapter 5

  The Ngata family tradition of Sunday lunch hadn’t changed much over the years. Whānau stuck together through thick and thin, and Ariana Ngata, the matriarch of the family, insisted a weekly lunch at their sprawling farmhouse was the glue that kept them close.

  Be there, or have a multifaceted, brilliant excuse ready. Contagious diseases, exiled from the country, or someone being on their deathbed were acceptable reasons why you were unable to attend.

  Tui couldn’t think of an inventive enough excuse since she was currently unpacking her limited belongings in the one-bedroom cottage near the main farmhouse.

  “Can I come in?”

  Tui looked up to see Vee Sullivan—soon to be Vee Ngata—leaning awkwardly in the bedroom doorway, her arms folded, resting on her baby belly. Her old friend winced, then not waiting for an answer, stepped into the room and eased herself down onto the double bed.

  “Sam Jr kicking your bladder again?” Tui grabbed a handful of clothes, still on the coat hangers from the last place she’d house-sat at, and shoved them into the tiny closet. “Or did you get sick of my brother fussing over you like a mother hen?”

  “The latter.” Vee leaned back on her palms, stretching out her legs and rolling her slightly swollen ankles. “So I told him to take Ruby out to feed an apple to the horses while I walked over here.”

  Ruby was Vee’s precocious three-year-old daughter from another relationship, but Sam and the Ngata family consider her theirs. “She’ll love that.”

  “Anything with four legs,” Vee agreed. “Let’s hope she takes to
Sam Jr just as much—though, touch wood”—she tapped the wooden headboard—“our baby will be born with only the usual two.”

  “He or she will. Ngatas are fast enough on their feet without having any extra advantageous appendages.”

  Vee snorted. “Ain’t that the truth. Speaking of fast, Isaac’s lot have arrived, and your mum said to tell you lunch is in ten minutes.”

  Isaac’s lot being his wife, Natalie—part owner of Bountiful, a boutique clothing store which she, Vee, and their friend Gracie Bennett had made into an incredible success story. Natalie’s teenage daughter, Olivia—also regarded by Ariana and Pete as theirs—and Isaac and Natalie’s two-month old baby boy, Pētera, named after his grandpa. Her sister-in-law was convinced that Pet, as everyone called him, would grow up to become an All Black rugby star like his dad. He’d certainly kicked the heck out of her bladder, or so Nat had complained.

  “Better leave now, then. You okay to walk back?”

  “Since the only option is you wheeling me back in a wheelbarrow, yeah. I’m okay.” Vee stuck her arms out in front of her and wiggled her fingers in Tui’s direction. “Help a mate up, would ya?”

  “Jeez, you’re not that damn preggers.” Tui grinned but obediently tugged Vee up, cupping her elbow when her friend once again winced at the weight settling on her feet.

  She wasn’t having an easy time of it, and Tui slanted a glance out the bedroom window to where her SUV was parked up, along with her beloved Ducati still on the trailer she towed to move it and her belongings from place to place.

  Wherever the wind blew her to.

  “We’ll take my car,” she said, and when independent-as-hell Vee opened her mouth to object, she rolled right over her. “I need to park my baby in Ma and Dad’s garage.”

  Vee shrugged a delicate shoulder. “All right. But I could totally walk back to the house. It’s only like five minutes and all downhill.”

  The cottage, built back when Pete had needed paid help with the family’s thriving cattle farm, was now primarily used by extended family when they came to stay. Situated on a rise overlooking the main farmhouse, it had two bedrooms, one bath, and an amazing view of Bounty Bay’s crystal blue water in the distance. Best of all, it had provided a little privacy from her parents in the past four weeks since she’d come back from her vacation.

  “Yeah, yeah. ’Course you could. Let’s go.”

  Tui followed Vee outside and helped her friend into the passenger seat of her SUV. The walk up must’ve really taken it out of her since she didn’t complain. She climbed into the vehicle and started it up.

  “Tu?” Vee dropped her hand on top of Tui’s where it rested on the parking brake. “I’m glad you’re staying in Bounty Bay for a bit.”

  Tui’s stomach did a slow roll. “Did Ma say something to you about Dad?”

  Vee, whose parents owned a nearby dairy farm, spent much of her childhood as Tui’s best friend. “You know she’d never ask for help. Where do you think you got your stubborn independence from?”

  “Pot calling the kettle.”

  Vee chuckled then twisted her mouth. “I think she’s just so relieved that Pete’s agreed to some R&R so he can fully recover.”

  From the car accident that’d nearly taken her parents’ lives earlier in the year. Tui inhaled, counted to three, then released her breath. Her tough-as-nails dad, although almost physically recovered, wasn’t mentally recovered from the limitations his injuries had caused. Always strong and vibrant and active, the inability to ride his horse through the rough bush terrain on the land as he’d always done had tipped Pete into a black depression. He remained convinced that his mana—his prestige and status—had taken a blow because of his inability to work the land.

  “He needs it. Six weeks away from what he can’t do and Ma bullying him into doing what he can do to regain his mobility—in between fishing with his old mates and having their wives spoil them—it’s just what the doctor ordered.”

  “Amen to that,” Vee said. “But I’m still happy you’re going to be hanging around. As are your big brothers.”

  Tui fixed a smile on her mouth and released the parking brake. She slid her hand out from under Vee’s and set it back on the steering wheel. “Only because I’m taking the pressure off them by babysitting the farm.”

  “They’ll help when they can.”

  And they would. But both Isaac and Sam already worked their butts off at Sam’s woodcarving business, Kauri Whare, more so now that they had a huge furniture contract to fulfil with an American boutique hotel chain. Gregory Wright, the hotel chain’s owner, was also building a Wright’s resort in Bounty Bay, scheduled to open in the middle of next year.

  They drove down the gravel road to the main house and parked beside Isaac’s badass black SUV, now with a baby’s safety seat positioned inside. Tui couldn’t prevent a smirk at seeing it. While her big brother handled a rugby ball like the seasoned professional he was, she’d never forget the way his hands had shaken holding his newborn son for the first time.

  “Hey.”

  Tui looked over to her parents’ front porch where Isaac paced up and down the length with Pet tucked into his shoulder. Her nephew’s grizzles drifted across to the line of parked cars.

  “Hey, yourself.” Tui continued around to the passenger seat and helped Vee out.

  Isaac loped down the porch steps, a new-dad look of desperation in his eyes and spit-up on his opposite shoulder to where Pet’s face was screwed up ready to howl.

  “Look, it’s Aunty Tui and Aunty Vee,” he said, giving his son a little jiggle.

  Which her favorite—and only, so far—nephew didn’t approve of.

  Tui held out her hands for the baby. “Haere mai, sweet cheeks.” She settled the pink-cheeked boy facedown along the crook of her arm and rubbed his back. Pet let out a majestic burp and quietened. Continuing to rock him, she raised an eyebrow at her oldest brother. “See Vee inside, will you? Pet and I need a little aunty-nephew time. And go change your shirt. You stink.”

  Isaac draped his arm around his sister-in-law and grinned at Tui. “Just wait till you have your own tribe of kids. You’ll be swimming in disgusting fluids.”

  “Shut up. You’re making Vee look queasy.” Before Isaac or Vee could weigh in on the likelihood of her ever having a kid, let alone a tribe of them, Tui turned and strolled toward the corner of the house and her mother’s herb garden.

  Her nephew a boneless, warm weight in her arms, Tui continued to rub his little back and murmur softly to him. “Look at the bees. They’re called pī in Māori. It rhymes with bee; did you know that? Bees make honey. I wonder if you’ll like honey on Ma’s homemade bread when you’re a big boy.”

  She angled her head until she could see Pet’s face, and a small smile graced her lips at the baby’s Cupid’s-bow mouth, slack with sleep. The baby whisperer strikes again.

  Looking out to the horses’ paddocks, she spotted Sam with Ruby perched on his shoulders as they stood at the fence line. Two of their horses—Richie, Isaac’s dark brown gelding, and Storm, Tui’s white mare from her pony-craze days—waited in polite expectation of an apple. Her heart gave a little double tap at the sight of her brother and the little girl. Happy families. Both Sam and Isaac had found The One. Both solid and steadfast, good men who’d won the lottery by having two incredible women fall in love with them.

  She glanced down at her sleeping nephew. Waited to feel her heart give another double tap of maternal longing. Um, nope. Nothing. She crinkled her nose, stroked a palm over Pet’s wispy black hair, and headed around to the back deck where she could hear the normal everyone talking at once buzz of conversation.

  “There she is,” her mother announced to everyone and no one, since nobody looked up from where they sat around the outdoor table. “We thought you’d kidnapped our beautiful moko.”

  Ariana set down the platter of fresh-baked rēwana bread on the table and rushed over to coo at her grandchild.

  “Why don’t you
put him down for his nap?” Tui offered her the sleeping baby, hoping her ma wouldn’t get teary-eyed remembering that she wouldn’t be seeing her beloved moko every day for a while.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to? You’re so good with him.”

  Ma gave her a look which Tui, after years of practice, identified as her when are you going to settle down with a man and give me more grandkids? look.

  Tui transferred Pet gently into her mother’s arms. “Knock yourself out. I’ve got a date with that bottle of Pinot on the table.”

  Ma’s eyes narrowed. “A date with a young man would do you more good.”

  Subtlety out the window, then. She bared her teeth in a sharp smile. “Isn’t the saying: Men are like fine wine, they get better with age? Maybe I should look for a sugar daddy. Uncle Manu’s got a few friends who’d fit the bill.”

  At the table, her elderly but fit-as-a-fiddle uncle must’ve heard his name as he toasted them with his wineglass. Seated beside Uncle Manu was her dad, deep in conversation with Natalie, who looked about five minutes away from falling into a coma. Her dad, however, appeared to be more cheerful than she’d seen him in a long time. After months of his family herding him in the direction they wanted him to go, like the two farm dogs Tui would be in charge of feeding and exercising, Pete had finally gained enthusiasm for this break away.

  Like it’d been his idea all the time.

  Ma huffed out a sigh and rolled her eyes. “Incorrigible girl. Go get your wine before Manu drinks the whole bottle.”

  Tui leaned in and kissed her mother’s cheek. “It’ll be fine, Ma. You and Dad deserve this time together.”

  Even though Ma hadn’t brought up the subject, she knew the farm’s prosperity and their dwindling savings account played heavily on her parents’ minds.