Know Your Heart: A New Zealand Enemies to Lovers Romance (Far North Series Book 2) (21 page)

She’d hated them.

Of course, as she got older, her feelings toward her two half-sisters had changed. Sav made an effort to keep in touch. She spoke more to Brianna and Lucy online and on Birthday-Christmas phone calls than she did her father.

Guess not everything had changed.

“I asked him to come to see me in Pygmalion. I didn’t care about him flying over for my final year prize-giving, but I desperately wanted him there for the last show.”

“He didn’t make it.”

“No. Lucy came down with bronchiolitis two days before he was due to fly out. He hated to do this to me, he told me over the phone, but he couldn’t leave her. I yelled at him that he’d left me when I had measles, chicken pox, and didn’t even stay for the surgery when I had my appendix out. He promised to come to my prize-giving later in the year.”

“And you told him not to bother.”

“Little brat, huh?”

“You were young, hurt, and bitterly disappointed,” he said. “And after his no-show at the play?”

She scrunched up her face, poking out her tongue. “Nate was working that night and Mum had gone off with a group of her friends. I got a lift home after the play and drank most of a bottle of wine left in the fridge, then I headed to a club in the next suburb over. I figured nobody would recognize me there.” She slanted a glance at Glen. “I didn’t have enough cash to catch a taxi into the city; otherwise I would’ve been foolish enough to try Queen Street.”

“Just as well. Who knows how much more trouble you would’ve gotten into there.”

“I don’t remember much about the club other than it was loud enough to dull the snarky voices in my head, and men kept offering to buy me drinks.” She pressed her lips together to stop a tremble appearing in her next words. “It’s all murky.” Savannah stopped in the middle of the road. “You were there?”

He stopped next to her, rubbing his fingers along his jaw. “I was grabbing a burger in the MacDonald’s across the street from the club. You wobbled past on the sidewalk outside, dressed up like a”—he made a rumbly, embarrassed noise in his throat—“like a much older girl, and disappeared into the club. I couldn’t let you stay in there alone.” He sighed. “I didn’t think it was my place to go all big-brother on you, so to start with, I kept my distance.”

“And watched me get tanked.”

“You were having fun, and no one was bothering you at that point. You had a little crowd of admiring men circling your table like sharks, but you wouldn’t dance with any of them.”

Savannah groaned, covering her eyes. “I probably couldn’t have stood unassisted, let alone danced.”

“Yeah…well. When you headed for the bathroom, one of the sharks followed with an expression on his face that gave me a bad feeling. I went after you both and found he’d cornered you in the hallway, pinning you against the wall, so you couldn’t get away. You remember that?”

Savannah licked dust-dry lips. God, she should’ve brought her little running backpack with her water bottle.

“He wanted to dance.” She rubbed a hand back and forth around her wrist. “Called me a whore and trapped me when I tried to get past him.” She shook her head. “There was shouting and shoving, and he finally let me go. Someone grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the hallway.”

“That was me. I got you out of the club before a brawl started.”

Something tickled at her memory. “But I remember dancing.”

Heat stole over her, even though the clinging mist had turned into a fine, cool rain. The warmth spread out from her chest, circling lower and lower until it settled deep inside her.
A strong arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her upright, the spill of neon lights on wet pavement. Muted music pouring out of the club and drifting into the crisp air
.

“We danced in the parking lot,” she said.

His gaze softened. “You made it clear that if you didn’t get a dance with me, you’d cause a scene.”

“See? Brat.” She laughed. “Was there anyone even around to see me cause a scene?”

“No. Not even a car in the drive-through.”

“Ohmigod—I made you dance with me in a MacDonald’s parking lot?”

“If we’re going for accuracy, I’d have to say I was dancing, you were drunkenly lurching.”

She clamped a palm over her eyes. “Tell me I didn’t puke over you? Because I
do
remember a lot of puking that night.”

“You didn’t puke over me. I managed to get you home without you tossing your cookies in my car, too—though it was a close thing.”

“You drove me home?”

He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “I couldn’t leave you giggling like a loon in the MacDonald’s parking lot. I put my sweatshirt on you to keep you warm, and I took you home. Made sure you were okay.”

“I don’t remember the ride home,” she said. “Or much of what happened after—except the vomiting marathon.” She shuddered. “That I remember.” She closed her eyes for a moment, struggling against the blurry memories. “You carried me inside.”

“Yeah.” He fisted a hand through his hair, dipping his chin. “You kept calling me Henry Higgins.”

Her bottom lip wobbled. “And held my hair back in the bathroom?”

“You would’ve ended up face-first in the toilet bowl.”

She held up a hand. “Don’t joke about it, Glen. What you did was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

He studied her intensely and shook his head. “Making sure you didn’t hurt yourself shouldn’t be on your list of sweetest things a man has done for you.”

“Yet it is.” The warmth in her belly flared upward to her face and squeezed her throat closed until it was almost impossible to swallow. “I don’t remember much about that night, but I remember how I felt with you. Cared for.
Safe
. And I kept your sweatshirt for years. It was my favorite.”

Tears prickled the corners of her eyes but she blinked them away. She covered the distance between them and laced her fingers behind his neck. Resting her forehead on his shoulder, she breathed him in—fresh male sweat and whatever addictive pheromones were added to his deodorant.

His hands smoothed her shirt against her upper back, the touch making her want to purr.

“You still are safe with me.” He sighed and encircled her in a huge bear hug, resting his chin against her temple. “I thought you were asking for Liam, once the feel-good-euphoria of alcohol wore off.”

Sav frowned. “You did?”

Stubble scraped her skin as he nodded. “Yeah. You kept saying, ‘Where is he? Why didn’t he come?’ The last thing you said to me after I poured you into your bed was, ‘I thought he loved me.’”

“I wasn’t talking about Liam. I would’ve meant my dad. Liam was out with his mates.”

“Figured that out now.” He kissed her hair. “But on that night, I was furious Liam hadn’t been looking after you.”

“How long did you stay with me?”

The muscles in his neck tensed beneath her fingers. “Long enough to leave a note to your mum that you’d been out drinking and you were sleeping it off. When I heard the garage door open, I left via the back door. You would be in enough trouble without her catching a boy in your bedroom.”

She snorted a laugh against his chest, tugging the short strands of hair at his nape. “So it was you who got me grounded for the next three months.”

“You deserved it.” He smacked her on the butt. “And I wanted to make sure she kept an eye on you for the rest of the night.”

“You signed the note
a friend
. She showed it to me the next day while lecturing on the evils of drinking and running around with boys. Normally, I would’ve given her the smartass teenage response of
I can look after myself
, but after I saw the bruises…” She looped her arms around his waist. “I realized how much trouble I could’ve been in if this friend hadn’t cared about me.”

Glen swallowed again, another dry click, and his hand stroked down her ponytail, tugging gently to tilt up her face. He kissed her, taking his sweet time about it, doing a fine job of turning her insides to hot mush. Her skin on fire as his tongue skimmed along hers, it was a wonder the few spots of rain falling on her bare arms didn’t sizzle.

Enjoy the sizzle while it lasts
, a little voice hissed from a black corner of her brain.
Your new life in L.A. starts soon, and Glen’s not part of the package
.

All at once, the delicious warmth enveloping her felt like tiny, hot needles shoved into her eyes, and she stiffened, nasal passages thick and burning.

Glen pulled back, and they stared at each other in agonizing silence. Then he cast a thoughtful glance to the sky.

“We should make our way back. The rain’s getting heavier and I need to check that Tom’s revised that last math chapter.”

Before she could object, Glen jogged away from her.

Sav followed, hustling to catch up and brushing moisture off her cheeks. She wasn’t sure whether it was rain or tears. Rain, she decided. She’d go with rain.

Tears were for amateurs and the big screen. Tears shed in front of people were weakness, and as much as she dreaded saying goodbye to Glen, she refused to roll over and expose her soft underbelly again.

But neither would she willingly hurt this man who’d generously allowed her into his life—even if only for a short time.

Chapter 13

From the far end of the barn, Glen studied his nephew. Tom sat bent over his guitar, fiddling with the tuning pegs.

Tomorrow morning, Glen would put him on a bus headed to Auckland. Tom leaving was a double-edged sword. On one hand, he’d miss the kid. On the other, he and Savannah wouldn’t have to steal alone time.

Didn’t that make his pathetic heart want to sing sappy love songs into the mic stationed in the corner of the barn?

Glen grimaced and tugged on an earlobe, scanning the crowd of kids, parents, and friends conned into giving up their Saturday afternoon for an impromptu recital set up by Lauren and Savannah. He spotted Savannah, pretty as a spring daffodil in her yellow dress, in an animated conversation with one of Todd and Kathy’s relatives. The older Maori man bellowed a laugh at something Sav said, patting the guitar strapped against his belly. Somehow, Sav and Lauren conjured up another couple of guitar players as Tom’s back-up, plus a bunch of costumes for the younger kids to perform a short play in.

Glen aimed another glance at his nephew, who’d shifted to stand in front of the mic. One more thing Savannah deserved thanks for. Tom’s hand fumbled once as he adjusted the mic angle, but there was a quiet confidence in the boy’s eyes as he looked out over the rows of lawn chairs and portable fishing stools. Confidence he didn’t have two weeks ago. Confidence Sav helped him find.

Tom strummed a few chords and the crowd fell silent. Savannah sat near the front next to Lauren and Drew, while Glen was positioned with Nate at the back—an alternative friendly face for Tom to focus on, should he need it.

“Uh.” Tom spoke into the mic and flinched. He chuckled tightly and tried again. “Uh, we’re gonna play an acoustic version of
Eye of the Tiger
, ‘cause, you know, you’ve got to fight for what you want in this life, one way or another.”

Tom tapped a one-two-three with his foot and began to play, his two fellow guitarists picking up the rhythm. The boy’s forehead creased in concentration as he switched through the intro chords. Someone in the audience whooped in encouragement, and Tom’s head jerked up. But instead of faltering, a sharp grin appeared on his face, and he leaned into the mic.

Tom began to sing, steady and pitch-perfect. More appreciative noises erupted from the audience along with a steady rhythmic clapping. Glen’s cheeks bunched into hard apples as a grin spread across his face.

Tom was killing it.

Savannah twisted in her seat, giving him a thumbs up. He nodded, and she turned to the makeshift stage again. The ferocious pride in her eyes was a sucker punch to the solar plexus. Lurching half a step backward, Glen stumbled into the solid barrier of Nate’s arm braced against his shoulder.

“Outside,” Nate muttered close to his ear. “Don’t freak, or Tom’ll see him too.”

Glen’s brother, arms folded and clenched tight to the front of his pin-striped suit jacket, stood in the barn’s doorway.

Under Jamie’s belligerent gaze, Glen ducked behind the small group of standing men and headed over. Before his brother could cause a scene, Glen said in a low voice, “Don’t wreck this for him, Jamie. He’ll never forgive you.”

Jamie spun abruptly and stalked along the path. Glen followed, tension knotting his gut at his brother’s stiff, baton-up-the-ass gait. Why was he here, and in a suit, for Christ’s sake?

“What are—?”

“What am I doing here?” Jamie rounded on him, holding up a stiff palm to bring them both to a halt. “I cut short a client meeting this morning to attend Reece’s soccer game, but only Erin and Mikey were on the side-lines. Mikey blurts out that ‘Tommy’s coming home tomorrow. He’s in the wop-wops with Uncle Glen.’ So I got the address from Erin, jumped in the car, and drove.”

Damn
. It should’ve occurred to Glen that she might not have run Tom’s trip past his father.

“I turn my back, and my kid’s gone.” Jamie flung up a hand, thunderclouds looking less threatening than his expression. “Goofing off with you when he should be at home, studying.”

Pointing out Tom wasn’t the only one Jamie turned his back on would be throwing a box of TNT on a bonfire, so Glen seamed his lips together so words couldn’t escape. Once Jamie built up a head of steam, he didn’t require a two-way conversation, anyway.

“He has exams starting in a few weeks’. Exams he can’t afford to fail.” Jamie paced away a few steps and swatted aside an overhanging
punga
branch. “Erin put you up to this, didn’t she? She couldn’t cope, so she begged you to help, knowing you’ve always had a soft spot for her. Hell, you took her in when she left me.” Jamie whirled, his eyes two laser-beam slits of blue. “Tell me you didn’t put her up to that?”

“Jamie, man.” Glen raised his palms, pulse a constant, juddering bump against his artery walls. “Think about what you’re saying.”

Jamie’s fist clenched, but Glen wouldn’t back down. He welcomed a heartfelt reaction from his brother instead of the usual distracted indifference.

With five years between them, Glen and Jamie had rarely fought as kids. Often, this was because Jamie locked himself in his room with his books and extra-credit homework, so Glen gave up needling his brother for a reaction at a young age. Even as adults, their socializing outside of work was limited to the occasional stilted family dinner, their only disagreements over what restaurant they chose to hold lunch meetings with their father.

Jamie held his glower for a few seconds longer then his scowl crumpled, and he braced his hand against the sturdy trunk of a young
kauri
. “I’m outta line.” His shoulders slumped inward. “Christ, Glen. How will I get them back?”

Glen hissed out a sigh between his teeth. “So you want them back?”

Jamie’s narrowed look suggested Glen’s IQ had recently divided in half. “Of course I want them back—want Erin back. I love her. My life’s a fucking disaster without her.” He jammed both hands into the pockets of his suit pants. “And I miss my kids.”

“Then work out your priorities, starting with Tom.” Glen tipped his head in the direction of the barn. “Do you have any idea what it’d mean if you came up here not to criticize but to support him?”

The corners of Jamie’s mouth turned down.

“Just
listen
,” Glen said. “And think about what you saw on his face as he played.”

Music poured over them, joy evident in every note.

“He’s good. I’ll give him that.” Jamie yanked a hand from his pocket and made a dismissive swipe. “But he’s fifteen. He doesn’t understand the way the world works. He won’t make it as a musician.”

“He won’t make it if you coerce him into a career he doesn’t want, either. Who knows what direction his life will take? At least support him in doing something he loves, even if it turns out to be only a hobby.”

“Coerce him like Dad coerced you, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

Jamie grimaced. “I want a better relationship with my kids than you have with Dad.”

“So you’ll need to work on it. Cut Tom some slack. He’s a good kid, and he hasn’t been goofing off. Both Sav and I have helped him study.”

Jamie’s gaze turned from melancholy to deadly focused in a blink. “Sav? As in Nate’s cousin, Savannah?”

Glen shrank to twelve years old again, caught mooning over some girl way out of his league. If it were possible to squirm in a vertical position, he’d be wriggling like an earthworm. “Ah, yeah. Tom and I are staying in her house. Nate rented it to—”

“And she’s here, too? In there?” He gestured toward the barn, where applause after Tom’s performance had started to die down.

“Yeah.”

“So she’s staying with Nate?”

“Not exactly. She was living in a caravan until a tree…” Glen’s voice trailed off at Jamie’s skeptical squint. “It’s complicated.”

“Now I understand why you were so keen to get away from Auckland.”

“Whoa—” Glen held up a hand. “It’s not like that. I’d no idea she was going to show up.”

“What a coincidental bonus. Your teenage crush arrived on your doorstep.”

Shock that Jamie paid attention during Glen’s teen years must’ve shown on his face.

“Yep, you just confirmed it,” Jamie said. “Can’t blame you for wanting a bit of fun with the blonde bubblehead.”

A feminine throat clearing made Glen jump. His gaze shot left to Savannah, a polite smile affixed to her glossed lips, hands fisted on her hips.

“Hi. You must be Tom’s dad,” she said sweetly. “
Delightful
to meet you.” Her smile could’ve cut concrete.

Jamie had the decency to flush an unflattering shade of pink before offering his hand. “James Cooper. Likewise.” He tipped his head toward the barn and the rumble of voices inside, accompanied with the background sounds of a couple of guitars still jamming it out. “You’re responsible for this?”

Sav’s chin rose. “If by this, you mean the natural talent and passion your son has for music, then no, I’m not responsible.”

The scuffle of loose pebbles alerted Glen to another intruder.

“Dad?” Tom hurried along the path, his face puckered into a grimace like that of a dog preparing for a kick after peeing on a rug. “What are you doing here?” He stopped at Savannah’s side, his gaze jumping between his dad and Glen.

“I’ve come to drive you back to Auckland. Riding with me is better than six hours in a smelly bus, right?”

“I guess.” With arms crossed over his chest, Tom pried the tip of his sneaker under a stone stuck in the dirt.

“Son?” Jamie asked.

Savannah leaned her upper body toward Tom in silent support.

“What?” Tom’s arms hugged his ribcage so tight it looked as if they’d crack a rib.

A honey-bee buzzed past Glen’s ear and veered into the thick bush. Seconds plodded past in slo-mo, while he sent urgent psychic messages to his brother to go easy on his son.

“You played skillfully,” Jamie said, and then dredged up a smile. “I mean, very cool, Tom. Very cool.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Nobody says cool anymore.”

But tension drained out of the boy’s jaw, and his arms loosened their death grip. Coming from Jamie, that small compliment was akin to a religious conversion.

“I think we should head off as soon as you’ve packed your gear,” Jamie said. “Miss the evening traffic.”

Tom’s face fell. “But I was gonna go to Nate and Lauren’s to help Drew finish the tree house.” Jamie opened his mouth to object, but Tom continued. “And Uncle Glen is helping me rework my second English essay after dinner.”

Glen slung an arm around Jamie’s shoulder, earning him a puzzled look half frown, half smile.

“Stay the night,” Glen said. “You can drive back in the morning.”

“Please, Dad?” Tom caught on and moved to his father’s other side. “Remember how you used to show me the constellations at night? We could borrow sleeping bags and sleep on the deck under the stars.”

Jamie glanced at Glen, hope warring against the habit of putting career before family. Working weekends were common in his brother’s household—no doubt, a pile of paperwork waited for Jamie in Auckland.

“It’s Ms. Payne’s house,” said Jamie finally. “It depends if she wants another uninvited guest.”

Tom turned his best puppy-dog-eyes on Savannah. “Please, Savvy?”

Savannah gently bumped the boy with her shoulder, and they grinned at each other.

Then she turned to Jamie, a beautiful queen bequeathing a favor on a rude peasant. “Ms. Payne, the bubblehead blonde, gives you permission to stay.”

***

One more night, then they’d no longer have a teenage chaperone.

Savannah stared at the office ceiling. Tom and James slept on the deck in borrowed sleeping bags, so technically…she could sneak down the hall to Glen. But she wouldn’t. Not after putting up with James speculative smirk all evening.

But tomorrow, they’d finally be alone…and surely they didn’t need to make any concrete plans for what happened after Glen’s tenancy agreement ended in six days?

With a sigh, Savannah kicked off the covers and stood. Only one thing would help her sleep—hot milk. And who would nark if she added a spoonful of hot chocolate mix into the mug?

Savannah slipped into the kitchen, casting a quick glance at the drapes covering the glass sliding doors. Tom’s studied indifference changed into boyish enthusiasm once his dad finished off a couple of wines and finally loosened up. Her mouth curved as she opened the fridge and removed a carton of low-fat milk.

Savannah poured milk into a mug and placed it into the microwave, leaning against the counter as the machine hummed.

The sliding door hissed in its tracks, and the drapes billowed inward on a gust of air. James stepped inside, his gaze leaping to hers across the room.

“I saw the light on.” He hesitated in the doorway. “Thought I’d grab a glass of water.”

She moved to a cabinet and selected a glass, then filled it at the sink. “Here you go, James.”

While Glen called his brother Jamie, the man hadn’t extended the same familiarity to her. So the more formal James he remained.