“It’s doing the right thing by Jackson’s family even if things continue to be awkward between me and Nat,” he added.
“They might not be so awkward if you reconsider what Olivia asked,” Sam said. “Happy daughter, happier mother. Just think about it.”
Flecks of sawdust floated in the wedge of sunshine spearing in from the workshop’s windows. In typical Bounty Bay fashion, the weather had turned on a dime. Isaac sucked in a breath, the smell of timber and polishing wax not half as soothing as the olfactory memory of liniment and locker room sweat, or the earthy smell of fresh-cut grass on a practice pitch. He wanted to crawl right out of his own skin.
“Yeah. I’ll think about it,” he told Sam, and taking his stone-cold coffee with him, left the workshop.
He strode back to his office, taking the coward’s way of slipping inside the main building’s back door instead of heading through the showroom. Shifting his mouse so his screen popped back to life, Isaac studied the endless rows of numbers. They blurred together.
Fuck it.
Now that the thought of rugby was back in his brain he couldn’t dig it out again. He opened a new tab on his computer, did a quick online search, and picked up his phone.
“This is Isaac Ngata,” he said when the receptionist answered his call. “Can you put me through to Mrs. Crawford’s office?”
Natalie sat on the opposite side of Margaret Crawford’s desk, sucked back in time to a teenager being called into the principal’s office for being disruptive in class. Technically Nat had been called into the principal’s office, but this time she wouldn’t be getting a lecture and detention. Probably. Margaret wouldn’t tell her over the phone what this impromptu meeting was about, only that she had a private matter to discuss.
Bounty Bay High School’s principal wasn’t looking her usual unruffled self. She fiddled with papers on her desk, took her glasses off, folded the arms in, then two beats later unfolded them and set them back on her face. She cleared her throat, linking her hands on her desk.
“Thank you for coming in at such short notice.” Margaret looked at Nat over the rim of her glasses. “As I reassured you over the phone, this meeting isn’t directly about Olivia.”
“Okay.”
Nat racked her brains for principal’s office meetings that didn’t directly involve her daughter. She’d already joined the school fund-raising committee, plus volunteered as a last-minute chaperone at the junior dance earlier in the year. As had Isaac—a huge favor for his friend Owen—to the whispers and pointed fingers from some of the other parents at the event.
“I’ll get right to the point, Mrs. Fisher. The school board is considering an offer from a coach volunteering to take over the girls’ rugby team until Ms. Pierce returns at the beginning of the fourth term or until a more suitable replacement can be found.”
“That’s wonderful!” Nat released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Olivia will be very happy to hear that.”
“I’m not so sure she will,” Margaret said. “Though the candidate checks many of the boxes required, the board is split whether or not to accept the offer. I suggested initiating a discussion with you and then reporting back to the board with your recommendations.”
Her recommendations? Just because Jackson knew the sport inside out and back to front didn’t mean his wife had any clue as to what made a good coach.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not sure I follow. Why does the board want my opinion on a new coach?”
Margaret’s cheeks sucked in and she shot a sideways glance to her office windows which overlooked the school’s playing fields. There was a PE class out on it, the kids running laps around the perimeter while a teacher blew a whistle in the center.
The older woman’s shoulders straightened and her gaze flicked back to Nat. “Because the candidate in question is Isaac Ngata.”
The only sound to escape Nat’s rapidly closing windpipe was a breathy, “Oh.”
The sudden lack of oxygen in her lungs prevented her from adding a number of four-letter words that weren’t suitable to utter in front of a school principal.
She swallowed hard. “Considering his experience, I understand why the board asked him about the coaching position.”
“The board didn’t ask him, Natalie. Isaac contacted me to inquire about the opening,” Margaret said.
Wait—what? Isaac had asked the school about coaching, not the other way around?
“He sounded quite enthusiastic about the prospect of getting back on the field,” the older woman added.
Now Nat knew Margaret was delusional. Isaac wasn’t enthusiastic about anything. At least, nothing that she’d witnessed in the past five years. The man had retreated into his shell like a cranky turtle. But coaching the girls’ rugby team, the one that Olivia wanted to join? Part of her wanted to shout “Oh, hell no,” and demand the school continue to search for a different replacement. Another part of her, a much smaller part, said she was overreacting and no matter what her personal feelings were toward Isaac, he would be a good coach. Think of the greater good, she told herself. The girls, including her daughter, who loved the sport, wouldn’t get to play otherwise.
“I don’t see what the problem is, then,” Nat said. “You won’t find someone in town with more experience, and if he’s willing to volunteer his time—”
“The problem is his reputation.” Margaret’s mouth pinched shut and her gaze rested somewhere past Nat’s shoulder.
A large icy pebble dropped into Nat’s stomach and froze the rest of her gut. She knew without Margaret saying anything else what the school board’s concerns were.
“He was one of New Zealand’s top athletes, totally dedicated to the sport both on and off the field,” Nat said. “That’s his reputation.”
“Mrs. Fisher—Natalie—I hate to bring this up, but as a parent of an impressionable teenage girl, you must be aware of what I’m talking about. The incident in London and the scandal surrounding the unfortunate involvement of that female fan…” Margaret sighed, tendrils of rosy-pink spreading over her cheekbones. “As I said, I’m sorry to dredge this up, but the board questions if a man with Mr. Ngata’s, er, history, should be given such a position of responsibility.”
Unfortunate involvement of that female fan. The words jumbled around Nat’s head, bouncing off memories and images of the aftermath of Jackson’s accident. The two policemen on her doorstep with sympathetic eyes and grim mouths. The incessantly ringing phone. The reporters camped on the sidewalk. The screaming newspaper headlines. The magazine articles and online tributes.
And Lucy Gilbert, her beautiful dark eyes haunted as a photographer captured her braced on crutches still as she made her way through Auckland International Airport two weeks after the accident. The twenty-four-year-old woman who’d suffered a broken leg and fractured wrist, but lived because Jackson heroically pushed her out of the car’s murderous path as it jumped the curb and plowed into them. The woman that Isaac had hit on that night, even though he had a serious girlfriend back home, even though the woman was engaged.
Natalie crossed her legs and leaned forward, ensuring that she had Margaret’s complete attention. No matter her personal issues with the man, his integrity being called into question turned the icy pit in her stomach to bubbling lava.
“The only relevance of Mr. Ngata’s history is his knowledge of rugby and his skill on the field. You would’ve had him police vetted and he’ll have a perfect record. I’ve known Isaac for over thirteen years, and the school would be lucky to have him, even on a temporary basis.”
“I’ll pass your recommendation on to the board,” said Margaret. “Would you be willing, if Mr. Ngata is offered the position, to act as an informal liaison between him, the school, and the parents of the girls’ team?”
Nat’s jaw sagged. Whoa. That had escalated quickly and unexpectedly. “You want me to what?”
Margaret’s eyebrow arched above the lens of her glasses. �
�You’re obviously still on amicable terms with him, and Olivia seems very keen to play. It seems logical for you as her mother to see things run smoothly as Mr. Ngata transitions from player to coach. He may have a lot of experience with rugby, but I doubt he’s had much experience with excitable teenage girls. If you were there for practices to start with it would imbue the board and the parents with a lot more confidence.”
Every freaking after-school practice? With Isaac?
“I’ve seen him around town,” Margaret added. “He comes across as a little…intimidating. I’m not sure how the girls will respond to that, but if they see that you’re not intimidated by him—well, maybe you’ll bring out his softer side.”
Hah! Nat had never managed to bring out anything from Isaac other than the surface layer of his life. The man had always been a closed book around her, even though she’d once considered him a friend. And as for a ‘softer side,’ she wasn’t convinced he even had one.
“I’ll take it into consideration,” Nat said. “Once we know which way the board will vote.”
“We’re having an emergency meeting at lunch. I think your commitment to help would sway them to agree. Do we have it?”
Dammit, the woman was a pit bull. Two afternoons a week and Saturday morning practices. A couple of months max. And Olivia really wanted the opportunity to play. Nat had never hesitated to sacrifice for her daughter before, and besides, with running interference for twenty-plus girls she’d hardly notice Isaac was there.
“Yes.” Nat picked up her purse and stood. “If the board decides on Isaac, I’m willing to do what’s required.”
Margaret beamed at her. “Wonderful. I’ll let you know their decision after lunch.”
Nat gave an internal eye roll but shook the principal’s hand before leaving her office. She needed some fresh air because, man, it felt as if she’d just been in the bowels of hell sealing a deal with the devil.
Chapter 4
As lunchtime approached, Natalie distracted herself with errands. She dropped off bags of precut dresses, shirts, and hoodies to their two outworker machinists and collected a stack of completed garments from them that would go through the finishing process back at the workroom. Then a quick stop at the bank, followed by the grocery store to pick up a few things.
By the time Nat arrived at the cramped workroom behind Bountiful’s new retail space she’d almost driven the thought of Isaac out of her mind. Almost.
Vee stood at the workroom’s large pattern-making and cutting table, lifting a screen-printing frame from a long-sleeved T-shirt. The Bountiful logo that Gracie had designed looked perfect on the shirts, and would join their other branded clothing on their newly redesigned website, with a smaller selection making it onto the shop floor.
Bountiful had started off as Vee’s Closet, a tiny clothing shop that competed with the two other chain stores in town. Nat went into business with Vee a year after her husband died, and the two women had worked their asses off to make the shop viable. Soon after the accident, the financial provisions Jackson had left her were put into a trust for Olivia’s future—she wanted this one thing in her life to be about her accomplishments. Earlier in the year, the third and final spoke in their wheel, Gracie, had joined them, and Bountiful was created. While they weren’t quite where they needed to be—their workroom was cramped and the only slightly bigger retail space that they’d moved into a month ago was already too small—they were headed in the right direction.
Vee caught sight of her and set the frame aside. “How’d it go?”
Nat sank into a chair beside one of the workroom’s two industrial sewing machines since there was nowhere else to sit. “Well, Molly is on schedule with the new tops, and I just dropped off another load. But Gayle—”
“I meant at the school,” Vee said. “What did old stuck-in-her-craw want?”
“Did you really call her that?” Nat sometimes forgot that Vee, the Ngata siblings, and Owen had all gone to Bounty Bay High School, though the three guys had been a few years ahead of Vee.
“Not to her face.” Vee transferred the shirt she’d just screen-printed to a clear spot on the table to dry. “So what did she want?
The squirrelly sensation returned to Nat’s gut. “You can’t breathe a word.”
Vee’s eyes widened and her mouth split into a wide grin. “Oooh. That sounds exciting.” Then she pressed her lips together and made a zipping motion.
Not exciting so much as nausea inducing. “The school board is considering Isaac as a coach for the girls’ rugby team.”
“Get. Out. Really?” Her brow crumpled. “What’s that got to do with you?”
“Exactly what I asked Margaret,” Nat said. “Apparently the board wanted me to provide a character reference.”
“Ah.” Vee crossed to the workroom sink and washed her hands. As she was drying them, she added, “What did you tell them?”
“That they’d be lucky to find a coach with more experience than Isaac.”
“True.” Vee gave her the side-eye. “You’ll be okay if he does get the job?”
Nat couldn’t imagine any scenario where she’d be okay spending more time in Isaac’s company. Whether he intended to or not, the man rattled her cage, leaving her unsettled for days afterward. “Livvy will be over the moon if she gets to play this season.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Vee’s voice gentled.
“A better question would be if we’re having chardonnay or pinot when I buy you lunch today.”
Vee snorted and peeled off her apron, tossing it on the counter. “Did anyone ever mention you have a gift for seeing and hearing only what you want to?”
“It’s called selective perception. It keeps me focused on what’s important.” Like learning to be a single mum when your world came crashing down on you. “Like the fact I can hear your stomach growling from here. Did you skip breakfast again?”
“If you can avoid talking about the Isaac elephant, I can avoid talking about what I did or didn’t have for breakfast.” Vee picked up her purse and headed for the door leading through to the shop floor. “Just let me tell Susan I’m going out for an hour.”
Twenty minutes later, chardonnay in hand, Nat and Vee sat in a newly opened licensed café, waiting for their order of vegetarian nachos and BLT sandwich with extra bacon to arrive. The café was packed with the lunch crowd, and only Vee batting her big blue eyes at a male server got them a table while other customers opted for takeout rather than wait in line.
“You know,” Vee said after a sip of her wine, “if I had to choose between a date with a man and a date with bacon I’d have to give it considerable thought.”
“I wouldn’t. Bacon wins, hands down. Dating is not for me.” Nat injected a note of finality into her tone. Maybe a little hint of warning also, since both the dates she’d had in the past year had been duds and Vee had pushed her into going on them. A ‘not dating status’ was the nicest possible way of saying she’d rather eat half a pig than suffer through date number two with either guy.
“Yeah. Bacon doesn’t send you dick pics or fail to understand why a booty call when you have a kid isn’t an option. Bacon doesn’t ditch you because you get pregnant and fat and then your baby cries a lot because she has colic.” Vee huffed out a sigh and took another sip of wine. “Anyway, considering most men are pigs, you see my point.”
“That’s a hell of a generalization about the male species,” said a masculine voice from behind Nat.
She jumped, turned in her seat, and looked up at Sam, whose gaze was locked onto Vee’s face with an intensity usually attributed to his big brother. The fine hairs on the back of Nat’s nape stood to attention. Not because of Sam, who managed to look like a big teddy bear with a side helping of badass—but because even though she couldn’t see him, Isaac was somewhere in the café, too.
“Sorry, not sorry,” she heard Vee say, but the rest of her friend’s sassy reply seemed to be coming from a distance.
Nat
swiveled further and glimpsed the bigger, badass-ier, nothing like a teddy bear other Ngata brother waiting near the café’s barista with two takeout bags in his hand. He watched the three of them from across the room, only he seemed less interested in the discussion his brother and Vee were having, and more intent on studying every plane and angle of Nat’s face. There was no you suck and plenty of you’re the only woman in the room in his gaze, and her nape hairs went haywire, her whole scalp tingling with tiny prickles of awareness.
She jerked around in her seat, heart punching her rib cage. Men just didn’t look at her that way. Not even her husband—God rest his soul—had looked at her that way. As if Nat were the black hole of his universe, drawing him powerlessly into her orbit no matter how hard he fought gravity. Snatching up her wineglass, she squeezed her eyes shut, willing away the shivers spreading from head to toe.
Please don’t let him come over. Please don’t let him come over.
She took a long sip of her wine and cracked open an eye, expecting to see that a blur of sped-up bodies moved all around her while she sat frozen in time. But, nope, life went on. Vee and Sam continued to banter, servers still dodged past customers with their arms loaded with plates of food, and classic rock still pumped through the café’s sound system. Life went on, even as she sat with the delicious smell of coffee in the air and a smiling young man sliding a plate of nachos onto the table. Even if she sometimes felt more lonely and isolated than an astronaut in deep space, life went on.
Sam’s gaze skimmed over Nat, warm with concern, and he gave her shoulder a quick friendly squeeze. “All good, girl?”
Another rash of prickles sped down her spine and Nat knew—just knew—Isaac was headed in their direction. She quickly found a reassuring smile. “All good. You want to steal one of my nachos?”
Mend Your Heart (Bounty Bay Book 4) Page 4
