“Do you have a costing available? How much will it cost to produce each unit?”
“Probably close to two thousand. A little more to make sure the unit is robust and will survive someone dropping it.”
Hone clapped his cousin on the shoulder, proud of his accomplishments. “I doubt any shifter will quibble at the expense. Which room should I take?”
Manu yawned. “Share my room. That’s probably easiest since it’s late. I’m so tired I’ll drop off the second my head hits the pillow.”
“Thanks. I’m not even gonna offer any smart-arse comments about sleeping with you,” Hone said, and they trudged the final steps home.
Chapter Six
Cassie woke early and arrived at the local hardware store at one minute past nine. She headed straight for the paint samples.
“Good grief.” Overwhelmed, she gaped at the countless paint pots and the sample sheets. Who knew white came in so many shades?
Luckily, an assistant came to her aid, and soon, she was on her way with two cans of cream paint, another of white, a paint roller and tray, tape and an assortment of brushes. June had given her two old sheets the previous evening when she’d said she intended to spend her day painting.
Her cell phone rang, and she pulled over to the side of the road to answer the call. Kevin. She considered ignoring the summons. No, dodging his calls was childish.
“Hey, Kev. What’s up?” She suspected he intended to push his agenda again for an overseas tour.
“Would you be interested in joining a summer vineyard tour for two concerts? One of their acts has pulled out due to illness. The venues are Matakana and Auckland, so the concerts are close to you.”
“But no one knows me here.” Did she want her two lives to intersect? That was the biggest question.
“You’d be a supporting act. It would be an opportunity for you to test your songs in a different market.” He dangled the suggestion like a juicy carrot. “And you could do me a favor by testing something in the pop genre.”
Actually, the idea of going in as a mainly unknown act appealed to her, now that she thought about it. Kev was right. She could test new songs and material, do some covers and stay far away from most of the Katie-Jo stuff her fans in America clamored for. “Just the two nights?”
“Yes, they’re hoping the lead singer will recover to finish the last two concerts in Napier and Martinborough.”
“All right. I’ll do it. Send me the details.”
There was a pause. “That was easier than I assumed,” Kevin said finally.
“You dangled the right carrot. I’ll do a few covers, two or three Katie-Jo songs and I have two new songs I might try.”
“You didn’t tell me you had new songs.” Distinctly accusing.
“They’re not the Katie-Jo brand,” Cassie said. “There is no point showing them to you when I know they’re not the direction you want for me. How come we were approached with this?”
“An old girlfriend.”
Cassie took in that info and rapidly backpedaled. “Stop. Forget I asked.”
“She was before you,” Kevin said. “We’re still friends and I always make contact at Christmas. I told her you were in New Zealand and she rang me yesterday. Gotta go. I’ll email you the details.”
Wow, she hadn’t seen that coming. Okay. So, she’d have to work out what to do in her set. She checked her rearview mirror and pulled out again. At least there were no cyclists hogging the road today. The sun shone with the promise of a hot day and not a cloud filled the blue sky.
Ah, summer in New Zealand.
Hmm, which songs would work best? She mentally riffled through her material as she drove sedately down the country roads.
The blast of a horn made her start. Heart thudding faster than seconds before, she checked her mirror and fear tensed her muscles. A large truck barreled up behind her, going way too fast. She steered to the far left of the road, her left tires going off the tarmac to strike loose gravel.
The truck kept coming. Closer. Closer. Closer.
She clenched the wheel, eyed the rearview mirror.
The truck nudged her rear bumper, and the impact shot her right off the tarmac. She gasped and attempted to muscle her vehicle back onto the road. A second shunt propelled her against the steering wheel before the seatbelt ripped tight against her chest. Her vehicle roared as her foot pressed the accelerator and bumped through a pothole. For an instant, she was airborne, then a heavy jolt struck as her rental plowed into a watery ditch, screeching and revving on impact. The truck driver blasted his horn again and sped past.
Cassie groaned as the seatbelt dug into her boobs. Ow! Her ribs throbbed as if she’d gone several rounds in the boxing ring even though the impact hadn’t deployed the airbags. The engine noise reverberated through her head, and she turned the ignition key to silence her growling rental. Soon only her harsh breathing broke the blissful silence. She repositioned her glasses and sat for a moment longer, breathing. Just breathing, before she decided what to do next.
Not another sound disturbed the country quiet. Not a friendly farmer. Not another vehicle.
A hard shudder jerked her body, and she fumbled for the door. It opened a few inches before hitting mud. Far enough to squeeze out, surely. She struggled, panic a hungry beast, feeding on her predicament. Her arms flailed, her breathing hoarse, then the truth hit her.
Seat belt.
Ugh!
Trembling fingers managed the release and the tightness around her chest eased. She crawled from the car, desperate to stand on solid ground. Her feet hit water, right up to her ankles. Cold water that seeped right through her sneakers and socks in seconds.
God, what should she do?
Assess the situation. Her mother’s exasperated words flooded her mind with parental disapproval. She splashed to the front of the vehicle to check the damage. Apart from the nose kissing the far side of the ditch and the gleaming paintwork sporting mud and chunks of grass, she couldn’t see any visible dents.
She splashed back and climbed out of the ditch. It wasn’t a big one, but the banks were too steep for her to get the vehicle out herself. Cassie stood on the road and surveyed the rear of the SUV. The bumper hung at a weird angle, and metal buckled out of shape as if the vehicle scowled at her. The rear doors wouldn’t open in a hurry.
She reached for her phone and realized it was still in her handbag. With a sigh, she started back down the bank. Her right foot skidded in the mud, her arms windmilled but she remained upright. Just. Her giant splash left water dripping from her nose and glasses, obscuring her vision.
“Ugh.” She wiped her hand over her face and carefully removed her glasses to wipe the lenses. That done, she retrieved her handbag and clambered back onto the road.
Her first call was to the rental company to explain her predicament and how the shiny red SUV happened to be sitting in a ditch.
“Someone rear-ended you? I’ll ring the police. They’ll need to do a report. I’ll arrange for one of servicemen to collect the vehicle, but he won’t be able to touch it until you’ve filed a report with the police. Are you injured?” the woman asked belatedly.
“No.”
“Sit tight. I’ll set things in motion.” She hung up.
By the time a police car arrived three-quarters of an hour later, Cassie had composed part of a song about a clumsy single woman in a car crash. She gave her statement to the police officer while attempting to ignore the quirk of his mouth. The muddy water in the ditch had dried on the bottom of her jeans, but she suspected her splashing around had put mud on her face too. Difficult to see without a mirror.
“A truck rear-ended you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you get the registration number?”
“No, it happened too quickly.”
“Make of truck?”
Cassie paused. “Um, a blue truck. Not big like a stock truck, but the type that does deliveries. Bigger than my SUV.”
“Di
d you see the driver?”
“Not really. It was a man, and he wore dark sunglasses and a cap. That’s all I saw.”
The policeman, probably in his thirties with military-short black hair and bright blue eyes, emphasized by his navy-blue uniform, surveyed the vehicle from all angles, his long legs letting him jump the drain with ease.
“Okay. It’s obvious someone has rear-ended you and I can see traces of blue paint. Sign here.”
Cassie started to say she’d already told him that before she realized the cops were used to people lying to them. Instead of arguing, she scrawled her signature on the statement.
“Here is a copy for you. You’ll need it for the rental company. They told me they’d arranged for a tow.”
“Yes, I don’t suppose you could give me a lift?”
“I’m heading to Clevedon.”
“That’s fine. I can ring my friend from there.”
The rental people arrived, and Cassie retrieved her paint and brushes before leaving.
The policeman dropped her at the café, and her face burned as several locals witnessed her climbing from the vehicle with her box of painting equipment. Even though she’d done nothing wrong, she felt like a criminal.
Her first stop was the restroom at the café. She groaned. No wonder she’d amused the cop.
Once she’d cleaned her face and ordered a coffee, she called Emma to ask if she’d be able to come and collect her.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
Cassie grimaced. “My jeans are muddy and my feet are still wet. I amused the cop who came to take my statement. Apart from that, I’m fine.” She didn’t mention the sore muscles where the seat belt had dug into her as she jerked to a halt in the ditch. Those were nothing and would heal.
“Hang on,” Emma said.
Cassie heard her talking to someone in the background.
“You there, Cassie?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m over the bridge on the other side of Auckland. Jack is working a case in town and can’t get away.”
“Oh, I’ll see if I can call a cab.”
“Hone is in Papakura. He said he’ll come and get you.”
“Don’t worry. I can get a cab.”
“Too late. He’s already on his way. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes.”
“Did you take photos of the damage?”
“Good gravy, it didn’t occur to me. I have the police report to give to the rental company.”
“Take a copy of it first,” Emma said.
“Will do. Thanks, Emma.”
“No thanks necessary.”
Cassie heard voices in the background.
“Gotta go,” Emma said. “See you later.”
Cassie set her phone on the table with a loud sigh. Hone had been so grumpy last night. Although initially attracted to him, she’d put up with Kevin’s moodiness and didn’t intend to do it for another man. She drank her coffee, her mind drifting as an idea for a song came to her. She grabbed her notebook and started scribbling down random lyrics while humming under her breath.
“Cassie.”
She glanced up to find Hone, his big frame practically vibrating with tension. He hauled her to her feet as if she weighed nothing, and wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace.
“You’re okay,” he murmured against her ear.
Her muscles, already abused, protested the fierceness of his hug, but it felt good to have his support. Tears burned at her eyes—delayed reaction from the accident.
She tried to suck in a breath. Couldn’t. “Too tight,” she gasped.
Hone released her, and she half fell back onto her seat.
“Thanks for coming to get me.”
“Are you okay?” Hone pulled out the other chair at her table and sat. “What happened?”
His expression darkened as she told him about the truck. “What did the cop say?”
“He said the specks of blue paint proved the driver rear-ended me. He took samples and lots of photos. I didn’t get the license number.” Cassie pulled a face. “It happened so quickly. I didn’t see much at all. I was too busy trying to keep the SUV driving straight.”
Hone’s expression didn’t relax. “What do you want to do?”
“Start painting some of the rooms. I’d like to move in as soon as possible.”
“I don’t like the idea of you staying on your own.”
“I have my phone. I’m sure this was a random accident. No one knew I would drive along that stretch of road at that time.”
“You didn’t notice anyone following?”
“I didn’t see any other vehicles once I passed Ardmore Airport.”
“All right. How about I drop you off at the house? I have to go and do a job in Karaka but I’ll be back to install an alarm for you.”
Cassie studied his hard features. He resembled the portraits of fierce Maori warriors she’d seen in the Auckland art gallery. All he needed was a feather cloak and facial tattoos to complete the picture. “I thought you’d argue.”
“You’re an adult.”
Pleasure suffused her at his words. Someone who treated her as an equal with her own mind. “Thank you.”
“Have you met your neighbors yet?” Hone changed the subject.
“No, it’s on my list of things to do.”
Hone surprised her with his laid-back attitude. Most other people of her acquaintance—her mother and Kevin for example—would have lectured her, although Hone’s behavior did verge on bossy. She drank the last of her coffee and stood. Pain scored her ribs, and she grimaced. When she caught Hone’s gaze and noticed his scrutiny, she attempted to smooth her expression.
“I’m trained in first aid,” he said as he scooped up her box of decorating supplies without effort. “I’ll check your injuries once we get to your house.”
“I don’t need—”
“It’s either that or I’ll set Auntie June on you.”
It didn’t take much imagination on her part to realize she’d come out second best in an encounter with June. Still, she’d had enough of Kevin bossing her around. She didn’t intend to set a bad precedent and let Hone ride roughshod over her either.
“If this is an attempt to get a better ogle of my boobs…” Cassie trailed off on seeing his amusement. This was the Hone she’d glimpsed during their first meeting, and his smile tugged at her, making her want to share in the exchange.
“That’s a side benefit,” he said as he urged her to the door. “As well as making sure you’re not injured and perving at your stunning breasts, I’ll learn if your skin is soft and breathe in your sexy scent.”
Cassie opened and closed her mouth. For once, words failed her. Instead, she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. She wouldn’t get much painting done today. At least she had her notebook, and she could use the time to decide on song choice. Or at least she could once she learned the time allocation for her performance at the vineyard concerts.
Hone ushered her to a big black utility vehicle. He set her decorating supplies down, fished his keys from his pockets, and a peep indicated he’d unlocked it. Unexpectedly, he cut in front and opened the door for her.
“Not going to comment?” he asked, seconds before he closed the door.
Cassie blinked at his gentlemanly conduct. Her lips did that opening and closing action again while her mind took a detour and considered Hone checking her body for injuries. Her torso tingled. He seemed different this morning, more agreeable. At least he’d relaxed once he’d seen she was unharmed. She watched him stride around the front of his vehicle. No stride wasn’t quite the right description. The man was…strutting, and that was a broad grin.
Hone climbed behind the wheel and winked at her. Heat collected in her cheeks and seeped down her neck toward her breasts. Her nipples did a funny tightening thing that made her oh-so-aware of her body, aware of this man.
“What would I do with a smartass man?�
� she muttered, verbally fighting the temptation whispering in her ear.
Hone shot her a blast of glee, sensual lips pursing. “I’ve heard we can be helpful when it comes to sex.”
Cripes! The accident had affected her brain or at least the connection with her brain and mouth. “You misheard. I said, what will I do with the man. You are outrageous.”
“Maybe, but I’m also trained in first aid,” Hone said. “Emma told me to take you to see a doctor.”
“I don’t need a doctor.”
“Emma said you’d say that, which was when I volunteered to make sure you were okay.”
“Look, no blood.” Cassie held out her hands. If Hone touched her, she feared she’d lapse, give in to impulse during a weak moment.
“I saw the pain on your face as you stood. You winced when I hugged you. You seem coherent and you’re right about the blood. I can’t see any.” His gaze drifted to her, perused her face, swept down her neck and lingered at her breasts. He returned his attention to the road. “I bet you’re bruised from the seatbelt. You’ll be sore for a few days.”
“I concur. Nothing a hot bath or an ice pack won’t cure.”
“Being a medically trained type, I have ice packs in my freezer, and I have a spa pool on the deck. Once you’ve given up the battle to paint, we’ll stop by the motel to grab your swimsuit and go to my place. You can soak for a while.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t suggest going straight to your place and not worrying about the swimsuit,” she said tartly.
He beamed approval. “That would work too, but I didn’t want to rush things.”
“What things?” Cassie winced at the snap in her tone. She’d dreamed of both Hone and Manu during the night, pondered stripping them naked. Guilty heat collected in her cheeks again as she recalled her X-rated fantasies. Both men, for goodness sake! Thankfully, not at the same time because that would’ve been weird. Time to steer the conversation into other channels. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. I thought you had work to do.”
Blood Moon Dragon (Dragon Investigators Book 2) Page 6
