WHY WAS SHE offering to help him? Why was she allowing herself to fall deeper and deeper under this little family of two’s spell? She had no business getting to know them more. Owen was a good man, underneath the gruffness. Mason was a cutie who just needed coaxing out of his shell.
But she was not the one to do the coaxing. She was heading off on an adventure.
And now...? Well, now she was just being neighbourly, the way she’d helped Horatio towards the end, and the way she baked cupcakes for Mia and Harper. Or the way she... Carly hit the steering wheel of her old truck. ‘Who am I trying to kid?’
She wasn’t being neighbourly—she was getting involved. She’d wanted to kiss him last night, so badly. Only the thought of Mason catching them had stopped her.
But what if the boy hadn’t been there? Would she have kissed him?
She would have. Unlike other men she’d met since Raff’s death, and the few boyfriends before she’d met her husband, Owen seemed to get her. There was an unspoken understanding. Something deepening. She couldn’t explain it. The only other person she’d ever felt such a connection with had been her husband.
Was that a bad sign?
Truth was, it was all a bad sign, given that she was leaving.
The driveway to the old Nelson one-storey cottage was winding and gravelled and by the time she arrived she felt as if she was covered in a sheen of dust. As she stepped out of her truck, Mason ran out of the door. ‘Carly! Carly!’
Her heart tripped at the grinning boy. ‘Hey, Mason. How’s it going?’
‘Good.’ He ran back to the front door. ‘Daddy! Carly’s here.’
‘Great. Thanks, Mason. Now, go finish your call.’ Owen stepped out of the front door and her heart didn’t just trip, it stumbled. He was dressed in a faded grey T-shirt and battered jeans. His hair looked damp, as if it had just been washed, and it curled cutely up at the edges. His city skin was sun-kissed now, his toned arms tanned. He was gorgeous as he smiled. ‘Hey, Carly. How’s it going?’
Her mouth was dry. Words were lost somewhere in the mix of attraction and heat, but she managed a husky, ‘Great, thanks. I’ve brought some wood and tools over. Thought we could have a look at fixing the weka version of a cat flap.’
His smile broadened. ‘I never thought of it like that.’
She looked past him for Mason, who’d disappeared back inside. There was safety in having the child around. There’d be no hand-holding in front of Owen’s son. ‘Does Mason want to help too?’
Owen shook his head. ‘He’s on a call with his mum.’
‘Oh.’ Her stomach knotted. Why, she didn’t know. It was none of her business. ‘Bad timing?’
‘No, it’s fine. They’re just finishing up.’ He grimaced. ‘They don’t need me around for that.’
Silly woman, giving him up. ‘Well, anyway. I’ll just drop this stuff and head back home.’
‘Let me get it.’ He strode across to the truck’s open flatbed tray and reached into it for the planks of wood. As he stretched, the hem of his T-shirt lifted, giving her a bird’s eye view of rippling abs.
Stop looking. Her mouth wasn’t just watering, it was positively drooling now. She dragged her gaze back to the planks of wood and gave herself a good talking to. Just being neighbourly. You’re leaving.
Grabbing her tool bag, she followed him back to the house. ‘Right. Where’s the hole the weka gets through?’
He leaned the planks against the wall, then crouched down, brushed some low bushes away from the side of the house and showed her the ragged weka-sized hole. ‘Don’t know if it’s wear and tear, or whether it’s been hit by something.’
She crouched down next to him and leaned forward to examine the hole at the same time he did. He must have sensed they were going to touch the broken wood at the same time she did, because he jerked away. As they both reeled backwards, she caught a hint of his scent: shampoo and soap and something distinctly masculine that made her insides buzz with need.
This was getting ridiculous. How could the way a man smelt make her tummy tumble?
She focused on the rip in the side of the house. ‘It looks like a hit to me. Nelson had Parkinson’s and couldn’t manage at all without help at the end. I wouldn’t be surprised if he reversed his car into it or something at some point, and possibly didn’t even notice. With the bushes growing so tall here, we didn’t notice either when we came to stock the place up for you. You want me to fix it for you?’
‘Thanks, Carly.’ Owen gave her a savvy smile and shook his head. ‘I know I’m a city slicker, but I can manage this.’
‘Go right ahead.’ She stood up and crossed her arms, happy to watch him work. But she’d only said she’d drop the things off, not leer at his muscles. ‘Oh. Right. Yes. I’ll get going—’
‘Carly!’
She turned to see Mason running towards her, arms outstretched as he chased a weka. ‘Carly, this is my friend.’
‘Also known as my alarm clock.’ Owen straightened and laughed as he watched his son. God, they were both irresistible. ‘Although, there are a few around here, and I can’t tell them apart. So it could be a different bird each time.’
‘No, Daddy. This one is my friend. He’s got sticky-up feathers on his head.’ Mason stopped chasing and came over to her. ‘His name is Wallace. Like Wallace and Gromit.’
Carly laughed. ‘I love those films.’
‘Me too.’
‘The Wrong Trousers is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.’ She watched the weka escape across the dusty path towards the undergrowth and laughed to herself. She was going to have to have a word with Owen about little Wallace.
Owen hammered the last nail into a piece of timber covering the hole. ‘I defy the little blighter to get through that. Right. Thirsty work. You want a glass of something cold?’
‘Err, I think I should go.’
‘Okay. But don’t blame me if you miss out on the best lemonade this side of the island.’ His eyebrows rose, as if in a dare.
‘Oh? Fighting talk. You’ve obviously never tried mine.’ And she could never turn down a dare, so she followed man and boy into the kitchen. The cupboards and floor had been scrubbed and the place looked spotless—tired and old, but spotless. ‘Wow. This looks a lot cleaner than when Nelson lived here.’
‘We try our best, don’t we, Mason? Looks like Carly’s impressed with our work, buddy.’ He held up his hand and his son gave him a high-five. ‘Good job, son.’
Owen’s mini-me looked up at him as if he was the sun, moon and stars all rolled into one. ‘Good job, Dad!’
Carly’s chest heated. She’d never had a connection with a blood relative, so didn’t know how it felt to be praised by a parent, but she understood the look in Mason’s eyes. Despite their difficult times, she knew that these two would grow closer and closer. It would have been nice to watch it all unfold.
Owen washed his hands in the big white butler’s sink, poured them all a glass of lemonade and they clinked their glasses together, as if they were a team. She had to admit, ‘This is really good lemonade.’
The corners of Owen’s mouth turned up into a beautiful smile. Praise looked good on him. ‘The trick is to use the peel too, not just the juice.’
‘I’ll give it a go.’ The scent of tomatoes and garlic filled the air. She turned to the old cooker and saw a pan bubbling with sauce. ‘And, hmm...something smells good.’
‘We having ’getti Bolo-nose. I stirred it.’ Mason’s chest puffed out. ‘You want some?’
‘Spaghetti Bolognaise,’ Owen clarified. ‘And, trust me, you might like my lemonade, but you don’t want to eat my cooking.’
This was the kind of family she craved, like the one she’d lost. She craved real food, a real connection. A willingness to do better, be better. But she had too many reasons not to stay. ‘No, I’m okay. I mean... I’m not saying I don’t want to eat your food. I just...should probably go.’
Owen’s eyebrows peaked, as if he was rethinking his earlier statement. ‘There’s plenty. It’s fine, really. It won’t poison you.’
The heat in her chest thickened into an ache. Was she trying to run away because she was scared of caring about these people? Rafferty would have laughed at her. So would his mother, who was a stickler for manners and gratitude.
Feeding people is a sign of respect and friendship here on the island. We don’t have much but, what we do have, we share.
So what kind of an example would she be if she turned them down? Plus, she hadn’t got round to preparing her own dinner today, and it did smell delicious. ‘Okay. Thank you. But I can’t stay late, I have a ton of things to do. I’ve got a viewer coming to see the camp tomorrow.’
‘A buyer?’
‘Prospective.’ She held up her crossed fingers. ‘Wish me luck.’
‘So it’s happening.’ He smiled, but there was something else there too. She tried not to read too much into it. Was it...sadness? Regret? And she noticed that he didn’t wish her luck, as she’d asked.
She felt like butterflies were fluttering in her stomach when she thought about selling up. Kind of the way she felt every time she looked at Owen. And there it was: confusion, excitement, apprehension and fear, all mixed up. ‘It might be. This is the third viewer we’ve had come to look the place over, but the estate agent says this one is super-keen.’
‘How do you feel?’
‘Sad about leaving, but excited too.’
‘Yeah. I know that feeling. I had it when we got on the ferry with our suitcases to come here. Leaving what we knew for something completely new. Wish I’d had the foresight to bring some paint and tools, though.’ He looked round the room and grimaced. ‘Anyway, this is ready. Mason, can you please set the table?’
They sat round the wooden kitchen table and ate the rustic dinner. Conversation was easy, especially with Mason there too, entertaining them by pulling silly faces, which they all joined in with. It was roundly agreed that Carly could pull the funniest one.
Then, after clearing up, Owen scraped back his chair. ‘It’s a clear night. Let’s go outside and light the fire pit.’
Even though it was way past time for her to leave, Carly just couldn’t bring herself to. Ten more minutes. ‘Do you have marshmallows? We could cook them on sticks.’
‘Strangely, I do. There were a few things in the cupboards when we arrived. Coffee, tea—that kind of stuff—and some marshmallows.’
‘That was my idea.’ She grinned. ‘We thought you’d need some basics to help settle in.’
‘Marshmallows are basics?’ He reached into the cupboard and brought out a bright pink packet.
‘For fire pits, yes. Come on, Mason. Let’s go find some sticks for the marshmallows...’
After eating melted, delicious gooeyness, Mason fell asleep on his dad’s knee, head lolling over to the side. Owen hauled the boy and himself to standing and spoke quietly. ‘I’ll just pop him into bed.’
She forced herself to grab the opportunity to leave. ‘I’ll get going, then.’
But Owen frowned. ‘Really? It won’t take long. To be honest, I could do with some adult company after spending all day talking with a four-year-old. I mean, I love him to bits, but there’s only so much kiddie talk I can take.’ He batted his eyelashes. ‘Please? Ten minutes?’
She sighed. Did the man know just how gorgeous he was, and how hard it was for her to keep her distance? One little request and she was putty in his hands. ‘Okay. Ten minutes. I’ll make some hot chocolate while you put him to bed.’
‘You certainly know about home comforts.’
She followed him back into the house, whispering, ‘I run a school camp, Owen. I know what kids need to help them get over homesickness. And, funnily enough, adults love the comfort too.’
He was back in no time and sat down next to her in front of the fire pit on a rickety wooden chair. The sun was setting and dark orange and red filled the sky, illuminated by flashes of sparks rising from the fire. When Owen smiled, it felt as if the flames flickering between them were in her belly.
He took the cup of hot chocolate and sipped. ‘Now, that is delicious. Thanks for all the help, Carly. I really appreciate it.’
‘Just being neighbourly.’ She forced herself to shrug nonchalantly, even though she felt anything but.
He raised his eyebrows. They both knew there was a lot more to it than that. ‘Well, thanks anyway.’
A bird’s cry disturbed the silence and she remembered why she’d been smiling earlier on. ‘Oh. Yes. Owen, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Wallace is actually Wilma.’
‘Sorry?’
‘He’s not a boy weka. He’s a girl.’ She couldn’t help but laugh at the distraught look on his face as her words sank in.
‘Ah.’ He guffawed. ‘Call myself a doctor? I should know the difference.’
‘I would hope you do.’
‘Believe me, I do when it matters.’
She almost choked on her drink. The thought of the good doctor knowing exactly how to act when it mattered made her hot all over. She managed a coughed-out, ‘Thank God for that.’
When she glanced over at him, she realised he was watching her, his eyes alight as he laughed too. What was he thinking? That this was too cosy? Too sweet? Too hot?
Or that she was truly just a neighbour?
He shrugged. ‘Oh well, Mason will never know if I don’t tell him.’
‘Owen Cooper, are you going to lie to your son?’ She laughed some more, feeling more relaxed than she had for a very long time.
‘Hey, I already do. Who’s the Tooth Fairy and Father Christmas? The Easter Bunny? None of them exist. It’s all make-believe.’
‘I guess. He’s a lucky kid. I don’t remember having those kinds of fairy-tales when I was growing up.’
He shuffled closer and frowned as his gaze searched her face. ‘Really? No Father Christmas? No Easter Bunny?’
‘They’re not so big on the bunny in England. Or maybe they are these days, but not when I was growing up. I was lucky if there was a present under the Christmas tree with my name on it. And I’m not saying that for you to feel sorry for me. It’s just what it was.’
‘Why? Didn’t your family believe in Christmas? Or was it something else...?’ The fun in his eyes died and they turned sad—for her, even though he had no idea what her story was.
His innate compassion reverberated through her and she felt embarrassed that she’d snapped at him at their first meeting, assuming the worst. But that kind of suspicion had been programmed into her from an early age.
‘I was taken away from my mum when I was eight months old and placed in foster care. Then spent many years being shunted from foster home to foster home, being moved on for a host of different reasons. The family I’d been placed with were moving, or pregnant with their first child and didn’t have space for me, or a divorce... It never seemed fair to me that I was the one who had to go. But, well, there it was. So, if I was with a good family there could be a present, but I learnt not to expect anything in case I was taken away.’
‘God, Carly, that’s awful.’ He really did look as if he meant it too.
‘It is what it is. The children’s home did the present thing, but we all knew it was the staff who bought them. There was always some older kid willing to tell you the truth about where the presents came from, to show you they were so much more clever and so much older.
‘One year, I was in a foster home right up until the week before Christmas. There was a present under the tree with my name on and I was so excited about opening it. Then stuff happened and I was uplifted and moved on.’ She could still remember the wrapping paper design after all these years. The reindeer with the bright red nose and the jolly Santa. ‘So, I’d never really known what it meant to be fully part of a loving family, where you were loved unconditionally, until I came here and met the Edwards family.’
Here she was telling him things she’d never told anyone and yet it felt natural to confide in him. Was it because he was a doctor and he knew about confidentiality? That she trusted him to keep her secrets? Or was it because he was a genuinely good guy?
She trusted him...or was beginning to. That was a revelation, especially after such a short time knowing him.
He drained his cup and placed it on the ground. ‘And your birth mum?’
‘I don’t know much about my birth parents. I have a birth certificate with my mum’s name on it and just an empty space where my dad’s name should have been. My mother was very young, apparently. Clearly, she couldn’t cope with having a baby. Maybe I was a mistake she didn’t want.’
It occurred to her that that was exactly what Mason was to his own mother. And it made her like Owen even more that he was so determined to care for his son.
‘You are absolutely not a mistake.’ He slid his hand over hers and gripped it, all the while his gaze fixed on hers. She could see the flash of censure in his eyes at her words and felt the power of it flicker through her. He wanted her to believe in herself. She liked very much that he was so passionate about it—liked it too much. Liked him too much.
A warning thud in her heart almost made her slip her hand out from under his, but it felt right to be talking about her life with someone who wanted to listen, who saw her, wanted to hold her hand and give her comfort. It had been so long since she’d felt this close to anyone.
She had to be honest and admit she was lonely here...even with the hundreds of kids who came through every week, and with her sister-in-law down the road and the lovely community on the island. Everyone had been so supportive since the accident, but she was lonely and pining for physical contact, for affection and caring. And to give all that too. But, as always, she put on a brave face. ‘Well, my inauspicious beginnings don’t matter, really. Here I am. Doing okay.’
‘Better than okay. You’re amazing, if a little scary.’ Smiling, he squeezed her hand. ‘You don’t want to find her, your mum?’
‘No. I don’t want to look back any more. I’m so tired of living in the past—although I don’t ever want to forget Raff and his parents,’ she added hurriedly, as if they were all looking down on her and listening. Maybe they were. And, if they were, they’d know how hard she’d hurt and for how long. How much she still missed them. Every day.
Owen smiled gently. ‘Of course not.’
‘But I’m all about looking forward now.’
‘Ah. Your adventure.’ The light in his eyes dimmed a little, or maybe it was just the flames in front of them dying down. She couldn’t tell.
‘My adventure.’ And there it was. The reminder of why she shouldn’t be sitting so close to him. She tugged her hand away and wedged it under her thigh in case it had any ideas about fitting itself back into his hand again. ‘Anyway. What about you?’
‘Boring, really.’ A shoulder rose and then fell. ‘My parents split up when I was eight and I lived with my dad.’
‘Unusual.’
He looked over to the house where his sleeping son was. ‘Not so much, it seems.’
Indeed. ‘What happened to your mum?’
‘They split up because she had an affair with someone she worked with and then moved in with the guy. Dad said he wanted me to stay in the family home, and she agreed. So, my dad brought me up...after a fashion. Let’s just say he didn’t read the rule book on parenting, so I’m learning a whole lot of new things. Like the importance of routine and boundaries. It’s been a steep learning curve.’
Which explained why he’d been so irritated to have missed kindy pick-up the other day. He was just trying to get it right. ‘Do you see much of your mum?’
‘Not really. She has another life and another family now. She moved to Christchurch for her new man’s job. We lived in Auckland, so I saw her in the holidays. Sometimes.’
That last word was tinged with sadness. ‘Not often?’
‘It got difficult. We’d plan things and then she’d cancel. My dad didn’t handle it well and there were arguments. That was worse than her not showing up.’
‘That’s why you’re keen to keep Mason’s mum in the picture.’
‘It’s important to me that he stays in contact with her. I really didn’t want it to be like this, but what can you do?’ He shrugged, palms up, as if he was okay with this, but his eyes told a different story. He clearly hurt, just reliving it. ‘In the end, I gave up making plans with my mum. It was easier that way. And I think she was relieved, to be honest. It’s not easy to start a new life with a kid hanging round.’
He paused and sighed. ‘I always felt like the spare part at her house, like I didn’t fit in and that the new guy only tolerated me being there for five minutes then got irritated with me. I’d hate that to happen to Mason.’
So many parallels with his own life. ‘I don’t know. There are plenty of women happy to have a relationship with a single dad.’
‘It’s okay. You don’t have to be kind.’ He laughed. ‘I’m not looking for anything. I don’t want to get involved in a relationship and have that kind of thing happen again. I’d always be waiting for the ball to drop, right? I’m here to settle my boy and give him a good life. Anything else would be a distraction.’
‘But in time?’ Why she was asking this and holding her breath waiting for his answer, she didn’t know. It wasn’t as if she would even be here.
‘I haven’t really thought about it. But she’d have to be someone very special and someone who was committed to sticking around. The last thing he needs is another person flitting in and out of his life.’
‘Of course.’ It was suddenly chilly, but strangely there was no breeze. She shivered and stood up. ‘It’s getting dark. I should go.’
‘Okay.’ He stood. ‘I’ll walk you to your truck.’
‘You don’t have to. I’m perfectly capable of walking a few metres.’
‘I know. You’re capable of so many things. You’re a very impressive woman. But I want to.’
And she wanted him to. Despite everything he was saying about no distractions and not wanting to get involved, and despite her own plans and dreams to leave the island, she didn’t want to leave this fireside with the fresh night air, the smoke, the stars and this wonderful, caring man who listened and didn’t judge. Whose touch set her alight.
But it was what she had to do, for all their sakes. She pulled herself upright and dug her keys from her shorts pocket. ‘Right.’
He walked with her in silence to the truck. Only the sound of their footsteps on gravel and the wekas’ night calls rent the air. And yet there was a feeling, a stirring anticipation that seemed to shiver in the atmosphere and shimmer deep inside her, that this wasn’t the end, but a beginning. Of a friendship? Yes. She wanted that.
More...? Impossible. He’d just said anything else would be a distraction. And yet...
She pressed the key fob and the truck’s lights flashed. She pulled the door open but jumped at the feel of his palm on her hand.
‘Carly.’
She turned to face him, her belly dancing with lightness. ‘Yes?’
‘Thanks again.’ He leaned in and pressed a friendly kiss to her cheek.
She closed her eyes as the touch of his skin sent thrills of desire rippling through her. She pulled back, looked at him and caught the heat in his gaze, the need.
She should have turned then and climbed into her truck. She should have driven away into the darkness. But she was transfixed by the way he was looking at her, as if she was...everything.
His previous words about not being distracted seemed to melt from her brain and all she could focus on was his face, his heated eyes, his delicious mouth. So tantalisingly close.
Later, when she thought back to this moment—and she thought back to this moment a lot—she wasn’t sure how it had happened. One minute they were looking at each other, the next moment they were kissing. Hot, hard and greedy. Desperate. Frantic. Out of control.
The heat of his mouth made her moan and stoked the burning in her belly. She spiked her fingers into his hair and pressed her lips against his, her body hard against his. The outline of his muscled chest pressed against her and, lower, she could feel just how much he was enjoying this. How much he wanted her.
‘God, Carly...’ His hands cupped her face and held her in place as he captured her bottom lip in his teeth, then took her mouth fully again and kissed her, kissed her and kissed her.
He tasted of hot chocolate and a warm, delicious spice that she couldn’t get enough of. He smelt of the smoky fire. He tasted of coming home and of somewhere new, exotic and enticing. Exciting.
It was too much and not enough all at the same time. She didn’t want it to end, this night, this kiss lasting for...
Someone committed to staying around.
His words came back to her in a hard jolt of reality. She had an interested buyer visiting tomorrow. A plan to be gone as soon as feasibly possible. So kissing Owen was an impossible and ridiculous idea and a sure-fire way of ruining the fledgling friendship they’d grown.
What on earth was she doing?
‘Sorry. I’ve got to...’ She took two shaky steps away from him, jumped into her car and got the hell away.