Just Say (Hell) No (Escape to New Zealand Book 11)

by Rosalind James

  Not the most romantic dream. Her subconscious appeared to think Marko was either a threat or a savior. The minute she’d seen him with the tall, pretty blonde, she’d realized which. Or you could say that she’d woken up again. The girl—whose blonde came from a bottle, because her skin was too naturally brown for it, as well as flawlessly unlined and poreless, damn it—was wearing a bright-blue crossover-front top she was nearly bursting out of and a short skirt that showcased her barely-legal legs. She was, in fact, everything Nyree wasn’t.

  Nyree thought, At least all I did was nearly step off the cliff.

  No harm done. None at all. She fixed Marko with her coolest, most remote gaze, the one she used on fellas at Bevvy who wouldn’t take “No” for an answer, and said, “Morning. Thanks for coming. I’ll try to make it short, and then everybody can get on with their day.”

  This morning, Marko’s mum hadn’t contented herself with a text. She’d rung instead.

  “First of all,” she’d said, “your dad says ‘Well done’ for last night. I thought you were very strong.”

  Since she always thought that, he didn’t get too excited. “Thanks,” he said. “And tell him thanks as well.” It was after eight already, which meant his dad would have been out with the dogs for an hour.

  “Now that we’ve got that taken care of,” she said, “how’s Ella? And how are you?”

  “All good,” he said. “Getting it sorted.”

  “I don’t know who’s less communicative, you or your father. It sounds like Ella was level-headed, in the end. And by that, I probably mean, ‘She acted like me.’ After all, I went ahead and had you, didn’t I? Not the right time at all, and believe me, I considered the alternative. Your dad came through in the end, of course, but if he hadn’t, who knows?”

  He sighed. “Thanks for sharing, Mum.”

  “What? That’s hardly a surprise, not once you got old enough to count the months between our wedding day and your birthday, so why should it be a secret? None of us was born to be a martyr. Your dad and I are very proud of you, but it doesn’t sound easy. Jakinda says she can’t get away, so do you want me to come and help get Ella settled?”

  “You can’t, surely. Not with the breeding season well underway.” Which was enough all by itself, with two thousand sheep to see to. “And the lodge as well.”

  “Nobody has time for a crisis,” his mother said. “That doesn’t stop the crisis from happening. You cope, that’s all. Just like you’re doing. If you need me, I’ll come. Your grandmother offered to take care of the guest side for a few days. We’ll make it work.”

  “No,” he said instantly. “Amona hates it. She feels like they’re all staring at her.”

  “Baby.” His mother sounded startled. “How do you know that? She can’t have told you. That woman wrote the book on ‘stoic.’”

  “She didn’t have to tell me.” If somebody had to suffer in all this, it wasn’t going to be his quiet, patient grandmother, but he didn’t know how to explain that. Instead, he said, “I’d say I’ve got it, but really, I think Ella has. We’ll cope. But I’ll let her fill everybody in. It’s her story.”

  “You’re anxious to get on with your day off,” his mum said. “I’ll let you do it.”

  He didn’t sigh. “Tell me. I know you want to.”

  “The King of Swords,” she said. “Not much ambiguity there. Time to take charge. You’ll be faced with a decision, and you’ll know the answer. Trust your judgment. Same kind of reading I’ve had for you all week. It’s odd, though. I thought you’d already done it. On the other hand… when I drew the Chariot for you on the day Ella came, I didn’t see that. I saw love, and struggle, but mostly—sex. It was passion I was getting, not your usual overdeveloped sense of responsibility.”

  “Mum,” he said. “Please. No.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m not discussing your sex life with you. I’m giving you my impression in general terms. And the impression was passionate. Which, whether you like it or not, you are. I should know. I’ve known you since before you were born.”

  Maybe his mum had been right, because at this moment, facing all that blankness from Nyree, he didn’t feel one bit responsible. She wanted Koti after all, and when she’d seen Kate with him, she’d lost interest in the whole thing?

  He’d promised, and he was here. He’d fulfill his promise, and he’d move on. Acting on a decision, like his mum had said. Generally not that difficult for him. “Nyree,” he said, “this is my cousin Ella. Ella, this is Nyree.” He didn’t look at her after that. He looked at the dog. She was lying patiently on the concrete beside the fountain. No beauty, her coat black and dull, her muzzle stubby, and her ribs clearly visible, but she thumped her tail gently when he made eye contact. She’d had puppies recently, he saw, maybe the ones he’d handled. She didn’t seem fussed by the kitten so far, but just to be sure, he closed his hand around it.

  “Your… cousin,” Nyree said.

  “Yeh. Staying with me for a few months while she goes to school here.”

  Ella was looking between the two of them. “What?” she asked Nyree. “Did you think I was his girlfriend? He’s old, though. Plus my cousin.”

  Nyree suddenly looked much more relaxed, and Marko may have felt that way himself. Or maybe not. “She’s sixteen,” he told Nyree. “Interesting opinion you have of me.”

  “Wait. Really?” Ella asked. “I look like I could be a rugby WAG? Like I seriously could be Marko’s girlfriend? That’s so cool.”

  “It is?” Marko asked. “What happened to ‘old’?”

  “I don’t mean I’d think you were hot,” she said. “Ew.” And Nyree laughed.

  Koti said, “Not trying to rush anybody, because this is fascinating, but if we don’t get our skates on here, somebody’s going to get hungry or need a nappy change or both, and that’ll be me gone.”

  “Oh.” Nyree did that slow-blink thing again, and Marko watched again like the fool he was. Then she gathered herself with an obvious effort and said, “Right! If everybody’s ready, let’s take some pictures.”

  Marko was still thinking about why he’d want to chase somebody who was making him work this hard when Nyree said, “We still have a few weeks to go before dogs are allowed on the beach for autumn, but we’ll live dangerously and take her down there anyway.” Her gaze landed somewhere beyond Marko when she said, “I’d love to get some shots of you two boys running with the dog, or in the water. And then I’ll get you with your kitten, Marko.”

  Koti said, “Fine by me.” He carried the pushchair down to the beach with Kate, pulled out a bucket and shovel, and told Maia, “Daddy’s going to come to play with you in a bit, but first I have to play with the dog. You sit here with Mummy and see how big a hole you can dig.” Then he gave the black dog a few scratches around the ears and asked Nyree, “What’s her name?”

  “They’re calling her ‘Shadow’ at the shelter,” she said, unclipping the leash. “Some people have no imagination.”

  “Too right,” he said. “Come on, then, Shadow. We’ll show the forwards how it’s done, eh.” And then he ran into the water.

  Ella asked Marko, “So are you just going to stand here and watch? Or what?”

  He would have answered, except that Nyree was handing him the camera and saying, “Hold this a sec. And by the way… this is not about you.”

  “Uh… what isn’t?”

  In answer, she pulled off her cotton dress and tossed it to the sand. “Stay here if you’d rather.”

  “You have to be joking,” he said.

  She was wearing a bikini. There wasn’t much of it, and the deep red color did the Snow White thing for her all over again. She wasn’t any cartoon princess, though. She had genuine, no-excuses, oh-baby-do-me-like-that curves. And he hadn’t even seen the rear view yet.

  She said, “I could be insecure about that comment. Or I could decide I’m here to do a job, ask for my camera back, go out into the sea, and take some photos.”

&nb
sp; He handed it to her, she headed off, and he detached the kitten from his shoulder and gave her to Ella. “Hold my kitten,” he said. “It’s manly man time.”

  Ella rolled her eyes, of course. But Marko was watching Nyree walk away, and it looked just about like he’d have imagined. She might be short, but that body was rocking and rolling. After that? It wasn’t even a choice. He stripped off his T-shirt, tossed it to the sand, and ran into the sea.

  So he’d get his photo taken shirtless after all, like the kind of poster boy he’d never been. You had to ante up to get into the game.

  If you were going to go, you might as well go big. He ran straight past Nyree and out into deeper water, dove under a wave, and strode back out again slicking his hair back, his shorts riding low.

  Koti? What Koti? Pretty Boy hadn’t even taken off his shirt. Marko might not have the smile and the tattoo, and he might have a stitched-up forehead, but he had a good inch and twelve kilos of muscle on Koti. And he was shirtless.

  He’d call it a win.

  Nyree was watching, too, which was good. The dog, though, wasn’t cooperating. She was running back and forth in short little sprints along the shore, barking at the three of them like she wanted to be out there, but it was awfully wet. Finally, Koti dropped to his knees so he was hip-deep in the water and called to her. She hesitated a moment more, then came wagging up to him, picking up her feet with every step like sand was very odd indeed and water was worse. But when she got there, she settled in for a cuddle, her tail wagging hard, and Nyree started snapping like mad.

  She did manage to break off long enough, though, to look at Marko with something like challenge and maybe something like heat in her eyes and say, “That’s working. Stay wet for me, will you? You look at the camera like you’re looking at me right now, and we’ll take some photos that have the ladies coming into the shelter to see if you’re up for adoption.”

  You could say that the water suddenly didn’t feel nearly as cold.

  By now, Koti was soaked but laughing, the dog was wet through and no more beautiful for it, and still, Marko could see that the pair of them would telegraph, “Rescue a dog today and get a lifelong friend!” in a way that was going to work.

  Fine. As long as Marko got his turn. While Nyree was still in the bikini. He could come across as dark and tough and fierce as she’d ever hoped for if he were looking at that.

  It was all good. Better than good. Until Maia stopped playing in the sand and went running out into the sea.

  It happened fast, and it happened slowly, as those moments always did. The little girl moving unevenly over the sloping sea bottom, her father and the dog both heading towards her, and her mother standing up with the baby in her arms, calling out something incoherent. And the instant when Maia tripped, fell, and landed face-first in the water.

  She didn’t come up.

  The dog got there first, faster even than Koti. She grabbed Maia’s tiny shirt with her teeth and began tugging her towards shore—at least for the few seconds it took Koti to reach his daughter, scoop her out of the water, and hold her close to his chest.

  Maia hauled in a breath, about to cry, and Koti, his voice nearly steady, said, ’“Monster.” He waded to shore and swung her high overhead until she shrieked, but with laughter this time. “We don’t go in the water alone,” he said when he brought her down. “That was very, very naughty.” But when he had her cuddled up close again and was peeling off her wet shirt, his face told a different story. And so did Kate’s. She was right there with him now, pulling off the little girl’s soaked leggings as the baby, deprived of his feed, wailed.

  “I have a spare outfit in the diaper bag,” she said. Her voice was level, too, but her face was white. “Let’s go, miss. Daddy’s right. Stay with Mummy.”

  “Doggie,” Maia said, reaching down again.

  Koti asked Nyree, who, like Marko, had headed to the beach fast, “Can she pat her? Is it safe? I think it might help.” He laughed, and—all right, now he didn’t sound so steady. He’d be having nightmares tonight. “Not help her. She’s fine. Me. I know the dog didn’t save her life. It just felt like it.”

  “Oh, yes,” Nyree said. “Do have Maia pat her. That’s why I brought her.” She was holding it together as well. Ella, though, had a hand over her mouth, and Marko could hear her saying, “Oh, my God.”

  Nyree went on. “She’s gentle with little ones, and you just saw why she’s so special. She kept her puppies alive through some pretty rough times. She’s a black dog, and black dogs don’t get adopted. But she has a beautiful soul.”

  “We’re getting her,” Kate said. She was at the pushchair, holding her daughter on one hip and searching in the diaper bag with the other hand. The commotion inside the pushchair announced that the baby had headed into full Scream Mode, and Kate’s hands were trembling on the bag. The dog had followed her, though, and was sitting at her feet for all the world as if she were checking on Maia.

  Koti took both the bag and the soggy-diapered little girl out of her hands and told his wife, “Let’s go sit by the fountain. I’ll get Maia dressed, she can pat the dog, and you can feed Mikaere. Then we’ll go home. It’s all good, baby. No worries. She’s safe.” He put a gentle arm around Kate and said, his voice barely low enough to hear, “Ka nui taku aroha ki a koe.”

  The baby was still crying, and Kate said to Nyree over the noise, “We want the dog. Can you please have them save her for us? And can we borrow her for a minute? Koti will bring her back before we leave.”

  “Of course I’ll make sure they save her for you,” Nyree said. She stood still, her camera clutched to her chest. “And of course you can have a few minutes with her. I’m so sorry. I wish I’d seen.”

  “No reason you should’ve,” Koti said. “Not your job. No worries. We’re good.”

  “Right,” Nyree said, watching Koti carry the pushchair up the beach, complete with crying baby, while Kate clutched a diaper-clad Maia and the black dog followed behind. “Strangest adoption ever.”

  It had been nothing. A few seconds. Koti had been right there. But still.

  Marko had come to stand beside her, and she had the oddest feeling, as if he had his arm around her. “It’s the imagination,” he said quietly. “It’s brutal, eh.”

  “Yeh.” She did her best to shake it off. “Could we take a pass on the kitten pictures? I think I’m about photo’d out for now.”

  It had been a joke, but not really, because Marko looked at her too keenly and said, “Course.”

  “What did he say to her? Koti?” Ella asked, and Nyree nearly jumped. She’d almost forgotten the girl was there. Still holding the kitten in two hands, clutching it close to her chest. Looking sixteen. How could Nyree have thought anything else?

  “‘I love you,’” Marko said. “I think.”

  “Ka nui taku aroha ki a koe,” Nyree said. More like, ‘My love for you is limitless.’ Comforting her. Sweet, eh.”

  Marko was putting on his shirt again, the red of him shining deeper than ever. Strong. Alive.

  She should have done the photos, except she couldn’t. She went to find her dress and bag instead, and when she came back, Marko said, “You’re cold. Why don’t you go shower off while we’re waiting for your dog to come back? Bet they’ve got hot water in the showers here. We can pop across the street afterwards and have that breakfast.”

  “You must be cold, too,” she said. “And you don’t have another pair of shorts.”

  “Nah. I’m a pretty tough bugger, and they’ll dry. Go on. Ella’s hungry, and I’m guessing you need a coffee.”

  “Uh, Marko,” Ella said. “Where’s your wallet?”

  His face changed. Completely. He started patting his pockets. “Bloody hell. I may have got a bit carried away there. Wait. Here. Brilliant.”

  Or not. The slim black-leather folding wallet looked like it had cost something. Now, it was absolutely, positively soaked with salt water.

  Marko stood and looked at it for
a long moment. “Destined, that’s what I am,” he finally said. “And not in a good way. I’m texting my mum back to tell her she’s losing her touch. At least I left my phone in the car.”

  “What?” Nyree asked, trying not to laugh. She should be sympathetic, but he looked so nonplussed.

  “My Tarot card of the day. Which somehow always seems to show that I’ve got this. Never mind.”

  “Ah. What were you meant to be today?” she asked. He was pulling a couple slips of paper out of the wallet. Or more like—a couple ragged, limp ribbons of paper. It was awfully hard not to smile. Girls’ phone numbers? If they were, he was out of luck. She shouldn’t feel so pleased about that.

  “King of Swords,” he said. “Competent. Logical. In control.” He shoved the mess of paper into his back pocket, then froze. He was patting his backside again, then checking his front pockets, which forced Nyree to look at his front pockets. His thin shorts were still soaked. Still clinging, too. And his long ring finger hadn’t lied.

  Testicle size. That was the correlation, and the evidence was right there. It wasn’t only that, either. He had plenty of everything.

  She looked up fast. She did not need that information.

  “Well, bugger me,” he said in resignation. He hadn’t noticed her momentary lapse, fortunately. “My car key would seem to be in Davy Jones’s locker.”

  “Should we have a look?” Nyree asked. “Maybe we could find it.”

  “Unlikely,” he said. “Tide’s going out, and searching futilely for my key isn’t the image I was hoping to leave you with. No worries. I’ve got another key at home.”

  “House key?” Nyree asked.

  “He has a key pad,” Ella said. “Good thing. I can’t believe you did that, Marko. It’s awesome. He’s always so perfect,” she told Nyree. “He never does awkward things. I can’t believe you jumped in the sea with your wallet. Wait till I tell Caro.”

  “My sister,” Marko told Nyree. “Not my girlfriend. For the record, I’ve got heaps of sisters, so if you hear another name, she won’t be my girlfriend, either. And it could be,” he told Ella, “that my mind was elsewhere.”