“I should think it’s pretty obvious,” I said. “I may have mentioned it, oh, about six times so far. Which is six more times than I’ve told anybody else, so you know. I always just … try. Until I can’t anymore. So I don’t know about the wine and candlelight. Your efforts could be wasted. Also your money. Just saying.”
He sighed, and sounded much too patient when he said, “Did I ask you to go to a strip club with me and do your own pole dance? No.”
“Good thing,” I said. “I’m not the best dancer, and I’m not that good in heels, either.”
He laughed, fortunately. “That’s what you took from that. OK, then. Did I ask you to go to a … I’m having trouble coming up with something inappropriate enough. Anyway. No. I asked if you wanted to go to dinner. With candlelight and wine. There could even be flowers involved, as somebody mentioned to me recently that she liked flowers. Some woman, can’t remember who. We could snuff out the candles and have fizzy drinks instead, I guess, if that’s more comfortable. Or if you’re scared of burning yourself.”
I said, “I’m not scared of burning myself. I’m scared of … Well, I’m not scared, I’m just …”
“That I’ll kiss you again, and this time, you won’t like it?” he asked. “That I’ll touch you and you’ll say, ‘Too fast, boy? Back off?’ Got news for you. That’s happened. I know how to back off.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, that’s good, then.”
He stopped running. I noticed, because Xena, who’d been taking some forays into the surf, came running back as if she had eyes for him in the back of her head. I turned around, jogged back, and asked, “What? You’re offended? See, I told you you’d be offended.”
“No,” he said. “I stopped because I wanted to hold your hand.”
It was the last thing I’d expected. He stood there, held out his hand, and waited. And I took it.
The sun was setting. The sky over the sea was shading from yellow near the horizon to pale purple above, the sun breaking through the mass of clouds and slanting in golden beams onto the perfect, pale blue of the sea. Along the edge of the shoreline, black-and-white stilts walked on their comical, impossibly long, orange legs, searching for their dinner amidst the wrack of seaweed. And Gray held my hand, laced his fingers through mine, lifted my hand to his lips, and kissed it. After that, he turned it over and kissed my palm, his dark eyes still looking into mine, and I couldn’t breathe.
He said, “I’m not going to hurt you. I meant what I said. Slow as you like. When you say stop, it means stop.”
“Oh … OK,” I managed to get out, and somehow, I’d taken a couple steps closer.
He didn’t let go of my hand. He put it on his chest instead and said, “Can you feel my heart?”
“Yes.” I had my palm flat over the spot where the tattoo would be, curving in a spiral, hidden away like the secret inside of a shell. I kept it there, and I felt it. His heart, beating steady and strong. His warmth, radiating out toward me.
He put his hand over mine, holding it there, looked into my eyes, not a trace of a smile on his dark, beautiful, tough-as-nails face, and said, “It’s here for you, you know. Today, and tomorrow, and the next day. And so am I. Uncertainty or not. So am I.”
42
Surprises
Gray
Well, that hadn’t been putting myself out there much. I tried to worry about it, and failed. We resumed our run home, and I could tell that something in Daisy had settled. She was moving free and easy, and that felt good to me.
Saturday night. Tomorrow night. I could do that.
When we got back, I told her, “Shower. Five minutes, and I’ll come have my share of that dinner. Looks like Dorian and Chelsea are still here, anyway.”
“Possibly a pity,” she said, and I laughed.
When I turned up at the door again with Xena, though, Daisy was still in her running clothes. I said, “You didn’t get your shower?”
She said, “Gray. Something’s happened.” She had her hand on my forearm, possibly forgetting that she was meant to freeze up around me.
Nobody was on the deck anymore. Mum and Iris, Dorian and Chelsea were all at the dining table, and the girls were perched at the island. Mum looked calm. Nobody else did. I said, “What?”
Mum said, “Amanda rang up an hour or so ago. My neighbor. Said there’s been a fire at the house.”
Daisy said, “I’m so sorry, Gray. I should’ve realized.”
“What,” I said, “that your ex would try to burn down my house? I assume that’s what we’re talking about. Had advance knowledge of that, did you? No, you shouldn’t have realized. How could you? And would you go take your shower, please? You’re shivering.”
She stopped looking worried and miserable and glared instead. “I’m concerned. Of course I’m concerned! I’m not going to come in, hear that news, say, ‘Oh, hard luck,’ and go take my shower!”
“How does it help anything if you’re frozen and dirty?” I asked. “I’ve had enough of seeing you both ways. Go take care of yourself.”
Her mouth opened, then shut, and she said, “You can’t—”
“Well, yeh,” I said. “I can, in this instance. This is what caring about somebody looks like. Get used to it.” When her mouth opened again, I added, “You might consider that you’d tell me the same thing. You did tell me the same thing, when I had a migraine.”
“That was different,” she said. “I’m a nurse.”
“Well, I’m a … a …”
“Boyfriend,” Iris said. “I’d say. Horrible word, though.”
Mum looked interested and forked up another bite of something. Louise cake, it looked like. Coconut-and-meringue top, jammy middle, cakey bottom. With a dollop of cream on the side for good measure. If Oriana stayed here much longer, I was going to get fat.
Daisy said, “I’m going to take a shower. Not because you told me to. Because I need to. Five minutes. And then we’ll talk.”
“Fine,” I said. “See you then.”
She wanted me to say something more, I could tell. Something worse, so she could fight. I didn’t. I stood there and waited, and in another second, she flounced off. I hadn’t known Daisy could flounce. It looked good. That round little arse in those tiny shorts? Flouncing was definitely a good look. A much better spot to rest my mind than the fury that was trying to overwhelm me.
Fury wouldn’t get the job done. Fury was for later.
Oriana, meanwhile, was fixing me a plate. Vegetable and chicken risotto, heaped into an enormous mound. She shaved some Parmesan on top, added some chopped parsley, and handed me the plate. I said, “Cheers. Looks awesome. Fix Daisy one as well, would you?” and, since there wasn’t anyplace to sit, leaned up against the island and asked Mum, “What exactly? And did you ring the police?”
“Of course,” she said. “They don’t know yet, other than that a window’s broken downstairs. The alarm rang at the fire department. That worked the way it should, anyway. Somebody’s ringing me back once they’ve had a look.”
Another few minutes, when nobody could think of much to say, and during which I ate my risotto. It was excellent. Finally, Daisy reappeared, pulling a dressing gown around herself. It was a raspberry color, and it fit her heaps better than Mum’s had. I was willing to bet she was naked under there, too. She took the plate and fork that Oriana handed her and asked, “What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” I said. “You weren’t gone long enough to miss anything.”
“You’ll need to drive up there,” she said. “I wish I could do it for you, because I know how busy you are just now, and it’s my fault anyway, but I can’t cancel my shift, not this late. Not on Friday night. I could go afterwards, though. I’ll be done by nine, which means I’d get there after noon. That isn’t ideal, but …”
Oriana said, “Take my chair, Daisy.”
She didn’t. She was still talking. I set my plate down on the island and held up my hand like a traffic cop, and eventually, she shut up.
I said, “Yeh, I’m going to do that. Going to send you into the lion’s den to fight my battles. Where are you going to sleep, in this fantasy, while you supervise the cleanup? Going to snuggle up in my bed again, cozy in the knowledge that Gilead could come back?”
I got some more opening-and-shutting of the mouth, and then she said, “All right, I can see that wouldn’t work.”
“Thank you,” I said.
The phone rang. Mum talked a little, listened, talked some more, and rang off, and I ate some more risotto. Still excellent. Creamy, flavorful rice, tender spring vegetables, roasted chicken with crispy skin.
“What did they say?” Daisy asked, the second Mum’s thumb hit the button.
Mum said, “Not too bad. Fire department’s still there, making sure, but there’s not much to do. There’s a great stone in the middle of the lounge, or a lump of concrete, maybe, and burnt paper all around. Magazines, it looks like. They’re guessing somebody threw the stone, then followed up with the magazines, once the window was broken, and tossed a couple of lit fire starters in there. Fashion magazines. Wedding and fitness magazines, too. They wanted to know if they were mine. I said, ‘If you knew me, mate, you wouldn’t ask.’ Bit of humor there, eh. Me swotting over fitness magazines, planning my next workout.”
“Ah,” I said. “I heard that. I wondered.”
“They think he probably did something else to make it light up, too,” Mum said. “Sprinkled those magazines with petrol, maybe, though they’ll have to check. I can barely get a fire to light in the wood burner. I’d never manage to light a stack of magazines.”
“Not an efficient method, no,” I said. “But the choice of magazines is pretty significant, I’d say. Brides. Fitness. Fashion.”
“Worldly,” Daisy said. “Sinful. And is that all you’re going to say? Aren’t you going to ask about the damage?”
I looked at Mum. “What’s the damage?”
“Water damage, mostly,” she said. “Broken window. Some scorching. First time I’ve been glad the couches are leather.”
“If you didn’t want leather,” I said, “why didn’t you say so?”
“Dunno,” she said. “Maybe because you didn’t tell me it was meant to be my house, too? You don’t choose the decorating scheme in somebody else’s house.”
“Fair point,” Iris said.
Daisy said, “I’m two seconds away from screaming. How can you two be so casual about this? It could have burnt down the entire house. You could have been in it! Do you know what burns do?”
I sighed. “I’m insured. Or, rather, Mum is. And the house has sprinklers. I’m a builder. Of course it has sprinklers. You’re not burning down that house.”
“Oh,” she said. “Why didn’t you say?”
“I just did,” I said. “There’s only area carpeting, but that’ll likely be ruined, and the floor scorched as well. For the rest—we mop the water up, chuck out anything else that’s damaged, scrub the soot off the walls, put a few fans around, and she’ll be right. I’ll redo the floor and do that painting when I have a bit more time, Mum.”
“All the sprinklers will have gone off, though,” Chelsea said. “You’ll have major water damage.”
“No,” I said. “Unless you had a significant accelerant that sent the whole place up, it’s room by room.”
“You can’t know that,” Chelsea said. “In films, all the sprinklers go off. Every time. I’ve seen it.”
I said, “Reality’s a bit different, maybe,” and wondered who would argue with a builder about the functionality of sprinklers.
“How about if he comes back?”
That was Frankie. Her voice was low, she was only half twisted around on her stool, she was trembling a little, and she wasn’t looking up.
I took her hand and squeezed it. It was freezing. I said, “No worries. I’ll take care of that. I’ll ring a mate tonight and get him to replace the glass straight away, and to install cameras tomorrow. There’s an alarm, but I haven’t done cameras. Never mind, easily sorted. It’s all good, Frankie. Does your neighbor have a key?” I asked Mum.
“Yes,” she said. “But I should go back and see to things.”
“And that,” I said, “would be another no. I’m not going to say anything about wishing women would do what I say, for obvious reasons, but …”
“What obvious reasons?” Chelsea asked.
“That everybody’s had enough of that,” I told her, then asked Mum, “Who could you get to clean up inside?”
“A few of my girls,” she said. “The most reliable ones. I’ll pay them well for helping me on the weekend, and order a dumpster from the council on Monday. They’ll do it better than me, honestly. I’m too fat to work that hard anymore. Carrying sodden carpet? Not me.”
“Sorted, then,” I said.
“But …” Daisy said.
“Cameras,” I said. “That should do it. That was a pretty average attempt. Intimidation, that’s all. We don’t have to be intimidated, though.” I stood up, put my plate in the sink, and said, “Excellent risotto. Cheers for that. I have to be up at five, though, and Daisy wore me out running, so Xena and I will say goodnight.”
Frankie said, “I can’t … I can’t let your house be in danger. Or Honor. I can’t,” she said, when Mum would have said something. “I need to talk to him and see if I can get him to stop.”
“No,” Mum said. “That’s the very last thing you need to do. That’s why we have a protection order. You don’t talk to him. You don’t go near him.”
“What if he comes here, though?” Frankie was pleating the edge of her shirt with nervous fingers, her thin face strained. “What if he does it again, and everybody’s here? I should go stay at Daisy’s house, and tell him I’m there, so he leaves the rest of you alone.”
I said, “With your ankle sprained? Alone? No, you shouldn’t. And tomorrow, I’ll be installing cameras here, and redoing the gate as well. The rest is fenced already, and the sea makes a pretty good barrier. No worries, Frankie. Unless he arrives in a Zodiac inflatable with his Special Forces team, he’s not getting in.” I thought a second, then told Daisy, “And don’t tell me it’ll be expensive, and decide you’ve got to somehow mortgage more of your life to pay for it. It’s no more than what I should’ve done already. Also: six-thirty tomorrow. That’s our date. Be ready.”
“That’s …” she started to say. “That’s … so extremely high-handed.”
“Yeh,” I said. “Probably. So let me ask nicely. Want to come outside and kiss me goodnight?”
Daisy
I did go out with him. Of course I did. The second the door shut behind me, I said, “Gray …”
He didn’t joke, and he didn’t brush me off. He said, “No, I’m not that casual. I’m bloody filthy about it. Frankie doesn’t need to hear that, though, and she doesn’t need to hear any worry, either. She needs to hear that it’s going to be OK. She needs to hear that everybody’s safe. I’d have said you needed to hear the same thing, but I don’t think so. I think you need to hear that I’m taking it seriously, and I’m going to do everything I can to make it stop. Meanwhile, I’m here for the weekend, and Mum’s here with the girls. I’ll put those cameras on, and not just on the gate. All around the section. I’ve got an alarm on the house already. Frankie’s going to be safe here, and so are you.”
“And your mum,” I said. Somehow, I had my arms around his waist, and he had his hands on my shoulders. He was solid ground, was what it was. His hands were so big. Also, he smelled nice. Like honey and spice again, and like man.
“And my mum,” he promised, and bent his head and kissed me. Gently. Softly.
“What about Gilead?” I asked. “Frankie did the protection order, and your mum can tell the police you suspect him, I guess, but without any evidence … Unless somebody saw him …”
“Too big a section to be likely,” Gray said. “Plantings all around it, too. I designed it for privacy. Perils of being a sportsman. But I’ll ask them
to check, yeh.”
“Will you …” I hesitated.
“Will I what?” he asked.
“How do you warn him off?” I asked. “Or more like—how do we do it?”
“I have a couple ideas. I’m guessing I’ll be more effective than you on that one, though he should be scared of you. I wouldn’t say you’re a Jack Russell, but …” He kissed me again, then said, “I’ll see you tomorrow at six-thirty. Wear trousers.”
I blinked. “Well, that’s something nobody’s said to me before.” I’d been thinking about a dress, about how sexy I was willing to go for this. Pretty bloody sexy, I’d decided. Start as you mean to go on, they said, and maybe I would feel like that sultry vixen, with the candlelight and all, if I dressed like it.
“Because you have pretty legs,” he said. “Yeh, you do. Do me a favor, though. Wear trousers anyway.”
43
Precautions and Plans
Gray
I didn’t make one call that night. I made four.
The first was the one I’d told the others about: a mate in Wanaka, a small-time contractor. When I’d explained, he said, “Course I will. First thing tomorrow. New window glass, and cameras.”
“Cameras everywhere,” I told him. “Not just at the door. The burglar alarm didn’t scare him off. Maybe cameras will.”
“Your mum there and all, too,” Rangi said. “Not good.”
“She’s staying on with me for a bit,” I said.
“Still,” Rangi said. “I’d want to take the bastard out before I let my mum move back.”
“Well, yeh,” I said. “That’s the idea. Cheers, uso. Sure you don’t want to move to Dunedin and be my foreman?”
“Nah,” Rangi said. “I’ll take being my own boss, thanks very much. If I worked for you, I’d have to kill you.”
I laughed and rang off. And then I made the second call.
“Yeh,” Luke Armstrong said. No words wasted, as usual. When I explained the situation with Gilead—or what I assumed was Gilead, because the hard truth was that I didn’t know—he said, “What can I do?”
Kiwi Strong (New Zealand Ever After Book 3) Page 31