Page 23 of Just Say (Hell) No
Koti flashed the famous grin and told Nyree, “Our bad cop, eh.”
“I want to pat the doggie,” Maia announced.
Nyree said, “You’ll get to pat her, I promise. And no worries,” she told Koti and Kate. “You have to do some paperwork to get one of our dogs. This is a meet and greet, that’s all. And a few photos, of course.”
Koti glanced at Kate, then back at Nyree, and said, seriously for once, “No photos of the kids, OK? We try to keep them out of the press.”
“Of course.” Disappointing, but understandable. Surprisingly private of him, considering his own exposure in the media, but surprisingly thoughtful, too. If he kept on like this, she was going to have to admit that more rugby players than her stepbrothers were OK.
Just not the one behind her.
Professional,she reminded herself. No matter that she’d had a truly embarrassing dream about him just last night.
They’d been on the coast. Not like here, where a sweep of golden sand met the barely ruffled waters of the harbour and the sun shone mellow on it all. No, this had been the west coast, clearly. A bluff above a wild, rocky coastline, with the hiss and roar of the waves hitting the rocks below filling her head, and the wind blowing her hair like streamers. She’d run the track along the edge of the cliff, too close to danger and knowing it, and he’d run after her. When she’d looked back, the wild wind carrying her along, she’d seen him catching up, nearly there, his face dark with purpose or passion, had felt the thrill of danger, fear, and desire all down her body. And had stepped into nothing.
A frozen moment when her mind had tried to catch up and resisted knowing. A very bad moment.
He’d caught her. His long arm around her waist, sure and strong, plucking her out of midair. Their momentum carrying them to the ground, away from the cliff’s edge, and Marko twisting to take the impact of the hard ground. Even as he’d hit, as she’d felt the jolt all the way through her body, he’d rolled with her on the tough, wet, wild grass until he was above her. He’d held her fast, not letting her up one bit, and there’d been nothing tender in his touch.
“You bloody littlefool,”he’d snarled.“What the hell were youthinking?”
Not the most romantic dream. Her subconscious appeared to think Marko was either a threat or a savior. The minute she’d seen him with the tall, pretty blonde, she’d realized which. Or you could say that she’d woken up again. The girl—whose blonde came from a bottle, because her skin was too naturally brown for it, as well as flawlessly unlined and poreless, damn it—was wearing a bright-blue crossover-front top she was nearly bursting out of and a short skirt that showcased her barely-legal legs. She was, in fact, everything Nyree wasn’t.
Nyree thought,At least all I did wasnearlystep off the cliff.
No harm done. None at all. She fixed Marko with her coolest, most remote gaze, the one she used on fellas at Bevvy who wouldn’t take “No” for an answer, and said, “Morning. Thanks for coming. I’ll try to make it short, and then everybody can get on with their day.”
This morning, Marko’s mum hadn’t contented herself with a text. She’d rung instead.
“First of all,” she’d said, “your dad says ‘Well done’ for last night. I thought you were very strong.”
Since she always thought that, he didn’t get too excited. “Thanks,” he said. “And tell him thanks as well.” It was after eight already, which meant his dad would have been out with the dogs for an hour.
“Now that we’ve got that taken care of,” she said, “how’s Ella? And how are you?”
“All good,” he said. “Getting it sorted.”
“I don’t know who’s less communicative, you or your father. It sounds like Ella was level-headed, in the end. And by that, I probably mean, ‘She acted like me.’ After all, I went ahead and had you, didn’t I? Not the right time at all, and believe me, I considered the alternative. Your dad came through in the end, of course, but if he hadn’t, who knows?”
He sighed. “Thanks for sharing, Mum.”
“What? That’s hardly a surprise, not once you got old enough to count the months between our wedding day and your birthday, so why should it be a secret? None of us was born to be a martyr. Your dad and I are very proud of you, but it doesn’t sound easy. Jakinda says she can’t get away, so do you want me to come and help get Ella settled?”
“You can’t, surely. Not with the breeding season well underway.” Which was enough all by itself, with two thousand sheep to see to. “And the lodge as well.”
“Nobody has time for a crisis,” his mother said. “That doesn’t stop the crisis from happening. You cope, that’s all. Just like you’re doing. If you need me, I’ll come. Your grandmother offered to take care of the guest side for a few days. We’ll make it work.”
“No,” he said instantly. “Amona hates it. She feels like they’re all staring at her.”
“Baby.” His mother sounded startled. “How do you know that? She can’t have told you. That woman wrote the book on ‘stoic.’”
“She didn’t have to tell me.” If somebody had to suffer in all this, it wasn’t going to be his quiet, patient grandmother, but he didn’t know how to explain that. Instead, he said, “I’d say I’ve got it, but really, I think Ella has. We’ll cope. But I’ll let her fill everybody in. It’s her story.”
“You’re anxious to get on with your day off,” his mum said. “I’ll let you do it.”
He didn’t sigh. “Tell me. I know you want to.”
“The King of Swords,” she said. “Not much ambiguity there. Time to take charge. You’ll be faced with a decision, and you’ll know the answer. Trust your judgment. Same kind of reading I’ve had for you all week. It’s odd, though. I thought you’d already done it. On the other hand… when I drew the Chariot for you on the day Ella came, I didn’t see that. I saw love, and struggle, but mostly—sex. It was passion I was getting, not your usual overdeveloped sense of responsibility.”
