Holy condescending tone.
I can’t help but glare back at him for a moment before I whip my phone out, fully expecting to see the 22 on the lockscreen.
But it doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t. Not with my luck these days.
It says it’s February 21st.
“How did this happen?” I ask, more to myself than anything else.
“Your sister didn’t seem surprised,” he says with a weary tone.
My gaze snaps up to his. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His darkly handsome face gives me nothing but disdain.
“Look,” I say, feeling flustered, hoping my face doesn’t start going red. I feel like he’d thrive on my discomfort. “How on earth am I missing a day? I accounted for the fact that this place is in the future. You know, that New Zealand is a day ahead.”
“However you counted it, you overshot the landing,” he says, his eyes flitting over my body, as if searching for some kind of sign on how I could be so stupid. They seem to pause on my pink metallic luggage set. Then they focus on the Tory Burch flats on my feet, my yoga pants, my giant fluffy cardigan, my Louis Vuitton Speedy in the crook of my arm.
I know I must look like some rich bitch compared to his worn jeans and tee.
“Well, shit,” I say. I hate that this must have added so much extra stress to Lacey.
For some reason I don’t hate that this has added extra stress to this guy.
Whoever he is.
“What’s your name, anyway?” I ask. “Or should I just refer to you as my driver?”
Wow. His dark eyes are practically simmering, his full lips pressed together into a white, thin line, the muscles along his jaw are tense.
“It’s Tai,” he says, practically spitting out the words. “And I’m not your driver. I’m doing your sister a favor. I was at Whangaparaoa by the time she called me.”
Fangawhat? “I don’t even know what you just said.”
“It’s a…” He stops himself and narrows his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. Point was, I had to turn around and come all the way back here. Now I have to bring you all the way up to Russell.”
“Who is Russell?”
He stares. “Russell isn’t a he. It’s a town. Where the hotel is?”
You idiot, he seems to silently fill in.
“I thought it started with a P.”
He rolls his eyes. “That’s Pahia, where you can catch a ferry to Russell.” He pauses. “Do you have any idea where you’re going?”
I did. I swear I did when my sister first invited me. It’s just life was so busy and Chris said he’d handle it and…
Tai cocks a brow and I’m aware that he’s studying me, my slumped shoulders, the confusion and sadness that must be etched on my face. For a second, it looks like he’s feeling sorry for me.
I straighten my shoulders and paste my happy-go-lucky smile on my face. “Sorry if I don’t seem one hundred per cent with it. It was a rough flight. Thanks for asking.”
A lightbulb seems to turn on in his head as he gives me a sympathetic look. “Your sister warned me that you may or may not have a bloke in tow.” He glances over my shoulder, searching. “Guess he didn’t make it.”
“You mean my ex-boyfriend?” I repeat, stiffening. “No, he didn’t make it. Hence the term ex. And that’s not why my flight was rough.”
It was all the alcohol I drank because of said ex.
“Lacey wasn’t sure,” he says. “But it’s all the better if you ask me. I’ve only got a two-seater truck. One of you would have had to sit in the back.”
And from the look on his face, I can tell that I’d have been the one banished there.
“Well, it’s just me.”
Alone.
“And your entire closet, it seems,” he observes, eyeing my suitcases.
“Hey, not only will I be here a week, but it’s for a wedding. Do you know how many accessories and extra clothes you need for that?”
He shrugs. “Wouldn’t know. I’ve got a tux waiting for me and that’s it. Come on.”
He reaches down and grabs both suitcase handles from my hands, our skin brushing against each other for an electrifying moment.
Then he turns and starts walking off, hauling the suitcases after him.
Okay, it was pretty gentlemanly of him to do that, but he also seems like he’s stealing them.
I jog after him— slowly, so to not jostle my brain. “I can handle them,” I say as I catch up alongside him, my little legs moving fast as we step through the airport’s automatic doors and out onto the curb.
“And yet I’m sure you’re used to this kind of thing,” he says to me idly. “Having someone to handle things for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He pauses at the crosswalk, looking to the right.
“It means if you wanted to refer to me as your driver, I might as well play the role.”
Oh, brother.
I make a scoffing sound and look to the left.
No cars.
I step out onto the road and in a blinding rush he quickly reaches out and puts his body in front of mine just as wheels screech and a car honks, the suitcase handles clattering to the ground.
My heart thuds against my chest.
“You fucking donkey!!” Tai bellows, shaking his fist at the taxi that nearly ran me over. “Pedestrian crossing means pedestrians are crossing, you chucklefuck!”
For a moment it looks like Tai is going to smash through the taxi’s window and pull the driver out by his collar, but the driver hits the gas and speeds through the crosswalk, thankfully not hitting anyone.
Tai’s dark complexion has turned deep red as he looks back to me. I’m about to thank him for saving my life but his eyes are fiery. “Why don’t watch where you’re fucking going? Look right, not left.”
I’m speechless, and I think I’m approaching Tomato Zone One because once again, I’m totally embarrassed. Not only that I forgot they drive on the other side of the road here, but that Tai is reprimanding me for it.
But I refuse to cower before him. “Give me a break, I just got here,” I tell him, hoping he can’t pick up on the warble in my voice.
He glares at me and snatches up the suitcase handles, looking both ways again before he starts crossing.
My pulse is racing in my neck as I follow behind him. He’s really getting all worked up about this and I don’t know why. He must think I’m the biggest idiot.
Probably because he’s used to dealing with Lacey, I think to myself. And you’re her airhead sister.
Yeah, the words are harsh. I know I’m not an airhead in the slightest, I just come across that way sometimes. Usually because I try to look on the positive (at least that’s what pre-job loss and pre-break-up Daisy used to do), and I guess if you’re always smiling you’re seen as dumb. Whereas someone like my sister, who rarely smiles and is always serious, seems smart by comparison.
Okay, she is smart. Like, brilliant. She’s got her damn PhD in botany. She’s a doctor and she’s marrying her equally as smart fiancé. And me, well I was the head of marketing for yoga pants and white-washed self-care. A job I couldn’t even hold on to.
I take in a few deep breaths through my nose as I follow Tai into the short-term parking area. I’m getting all worked up and I only just got here.
We don’t talk, I stay right behind the suitcases. He doesn’t even glance over his shoulder to see if I’m following him.
Finally, we stop at a shiny red pick-up truck, an old model that looks straight out of the 50’s. He throws my luggage in the back of it without a care.
“Hey, I have breakables in there,” I tell him, but he doesn’t seem to hear me. I suppose he’s not doing any different than the baggage handlers.
Then he gets in his side, which for a moment I mistake for the passenger side before I remember, again, how everything is switched around.
My poor hungover brain doesn’t like this one bit.
&
nbsp; At least by the time I get in the passenger side, my face has calmed and he seems to have simmered down.
It’s a nice truck, shiny tan leather seats, but it’s awfully cramped. He wasn’t joking about someone else having to sit in the back, because my thighs are pretty much touching his and I am not ready for this amount of intimacy with this man.
I need to ignore it, even though at this proximity I can pick up on the scent of his cologne, or maybe his body wash. Something salty and bracing, like ocean air. It’s definitely not aftershave since he has a respectable five o’ clock shadow, the kind that would tickle the soft skin between your legs.
Oh my god, stop it.
I blink and buckle up, trying to shift my weight to the outer corner. These thoughts are entertaining but they’re bad news, especially since this guy seems to hate me for no real reason.
Maybe I won’t have to deal with him much at the wedding.
“So, how do you know the bride and groom?” I ask as he pays for the parking.
“Grew up with Richard,” he says out of the corner of his mouth as the parking attendant hands him his credit card back.
“Oh,” I say. “You know, I haven’t even met him.”
“I did know that,” Tai says as we exit the lot. “Lacey’s mentioned how you’ve never come to visit.”
“Well, you know…I’ve been busy. She’s been busy.”
He doesn’t say anything to that, still the set of his brow implies that this seems to be an issue to my sister. I guess five years is a long time…
I clear my throat. “So I take it you’re close with Lacey, too.”
He nods.
“I’m the maid of honor,” I tell him, as if I’m trying to prove how close me and Lacey are.
“I know,” he says grimly. “I’m the best man.”
The best man?
So he’s part of the wedding party?
Well, that’s just great.
I gulp and eye the clock on the dashboard. It’s almost noon.
“How long is the drive to…Robert?”
He just shakes his head. “Russell,” he corrects me, eking out the word.
“Sorry! Russell.”
“Four hours.”
Four. Hours?
In this truck? With this man?
My stomach does an unsettling little skip at that.
This is going to be hell.
Three
Tai
I’d always pictured Hell not as the cliché burning inferno, but as an endless room with popcorn walls and buzzing fluorescent lights, filled with heavy mouth breathers talking way too close to you and saying words like “moist,” “yummy,” and “wellness,” slow walkers arguing loudly on cell phones, lukewarm coffee on wobbly tables, dogs running around without a leash and shitting everywhere. There are no outlets, everything you touch feels like chalk, and there’s always someone who sweats too much giving you unsolicited advice.
That’s what I thought Hell with a capital H was.
Until I had to pick up Daisy Lewis from the airport.
Now I know it’s being stuck in my truck for four hours, driving an out-of-touch girl that acts like she’d rather be somewhere else, seeming completely unappreciative of what I had to do for her, while occasionally making some snippy remark.
If I were being fair, I’d say that her snippy remarks are correlated to my own snippy remarks about her, but I don’t feel like being fair.
Besides, she seems like the type of girl that needs to be put in her place. I mean, she’s fucking humming, for god’s sake. The worst part is, I can’t figure out what tune it is. I want to ask her, but at the same time I don’t dare get into another conversation.
We’re just past Whangerei, about another hour and a bit to go, when I finally snap.
“What song is that?” I ask, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.
“I don’t know,” she says, and she says it in such a way that I can’t tell if she’s fucking with me or not. “Why, do you like it?” She adds a sweet smile.
She’s been giving me that smile a lot. And I don’t like it, or that smile.
At all.
It makes her look ridiculously pretty. Which is unwarranted.
Not that she’s hard on the eyes—she’s the opposite.
Daisy Lewis is hobbit-sized with a narrow waist and curves that give you whiplash if you look at her too quickly. Her hair is long, this dark golden-red color that reminds me of autumn fields at sunset, her nose is delicately upturned, her skin is pale and dotted with freckles, a look that reminds me of the crushes of my youth.
Then there are her eyes.
Dangerous eyes.
Impossibly big and icy blue.
The kind of eyes that are used to holding men hostage, I’m sure.
She’s not perfect of course. Her ears stick out and her front teeth are big. I’ve been trying to focus on that, along with her annoying personality.
“I love it,” I tell her, knowing if I told her the truth she would keep doing it. “Please keep going.”
She narrows her eyes and studies me for a moment before she looks out the window.
“What are these trees called?” she asks.
I sigh. She’s been awfully curious this entire ride, asking question after question about New Zealand, which I guess isn’t a bad thing. I’m just not used to speaking so much, and I hate that she’s bringing this out of me.
“Kauri,” I tell her. I hesitate. “There are a lot of them in the Northland.”
She makes a thoughtful “huh” remark, and then I feel her gaze back on me.
Don’t look at her eyes, you’ll drive off the road.
I can practically feel her knowing smirk. “You didn’t want to tell me that last part, did you? You know, talking to you is like pulling teeth. Anyone ever told you that?”
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel in annoyance, wishing she wasn’t so close to me. Occasionally I get a whiff of vanilla and roses, which must be her perfume. I have to say, even though she looks a little uneasy at times, she looks pretty damn good for having been on an airplane for thirteen hours.
“I’m used to keeping to myself,” I tell her, and immediately regret even giving her a snippet of information. She’s going to use this as a jumping off point, isn’t she?
She twists toward me slightly, her thigh pressing against mine. “So, tell me how you know Richard. I know you said you were neighbors.”
“Yes. We were neighbors.”
“Uh huh. And where did you grow up? Auckland?”
I clench my jaw, wondering how short my answers can be.
“Russell.”
“Oh. Robert,” she jokes, and it makes me growl a little in response. “Just kidding.”
She jabs her elbow into my side.
I try to move my torso out of the way. I’m ticklish there. “Please don’t do that while I’m driving.”
“Jeez,” she says slowly. “Has anyone also told you that you’re a grump?”
I don’t need to answer that.
“So, in Russell,” she goes on after a moment, dashing any hopes I had of her shutting up, “have you lived there your whole life?”
“Yes.”
“And Richard was your neighbor?”
I exhale as loudly as possible. “Yes. Yes. We’ve been over this.”
“I’m just making conversation. I’m trying to get to know you.”
“Well, please don’t.”
“About the conversation or about getting to know you?”
“Both.”
She crosses her arms, her tits pushed up.
I will not look at her cleavage, I will not look at her cleavage.
“You’re a grump,” she says after a moment.
“Fuck yeah I’m a grump. You would be a grump too, if you were in my shoes.”
“I wouldn’t know what it’s like to be in your shoes since you don’t talk about yourself.”
“I meant I’m grumpy today, becau
se I had to backtrack and pick your unappreciative ass up.”
“I appreciate it,” she protests, but it sounds rather weak.
“Do you really?”
She waves at that dismissively. “Fine. Be grumpy. Doesn’t mean I can’t get to know you. You’re the best man, I’d like to find out why. How do you tie into all of this?”
I shoot her a loaded glance, eyes resting ever so briefly on her tits, and then look back to the road. “I was born in Russell. Richard moved next door when he was six. We went to school together. All the kids picked on Richard because he was a skinny nerd who was always falling down and always crying and couldn’t swim. But because I was Richard’s neighbor, I started to feel sorry for him. I started standing up for him. With my fists. We’ve been friends ever since.” I pause, briefly raising my fingers off the steering wheel. “Happy now?”
She nods thoughtfully. “Figures Richard was a nerd from the start. I mean, you’d have to be to be marrying my sister. Plus his last name looks like boner.”
I almost laugh. “It is Boner.”
“Yeah but it’s pronounced Bon-air,” she says.
I rub my lips together before I look at her. She’s serious.
“You think his last name is Bon-air? It’s not. It’s Boner. It’s Richard Boner, AKA Dick Boner, reason one million why he’s been made fun of his whole life.”
She shakes her head, her eyes wide. “It can’t be. When he added me on Facebook, I immediately started making fun of his last name and Lacey insisted it’s pronounced Bon-Air.”
“Lacey is lying,” I tell her. “Haven’t you figured that’s why she’s hesitant on taking his last name.”
“I thought it was because of our Lewis legacy.”
“Legacy? Aren’t your parents apple farmers?”
“So…she might become Lacey Boner.” She giggles for a moment, and then sobers up. “If she’s lying about Dick Boner, what else could she be lying about?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. You’ve got your issues.”
“What does that mean?”
Why did I open my mouth? I should have stopped talking hours ago.
“What does that mean, Tai? If that is your real name.”
I give her a look. “Why wouldn’t it be my name?”
Lovewrecked Page 3