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

by Tracey Alvarez

  Glen flipped Isaac his middle finger and nodded Kyle’s way. “Hey.”

  Something about the man was familiar, but before he could figure it out a sharp inhale from Jonno made Toby’s ears twitch. “Bloody hell, you’re the fella that married Savannah Payne, aren’t ya? You’re a lucky man, all right.”

  “I am,” Glen said mildly.

  “Guess if you gotta wake up to the same woman every day, Savannah would make the whole ball-and-chain thing bearable.” Henry shot a baiting smile at Glen, whose mouth curved into a smirk.

  “Exactly. You don’t know what you’re missing.” Glen turned awkwardly in the saddle to Isaac. “Can we go before my horse decides she needs a midmorning nap?”

  Isaac sent Kyle an inscrutable glance while he adjusted his baseball cap. “Let’s ride.”

  Once the horses reached the beach, Kyle was able to maneuver himself next to Tui. Storm whickered at Ranger, perhaps daring him to race, as the mare picked up her pace before Tui reined her in.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, keeping his voice pitched low so Glen, who was just ahead of them, and Jonno behind them wouldn’t overhear.

  Tui’s eyebrows sank into a V below her glasses. “Where should I be?”

  He could tell by the set of her chin she knew exactly what he meant.

  “It’s not safe.”

  She sniffed. “It’s perfectly safe. I’ve been riding horses longer than I’ve had my driver’s license.”

  Don’t even get him started thinking about her riding that motorbike around.

  “Tui…”

  Her head jerked down so she could glare at him over the rim of her sunglasses. “Don’t treat me like an idiot,” she bit out. “I asked Owen if I’m okay to ride and he said yes—for a little while longer.”

  “I’m not treating you like an idiot.” He smoothed his tone into one he used when dealing with irrational and demanding clients—not that he was idiot enough to mention this to Tui. “I’m just concerned—”

  “Everything okay?” Isaac’s wife, Natalie, trotted up beside Tui, giving Kyle the evil eye.

  “Fine,” Tui said. “Kyle was asking about local tribal legends and I suggested Isaac tell the one about Te Houtaewa.”

  “Great idea. Tourists would love that. We could pause up ahead where there’s a clear view of the whole curve of the beach and give them an idea of the distances involved.” Natalie slipped two fingers between her lips and let out a piercing whistle.

  Isaac reined in his horse and waited for the rest of the party to catch up. Tui studiously avoided Kyle’s eyes, and while Natalie relayed the suggestion, Tui stared intently at her brother as if he were the second coming.

  “We’re not done talking,” he said to her tense profile.

  “We’re done for now.” She jutted the angle of her chin higher, exposing the delicate but strong lines of her throat. The sea breeze whisked her dark hair across her face, molding her T-shirt around the swell of her breasts. God, but she was beautiful, and he shifted uncomfortably in the saddle.

  “…famous ancestor, Te Houtaewa, was a prankster and the fastest runner in the area,” Isaac was saying. “One day his mother asked him to fetch kūmara for the hāngī from a nearby garden, but instead, Te Houtaewa opted to run the thirty-seven miles down this great stretch of beach”—Isaac traced the distant shoreline with his finger—“to annoy the local tribe that inhabited this area.”

  “Sounds like something Sam would do, mate,” Henry shouted, which earned him a laugh.

  “He would,” Isaac shot back, “only he’d never beat anyone in a footrace and would’ve got smacked upside the head by one of the kaumātua.” Tui’s brother finally cracked a smile—apparently the big guy did have a sense of humor—and warmed to his story. “So Te Houtaewa found the tribe’s storehouse of kūmara and filled his baskets. He was spotted raiding the kai, and after a bit of a run-around and tussle, Te Houtaewa managed to slip through the tribes’ defenses and make a break for it back up the beach to his home. The tribes’ fastest warriors gave chase, but no one could catch him, even though he was weighted down with stolen kūmara. Today we commemorate Te Houtaewa’s run each year with a marathon and half marathon along the beach from Te Paki stream to Bounty Bay. It’s called the Kūmara Run.” Isaac shrugged and tipped his head at the curve of the beach fading into the hazy distance. “My dad tells it much better than me. He can make you feel like you were right there sprinting across the sand with Te Houtaewa.”

  “That was pretty cool. Does he have any more stories like that?” Matt asked.

  Beside Kyle, Tui gave a soft snort of amusement. He glanced over at her and noted that she’d pushed her sunglasses on top of her head. Dark eyes sparking fire, she cut him a sharp glance and turned to Matt. “Get my dad talking about local Māori legend and you’ll have enough to write a book longer than one of Glen’s.”

  The guy called Glen shot her a warm smile which she returned, and a sudden poison-tipped talon of jealousy clawed through Kyle’s gut. The reaction startled and annoyed him because there was nothing sexual or intimate about their interaction, but there was an easy familiarity that he wondered if he’d ever achieve with her. Glen obviously didn’t come with the same toxic family baggage that he did. Glen didn’t have Isaac and Henry watching his every move as if they expected him to suddenly go on the rampage, their women getting caught in the crossfire.

  Kyle clicked his tongue at Ranger and guided him away from the group. “Let’s keep going,” he called over his shoulder.

  They reached the Ngatas’ beach with only a couple more stops—some Isaac suggested, some that Matt, who out of all the Griffins knew their stretch of land best, named as spots where he could offer insights that might interest tourists. Once the horses were settled, the group split up. Isaac and Matt wandered off above the high-tide line, discussing the option of transporting a small storage shed to the beach to store sunshades, kayaks, and possibly even a barbecue. Glen, Henry, and Natalie raced into the water to cool off, while Tui offered him and Jonno a bottle of water from one of the saddlebags.

  “Nice spot, this,” Jonno said after gulping down half his bottle. He turned a one-eighty, his wraparound shades skimming the hill of native bush encroaching onto the sand. “Can hardly see the effects of the fire now with all the regrowth. Wouldn’t believe it was the same beach.”

  Tui’s water bottle crackled as her fingers tightened around it. “Are you a local?”

  “I am now,” Jonno said. “Wasn’t back then. We were called up from the Kaikohe station to help the lads up here get the fire sorted.”

  More sounds of crackling plastic. “You’re a firefighter?”

  “Going on thirty years now. Met young Matt over there when me and the missus moved up from Kaikohe three years ago. A change is as good as a vacation, so they say. I’ve always liked the area. Shame they never caught the bastard who torched it.”

  Tui’s eyes widened, her gaze zipping to his.

  “You think it was only one person who started the fire?” Kyle asked.

  Jonno shrugged. “Dunno. Investigators found traces of accelerant around what appeared to be a campfire, but nothing to prove how many people were involved. Could’ve been one, could’ve been a group of kids. Although…” He pinched his bulbous nose, his forehead wrinkling.

  “Although what?” Tui prodded.

  “Although there are suspicions there’s an arsonist that’s been operating in the Far North over the past seventeen to eighteen years. Nothing solid to go on, mind, and nothing as big as the Bounty Bay fire, but an escalating pattern of unsolved small fires. May be the same person, may not be. He”—Jonno turned an apologetic grimace toward Tui—“not being sexist because most arsonists are male—is smart enough to control his urges somewhat, limiting fires to only once or twice a year. And even then, we’ve no solid evidence that the little nuisance fires are caused by the same bloke. Firebugs are bloody hard to catch, the slippery buggers, and they don’t give a rat�
�s about the damage they cause or the people they hurt with their actions.”

  “Yeah,” Tui said. “I can’t understand why they do it.” She uncapped her water bottle and spilled some into her palm, then splashed it on her flushed face.

  “In my experience,” Jonno said, “there’s usually only two reasons.” He tapped the index finger of one hand to the index finger of the other. “One, financial gain.” He tapped his middle finger. “Two—and this makes an arsonist even harder and more dangerous to catch—anger. A lot of anger.”

  Tui slanted a glance at Kyle as she capped her bottle and slid it back into the saddlebag. Financial gain, anger. Both could describe the tensions between Griff and Pete before the fire swept over their land.

  He cleared his throat. “But in this case, we could just be talking about a beach fire that got out of control.”

  Jonno must’ve picked up the razor-wire tension woven through Kyle’s tone and connected it with an aha moment, remembering who he was talking to, as he showed them both his widespread palms. “More than likely nothing nefarious about it at all. Just an unfortunate tragedy that no one wanted to own up to.”

  Tui, crouched on the sand beside the bag, froze mid zipping it. She angled her head up, watching him with fathomless dark eyes. “It was a tragedy,” she said softly. “Losing your uncle so soon after your father passed away.”

  “We got through it. Like we got through everything else.”

  The reminder of his uncle crept under his skin like acid, taking him back to the chaos that ransacked their family after the fire. Griff and his mother having knock-down screaming arguments, hurled accusations, the pitying stares and gossip that followed them everywhere they went in town. As the eldest trying to protect his younger siblings from the worst of it, but finding it was like trying to build a house of Popsicle sticks without glue—one gust of an ill wind and it blew everything apart again.

  And the loss of Ross himself. At nineteen he’d enough street cred to recognize his uncle was stoned most days, but Ross never had a harsh word for him or his brothers and he’d stepped up for Griff and Netta when their dad died. Eric had taken Ross’s death the hardest, fighting with their mother to be allowed to move into their uncle’s caravan that he’d parked behind the main house. He’d refused to go to Ross’s funeral, and had stolen a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and got stinking drunk that night. He’d been thirteen.

  Kyle forced the brightest smile he could muster onto his face and turned away from Tui’s sympathetic gaze.

  “Join me for a swim?” he asked Jonno and loped off toward the water before waiting for anyone’s reply.

  A wave hurled itself up the beach and splashed around his ankles and calves, the sudden shock of cold water throwing his brother’s name into his head once more.

  Eric. Eric who wore his anger like a badge of honor since his father and uncle had died.

  Kyle shoved the thought away, a sick feeling lurching around his stomach and reaching icy tendrils down to his balls. He waded in deeper, letting the next wave wash over his knees.

  No, the arsonist couldn’t possibly be Eric.

  Chapter 14

  “You want me to do what?”

  Tui crinkled her nose at the white beekeeping coveralls Matt had pulled out of a plastic bin near the entrance to the hives.

  “Once in a lifetime opportunity, Tu,” Natalie said. “Go on.”

  Tui slanted a you’ve got to me kidding me glance at her sister-in-law. “I notice how you’re not volunteering to don the spacesuit and poke bees.”

  “I’ll be with you.” Kyle, bee suit in hand, came to stand next to her.

  “That’s hardly reassuring,” Tui grumbled, but snatched the coveralls out of Matt’s hands.

  “He’s a bigger target.” Glen was already suited up, with a huge grin on his face visible behind the mesh veil. “That should make you feel better.”

  Tui stepped into the white coverall and zipped it up, trying but not succeeding in keeping Kyle out of her peripheral vision. He was hovering—at least, it felt as if he was hovering. Everywhere she went, Kyle was in eyeshot, the heat of his gaze scalding her skin. No wonder she’d thrown herself into the ocean earlier in an attempt to escape. A strong swimmer like her brothers, she’d plowed through the waves like she was competing in one of Sam’s surf-lifesaving events.

  “If we go ahead with the tours,” Matt said, “we’ll buy a better variety of coverall sizes.” He directed this at Natalie, who’d already refused to gear up in one of the Griffin brothers’ coveralls that on her small frame would’ve made her look like a kid playing dress-up.

  “I’m still not going anywhere near the hives.” Natalie crinkled her nose. “It’s silly, but anything that buzzes scares me.”

  “A common fear.”

  Tui jumped at the voice behind them; she hadn’t heard David approaching.

  “Sorry,” he said, but the apologetic smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Didn’t mean to startle you if you’re already nervous about the bees.”

  “Bees don’t make me nervous.” She finished securing the veil in place and reached for the protective gloves. “People who creep up behind me do.”

  “Old hunting habit to move quietly. I’ll try to be noisier.” He gave her a fake little salute and moved away to check on Isaac’s veil, which wasn’t sitting correctly on his broad shoulders.

  A groove appeared in Kyle’s forehead as he watched his brother move away. “There’ll always be a few people who’ll change their mind about getting up close and personal with the bees when it comes to the crunch,” he said, tightening the cord of his veil which would ensure no unwelcome visitors could get under it. “But Matt knows enough about the business to keep them entertained at a safe distance while Dave takes the group out.”

  “Just the sound of the bees is pretty intimidating,” Tui said.

  The hum of the insects was a soft constant rising over the scrubby mānuka trees covered in white or pinkish blossoms. A smattering of bees zipped from branch to branch, going about their daily bee-ish business, ignoring the group of humans and horses nearby.

  “Everyone ready?” David called out. “Follow me.”

  They traipsed after him in their borrowed gumboots down a well-trodden path through the trees. Mānuka, or tea tree as it was commonly known, David explained as they walked, was a hardy native species that only grew to heights of around three to five metres. But it was an incredibly useful tree and not just because of its flowers. The oil extracted from its foliage was used for many different medicinal and cosmetic purposes.

  They gathered around the hive, David approaching with a smoker in hand. After gently smoking the hive entrance, he lifted off the lid, freed the inner cover, and smoked the top of the frames.

  “We’re going to do a queen check,” he said, “and I’ll talk you through what I’m doing.”

  He removed a bee-covered frame with a hive tool and held it up. “Queens are either black or yellow, depending if she’s Italian or Carniolan, and much larger than the worker bees. We have Carniolans, so we’re looking for a black queen.”

  “I don’t see her,” Tui said.

  “Let’s check another frame.” David leaned the frame of bees against the hive and pried out another. He grinned, showing them. “See her? Isn’t she a beauty?”

  Beauty being in the eye of the beholder, Tui nodded along with the others at the bigger-than-the-average-bee queen.

  “Fun fact,” said David. “After mating on the wing, the queen rips out the drone’s genitals and takes them with her.”

  Tui chuckled as Isaac and Glen winced.

  David set the queen’s frame to one side and shook the bees off the outside frame, showing them the rich dark honey and the yellow and orange pollen. They each gingerly examined the brood—baby bees—eggs, drone cells, and the queen cells which were ready to raise a new queen if needed. She had to admit, as she watched Kyle help David reassemble the hive, that honeybees had given her a new app
reciation for what hard work really meant.

  “Not too intimidating?” Kyle asked as they returned to the others.

  “Actually, surprisingly cool.” She chuckled. “But I think I’ll enjoy sampling the finished product more.”

  The group returned to the horses and continued up the hill to the Griffin’s Honey buildings, where Eric was waiting to show them around. He shot more than a few baleful glances in Isaac’s direction while he lectured them about the honey production process. Not as engaging as David, he still managed to communicate the basics without being long-winded or boring.

  The store was the last stop, and Tui made a beeline—chuckling at her own joke—to the tiny washroom at the rear of the building.

  “Not gonna barf on my clean floor, are you, girl?” Kyle’s mother hollered after her.

  Tui winced but slowed down long enough to paint a cheery smile on her face to show the older woman. “No, I’m good, thanks,” she said and locked herself into the washroom.

  Thanks to her stash of plain crackers in the saddlebag she’d been munching on all morning.

  A slow roll of nausea rippled through her belly. Man, she really wished she’d brought those crackers inside. Seriously, as if pushing a cantaloupe-sized baby head out of your stretched-to-hell cervix wasn’t bad enough, you had to endure months of vomiting, swollen ankles, and peeing every two minutes as well? Why did women do this voluntarily?

  She groaned, but since her cover story was using the facilities, Tui used them and washed her hands, checking her watch to make sure she hadn’t been in there a suspiciously long time. No one would be worrying about the length of time she spent in the loo—except maybe Kyle. And, ugh, they were so not at the peeing-with-the-toilet-door-open stage.

  With a shudder, she eased open the bathroom door and spotted Natalie hovering nearby. Tui angled her head and gestured her over.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. “Do you need something?”

  “There are water crackers in my saddlebag.”

  “Not a problem.” Natalie lowered her voice, dipping her head close to Tui’s. “I had so many boxes of dry crackers with Pet it’s put me off them for good. They’re disgusting.”