Drawing Me In: A New Zealand Secret Baby Second Chance Romance (Due South Series Book 7)

by Tracey Alvarez

Yep, here he was. The first twin to accidentally add a branch to the Komeke family tree. Bloody huzzah—someone give him a medal.

  Harley kept his eyes closed, his hands laced beneath his head. Breathed in the earthy smells of vegetation and his own terror-laced man-sweat. Wood creaked and shuddered, and something bumped his hip as his brother eased down beside him. More creaking and shuddering—

  “Ben’s here, too,” his brother added.

  Harley cracked open an eye. Ben’s dark hair appeared above the tree fort’s edge, followed by his ugly mug—which, for once, was missing its normal smirk.

  “Piss off, Harland,” Harley said. “We’ll end up in a pile on the ground with your added weight.”

  “Are you calling me fat?” Ben boosted himself onto the fort, and the planks gave another squeal. His gaze zipped down, and he wisely chose to perch on the edge of the fort, which had the biggest tree branch supporting it. “We all used to fit up here, West included.”

  “Not so many pies eaten back then, bro,” said Ford. “And you’re starting to look a bit chubby on it. Time for some dad jeans, old man?”

  Ben yanked up his tee shirt and pointed to his flat stomach. “Six pack, loser. And I still fit into the same jeans I wore in high school.”

  “You mean Kezia lets you keep all your old duds? Holly’s already thrown out half of my stuff—”

  Harley jerked upright. “Why are you two here? Take your bitching someplace else; I’m thinking.”

  “You need some more alone time, man?” Ben said. “We waited, like, thirty minutes before coming after you.”

  “Yeah. I need some more alone time.”

  Ford clapped him on the shoulder. “Tough. We’re here. You need us.”

  “I don’t need you. What are we, twelve-year-old girls sharing secrets?”

  “Bloody big secret to find out,” Ben said. “And I’ve got some experience around nine-year-old secrets arriving on your doorstep, haven’t I?”

  “Yeah, yeah. But this is different,” Harley said. “This isn’t my kid.”

  Ford and Ben shot him identical WTF glances.

  “If you were in a movie, and they needed to cast a kid as your son, Carter would win, hands down,” Ford said. “There’s no doubt.”

  “Spitting image, man. A half-pint Harley.” Ben chuckled at his own joke.

  Harley wriggled backward and leaned against another supporting branch, resting his head on the bark with a thunk. “Biologically, Carter’s my kid, but he’s Amy’s and her husband’s now. He calls Bree ‘auntie’, for God’s sake.”

  “But he knows Bree’s his mum?” Ben asked.

  At Harley’s nod, Ben shook his head. “Kinda like you and Ford being adopted by Denise and Rob.”

  “The irony hasn’t escaped me. Bree says Carter’s happy with her sister and brother-in-law.”

  “Carter’s a good kid. A smart kid,” said Ford. “Put two and two together about you and Bree pretty quick.”

  Harley grunted, and his brother leaned over, punching the side of Harley’s thigh. “So. You and Bree, huh?”

  “Yeah.” No use denying it, because, hello, they had a kid.

  “You know what makes me go from girlishly pissy to manly-fucking-ropeable?” Ford’s eyes crinkled to dark slits as he threw Harley’s own words from a phone conversation they’d had a few weeks ago back at him. “Finding out my brother’s been boning one of my friends and never said a word about it.”

  “Because it’s none of your business who I sleep with.”

  “You got her pregnant, dude.”

  “I didn’t know she was pregnant, dude. Not until today.” Harley dropped his face into his hands. “I don’t know. Who’s the asshole here, me or her?”

  “You’re both equal assholes,” said Ben. “Her for not telling you. You for being the kind of guy a woman wouldn’t want to tell if she found herself alone and knocked up at eighteen.”

  “I was that much of a dick back then?” Harley muttered into his palms.

  Ford patted his knee cap. “’Fraid so.”

  “Shit.”

  “There, there. You’re getting good at adulting now. You can adult your way over to Bree’s later and sort something out with her and Amy.”

  Harley raised his face out of his hands. “What’s to sort out? I’m not part of this boy’s life. I’m just a guy who for one time didn’t use a condom properly.”

  The voice echoing in Harley’s ears was pitched half an octave too high and sharp enough to etch into glass. He swallowed then took a deep breath. “Look. That came out wrong.”

  Way wrong. But every time his mind slipped back to the kid’s grey eyes, the tentative smile he’d offered Harley when asked about his Manga art, the kid’s bone structure so similar to Bree’s…

  Ford’s lip curled. “Who the fuck are you? I know you’re rattled, but this is my nephew you’re talking about, and Mum and Dad’s mokopuna. You’re not walking away from this. Don’t be that guy.”

  At his twin’s raised eyebrow, Harley said, “Screw you if you really believe I would’ve done a runner like the prick who left us with Pania.”

  Only Harley wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t have.

  “Cut each other a break,” Ben said. “Most guys get nine months to get used to the idea of becoming a dad. Harley got blindsided. He’ll do the best thing for the kid.”

  Harley hissed out a breath, scraping a hand down his face. “What the hell is the best thing?”

  Leaning back against another branch, Ford folded his arms. “Read once that the best thing a father can do for his kids is treat their mother right. So what’s with you and Bree?”

  “Nothing. We were together briefly at art college.” Harley rolled his shoulders, but the tightness across them refused to loosen. “She was lonely, didn’t really gel with any of the other students. We knew each other from home and stuff happened.”

  “Sex stuff,” Ben said. “Obviously.”

  “Yeah. Sex stuff.” Harley held up a finger. “And I’m not saying anything more than that.”

  “Don’t have to. We no longer need to live vicariously through your conquests. We have our own sex goddesses.” Ford grinned at him, the earlier tension between them having evaporated like mist.

  Much as he and Ford ragged on each other, as much as his twin could hold a grudge like nobody’s business, Ford couldn’t stay mad at Harley.

  Blood stuck together.

  “Sex goddesses? That’s just wrong,” grumbled Ben. “And Holly and Kez would kick your ass if you ever said that in their hearing.”

  “Do I look stupid?” Ford turned back to Harley. “So, you and Bree ten years ago, was it just sex?”

  Harley shifted, bark digging into his spine. He couldn’t deny most of the happiest memories of college involved him and Bree just hanging out. Unbelievable, but once Bree removed the stick jammed up her ass, she was actually fun to be around. And sure, after hanging out turned into something more, the sex was hot and unexpectedly amazing. But when the New York art scene came calling near the end of his second year?

  Guess it was just sex, after all.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  Only sex didn’t explain why for years afterward on his trips home to the island, something clawed open a small section of his heart when he discovered Bree had left Oban for a short “vacation” at the same time.

  “And for Bree? Was it just sex for her?” Ford’s brow crumpled. “Because, you know, she doesn’t strike me as a just-sex kind of woman.”

  Heat prickled on Harley’s throat. “Respect, Ford—but you didn’t know her then like I did. We kept it casual.”

  Ford’s gaze remained steady. “Respect, Harl—but you obviously didn’t know her as well as you thought you did.”

  Harley had to concede his brother was right. “Fair point.”

  “Hey,” a voice shouted up from below.

  The three of them craned their necks. West stood at the foot of the tree, holding up a six-pack. “Room for on
e more? I brought beer.”

  Ford and Ben looked at Harley with raised eyebrows.

  “Come on up,” Harley said.

  They’d likely end up in Oban’s medical center with Joe setting their broken bones, but what the fuck. For the first time since he’d laid eyes on Carter, the smothering, claustrophobic sensation eased.

  He was out of that locked room, and he had his people at his back.

  Chapter 5

  Calling Christine the morning after Amy and Carter’s arrival ranked up there with a trip off island for a pap smear or a root canal, but it had to be done. Bree sat cross-legged on her bed, conscious of Amy and Carter squeezed into her spare room next door still asleep. Her mother started off with a lecture at Bree for not returning her missed calls and texts for the last twenty-four hours.

  Bree had held the phone away from her mouth and had taken a few calming breaths. Clueless that she was part of the reason for the tension between her daughter and son-in-law—“I don’t know what awful thing he said to my daughter to make her leave, and what am I supposed to talk to the man about while she’s gone?”—Christine bulldozed through their morning conversation.

  After Bree’s repeated variations of “ums”, “ohs”, and “mmms”, Christine switched topics.

  “Amy sent me a text saying Harley found out about Carter.”

  Bree squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “He was shocked, of course.”

  “He’s not going to cause trouble?”

  The man was already causing her trouble. Bree wriggled then stopped to smooth the wrinkled duvet beneath her bare legs. “No. He’s got no interest in disrupting Carter’s life.”

  “Good.” A sigh huffed down the line, though it was more impatient than relieved. “And what’s happening with the bank? Did you get the loan?”

  Bree’s stomach dropped. “Not with my bank but I’ll find a way. I just need a little more time—to the end of the year?”

  Another sigh, one that implied that Bree was being a colossal pain. “That’s nearly twelve weeks away.”

  “I’ll make it work. Please, Christine.” And it burned her butt to beg.

  Her mother made a pfffft sound. “Ask Harley for a loan. He’s your rich baby-daddy, as they say. There has to be some payoff for carrying his child for nine months, not to mention the thirty-hour labor you suffered through alone. The man owes you.”

  Just like Christine had made Bree’s father feel like he owed her. Obviously, having two healthy daughters wasn’t enough compensation. Obviously, raising those daughters to be independent didn’t include ignoring a man’s bank balance. The irony was waaay over Christine’s head.

  “I’ll think about it.” This time, she changed the topic, asking her mother’s opinion on the Christchurch art scene.

  A few minutes later, Bree disconnected and flopped backward. Exhaustion pulled her eyelids down but nope…she couldn’t hide any longer. Tugging on a silk robe, Bree slipped out of her bedroom and tip-toed past the spare room door.

  After Harley’s abrupt exit from Piper’s baby shower, Bree had made quiet excuses to her friends and had gotten Amy and Carter back to her place. To keep her sanity, Bree had switched off her phone and hunkered down to the job of finding a place for them to sleep. This morning, after a restless night, she’d woken to find a backlog of missed calls and texts from her friends and ever-increasingly annoyed texts-in-all-caps from her mother.

  Bree padded into the kitchen and flung open the drapes. Sunshine sparkled off Halfmoon Bay, and seabirds wheeled overhead as the first fishermen returned to the harbor. Maybe her apartment above the gallery was on the small side, maybe it was outdated and in need of some TLC that she couldn’t provide, but the view was unbeatable.

  She selected a mixing bowl from a cabinet and transferred ingredients onto the counter, ready to create a batch of pancakes. Carter loved her pancakes—well, he had last time she’d stayed with Amy and Paul a couple of nights the year before.

  “Uhhngh.”

  Bree looked up at the sound of her sister’s groan. Amy slumped onto a stool at the breakfast bar, the shadows under her eyes dark enough to have been caused by a round with a heavy-weight champ. Looked as if Bree wasn’t the only victim of too much stress, too little sleep.

  “Morning to you, too, dear sister,” Bree said. “What say I offer you a caffeine transfusion before I start on these pancakes?”

  Her sister grunted assent and slumped forward, propping her chin on her hands. “Pancakes? I hate you. Carter will expect them every Sunday morning.”

  “I left my recipe with you when I moved back to Oban.”

  Before things turned sour with Scott. Before Amy tactfully suggested that maybe Bree was spending too much of her free time with the then four-year-old Carter and confusing him.

  Bree tossed a sharp smile over her shoulder as she filled her mini espresso machine with water. “Yours still turning out like Frisbees, then?”

  “More like clay pigeons. Carter still remembers yours fondly.” A pregnant pause and then, “He asks every school holiday whether you’re coming to stay. He misses you.” A waiver in her sister’s voice, so subtle a stranger wouldn’t notice, but Bree did.

  “I miss him, too.” Bree measured coffee grounds as carefully as she measured her next words. She missed him every damn day. And every day, she told herself she’d made the right decision, the best decision for Carter. “And I’ll miss all of you this Christmas, but it’s your in-laws turn to enjoy their only grandchild.” Bree slotted the porta-filter into the machine.

  “You could come up to Christchurch.”

  Bree depressed the handle, and steam and coffee dribbled out into the white cup she’d placed underneath. While she didn’t doubt the sincerity of her sister’s offer, spending Christmas Day with Paul’s family, with her the glaring intruder, was a solid pass.

  “If Paul even wants us there now,” Amy added in a soft voice.

  “Obviously, your brain cells aren’t working this morning.” Bree added a dash of milk to Amy’s coffee and slid it across the counter. “Drink, eat my fan-bloody-tastic pancakes and then pack your bag. Get yourself home and sort things out with your man before he kills our pain-in-the-rear mother. Carter can stay with me and have a great time during his school holidays.”

  Her sister sat up straighter, took a sip of her coffee. “Really? You think that’s a good idea?”

  Bree counted the drips of coffee that Amy had slopped over the edge of her cup. Breathed in and out. “I stayed with him last year when you and Paul had a second honeymoon in Fiji.”

  “That was at our place with all his friends nearby, not here. And I wasn’t meaning it’s not a good idea that Carter stays here with you.” Amy’s mouth twisted to the side and she wrinkled her nose. “I’m just worried about him being around Harley.”

  A surge of irritation flushed through her like a sudden fever. “Harley can be a smug, over-confident jerk, but he’s still a good man.”

  And why was she getting her panties in a knot on Harley’s behalf? No idea. Blame it on the pathetic part of her that even now still jumped to defend him against her family. Which made her Queen of the Doormats.

  “What if he changes his mind about being a dad after spending time with Carter?” Amy returned the cup to the matching white saucer, the two pieces of china rattling together as Amy’s hands shook. “He could, you know. Carter is just that adorable.”

  “As adorable as your son is, I don’t think two weeks of contact—if Harley even wants to spend time with him—is going to result in your greatest fear. Carter is a lovely kid, but he’s a kid.” Bree leaned across the counter and squeezed her sister’s hand. “He can be grumpy and distant one instant, and the next, he’ll ask so many questions you’ll want to duct-tape his mouth shut. Harley couldn’t cope with the reality of a nine-year-old boy for more than a few hours; trust me.”

  “I still want to talk to Harley and his family, just to pu
t my mind at rest. The Komekes need to know they’re welcome to get to know Carter, and you’re right. I think we should make the effort to be adults about this.”

  Bree’s stomach, which had started to make happy inquiring noises about pancakes, lurched queasily. She didn’t want to adult today. Not if it meant confronting Harley again so soon.

  The coffee must’ve done the trick, as Amy’s eyes narrowed in on Bree’s face. “You’re looking a little pale. Not worried about talking to Harley, are you?”

  Bree pressed a palm to her stomach. “Of course not. We got the worst of it out in the open yesterday. I’m just stressed about the whole Christine thing, and I can’t seem to shake the flu I had a while back.”

  “We all came down with that nasty strain last month. Two sick man-childs in the house at the same time. Guaranteed to put anyone off parenthood—or marriage.”

  “Glad I’m still single.” Bree peeled her lips back into a smile that felt so false she expected her face to crack like an old porcelain doll.

  Twice she’d been naive, imagining she’d have a life and family with a man. Twice she’d received third-degree burns. Only a fool would let herself get hurt by the same man a second time around—which was why she still kicked herself for letting Harley back into her bed. Her body still wanted to be foolish, even though her head demanded she run screaming in the other direction.

  “I’m hungry,” Carter said from the doorway, scrubbing his fists into his eyes. “And you guys woke me up with all the talking.”

  Amy swung around on the bar stool. “Hey, the grouch has woken up.”

  “I’m not grouchy.” In his boxers and Samurai Dawn tee shirt, Carter shuffled to his mother’s side and leaned into her. “I’m hungry.”

  Bree tightened her robe and grabbed the flour container. “Will pancakes fill the gigantic hole in your stomach?”

  Carter switched his sleepy grey gaze to her, the Komeke grin appearing like the sun over the still dark horizon. “Long as you’re making them, Auntie Bree. Otherwise, we’ll all get a stomach-ache.”

  Amy laughed, tousling Carter’s hair.

  “Muuuum.” Carter hunched his shoulders, sending Bree a save me grimace.