Her eyes widened as she must’ve seen his expression, and the openness in her gaze shuttered.
“Dinner’s ready,” she said, and backed away from the couch.
He staggered upright, trying to shake the sense of disorientation clouding his head. You knew something sinister was up when Sam Ngata took an afternoon nap. Napping was old man Isaac’s thing, not his.
Ruby was already in her high chair, and the roast chicken, potatoes, kumara, and salad were on the table ready to eat. The three of them sat together just like a sitcom family and ate. They talked about the fishing competition and how Isaac and Eric were hoping to hook the big one before the Wrights left for Auckland. They laughed and explained to Ruby that Isaac and Eric weren’t going to catch Nemo or Dory, and then they ranked their favorite Disney Pixar movies and debated whether Finding Nemo or Toy Story should take the top spot.
After dinner they went for a walk along the beach. Ruby tossed seagulls some leftover chunks of roast potato and giggled as she chased the greedy birds along the sand. Sun setting in clouds of orangey-pink, the smell of salt and drying seaweed in his nose, his hand drifted to nudge Vee’s, linking their fingers together. She didn’t say anything or pull away, but he caught her gaze sliding toward him and then veering off again. ‘Why are we holding hands?’ was written in the tautness of her mouth and the sudden hesitancy of her strides in the cool sand.
Because now if you’re near me I can’t not touch you, and it’s scaring the hell outta me, he supplied silently. Especially when I only have a few more days left to do so.
Once they got home, Vee got Ruby ready for bed. They’d left the dinner dishes, so rinsing, stacking, and tidying up kept him busy while she got her daughter settled. He heard the soft click of Ruby’s door shutting, a longish pause, and then the creak of her footsteps as she walked over a loosened board in the hallway. She hesitated in the kitchen doorway, playing with a strand of hair that’d come loose from her ponytail.
His heart gave a little hiccup at the sight of her. Barefoot, with windblown hair and wearing cut-off denims and some sort of blousy-floaty top, she looked all of eighteen. But what he wanted to do to her—with her—was nothing a grown man should be thinking of doing with a girl who’d barely become a woman.
“Ruby’s out cold,” she said. “I know it’s early, but I’m going to hit the sack.”
“Okay.” His fingers tightened on the dishcloth he was using to wipe the counter.
Her gaze flicked up to his, and in that moment, the flush of youth disappeared and was replaced by a hundred percent woman. “Feel like an early night, too?”
He blinked, stomach yo-yoing to his feet and back. Hell yeah wanted to roar out of his mouth but he tamped it down with effort, forcing his hands to slowly wring out the dishcloth and set it down beside the sink.
“Won’t say no.” Listen to Mr. Cool, when in actuality, his heart was racing like a greyhound’s. “I’m knackered, too.”
“That’s a shame.” She leaned into the doorframe, her floaty top pulling tight across her breasts.
Her unexpectedly braless breasts.
Her nipples were budded jewels outlined beneath the sheer green fabric, tempting his hands and his mouth to caress the stiffened tips. It’d take a stronger man than he to resist. He crossed to her in three fast strides and took her mouth a heartbeat later. The taste of her was an adrenaline jolt, and if he had been tired before, the shock of their intimate connection would’ve given him a surge of energy capable of powering a city block.
Vee squirmed up his body, twining her arms around his neck and hooking a knee over his hip. He grabbed a palmful of sweet ass cheek and without breaking the kiss, hauled her into his arms. She ground into him and his cock went from waking up to totally on board with doing her against the kitchen wall. He bored her into the wall, the soft mounds of her breasts squishing perfectly against him.
He kissed her until the frustration of not being able to get his hands on her bare skin forced his mouth from hers. Shit. He needed an extra pair of hands here. With a groan he dropped his head to her shoulder and set his lips on the rapid bump of her pulse.
Her fingers wove though his hair and tugged. “When are the Wrights coming back?”
He glanced up at her kiss-swollen mouth and, impossibly, grew even harder. For a moment, he could make no sense of her panted words. Coming was the only word he recognized—or to be honest, his cock recognized—and he gripped her ass tighter, pressing himself into the notch of her thighs with another groan.
This time she whimpered, her nails digging into his shoulder as she rubbed herself along his straining length. Or as much as she could, considering he’d pinned her like a bug to the wall with his weight.
“Sam.” The fingers in his hair pulled sharply. “Pay attention.”
He skimmed a hand up her side, found the hem of her top, and worked his fingers under it, finding soft skin and then the curve of her breasts. “To your amazing tits? Roger that.”
She whooped in a breath and the back of her head clunked against the wall. “Eric and Julia. We need—”
Another gasp and he discovered if he breathed in a little, he could scissor his fingers over her nipple.
“We need—” She started to speak then finished on a low moan that made his thighs tremble with a need of his own.
“I know exactly what we need.” He dropped his hand from her breast, settled her more firmly into his arms, and carried her down the hallway to his bedroom. “And thanks to our houseguests not being due for another couple of hours, we’ve got plenty of time to give it to each other.”
If anyone noticed Vee walking like a cowboy too long in the saddle the next morning, they were too polite to say so. Sam, however, kept catching her eye and sending her a knowing, ‘wanna go another round?’ smile. And God help her, she did. Even though they’d been at it half the night before.
When it rained, it poured. And she was soaking him up like a big ol’ dry sponge. Which was why she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face, tender lady parts and chafing on her inner thighs caused by a certain someone’s stubble notwithstanding. Now that the line had been crossed and her barriers breached by a Sam-sized battering ram—and she wouldn’t apologize for the phallic analogy—she might as well enjoy the ride.
So to speak.
She caught Sam’s gaze on her ass as she loaded the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher.
Gracie had arrived with William and Charlie just after breakfast, as Gracie had offered to take Ruby for half a day while Sam and Vee drove to the Waipoua Kauri Forest with the Wrights. Gracie continued to switch her time between homeschooling her two young charges and working from home on designs for Bountiful, as well as keeping up their online presence. Ruby just adored five-year-old Charlie so she barely glanced at Vee as Gracie carried her out to their car.
With a packed lunch stored in a cooler in the mum-mobile, the four of them left Bounty Bay a little after eight. Knowing Sam could use the opportunity to talk to Eric about business stuff, Vee insisted on sitting in the back with Julia. The two-and-a-half-hour trip south flew by, and Vee discovered she and Julia had way more in common than the fact they were both mothers.
By the time they reached the narrow State Highway 12 that wound through lush groves of ponga tree ferns, cabbage trees, rimu and rata trees, with the magnificent kauri towering over them all, Vee had a squirmy sensation in her stomach. One that wasn’t caused by motion sickness. Julia kept laughing and chatting with her, but every now and then she’d shoot a glance at the men in front and then beam at Vee. As if they shared the connection of two women on a double date.
This wasn’t a date date, Vee kept telling herself. Because while she and Sam could no longer claim to be in the friend zone—if they’d ever truly been in the friend zone to begin with—they weren’t dating. Because dating someone meant you were kinda taking them out for a test drive to see if they’d make a suitable long-term partner. And since Sam didn’t do long term, and sh
e was doing just fine on her own, she couldn’t allow herself to think of this thing as anything more than it was.
A good time.
They parked in the Tāne Mahuta parking lot, and easing naturally back to a male-female formation with their partners, set off along the forest track. The well-maintained track wound through native bush under the forest canopy. Eric and Julia hurried ahead of them in their haste to see New Zealand’s largest known living kauri tree. A few other groups of tourists walked around them on the wooden boardwalk that protected the kauri tree’s delicate roots, but Vee was content to wander slowly, enjoying the shade, the rich loamy smell of the forest, and the flutter of wings as fantails played tag through the trees. Sam had dropped an arm around her shoulder as they’d started on the track and he’d left it there, even when Eric and Julia were out of sight.
She still hadn’t got used to the new sensation of him touching her, even in such a casual manner as his arm draped around her. Her mind kept skittering sideways as every now and then he’d rub the pads of his fingers on her bare arms to direct her gaze to a family of quail darting through the undergrowth. Or the plump-feathered body of a kererū—a native wood pigeon—preening itself on a tree branch. She alternated between a fluttering belly, the desire to giggle like a schoolgirl, and a sense of peace that was unlike anything she’d experienced. Being here with Sam, her arm around his waist and her thumb hooked through one of his belt loops, felt both normal and alien at the same time.
Walking around a sweeping corner of the path, they came face-to-face with the giant kauri. It was incredibly tall, almost 170 feet high according to the tourist brochures. And incredibly ancient; the same brochure stated its age between 1250-2500 years old. Vee couldn’t help but feel dwarfed by its timeless majesty. Tāne Mahuta—Lord of the Forest—was indeed well named.
Julia waved to them from where she and Eric stood at the tree’s enormous base. Vee smiled and returned the gesture, allowing herself for a moment to lean into Sam. To close her eyes and imagine the Te Roroa iwi—the local Māori tribe—back before white men came to the area. Warriors with mere— Māori war clubs—in hand, moving stealthily through the ancient unspoiled forest, returning to their wives and whānau in their village. It was far too easy to picture Sam as a warrior, strong and fierce with mana, an intricately carved mere clutched in his hand.
Eric and Julia came back to stand with them. “That’s a helluva tree,” Eric said. “Helluva tree.”
Sam grinned at them. “Thought you might enjoy seeing the biggest and the best of the living kauri after you’ve seen what beauty we can create from the timber.”
“Just don’t cut this one down,” Julia said. “That would be a crime against humanity. It’s magnificent.”
“It’s protected by the government, and by Māori,” Sam said.
“Māori own this land?” Eric asked.
Sam shook his head. “A trust owns it, but in Māori culture we don’t own the land, we belong to it.”
“Like its guardian angels,” Julia said.
Vee laughed, bumping her hip against Sam. “Except Sam here is no angel.”
“She’s not wrong.” He grinned down at her and his smile—an intimate, almost possessive smile that claimed her as belonging to him—warmed her from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair.
Eric clapped Sam on the shoulder, apparently not noticing the sex-you-up glances she and Sam were exchanging. “Why don’t we take some photos and then walk back to the picnic area for lunch? I’m starving.”
Vee’s gaze skipped down to Sam’s mouth. God help her, so was she.
Chapter 13
Sam approached Bounty Bay Jewellers that same afternoon with the trepidation of a soldier about to enter a minefield. Nothing good ever came of a man inside a jewelry store. But he couldn’t put it off any longer. He’d dropped the Wrights off at Kauri Whare where Manu would be talking Eric’s ear off, while Julia had an impromptu afternoon-tea-cum-baby-shower with Vee and his aunties.
He eyed up the glass-fronted display of golden glittery things in the jeweler’s window. Better glittery shit than knitted booties and tiny All Blacks-logoed onesies that would be oohed and ahhed over. He grimaced, sighed, and pushed open the door to the little boutique shop.
And bugger it to hell, who should be standing at a display cabinet? Kimberly. She’d glanced up at the tinkle of the shop bell and her gaze zeroed in on him. He almost expected red laser beams to shoot from her eyes as her mascara-caked eyelashes tapered to slits.
He found his most conciliatory smile, the one that nine times out of ten got him out of hot water. “Kia ora, Kimberly. How’ve you been?”
“Good,” she said and volleyed back a smile. One that said he was fortunate they were in a public place, otherwise his nuts would be in imminent danger.
“That’s good.” Good was great. Better than fine at least, but he suspected only the jeweler’s assistant was keeping Kimberly’s tongue in check.
The shop’s display counters formed a U-shape and didn’t leave much space to maneuver around. Sam headed to the opposite counter to Kimberly, which happened to contain an assortment of pendants with matching earrings. He’d been in here a few times for last-minute shopping for Christmas or birthday gifts, though he usually took the easy way out and bought a gift certificate so he couldn’t fuck it up. Pendants and earrings were on this side of the U, behind him racks of wristwatches and more manly jewelry—if there were such a thing—and where Kimberly stood, the ring display. He’d glanced there a few times since the cash register was at the same counter, his eyes squinting against the diamond dazzle and the mega-ridiculous price tags that went with it.
He pretended to peruse along the length of the counter, shooting hurry up glances at Kimberly in his peripheral vision. Like hell would he let on that he was interested in the ring section.
“Need some help?” The shop assistant left Kimberly with an assortment of rings and wandered around to check on him.
“Nope. Just having a look.”
The shop assistant, a middle-aged man with slicked-back hair and a button-down shirt, smirked at him. “Looking for something for your mum?”
“Ah, no. Not this time.” He took a few steps farther down the counter, hoping the assistant would get the hint and leave him alone.
“For your girlfriend?” The assistant persisted. “Birthday, perhaps?” He shot Sam a knowing smile. “Or an I’m sorry I screwed up pair of earrings? Diamonds say I’m sorry like nothing else.”
A derisive snort came from the other side of the shop. “He doesn’t stick with a woman long enough to screw up bad enough for diamonds.”
Even though Kimberly didn’t exactly yell it, her muttered voice carried over to him.
Sam winced. She had a point.
Thankfully, the shop bell tinkled. Sam slanted a grateful sideways glance toward the interruption, then froze.
Owen strolled inside, a huge shit-eating smile breaking out on his face when he spotted Sam at the display cabinet.
This was not good. Not good at all.
“Hey, mate.” Owen strode over and smacked him affectionately on the back. “What’re you doing in here?”
Aware that Kimberly was tuning into their conversation—and that whatever he said next could and likely would be used against him—Sam cleared his throat and tried to silently communicate shut up, dude to Owen.
“Browsing. For Tui’s birthday.”
Crinkles appeared on Owen’s forehead. “Isn’t her birthday a few months away still?”
Owen, who’d known the Ngatas since he boarded with their family as a teenager and became Sam’s best mate, could be incredibly dense for someone who’d spent years in medical school training to be a doctor.
“Getting in early.” He decided to change the subject. “What’s your excuse?”
Owen’s smile turned sappy. “Just gonna pick out a little somethin’ somethin’ for Gracie.”
Sam made a noncommittal sound in t
he back of his throat and shoved Owen in the assistant’s direction. “This guy could use your help since the only shiny thing he’s familiar with is a scalpel.”
“I’m not a surgeon, dumbass,” Owen said amicably enough, and leaned over the glass counter to study a row of pendants.
Sam used his friend’s distraction to check out the shelves of watches behind him, keeping his distance from Kimberly who held a ring up to the light, but sneaking glances toward the display in the hopes something would catch his eye. Maybe he could send the jeweler an e-mail saying: I’ll take the ring in the center gray velvet tray, top shelf, third from the left, second row down. Size medium. Can you stick it in a plain brown paper bag and deliver it this afternoon?
He edged closer to the corner of the U, affecting sudden interest in bracelets, and crouched down to the lower shelf level which gave a perfect view of the beginning of the ring display. Bloody hell, how were you supposed to choose between gold ring with one diamond A, gold ring and multiple little diamonds B, and something called rose gold and what appeared to be a diamond doorknob, C?
“Are you looking at engagement rings?” Kimberly’s shrill voice cut into his ears like a buzz saw.
He glanced up from the white card describing a dazzling one-carat weight of beautiful princess cut diamonds, to see Kimberly, jaw sagging, staring at him in abject horror.
Sam didn’t need to glance behind him to know he now had Owen’s and the shop assistant’s full attention. He straightened out of the crouch and set a determined palm on the glass countertop. “I am.”
“Who for?” she demanded, stabbing the ring she’d been examining back into the velvet display tray. “That woman and her kid I saw you with at your workshop?” She went on before he could answer, her upper lip curling. “A little premature to be thinking about wedding bells, isn’t it?”
“He and Vee have known each other for years,” Owen said, materializing at Sam’s side. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
Break Your Heart_A Small Town Romance Page 17