“Where’s Daddy?” a young Gracie asked her mum for years when the four of them sat at their dining table alone each night.
“At the office, working hard for his family. He’ll tuck you into bed when he gets home,” her mother would reply.
But more often than not, Gracie was already asleep when Daddy got home. So one day, Gracie stopped asking. One day, Gracie realized Daddy wasn’t working hard for them; he was working hard for himself. And maybe because Daddy didn’t seem to enjoy being around his family.
Gracie started the car and pulled away from the curb, her stomach looped in knots that somehow squeezed the air from her lungs. Daddy issues, much? She glared at her reflection in the mirror. Yeah, which was why Owen-the-workaholic was soooo wrong for her.
Pulling into Natalie’s driveway, she spotted Lauren’s Land Rover already parked in front of the garage. A wide veranda encircled the villa-style house beside the garage, and although the lawns were neatly mown, the house, with its flaking paint, needed some TLC.
And here was Gracie, freaking out about a kiss that had probably meant nothing to Owen, when Natalie had lost the love of her life five years ago. Somebody needed to put things into perspective.
Gracie climbed out of the Beetle and walked across to the house. From inside, feminine voices—laughing feminine voices—drifted out the open door. Stomach giving another little clench, Gracie knocked.
Natalie appeared in the hallway, her green eyes sparkling with genuine delight.
“You’re here—yay! C’mon in. I hope you’re hungry because Lauren’s brought the most amazing raspberry and white chocolate muffins.”
“Before a dress fitting?” Gracie stepped inside the house, which smelled like fresh ground coffee and home baking. “Is that a good idea?”
Natalie strolled down the hallway and gave Gracie a hug and a kiss on her cheek. Gracie patted Natalie’s back, blinking and speechless. Four years out of New Zealand and she’d already forgotten the easiness of affection exchanged between friends here.
“When are muffins ever a bad idea?” Natalie pulled back with a grin and slipped her arm through Gracie’s. “Come through to my sewing room. Lauren couldn’t wait any longer to try on her dress.”
Gracie followed Natalie into a room dominated by an industrial sewing machine and overlocker, with a large table covered in paper patterns and a huge set of dressmaking scissors against one wall. Cupboards, rolls of fabric, and two dressmaking dummies filled the rest of the room. One of the dummies was empty; the other still had a cocktail-length gown constructed of plain cotton fabric hung on it—the bridesmaid dress Gracie had designed.
“Oh, wow,” she breathed. “It looks beautiful even for a mock-up.”
“I only sewed it,” Natalie said. “It’s your vision. I hope I did it justice.”
“I think she did.” Savannah rose from one of the two high stools positioned at the end of the patternmaking table. “Hey, sis.” She crossed over and kissed Gracie’s cheek. “Not too soon to call you sis, is it? Or should I wait until it’s official in three freaking weeks’ time?”
“Now’s fine, and I agree. Natalie’s done a brilliant job.” Gracie slanted a quick glance to Vee, who sat on the other stool, a small smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Glad you like the dress,” Vee said. “We wanted to ask you—”
“Oh my goodness!” Lauren swept into the room, the plain cotton skirt swirling around her long legs. “I’m definitely wearing this dress again after your wedding, Sav—it’s gorgeous.” She struck a pose, like the catwalk model she’d once been, complete with sour-puss scowl, then smiled when she spotted Gracie. “I wish you’d been around when Nate and I got hitched. I would’ve loved to have seen what you’d have come up with for me.”
Savannah laughed. “You could’ve worn your mechanic’s overalls, for all Nate would’ve cared. And being that you’ve no junk in your trunk”—she gave a pointed glance at Lauren’s toned back peeping through the gap where a zipper would be sewn in the finished garment—“anything’s going to look good on you.”
“Now I’m wishing I really had worn my overalls to the registry office, just to see your cousin’s face. And, hey—I do have some junk in my trunk.” Lauren patted her butt, which no matter how the woman tried to spin it, was still the butt of an ex-model.
“We won’t hate you because you’re the only pedigree racehorse among a bunch of Shetland ponies.” Natalie appeared behind Lauren with an elasticized pin caddy around her wrist. She plucked out a couple of pins and stuck them between her lips then drew the two halves of the dress together at Lauren’s waist.
“I would hate you.” Vee circled Lauren, her narrowed blue eyes focused on the hem of the dress. “Only the two dozen banana bran muffins you made for me to freeze for Ruby will make me look like Mum of the Year.” Vee stole a couple of pins from Natalie’s caddy and crouched at Lauren’s feet. She slid them into the fabric and paused, her gaze remaining locked on the skirt. “I appreciate it,” she added softly. “As much as I hate accepting charity.”
“It’s not charity when it’s your friends helping out, dumbass,” mumbled Natalie around a mouthful of pins.
“Yeah, well. Speaking of friends and helping out…” Vee stood, her gaze switching from Lauren to Gracie. “Natalie and I love the changes you suggested for our website, and after discussing it, we’d like you to implement them. If we could spread the changes over a month, you could invoice us for your time once a week—if that’s okay?”
They wanted to pay her for something she considered fun? How insane was that?
“Oh.” Warmth spread through her. “Of course. But mate’s rates, then—I insist. And only one invoice when you’re happy with what I’ve done, before I head overseas at the end of April.”
“Done.” Natalie glanced up from where she’d slotted another pin into the waist seam of Lauren’s dress. “Though sometimes plans change. You might decide the grass is actually greener here in Bounty Bay.”
“True,” said Savannah. “Perhaps you’ll see something, or someone, you like more than skiing in the Rockies.”
The pleasurable warmth of acceptance from Natalie and Vee transformed into a scalding blush, heating up Gracie’s cheeks to an unbearable temperature.
“Mmmm.” She ducked aside and skimmed her fingers over the pretty capped sleeves of the second bridesmaid dress. “Shall I try this on now since Lauren’s nearly done?”
“Whoa, girl. Lauren might be nearly done, but we’re just getting started with you.” The previous pensiveness in Vee’s gaze disappeared behind a devilish, white-toothed smile. “Does that blush mean Doctor Sexy has caught your eye?”
“Um. I plead the fifth.”
“You’re not in the US yet, hon.” Savannah chuckled. “And I think that telltale redness around your lips speaks volumes. Unless you’ve been rubbing your mouth on something other than Owen Bennett—like sandpaper.”
Damn. Whisker burn.
“I thought you were an actress, not a mentalist?” Gracie struggled to remove the mock-up dress off the mannequin in double time.
Savannah reached around the mannequin to slide out the pin holding it in place. “I’m both—plus the big sister you never had. The big sister who will get all the details out of you, one way or another. There’s no point in running.”
“Yeah, there’s nowhere to run to, bay-bee,” Lauren sang, breaking out some on-the-spot dance moves.
“Quit shaking your nonexistent ass.” Natalie reached for another pin. “And stop singing, so we can all hear if Doctor Sexy is an adequate, good, or excellent kisser. Inquiring minds want to know.”
Gracie dropped her hands away from the dress. “We’re not teenagers comparing notes at a slumber party,” she said. “Can’t we just talk about something else?”
Vee’s eyes widened. “Girls, she’s evading. We all know what that means.”
“She’s getting into trouble.” Savannah slid the garment off
the mannequin and handed it to Gracie.
She snatched the dress and hugged it close to her stomach, delivering her most challenging stare from one woman to the next. Then she marched to the door. “You’re all blowing things way out of proportion. One—okay, two—kisses doesn’t mean anything between consenting adults. We were just having some fun.”
“You can change in my room,” Natalie said.
“Thanks.” Gracie hurried into the hallway.
“From evasion to telling whoppers,” Savannah said from behind her. “I’m upgrading ‘getting into trouble’ to already in trouble.”
Gracie slid into Natalie’s room and shut the door on the rise and fall of the women’s continuing conversation. She leaned her forehead against the cool wood, the sound of rushing blood thundering in her eardrums.
Savannah was right. She was already in trouble when it came to Owen Bennett. Big trouble. But the fun kind.
So she might as well enjoy the ride.
Chapter 11
The museum was a complete bust. And as for the worksheets he’d printed out for the kids…they lasted for five minutes until he went to the bathroom and came out to discover three paper planes flying around his living room. Another bust. Owen threw up his hands and told the kids to see how far they could fly the planes off the deck.
Then he slumped on his couch—once again his ass cheeks meeting the pointy foot of Charlie’s Barbie doll. The doll reminded him of Gracie’s earlier comment about him being all stiff and hard like a Ken doll. And thinking about Gracie—and the kiss that could’ve triggered a nuclear meltdown—headed him on the route to getting stiff and hard again. He shifted on the sofa, calculating drug dosage formulas as a distraction.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about Gracie all day, and it hadn’t helped with the kids bringing up their new nanny every five minutes at the museum.
“Why couldn’t Gracie come with us?”
“Why couldn’t we go with Gracie?”
“Gracie’s favorite color is blue like that stuffed bird.”
“I miss Gracie.”
He missed Gracie, too—which was bloody ridiculous, because he’d only known her for two weeks. Yet he couldn’t deny she brought something to the table that the four of them had previously lacked. A lightness, a sort of buoyancy that lifted their spirits—Owen’s included. Without her, he and the kids flatlined. He flatlined.
Charlie shrieked from outside on the deck. “There’s Gracie! She’s back, she’s back!”
A horn gave two short blasts in response, and Charlie jumped up and down and waved. Owen stood, scrubbing a fist across his stomach in an attempt to pop the first airy bubbles of excitement stirring in his gut. Pathetic that he couldn’t wait to see her again when she’d only been gone a few hours.
Charlie and William bolted past him to fling themselves out the back door, Morgan trailing after them but still with an anticipatory smile on her face. Unbelievably, he found his mouth curving as he crossed the room. Gracie would get the kids organized and finishing their worksheets, and then while they were watching a movie, he and Gracie could…
Owen stopped in the doorway. Parked in front of his garage was Lauren’s Land Rover. Leaning against it, Gracie stood with Charlie in her arms, William tugging at her elbow, and even Morgan wore an expression that could almost be described as enthusiastic.
“You’ve swapped vehicles?” he asked.
Gracie looked up, the sparkle in her blue eyes threatening to ruin the past five minutes of his formula calculations. “Just for the day. I’m kidnapping you.”
“Kidnapping?” Shit—the overload of images spilling into his brain was not helping.
“More like rescuing you and the kids.” She tilted her head. “Lighten up, O. Let me show you how to have some fun.”
“I know how to have fun.”
Chemistry crackled between them as their gazes locked, lifting the hairs on Owen’s neck.
“We had fun at the museum this morning, right, kids?” he added.
Morgan rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder she didn’t overbalance. William shot a worried glance between Owen and Gracie, and Charlie frowned, wrapping her arm tighter around Gracie’s neck.
“It was borrrring and I want to go with you, Gracie.”
Muscles worked in Gracie’s jaw. “Well, then. Kidnapping it is. Are you game?”
“Oh, I’m up for anything you can dish out.”
Her gaze skimmed the length of him, burning a path from his collared shirt down to his khaki pants he’d changed into for the museum trip. The heat of her gaze melted his resolve to spend quality time with Charlie, William, and Morgan. His interpretation of “quality” being “educational.” Instead, well…kidnapped by Gracie would be an education in itself.
“Then you’d better all get changed into some old clothes. We’re going to get dirty.”
The way her voice roughened on the last word amped up his anticipation, and he beckoned to the kids. “Let’s go. We’re leaving in ten.”
Fifteen minutes after everyone had changed, hats and flip-flops found, and the Land Rover loaded with water bottles and snacks, the kids tumbled into the back. Owen slid into the front passenger seat and grinned at Gracie, his pulse jumping in a series of jagged blips at her bare legs exposed by the same cut-off jeans she’d worn the first day they’d met. She also wore a loose tee shirt over a snug tank top, aviator-style sunglasses, and her long, wavy hair tied up in a ponytail. Mixed in with her normal strawberry bubblegum scent—which he’d learned from Morgan was a special body butter Gracie favored—was the tropical coconut scent of sunscreen.
She looked and smelled good enough to eat.
“You don’t want me to drive?” he asked as she cranked the engine to life.
“I’ve got this.” She slid her hand behind his seat and craned her neck to reverse the Land Rover to the turnaround spot next to the garage. “Unless you’re afraid to let me take control?”
What sort of control were they talking about? Gracie’s eyes, hidden behind her sunglasses, gave away nothing. But since this outing was supposed to be fun….he showed her both palms and offered up a smile he hoped contained a glimpse of what sort of control he’d like her to exert over him.
“I’m completely in your hands and at your mercy.”
Her cheeks sucked in for a moment, and the fingers gripping the gearshift tightened. “Good. You’d better hold on for the ride, then.”
She drove them down through Bounty Bay and continued until they hit the main highway north. As they passed miles of farmland stretching either side of the two-lane highway, tension oozed out of his shoulders. After a while, Gracie punched a button, and a country-pop song blasted out of the stereo. She fired a devilish wink at him and sang along, her voice pretty enough to kick some serious karaoke ass.
Owen wound down his window, and warm air whisked through the car, tossing Charlie’s and Morgan’s curls over their faces and blowing strands of Gracie’s ponytail every which way. She laughed and buzzed down her window, resting her elbow on the sill and dipping her hand in a graceful arc through the slipstream.
William, who watched with his normal hawklike scrutiny, opened his window and copied the motion. “That feels really weird. Good weird. Like my hand is a dolphin.”
“It’s freedom. I guess that’s why dogs love it so much,” Gracie said.
“I wanna be a dolphin,” Charlie said from the other side of the backseat.
Morgan, who’d lost paper/rock/scissors and ended up in the middle spot, leaned over and opened Charlie’s window. In the visor mirror, Owen watched Charlie slide a tentative hand into the slipstream and mimic Gracie’s swimming motion.
Her eyes glowed. “Uncle Owen, dolphin with us!”
With a laugh, Owen stuck his hand out the window and palm-surfed the rushing air. “I haven’t done that since I was a kid,” he said.
Gracie indicated to turn off the highway.
“Giant sand dunes?” William said, spo
tting the roadside sign on Gracie’s and his side of the vehicle. “Is that where we’re going?”
“Sure is.” Gracie steered the Land Rover into Te Paki Stream Road, which led to one of the Far North’s most popular natural attractions. “We’re going surfing.”
Owen leaned into the headrest. Why hadn’t he thought of bringing the kids here? Was he so out of touch with reality that he’d truly thought a four, ten, and thirteen-year-old would prefer a museum over playing in the sand dunes?
He shut his eyes while the Land Rover bumped and rolled as it left the road and headed along the drivable, shallow stream. He’d been here before with Sam, Isaac, Daniel, and Ali a couple of years after they’d moved to Bounty Bay. Ali had come up for the weekend, and the seventeen-year-old Isaac had borrowed Uncle Manu’s four-wheel drive. They’d spent a day tumbling down sand dunes and goofing off. That was the last time he’d gone on an adventure with his big sister.
“Wow. They’re massive.”
Morgan’s voice jerked Owen out of his reminiscing. In front of the Land Rover, a steep bank of golden sand rose up endlessly. Wind ripples textured the huge dune’s flanks, and in the distance, on a farther dune, tiny figures at the top were silhouetted against the clear blue sky. He glanced in the visor mirror at her wide-open eyes and grinned.
“You ready to surf some waves, Morg?”
A small whimper sounded from behind Owen’s seat. His gaze zipped to the side—to Charlie, hunched down in her car seat, her knees drawn up to her chest. He twisted in his seat until he could see her face. Tears trickled down her chubby cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” His heart fisted into his throat, voice coming out a harsh croak.
The Land Rover slowed, and Owen sensed Gracie’s attention zipping between him and his niece. Water hissed beneath the big four-wheel drive’s tires, splashing out in a sparkling plume as they crossed a deeper patch.
“I don’t wanna go surfing.” Charlie’s red-rimmed eyes begged his. “Don’t make me go in the water, Uncle Owen. Please.”
It was the “please” that splintered Owen’s heart, and he kicked himself for not remembering how literally Charlie took things.
Teach Your Heart: A New Zealand Opposites Attract Romance (Far North Series Book 3) Page 13