Just Say Yes (Escape to New Zealand Book 10)

by Rosalind James

  It took ten minutes, and there she was. Still in that pale-blue sweater and skirt, but wearing jandals instead of the ... toe shoes, or whatever you called them. She was moving with purpose until she saw him, and he could almost feel her hesitation even as he saw her brown eyes widening.

  He’d known he couldn’t have been the only one who felt it.

  A mother got to her first, pulling her into earnest conversation, and Chloe extricated herself as quickly and tactfully as any All Black at an airport. She cast another look at Kevin, and then she was moving briskly toward the door.

  He got up, and she turned and said, “You know, some men ask for a woman’s number. And I have fifteen minutes left to grab a coffee.”

  “I’m waiting for Noelle,” he said, keeping it deadpan. “But I’ll walk with you. Buy the coffee as well, if you’ll allow me. Sounds good.”

  “Oh.” She looked startled, then laughed, and just for a moment, he got a flash of merriment he’d never seen in her. “Shows me.”

  He grinned and held the door for her. “Nah. Also waiting for you. I have this weekend off, you see, and I thought you might help me use it. Outing, I thought. This afternoon, or tomorrow, whenever you have time. Family-friendly. You and Zavy.”

  She looked at him sidelong, which was nice. Walking beside her was good, too, looking down at that dark head with its feathery cut. Like she actually was part bird. She said, “You learned his name.”

  “Asked Hugh.”

  “And whose idea was the outing?”

  He smiled. “Could be I asked my sister-in-law. It could be.”

  The wind was blowing her hair, short as it was, across her cheek, tousling it even more. She said, “What if I didn’t want it to be family-friendly? Did your sister-in-law have a suggestion for that?”

  He put a hand out and brushed the hair back from her face with his thumb, because ... because there she was. And just like that, her lips parted. He said, “I didn’t need her suggestions for that. I know how to do that bit.”

  She stilled for a moment, then rallied. “Not as nice a boy as you seem, are you?”

  “Could be not,” he said. “Or could be it depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On what a woman wants.”

  He said it, and got a hard rush straight to the groin. She looked at him for another long moment, and he could swear they were both holding their breath.

  “Did you really bring Noelle today?” she finally asked, which wasn’t the question he’d anticipated. “So she wouldn’t be so scared to try, maybe?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I really did.”

  She smiled, then, and there it was again. That lightness, that merriment. “Then how can I say no?”

  When Noelle came out of the class, she wasn’t crying, so that was good.

  “Not bad,” she said in response to Kevin’s cautious inquiry. “I learned foot and arm positions and a few steps, and then we did combinations, and I got a DVD to practice. It was hard, though. It looks easy, but by the end of the class, everybody was sweating. You wouldn’t think it would be hard, but it was.”

  “Oh, I dunno about that,” Kevin said. “I’ve seen Chloe do some things that looked pretty hard to me. I’d believe it was hard. And hard’s good for you. It means you’ll get somewhere.”

  “Well, obviously what Chloe does is hard,” Noelle said. “What Hugh’s brother said ... she was a star. I didn’t realize.”

  She talked some more about the class, but Kevin wasn’t listening very closely, though he tried to sound encouraging. As soon as he got home, he took his phone into the garden and rang his sister-in-law.

  Brenna didn’t even say hello. “I forgot to say,” she said, “if this girl has a kid, are you sure there isn’t a partner in the picture? You should ask.”

  “She doesn’t. I asked.” He didn’t mention that he’d asked Hugh. He’d had a feeling that “Are you still sleeping with your son’s father?” would have been a bridge too far with Chloe.

  “She could be lying, though,” Brenna said. “You’re a catch.”

  “Why, thank you.”

  She sighed. “Not you you. The All Black thing.”

  “Yeh,” he said, forced to smile, “I think I’ve got that taped by now. Cheers, though. Suddenly I’m brimming with confidence. And how do you know that’s what I’m calling about? Maybe I’m asking how my nephew’s getting on.”

  “Seeing as you never have before, I’d say it’s unlikely. So—what? Did she say no?”

  “I thought you just said I was a catch. But no, she didn’t say no. She said yes. And the only places I can think of are the beach or the zoo. You said “family outing,” and I forgot to ask what. Fortunately, she didn’t ask either. Pity he’s too young for rugby. I’d be all good then, except that she might not be too chuffed.”

  “Mm ... no,” Brenna said, with the decision that was the reason he’d called her, even as it annoyed him. His sister-in-law was a kindy teacher with the heart of a general. After he’d broken up with Heidi, Brenna had suggested that they contact the media and set up a “How to Date an All Black” website, which had to go down as the Bad Idea of the Century.

  “We could get a network interested, I’m sure,” she’d said. “You were World Rugby Player of the Year two years ago, so that’ll help, although it’d be better if you were that now. If you had some award, anyway. Still—even if the girls don’t know who you are, their dad or their brothers would. And think how easy it’d be for you. I could vet them, and you could choose, and ... maybe we should make it more like ‘The Bachelor.’ How about ‘Marry an All Black’? Has a real ring to it, eh. It isn’t like you’d actually have to marry them. You just propose, and somebody else pays for the ring, and if it doesn’t work out, you break up. Easy as. And you’d be perfect. You seem so normal at first, but you’ve got a bit of edge under there. That’s sexy. You could play that up instead of hiding it, and we’d be all good.”

  He’d stamped that one with a “No” pretty smartly, even though it would never have made it past the first vetting by New Zealand Rugby. He’d added an “I’m not desperate to get married” for good measure. Because he wasn’t.

  He had family. One thing he had enough and to spare of was family. But he was also a normal man who enjoyed having a pretty, vibrant—all right, “stunning” worked, too—woman to wake up next to whose name he remembered. When he was home, that is. Which could be an issue. Party girls liked dating rugby players, but they also liked going to parties. The more stunning they were, the better they seemed to like it. A man who’d been playing rugby at the highest level since he was twenty didn’t tend to do much partying, other than during his two months of offseason a year, and you watched your step even then. Partying lost you your fitness and your starting position. And quieter girls didn’t necessarily fancy being left alone for most of the year.

  After that suggestion, he hadn’t been especially keen to ask Brenna’s advice, but how else was he going to know what to do on this “family outing”? His brothers had been three years old at one time, yes, but it had been a long time ago, and he hadn’t necessarily been paying attention.

  Brenna was going on with her strategizing. “You live three houses from the beach, and so does she, for now at least. Taking her to the beach doesn’t say, ‘I thought of you.’ That says, ‘I can’t be bothered to think of anything else.’ And the zoo is too special. Too far away as well. She can’t get away from you there.”

  “Excuse me? She can’t get away from me? I’m not planning to attack the poor girl. Give me a bit of credit.”

  Brenna made a huffing sound, and Kevin could imagine the hand-flap. “In case it’s awkward. If you went all the way to the zoo, she’d feel compelled to stay a long time, too. Like meeting for dinner the first time instead of coffee. It’s too long, if either of you is begging to be set free. Besides, kids don’t always like to ride in the car. He could cry or get tired and fussy, and that would make her tense, which would spoil
the mood. You want someplace easy, where you can show your spontaneous charm.”

  “I have spontaneous charm, eh. Good to know. I like the sound of that better than the idea of her running away screaming. Not to mention begging to be set free. So where?”

  “Mmm ... North Head,” she decided. “And don’t show that edge. You’re safe. You’re steady. That’s your role.”

  “North Head? It’s all of ten kilometers away, and about as exciting as suet pudding. It’s a hill. It’s green. You walk around it and look at the sea, and you’re done. She’s not going to be running away then, except out of screaming boredom. Especially if I’m safe and steady. Maybe she should find herself a nice tax accountant.”

  “Kevin,” she said with a sigh. “Are you or are you not ringing me for advice? She’s a single mum, and he’s three. North Head has tunnels. It has guns. Big guns. That’s exciting. That’s better than Disneyland to a three-year-old boy.”

  He took her word for it, even as he wondered why he was going to so much effort for a woman who’d set up that many flashing Caution signs around her. Stunning? Yes, in her own way. But she ticked absolutely none of the other girlfriend-boxes. She was serious as a heart attack about her work, she had a son, she had baggage she was practically carrying on her back, and—oh, yes. He was throwing her out of her house.

  The next day, though, when she opened the door to him dressed in skinny jeans, a stretchy white top, and metallic-blue rubber-toed trainers that made him smile, he remembered why he was making the effort. Big dark eyes, a body that set his heart pounding, and something about the way she moved that told him winning her would be more than worth it.

  One date, anyway. One deliberately tame outing, during which he was apparently meant to act like a man who wore cardigans and bedroom slippers instead of a rugby uniform, and if she wasn’t interested—and who would be?—he’d move on. It wasn’t like he’d ever had trouble meeting willing girls.

  She smiled back at him, turned to pick up her bags, and showed him a slim column of neck, a narrow, perfectly straight back, those endless legs, and the highest, tightest little arse a man could possibly hope to see, and he thought, Yeh, mate. You tell yourself you’re moving on. You are not moving on.

  “Ready?” he asked, in another of his brilliant conversational gambits.

  “Yes,” she said, “as long as it’s not the beach. If it is, I’ll need more equipment.”

  “Not the beach.” He crouched down to Zavy’s level, since the boy was on his knees playing with a dump truck. “Ready to go exploring, mate?”

  Zavy looked at him, then back at his truck. He put three round, smiling plastic people into the back and said, “The people are going in a big pile,” lifted the back of the truck, dumped the figures out, and laughed like a demon.

  Either Zavy was a future serial killer, or he enjoyed the idea of sliding downhill. Kevin decided to assume the latter. “Where we’re going,” he said, “we get to slide just like that. Come on, and I’ll show you.”

  Zavy considered him out of brown eyes nearly as wary as his mother’s. “Is it the park?”

  “No, it’s not the park.”

  Some more careful thought. “Is it a fire station?”

  “No, not that either.”

  “Is it a hospital?”

  A hospital? Kevin gave up. “It’s a surprise.”

  “OK,” Zavy finally said, and stood up. Obstacle One overcome, then. Son and mother were both actually going with him.

  Maybe he should rethink the “Date An All Black” program. Sounded easier.

  After that, though, it got better. When he made the turn that led up to North Head, Chloe said, “Oh, that’s brilliant,” and sounded happy. And when they got to the first of the many concrete tunnels built into the hillside and Kevin produced a torch just for Zavy and showed him how to turn it on, the day started looking like a bona fide roaring success. Tunnels and guns were better than Disneyland, apparently.

  And as for Chloe? She ran with her son, turned a couple pirouettes when she probably thought Kevin wasn’t looking, led the way through the darkest, spookiest cavern, and finally, just to cap it off, wriggled out of a hole worn into a tunnel without caring that she was giving Kevin a spectacular view of that tight backside. And then she stopped halfway through and said, “I’m like Pooh stuck in Rabbit’s burrow. I think I need a push.”

  She didn’t, and he knew it, but he gave it to her anyway. Not that it had ever been in doubt. He had to do some careful placement lest his hands land somewhere they shouldn’t, deciding on one hand at her waist and the other wrapped around a slim thigh, but it was good enough. And when he’d done it, she turned to crouch on the grass, let him hand Zavy through the hole into her arms, and said with a teasing sparkle in her dark eyes, “I know what you did there.”

  “You know what I didn’t do, too,” he said, and saw her smile get a little saucier. “And as I’m too big to get through that hole, I’m coming around.”

  All that was good, the big guns were a hit as well, and finally, Kevin led the way to one of the gentler slopes, picked up one of the discarded pieces of pasteboard littering its side, and said, “Here we are, then. Here’s where the sliding begins. Want to go down the hill with me, Zavy, or with your mum?”

  “I want to go by myself,” Zavy said.

  Chloe said, “You don’t even know what it is, love.”

  “He doesn’t have to know,” Kevin said. “The right answer is always, ‘Go by myself.’ This first time, though,” he told Zavy, “we have to go together. Me or your mum?”

  Zavy looked at him, considered for a minute, and said, “I want to go with you.”

  Chloe laughed. “That’s told me.”

  “Nah,” Kevin said. “Gravity, that’s all. I’ll go faster.” And when he closed his knees around Zavy’s sturdy little body, held onto the side of the flattened box, and shoved off with a foot, Zavy shrieked with surprise and laughter. Especially when they spun around and went backward.

  Brenna had, of course, been right. Better than the zoo.

  Zavy rode with him another time, and then with his mum, and finally, he did it by himself. They moved to a little steeper run, and it got even better. Zavy came off once, rolled, and came up chortling instead of crying, a Kiwi boy through and through. And when Chloe fell off her own makeshift sled with a shriek during an especially daring, bumpy run on the steepest pitch of the hill, she laughed, too. Which meant that Kevin got to help her up with Zavy pulling at her other hand, pick the bits of grass out of her hair, smile down at her with his hand still on her cheek, and say, “Doesn’t matter. You looked so pretty doing it,” and watch her lose her breath.

  He wasn’t so sure about the “safe” and “steady” bits. He had a feeling that Chloe wouldn’t hate seeing that edge.

  He’d call it a fairly good date, surprisingly enough. Lovely and physical, and watching Chloe be physical was nothing but a good experience.

  And then Zavy had to use the toilet.

  Of course, he didn’t say, “I have to use the toilet.” Instead, he grabbed his crotch and danced around until his mother said, “Do you have to go to the toilet?”

  “Yes,” Zavy said. “But I want the man to go with me.”

  “Kevin,” Chloe said. “His name is Kevin.”

  “I want Kevin to take me,” Zavy said. “Cause he’s a boy and I’m a boy. Boys go in the boy room.”

  Chloe said, “No, love. Come on with me.”

  Easy points, Kevin thought, and said, “Nah. I can do that. No worries.” What was the worst that could happen? He’d have to help wipe a bum. He had four younger siblings, a nephew, and a niece. He could wipe a bum and change a nappy. Not to say it was his favorite thing ever, but he could do it.

  They headed into the dank concrete bunker set into the hillside, and an older bloke came in behind them. Zavy was dancing like a boy with spiders in his shorts by now, and Kevin stopped at the urinals and said, “Here, mate. Let’s get those trousers
down, eh.”

  “I have to go in the toilet,” Zavy said. “Mummy says you have to use the toilet.”

  “Nah,” Kevin said. “This is a boy toilet. Special for us.” Zavy just stared at him, looking wild-eyed now, and Kevin sighed inwardly and thought, Right, then. He’d done this with both brothers, and he might as well use the facilities, since he was here. So he demonstrated. “You just stand in front of it,” he said, “and aim. Like this. Easy as.”

  The older bloke, who was doing his own aiming, was looking at him. Kevin had learned long ago not to make eye contact at urinals, though. Apart from the normal drawbacks, he’d discovered to his shock that there were men out there who thought nothing of trying to shake an All Black’s hand when it was otherwise engaged. If anything spelled “awkward” better than that moment, he had yet to discover it.

  Zavy was an enthusiastic participant, once he got the idea. “It’s a long, long toilet,” he said. “It’s a super toilet. It’s a Superman toilet. A big toilet for Superman. And Batman.”

  “Could be,” Kevin said. “Bat toilet. You also tend to splatter less eh.” He lifted Zavy to the sink to wash his hands and thought, Job done.

  The other fella followed them out to where Chloe was waiting on the grass looking a bit anxious. An older woman came out of the ladies’ and joined the man, and Kevin smiled at Chloe and said, “All good.”

  “Mummy,” Zavy said, “it was a big, big bat toilet. And Kevin has a really, really big penis!”

  All right. There was one thing more awkward than the handshake-across-the-urinal suggestion. He’d just found it.

  What did you say? Chloe looked at Kevin and couldn’t come up with a thing. Finally, she said, “He’s very … uh … verbal. Sorry.”

  Kevin said, “We used the urinals.” He was trying not to laugh, she could tell. “It’s all in the comparison, eh.”