Break Your Heart: A Small Town Romance (Bounty Bay Book 5)

by Tracey Alvarez

  “My nose isn’t out of joint,” she said. “But after this week the two of you are going to have to live with whatever consequences you’ve created. She’s a permanent part of your social circle now. Don’t shit where you sit—remember that, eh?”

  “I’ll remember.”

  They continued to walk, the click of Turbo’s claws on the sidewalk and the hiss of distant waves curling ashore the only disturbance to his thoughts. They drew alongside the two-story sprawling house that overlooked the Bay and Tui handed him Turbo’s leash. There was resignation in the slope of her shoulders, a kind of weary acceptance of something out of her control. His gut clenched, and he impulsively wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her in for a fierce hug. Out of him and Isaac, he’d always had a special understanding with Tui. They got each other, had the other’s back.

  “Don’t worry, Tu. Everything is ka pai.”

  She pulled away and patted his cheek, a little harder than necessary. “Only a fool believes everything’s good as they’re walking blindfolded toward a cliff. Pō mārie.” Tui strode up the driveway to the darkened house beyond.

  He huffed out a sigh and turned to walk home, but a deadweight on the end of the leash stopped him. He looked down to Turbo stretched out on the sidewalk, his head resting on his front paws, his eyes stubbornly closed.

  “C’mon, be a man about it. Let’s go home.” He gave the leash an experimental tug.

  Turbo cracked open an eye and exposed one canine tooth as he uttered a low growl.

  Sam crouched beside the dog. “Would you move your furry ass if I promised to get you some of Ma’s pork bones?”

  Turbo yawned and staggered to his feet. The burst of energy lasted long enough for Sam to also stand, and then the dog plopped his butt down on the sidewalk again. He gave Sam the canine equivalent of a ‘you fell for that, sucker?’ smirk.

  Sam swore, manhandled the dog into his arms, and headed toward home.

  “Hate it when women are right,” he muttered conversationally to Turbo, who’d twisted around onto his back and now lay with all four paws pointed skyward, apparently enjoying the ride. “So keep your mouth shut when we get home and maybe I’ll see about those pork bones after all.”

  Vee had changed into her sleep pants and T-shirt the moment Sam and Tui had left and completed her pre-bedtime wash and brush in record time. Then she’d dithered in the en suite doorway, shooting will I or won’t I glances toward Sam’s closet where he’d stored the spare duvet he’d slept on the night before. Should she lay it out beside the bed again? Make it clear that nothing had changed between them after that brain-cell-melting kiss?

  She gnawed her lower lip, then crinkled her nose. Brain cell melting for her, maybe. It was just another quick tongue tussle for Sam, and even more ego deflating, it wasn’t even a tongue tussle motivated by desire. It was all an act for their audience’s benefit.

  Vee had tried to shrug off the irritated shock on Tui’s face after she’d dragged herself to shore, and the ‘what was that all about?’ surprise on Nat’s. She’d tried even harder to ignore Julia’s ‘awww, aren’t you two a cute couple?’ smile as it darted between her and Sam, or the whispering that went on into her husband’s ear as he and Isaac arrived back.

  What kind of message did she want to send to Sam?

  Vee started toward the closet then veered off to sit on the edge of the big bed. Something obviously had changed, but did she want him to think that change affected her in ways it hadn’t affected him? No. Definitely not. She couldn’t stand the inequality of it. She’d never been able to stomach that sort of emotional teeter-totter where one person was more into the other person in a relationship. Or at least, she’d always hated the thought of being the one who wanted, needed, loved the other person more.

  The key turned in the front door and footsteps padded down the hallway. Vee slithered under the covers—on the wrong side of the bed—and tried to emulate a woman who was completely laid back. Who was completely cool with sharing sleeping space with a man, as opposed to sharing a sleeping space with a tiny human who stole all the covers and kicked like a mule.

  Sam pushed open the bedroom door and stepped into the room, trying, it would seem by his sloth-like momentum, to be quiet.

  She’d left the en suite light on for him, and in the wedge of light spilling across the bed, she watched his eyes skim over the lumpy shapes of her legs curled under the covers, drop to the empty stretch of hardwood floor beside the bed, then return to the stretch of unoccupied mattress.

  She gave up trying to feign sleep and pushed up onto her elbows. “You can stop tiptoeing around. I’m not asleep.”

  “Knew that.” He paused at the foot of the bed, shoving his fists into the front pockets of his shorts. “You weren’t making that chuffing noise or talking gibberish, so I figured you were still awake.”

  “What chuffing noise?” She sat bolt upright. “And I don’t sleep talk…do I?”

  He must’ve been clenching and unclenching his hands, as the flexing muscles in his forearms drew her gaze and led it upward to the fit of his snug T-shirt. Honestly, if she could get Bountiful’s T-shirts to fit men like that, they’d make a killing. Then again, not many men had the kind of body Sam had. And please, God, don’t let her have been sleep talking about that.

  “Last night you were nattering on about loose teeth, red marker pens, and”—his mouth curled up in a grin that woke up every erogenous zone in her body—“hot buns. Pretty sure you said buns, but it could’ve been bums. Must’ve been a helluva dream.”

  “I have very vivid and weird dreams,” she said, somewhat primly. Oh yeah, she didn’t remember how loose teeth and marker pens made an appearance, but Sam’s hot bum had taken the spotlight on her subconscious mind’s stage.

  “Uh-huh.” He shot her a knowing glance then walked to the closet. “I won’t keep you from them any longer.”

  He slid the closet door open.

  “You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” she blurted.

  He froze in the act of reaching for the rolled-up duvet, then straightened and turned toward her. “What?”

  Vee jerked her head toward the empty space beside her. “I saw you manfully trying to stretch the kinks out of your neck this morning. We’re both adults.” She added what she hoped came across as a nonchalant shrug.

  “You’re offering to share the bed?” Skepticism coated his deep voice.

  “It’s your bed.” She flipped the covers back on the opposite side. “Just keep the snoring to a minimum and your hands to yourself, and you won’t have to make a trip to see Owen at the emergency room during the night.”

  “Fair enough,” he said cautiously. “If you’re sure.”

  “Not a big deal.” She cracked her jaw in an Oscar-worthy yawn then wriggled down into a prone position again, curling onto her side so her back would be facing him once he climbed into bed.

  With her. Once Sam climbed into bed with her.

  A fluttery pulse beat light wings against her throat as he walked around the bed, disappearing from her line of sight. She heard the rustle of cotton and imagined him peeling off his T-shirt in that sexy way men had of hooking it from their nape and, poof, like a professional stripper, they were out of it.

  Really shouldn’t be thinking about strippers.

  The en suite light went out, a zipper hissed, then she heard the sound of clothes hitting the floor and the swish of them being kicked aside. Typical male. It wouldn’t occur to him to actually use the laundry hamper in the corner of the room. Thinking about Why Men Are Pigs was a whole lot more preferable to thinking about Possibly Naked Man Getting Into Bed With Her.

  The mattress only dipped slightly with his weight as he stretched out beside her. Prickles spread over her at the waft of air hitting an exposed strip of skin where her tank top had rucked up around her waist. Her butt and pelvic floor muscles got a workout as they kept her frozen in place when she badly wanted to wriggle over to the very edge of the b
ed. King-sized bed, her hot buns. With Sam on the other side it felt more like a king-sized single.

  “In case you were wondering,” he said, “I kept my boxer briefs on.”

  “Good to know.”

  And it was. If he hadn’t had a stitch of clothing on she just might’ve run screaming from the room. Or worse, rolled over and jumped him.

  Really shouldn’t be thinking about jumping him either because too many words rhymed with jumping. Bumping and humping immediately sprung to mind, and hello? Hadn’t she just said they were both adults? Her mouth suddenly bereft of saliva, she lunged for the water bottle she’d left on the nightstand and gulped some down. The chilled water didn’t help settle her churning stomach, but it was a distraction at least.

  “Busy day, eh?” Sam said after she set down the bottle and retreated under the covers. “You must be stuffed.”

  Neutral territory in a minefield of conversation starters. She was grateful for that. “Yeah, I’m pretty beat. You must be, too.”

  “It’s tiring having to be on your guard all the time.”

  Preaching to the choir, mate, she thought. Being around Sam was exhausting. Almost as exhausting as she’d found Patrick’s family when she’d attempted to take on the role of his sophisticated, well-bred, non-opinionated girlfriend. Abysmal fail.

  An awkward silence settled into the room, stretching between them like spider silk that drifted from the ceiling and made your skin itch uncontrollably. The sheets whispered together and the mattress beneath her shuddered—Sam rolling toward her, she could almost guarantee it. Everything in her squeezed tight and petals of warmth unfolded deep in her belly. She sucked in a wavering breath, fingers gripping the edge of her pillow as if it were an anchor.

  “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable at the beach earlier,” he said. “Might’ve got a bit carried away with that kiss.”

  Carried away? Did that imply he’d lost part of himself in her like she’d lost part of herself in him? Wishful thinking, Vee. Stop being such a girl.

  “I wasn’t uncomfortable.” Go her. Keeping her voice steady and one hundred percent neutral. To prove how super-un-uncomfortable she was, she rolled onto her side to face him. “And you were right. Julia’s a very touchy-feely woman so naturally she assumes that everyone else expresses their affection the same way. She totally bought the PDA we put on.”

  “Good job. You’re a pretty good actress.” He held up a fist for her to bump.

  Vee tapped her fist to his and tried not to roll her eyes. “You’re a pretty good actor yourself.”

  “You know me, never miss the chance to kiss a pretty girl.”

  Yet he’d never kissed her. She slipped her hand back under the sheet, just in case Sam’s eyesight was good enough to see the whites of her knuckles as her fist refused to open. “So half of Bounty Bay’s female population under forty can attest.”

  His chuckle was without the slightest note of sheepishness. “Haven’t had many complaints.”

  “You were the biggest flirt from primary school to the end of high school. You even tried to flirt with the female teachers to get out of detention.”

  “It worked once or twice,” he said. “And flirting was the one thing I excelled at that my brother didn’t.”

  She caught the odd note in his voice and wondered if he was even aware of it. She and Tui were two years behind Sam in school, and four years behind Isaac, but the brothers’ natural competitiveness was evident even so. Isaac’s rugby trophies were on display at Bounty Bay High by the time she and Tui started there, and as the older Ngata was already on the brink of stardom, he was probably the most well-known senior in the school.

  “Isaac the star rugby player who went on to play professionally. That must’ve been a hard act to follow.”

  She saw the silhouette of him lift a shoulder.

  “It wasn’t only rugby Isaac was good at. He did well academically and nobody gave him any grief because he was built like a brick shithouse.”

  “You were the troublemaker.”

  “Trouble always found me in one form or another,” he admitted.

  “And you left a trail of broken hearts behind you.” She propped her palm under her head.

  “Nah, not me. I may’ve kissed a lot of girls, but Isaac was the one they wanted. I was the trial run for the real thing.”

  Somehow she doubted that. But beneath the humor in his voice there was that same odd note, and the sharp edge of it cut deeper than she’d expected. She had to admit, she’d never really given his situation much thought. More than five years ago Sam had stood beside his brother after Isaac’s fellow teammate and friend died in tragic circumstances. The media shitstorm that followed caught their whole family up in the turmoil.

  She’d admired Sam for his steadfast loyalty, but she really hadn’t delved into how Sam felt growing up with a sibling that was the apple of the sporting world’s eye, and the pressure that went with it. Which was deliberately blind of her, because in her own smaller way, she’d grown up with four older siblings who she’d felt were better and more successful than her.

  “I think you’d be surprised at how many girls didn’t have an ulterior motive for wanting to lock lips with you. They didn’t call you Super Snogger Sam in the girls’ locker rooms for no reason.”

  Sam laughed, throwing his head back with the force of it rumbling out of his chest. “Shit, Vee. They didn’t, did they?”

  “Trust me, you had your own fan club of teenage girls back then. Why do you think so many of them spent their summers swimming between the surf lifesavers’ flags when you were on duty?”

  He flopped onto his back with a chuckle. Her eyes were used to the darkness now and she used it to her advantage, tracing her gaze over the solid curves of his pectoral muscles, the dip from his chest to the hard ridges of his abs where he’d laced his fingers loosely on top of them. Then her gaze tracked south to the white sheet bunching at his hips. She wished he had sprawled on top of the covers so she could’ve ogled the strong lines of his thighs and his tight knit boxer shorts—that were surely the sexiest type of underwear for men known to womankind—and crank up the air-con, the sizable bulge contained in that fabric.

  She blinked. Oh. My. God.

  She was looking at Sam like he was a slice of decadently rich cake covered in real dark chocolate ganache with a swirl of raspberry sauce. Indulging like that was the reason people went into diabetic comas.

  He turned his face toward her on the pillow. “You joined the swim club in your second year of high school,” he said. “Seem to recall you and Tui spending a lot of time on the beach the next few summers as well.”

  Vee sucked in a breath then released it in a near silent hiss. “Every kid in Bounty Bay hangs out on the beach during summer.”

  “So you weren’t the president of the Sam Ngata fan club?”

  More like the founding member. But like hell would she tell him that. “No, you big-headed beach bunny. Now go to sleep.”

  She slid her hand across the smooth sheets and flicked him in the ribs. He started, then grabbed her hand before she could pull away. His warm fingers encircled her wrist, the roughened pads of his fingertips sending delicious hot ripples down her spine. He lifted her hand and brushed his mouth in the softest of kisses over her knuckles. Then he set her hand back down on the sheet.

  “Good night, Vee.”

  And before she could scramble together her half-melted wits and be the first to pretend they were too tired to talk anymore, Sam rolled on his side to face the window, blocking her view of the crack of light showing beneath the drapes with his stupid, sexy, broad shoulders.

  Chapter 11

  The next afternoon, Sam tried to lose himself in the feel of the wood beneath his fingertips and the challenge of bringing life and beauty from that wood. It should’ve been easy. Eric and Julia had taken themselves off on a sightseeing tour to Cape Reinga and would be gone most of the day. Ruby was in day care looking forward to the pet rabbit one of
the staff was bringing in that day, as she’d told everyone at top volume at breakfast. And Vee was spending the day at Bountiful—or so she’d mentioned before he left for Kauri Whare.

  So he really had no excuse for his restlessness.

  But after a quick bite for lunch he still couldn’t settle, and he found himself driving to Bountiful and slipping inside the workroom’s back door. Nat was at one of the scary-looking sewing machines, her mouth stuffed with brightly colored pins. She pointed in the direction of the tiny office and continued to work.

  Sam tapped lightly on the office door then poked his head around it. Vee was staring at her laptop screen as if she were contemplating the world’s problems. Her gaze flicked up to his, her blue eyes widening in surprise. And if he wasn’t mistaken, desperation.

  “If you’ve come to put me out of my misery, please do it after you’ve slaughtered this turd-guzzler of a laptop and let me watch.” She leaned back in her seat, rubbing her fingertips over the back of her neck. “I’m so tense I could shatter.”

  He grinned, leaning in the doorway. “Wanna play hooky for an hour? I’ve got an idea that’ll help.”

  “If it involves me getting sweaty and naked I’m going to throat punch you for suggesting it.”

  He chuckled. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want to do this naked.”

  She obviously didn’t need much more convincing as she slapped the screen shut. “What do you have in mind?”

  While the idea of getting sweaty and naked with Vee was hands down a more interesting option than his initial plan, this wasn’t too shabby either. He had driven them back to his place in his ute, and for the first time since she’d moved in, Vee seemed genuinely happy in his company. Until he led her into his garage.

  “Are you serious?” Vee’s voice cracked on the last word as she stared down at the motorcycle helmet he held out to her.