Nate raised an eyebrow, amused. “You need to tell Grace to stop keeping you up late at night.”
“Dude, after five years of being single, the last thing I’m going to tell my girlfriend is that I want to go to bed early to sleep.”
“Put your teeth in a glass and a nightcap on your head. She’ll get the hint.”
Ash laughed. He switched on the machine and came to sit in the chair by Nate’s desk, stretching out his long legs and leaning back with a sigh. “Anything interesting in the post this morning?”
“Usual stuff. A handful of requests for appointments. Confirmation details about that show in Dunedin next month. A couple of thank yous.” He passed them over to Ash to read while he continued to slit open envelopes. “There’s been some correspondence about possible venues for shows, so we need to go through the schedule for the second half of the year sometime soon.”
“Yeah. Let’s do that on Monday.”
Nate nodded, happy to leave it until after the weekend. He didn’t always work on a Saturday, but they’d flown to Christchurch for a show the day before, and he wanted to catch up. Still, he was looking forward to leaving, having a bit of lunch out somewhere and enjoying the summer sunshine. “What are you up to today?”
“Grace is coming over shortly to pick up Jodi, and they’re going shopping.”
“You going with them?”
“Hell, no,” said Ash vehemently. “Jodi’s going to some party next weekend, and Grace is helping her find an outfit. They certainly don’t need me there. I’ve got an appointment at one, and then I’m going to catch up on some reading.”
“Looking at the inside of your eyelids, you mean,” said Nate wryly, pulling a letter out of an envelope and unfolding it.
“Hey, it’s perfectly reasonable to meditate lying down. In fact, I’ve always said sleeping is the perfect…” Ash’s voice tailed off. “What’s wrong?”
Nate stared at the letter. In spite of the warmth of the day, an icy coldness slid down his spine. “I…” He couldn’t speak. His mouth went dry, and the blood drained from his face.
Wordlessly, Ash took the letter out of his fingers and read it. Nate pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the window. He loved Ash’s house, adored the peace that surrounded it, but this time the rolling lawns and lemon trees, the flitting fantails and Indian mynah birds, did nothing to calm his pounding heart.
Ash folded the letter and slid it back into the envelope. “Come with me,” he said, standing and switching off the machine. “We need something stronger than coffee.”
“It’s still morning,” said Nate hoarsely.
“Sun’s over the yard arm somewhere in the world,” said Ash. “Come on.”
On autopilot, Nate followed him through the house, across the large, bright living room, and into the kitchen. Ash pulled out a chair at the pine table, and Nate sat, leaned back and looked up at the ceiling as Ash retrieved two glasses and sloshed a good measure of brandy into both. The sun streamed in through the large windows, and the terracotta tiles and peach-coloured walls made the room glow, warming him through, starting to thaw the iciness that had settled on him as he read the letter.
“Here.” Ash slid the glass across the table to him and took the opposite seat.
Nate studied the glass and took a mouthful, enjoying the heat of it as it burned all the way down to his stomach. He coughed. “Wow. That’s good stuff.”
“I think you need it.” Ash took a swallow himself, studying Nate. “You okay? You’ve got a bit more colour now, anyway.”
Nate took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Sorry. It was a shock seeing his name, that’s all.”
“Of course it was. How many years has it been?”
“Just over three.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I wonder how he found me.”
“He hasn’t found you,” said Ash. “It was a tentative query to me, not a letter to you. He doesn’t know you’re here.”
“He will. He’s obviously got his suspicions. Perhaps he saw me at one of your shows or something.”
Ash leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “If that’s the case, we’ll deal with it as and when the situation arises.”
Nate met Ash’s gaze. His blue eyes were calm, but firm. Nate dropped his gaze. “I won’t go back, Ash.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know you think I should talk to him, but it’s not going to happen.”
“It’s up to you. But maybe think about it for a while,” said Ash.
“I don’t need to fucking think about it.” He stood up, knocked back the brandy in one go, and put the glass in the sink. Anger and frustration burned in his stomach, along with the spirit.
“Nate—it’s your life, man. If you don’t want to see any of them ever again, you don’t have to.”
Nate’s hands curled into fists as he leaned on the worktop, looking out at the garden. Despair weighed heavy on his chest. He wanted to throw things, break something. “I can’t believe it—after all this time.”
Ash stood and walked over to stand beside him, looking out of the window. “Maybe this is a sign.”
“I don’t believe in signs,” Nate snapped.
Ash snorted. “Yeah, right. Maybe you need to consider that the universe is telling you it’s time to face up to your past.”
Nate closed his eyes. “I’m not ready.”
“Aren’t you? You’ve built yourself a life here, got a house, a job. I couldn’t do without you organising me, you know that. You’re in a band. Moving forward. The past hasn’t got a hold on you anymore.”
Nate opened his eyes and glanced across at him. “I think we both know that’s bullshit.”
“I’m not saying you’re not scarred. You’ll never be able to forget what happened. But you’re dealing with it, bit by bit.”
Nate looked away, down at the lake, where a heron stood patiently like a statue. “Sometimes I think I am,” he said softly. “Then the dreams start, and I think no, I’m not even close.”
“Lesser men would have gone under, Nate.”
“I nearly did.”
“Nearly drowning isn’t the same as actually drowning.”
Nate’s lips curved. “You being all philosophical now?”
“Yeah.” Ash grinned. “That’s about as deep as it gets.” The doorbell rang in the distance, making both men turn toward it. “And that’s Grace.” He started to walk away, but turned briefly to say, “Just think about it. You’re stronger than you realise.”
He disappeared around the corner, and Nate turned back to the view across the garden. He didn’t feel strong. The only way he got by was to refuse to think about anything. That was hardly dealing with it. Sometimes he didn’t think the anger that curled inside him like a snake would ever go.
Voices sounded behind him, and he turned, forcing a smile as Grace walked into the kitchen with Ash. His smile morphed into surprise as Freya came in behind them. “Hey,” he said, watching as her eyebrows rose and she stopped walking. She hadn’t known he was going to be there either. He glanced at Ash suspiciously, but he was busy flicking through a book Grace had brought him and didn’t notice the sceptical look Nate shot him.
Nate looked back at Freya. He hadn’t seen her since their kiss, over a week before. Her cheeks had gone slightly pink, but she responded with a “Hey” and a brief smile before walking past him to pour herself a glass of water. She wore a short cotton dress tie-dyed bright orange and yellow, and she looked like a ray of sunshine.
“Hiya,” said Grace breezily, so breezily he knew she’d planned this. “Warm day for shopping.”
“Hmm,” said Nate, raising his eyebrow.
“I bullied Freya into coming with me,” Grace said, sticking her tongue out at him as Freya turned away to drink her water. She turned to Ash. “Did I leave my pink cardigan here last week?”
“Yes, it’s in my room,” said Ash.
“Oh, okay.” She walked into the living room
, then reappeared briefly and said impatiently, “Ash! Come and help me find it!”
“Oh, yeah, right.” He left the kitchen, looking over his shoulder and winking at Nate before disappearing.
Freya watched them go, slowly moving her gaze up to Nate. He looked exasperated, but it turned to a smile as he met her gaze. They both started laughing.
“They are so un-subtle, it’s shocking,” she said. “Nothing to do with me, Nate. Just ignore them.”
“Okay.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She studied him for a moment. There were two tumblers in the sink, the slight aroma of sweet brandy in the air. At this hour? No way would Ash drink in the morning unless there was a reason. Nate looked absolutely gorgeous, his dark hair ruffled, his lean body mouth-wateringly tasty in the long beige cargo shorts and black T-shirt as he leaned against the worktop. But he looked tense, his brow furrowed, his dark eyes troubled. “You okay?” she asked, concerned.
His smile faded. He looked at the floor a couple of feet in front of him and shrugged. “Yeah.”
“What’s up?”
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Just a shitty morning. Got a letter from my brother. Shook me up, that’s all—I haven’t heard from him in three years.” He looked puzzled, as if he hadn’t planned to confide in her.
“I’m sorry.” Walking up to him, she laid a hand on his upper arm, over his tattoo. “Anything I can do?”
“Nah.” He looked at her hand, studied it for a moment and then glanced up at her.
Her heart missed a beat. His dark eyes were so beautifully expressive. Troubled and upset. It made her ache.
She remembered the moment she’d gotten the text outside her house, and how he’d swept away her depression when he kissed her. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she knew he was remembering the same thing. She wanted to make him feel better, to take away the pain in his eyes.
“You sure?” she said lightly, and moistened her lips with her tongue. “You want me to cheer you up?”
He raised his gaze then to look at her, and for the first time a real smile hovered on his lips, his eyes softening.
She moved closer to him, looking deliberately at his mouth. “Nothing complicated,” she said mischievously.
“Of course not,” he said, amused.
She nibbled her bottom lip, seeing his gaze drop there again. He leaned on the worktop, holding the edge with his hands, and he didn’t move toward her, but neither did he move away. He glanced over to the living room, and she checked over her shoulder, but there was no sign of Grace or Ash. She looked back, and now he was smiling openly, the naughty twinkle back in his eyes.
She put her hands behind her back, moved forward until her breasts just scraped his chest, and tipped her head slightly to the right. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his, teasing him, pulled back and gave him a brief, suggestive look, and tipped her head to the left.
Then she kissed him.
Still he didn’t move as she pressed her lips gently against his, but she didn’t let his lack of movement put her off. She could sense his need to be comforted, his longing to be consoled. She kissed him slowly, taking her time, enjoying the warmth of the sun, the slight tang of brandy on his lips. Bringing up her hand, she let it rest on his cheek. She brushed her thumb against the slight stubble, kissing along his cheekbone, up to his eyes. She placed her lips on his closed eyelids, then kissed down his nose and back to his mouth, listening to him sigh softly as she did so. She scraped her teeth lightly on his bottom lip and ran her tongue across it.
He inhaled, and she pulled back a little, letting her lips graze his, glancing up at him. For a moment, she waited to see what he’d do, wondering whether he’d say something or move away.
But he didn’t.
His eyes met hers, his pupils dilating, and then he gave a short laugh of surrender before he wrapped his arms around her and lowered his lips to hers.
Freya’s mouth curved beneath his, and she slid her arms around his neck, pressing herself fully along him. He kissed her soundly, but languidly, taking the time to taste her, and a deep shiver ran through her at the sensual slide of his tongue on hers. As she slipped a hand into his hair, he moved his hands down her back to her hips, and then lowered them to cup her ass. He tightened his hands on it, lifting her slightly, nestling his erection into her softness. As she inhaled with pleasure, he moved his hips, pushing against her, arousing her, and a warm ache grew between her legs. Her nipples tightened, heat pooling in her stomach, and he obviously felt something similar, because he gave a low growl of appreciation in his throat, deepening the kiss and making her sigh with longing.
“Whoa!”
They broke apart hurriedly as someone spoke behind them, and Freya turned to see Jodi—Ash’s fourteen-year-old daughter—watching them with wide, amused eyes.
“Yowza,” said Jodi. “I’ve never seen a guy kiss a girl like that except in the movies.”
“Hey, she kissed me,” said Nate, brushing the back of his hand across his mouth and wiping off Freya’s lip gloss before tucking his hands in his pockets. “I’m just an innocent bystander.”
Jodi grinned. “Yeah. You looked like you hated it.”
Nate laughed, glancing at Freya, whose face burned.
“I didn’t know you two had hooked up,” Jodi said, interested.
“We haven’t,” said Freya, worried Jodi would overreact and make Nate panic. “I was cheering him up. We’re just good friends.”
“Oh my God, if a friend ever cheered me up like that, I’d explode.”
I nearly did, Freya thought. She cast Nate an apologetic look, but he just winked at her. He looked more relaxed now, anyway. Was his heart pounding as hard as hers was? And it wasn’t all due to the fact that they’d been discovered. When he kissed her, she felt like one of those old cartoon characters who had steam come out of their ears. And the way he’d pushed his erection against her… She couldn’t think about it. She’d have to have a lie down with a cold flannel on her face. Or a cold flannel somewhere else.
“Come on,” she said, “shopping. Bye, Nate.”
“See ya.” He smiled.
She followed Jodi out, meeting Ash and Grace in the hall, and shook her head in warning as Jodi giggled. “In the car,” said Grace, ushering the two girls out, and they scrunched across the gravel to Grace’s car. Freya slid in the passenger seat, Jodi got in the back and Grace had just started the engine when she demanded, “Tell me!”
“She snogged him,” said Jodi. “Tongues and everything.”
Freya rolled her eyes. “Oh jeez.”
Grace nearly drove off the drive into the bushes. “You kissed him?”
“He needed cheering up,” said Freya defensively.
“Oh my God!”
“It was just a kiss.”
“It was not just a kiss,” said Jodi vehemently. “He had his hands on her ass and there was definite cuppage.”
“Jodi!”
“What?” The young girl’s eyes were sparkling. “It was very romantic.”
“There was absolutely nothing romantic about it,” said Freya with amusement.
“You couldn’t see it.”
“Honey, romance is flowers and exchanging glances over dinner and him whispering sweet nothings in your ear. There wasn’t a whole lot of that going on.”
“Even so.” Jodi shrugged. “That little smile he gave you, and the way he slid his hands down your back…” She sighed.
“Jeez, Jodi, how long were you watching?”
“Long enough,” she said smugly. “Oh God, I so need to get myself a boyfriend who can kiss me like that.”
“No you don’t,” Grace and Freya both said together, hastily.
Grace glanced over at Freya, clearly overjoyed at the news. “You little devil.”
“He started it,” said Freya, “the night you made him walk me home.”
“Oh! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.
”
“I didn’t tell you because it’s not a big thing. Neither of us wants a relationship, Grace. I’m serious now. It was just a bit of fun. He clearly has severe commitment issues, and I have far too much on my plate to think about a regular boyfriend right now. It was just…nice.”
“If that’s nice,” said Jodi, “I’d like to see what you call passionate.”
Chapter Five
Freya would like to have said she worked so hard the following week that she didn’t have much time to think about the kiss, but that would have been a lie. She thought about it constantly, every spare minute she had in between changing beds, mopping up bodily fluids, administering drugs and soothing upset or worried patients. At first, it made her cross that she couldn’t get it out of her mind, because she was completely aware it would never lead to anything. She didn’t want to romanticise the situation, and she didn’t want to get obsessed with a guy with whom there was no chance of a future. However, eventually she just accepted it for what it was—a daydream she could focus on when she needed cheering up, similar to a kiss she’d read in a book or seen on TV, and provided she thought of it as a screen kiss, there was no harm in fantasising about it in her quieter moments.
It also gave her comfort when she was dealing with the difficult side of her job—seeing her patients who were in pain or had received bad news. One little boy in particular, Josh, who was only seven, had acute lymphoblastic leukaemia, and although he’d had a bone-marrow transplant, he’d developed graft-versus-host disease, which affected his internal organs. The doctors had put him on high-dose corticosteroids, but he had developed an infection, and the prognosis wasn’t good.
Freya always did her best not to get involved with her patients, especially the kids, but there was something special about Josh that got to her. Maybe because he was so cheerful in his illness, always ready with a smile for her, never seeming grumpy. Maybe because his parents were so nice, thankful for any help she could give, complimentary about the staff and gracious even though they were obviously distraught at how sick their son was. Or maybe it was just that for some reason, Josh tugged at her heartstrings more than any other child had done.
Making Sense: Sensual Healing, Book 2 Page 4
