Page 41 of Just Say (Hell) No
“I saw the photo,” Kate said. “Of her on your head. That was great. I laughed so hard. I’ll bet everybody did.” That was wonderful news. She shifted her hold on the baby, who was in a carrier, and told Koti, “Time to go, buddy. The natives are restless.”
They headed for the car, and Marko picked up his Cat Gym, wrestled it into the house, kicked off his trainers, and tried to pretend that his pulse rate hadn’t kicked up.
Did he get a warm, affectionate female greeting? He did. Was it a soft, deliciously curvy Nyree putting her arms around him and snuggling up close until she got lifted off her feet and kissed breathless, with his hands all over her? Not even close. Instead, the kitten, alerted by some cat-sense, came skittering and sliding across the polished floor, meowing all the way, and did her best to climb his bare leg.
He plucked her off him and put her onto one of the Cat Gym’s many leopard-printed platforms. “Alternative destination,” he told her. “Good for your fitness.”
In answer, she launched herself through the air at him, forcing him to reach out a hand to grab her so she wouldn’t fall. As soon as he did, she climbed his shirt and headed for her favorite destination. He hadn’t adopted a kitten so much as a limpet. He put her back on the gym, on a higher platform this time, and said, “Look. You climb the ramp and go through the tunnel. Then you sit up there and act aloof. It’s a cat thing.”
In answer, she meowed at him, and she kept on doing it. When he walked away, the meowing got more urgent. He turned and said, “Right. You don’t want to exercise? Climb down, then.”
If a kitten’s face could be said to be woebegone, that was how she looked. The meowing grew louder, until she was making a truly astonishing amount of noise for something the size of your basic lab rat.
He sighed. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a cat. Harden up.”
She put a tentative paw on the ramp, then drew it back again and sat, a huddled, pathetic, fuzzy tennis ball, until he said, “This is the last time,” and picked her up. Then she climbed his shirt once more and curled up happily on his shoulder, and he went upstairs to find the rest of his girls.
Easy enough to do, because of the music. Upbeat pop. The song ended when he reached the landing, and somebody laughed. Ella. It wasn’t coming from her room. It was coming from Nyree’s. He heard the lilting Maori accent and was moving faster, already smiling, when he heard something else.
Another laugh. A man’s.
Nyree didn’t realize he was there until the music stopped. She was stretching overhead, pressing the sponge into the wall with care, when the song cut off in the middle of a word and Ella said, “Hi, Marko. Check it out.”
Nyree turned, pulled down her paint-spattered T-shirt, and said, “Hello, honey. How was your day?”
He looked… she wasn’t sure what. Confused, maybe. She said, “Joke. Hi.” Did he think that she’d fallen in love with him over his guitar playing? Maybe she had, a tiny bit, but cooler heads had prevailed in the light of day.
He didn’t answer her. Instead, he said, “Kors. What are you doing here?”
Tom set the paint roller in the pan, then straightened. And didn’t answer.
“Whoa,” Nyree said. “Tom came by with Koti and Kate and stayed to give us a hand.”
Marko was leaning against the door frame, the only vertical surface in the room that wasn’t wet with paint. His arms were crossed, his ankles were, too, and he had a kitten on his shoulder. He still didn’t look casual. “Yeh,” he said, his gaze not moving from Tom. “Thought it must be something like that. I’m still wondering why.”
Tom Koru-Mansworth, who until that minute had seemed like a nice Maori boy who reminded Nyree of her younger cousins, had folded his own arms. That would have looked more menacing if they hadn’t been liberally speckled with orange, making his brown skin look like a kid’s autumn splatter painting. He said, “Giving the girls a bit of a hand with the painting. I was invited. If I’m not invited anymore, I’ll leave.”
Nyree put her sponge down and told Ella, “Keep going, would you? And Tom, I’d love it if you’d finish that wall.” After that, she headed for the door. When she got there, she gave Marko a little shove in the chest to get him going and said, “Come on, boy. Come talk to me.”
She walked down the hall to Ella’s room like she was sure he’d follow her. Fortunately, he did. She couldn’t hear him, exactly. She could feel him, though. When they got there, she turned around and said, “What?”
He wasn’t looking any happier. “What d’you mean, ‘What?’ I asked him why he was visiting. Fair question, seeing as he’s in my house.”
“Uh-huh.” She sat on the bed like a woman she wasn’t. A casual woman. “He went to look at dogs with Kate and Koti, as he’s interested in getting a dog himself, then got a lift here with them. To get closer to home, not because he anticipated being bowled over by my beauty.”
“How’s he getting home, then?” Marko didn’t look any happier. “Flying?”
“I expect you’ll find he’s taking the bus, or even walking, the same way you would. He lives in Mission Bay. He’s lonely, I’d say. Sharing a flat with a couple other boys, far from the whanau. In the Big Smoke and feeling the pressure. Looking for some family time.”
“Yeh, well,” Marko said, “he can pick somebody else’s family to have it.”
She laughed. His head jerked back, and she said, “You must be joking. You think he’s here for me? Flattering, I guess, except that that boy can’t be much more than nineteen. I’ll bet that not having his mum to do his washing anymore looms large in his life. And if I’m not allowed to have a mate stop by, you’d best tell me now.”
“Do you happen to remember,” he said, “whose head I bashed with the knitting bag?”
“No. Really?”
“Really.”
