Teach Your Heart: A New Zealand Opposites Attract Romance (Far North Series Book 3)

by Tracey Alvarez

  8. Legos are STILL considered a health hazard and must be stored in their proper container at all times. Offending pieces will be disposed of with prejudice and the Lego architect tickled without mercy.

  9. Uncle Owen’s bedroom and bathroom are STILL off limits, except for weekends or unless there’s a puking, bleeding, or pooping emergency. Other exceptions are if there’s a fire, tsunami, earthquake, tornado, hurricane, Noah-like flood, or some other disaster. Fighting over who gets to choose what DVD to watch IS NOT a disaster.

  10. Rules are subject to Gracie’s approval because, as of now, Gracie’s the boss. Not the cool kind of boss, but as in the She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed kind of boss.

  Gracie continued to grin like a sideshow clown when footsteps padded down the hallway. The skin of her nape prickled at the heavier tread of a man, rather than one of the kids. Owen, once again dressed only in his pajama pants, entered the kitchen. The smile he shot her made her toes curl around the barstool’s footrest.

  “How can you be so cheerful on only a few hours’ sleep?” she blurted.

  How could he look so damn hot with all that tanned skin over cut muscle and expect her not to go all lioness on his butt, clawing him down to the kitchen floor to have her wicked way with him? That was a question too tricky to answer that early in the morning.

  “I’m thinking about last night.” He gave an enormous yawn, which should’ve made him less attractive—but didn’t. “That’s why I’m smiling.”

  “Mmmm…” Gracie’s toes curled harder, and she resisted the urge to fan her face with the sheet of paper still in her hands.

  Owen slid onto the stool next to her, and the accidental brush of his knee against her leg sent a plethora of tingles racing up and down her spine. God, he always smelled so good—even if this morning there was a faint whiff of antiseptic-y hospital smell beneath his usual masculine scent. Another test of her willpower that she didn’t lean over and lick the path his Pacifica tattoo took, weaving around his upper bicep.

  “You found the new rules?” He dipped his chin at the page.

  “I like the one about me being the boss.”

  “I mean it. What you’ve been doing with William and Charlie”—he rolled his shoulders—“it’s working. They’re happier with how you’re teaching them, and, yeah, those worksheets were pretty bloody boring.”

  Gracie arched away from him. “Are you seriously admitting I was right and you were wrong?”

  “Let’s not get carried away.” The corner of his mouth curled up. “And the kids do need to do some documented written work.”

  “I agree,” Gracie said. “So we compromise with a little your way and a little my way.”

  “As long as the other rules are followed. I can be a reasonable dictator.”

  Gracie glanced down at the list and shook her head. “Who would’ve thought you had a sense of humor?” She laid the paper on the countertop and picked up her mug.

  Owen chuckled. “Ouch. Guess my jokes really are as bad as Morgan makes out. Uncle jokes are worse than dad jokes, evidently.”

  “I’d take it as a good sign she’s able to make the comparison,” Gracie said. “She and the kids are coping admirably well.”

  “Thanks to my parents.” He slid a glance toward her mug. “I don’t suppose that’s coffee in there?”

  “Absolutely not.” She slid the mug out of his reach, just in case. “And don’t change the subject.”

  “The subject of why you think tea is an acceptable substitute for coffee in the mornings?”

  “The subject of your nieces and nephew. I don’t think their happiness is solely due to your mum and dad. The kids talk about the times they’ve spent with you, how you’d show up to take them to the park or the movies or a fast-food lunch in the city. You were there for them, too, after their parents died.”

  A muscle rippled along Owen’s jawline. “A few ice creams and G-rated movies don’t qualify me for Uncle of the Year. I mainly took care of Ali and Shaun’s estate.”

  “So your mum and dad didn’t have to.” Gracie laid her hand over Owen’s and gently squeezed his fingers. “That’s no small thing for you to lift that burden from them. And I think the kids needed the normality of ice creams and movies. You made the effort to provide normal, fun-uncle stuff during a pretty bleak time in their lives.”

  “You give me too much credit.”

  His hazel eyes bored guilt and pain into hers. Eyes that said he was a terrible uncle and an even worse brother. Gracie set down her mug and slid off the barstool.

  “And you don’t give yourself enough.”

  Owen twisted to face her. She stepped between his knees, twining her arms around his neck and burying her face in his throat. She leaned into him, pressing her lips to a throbbing vein, his rapid pulse firing warm darts throughout her system and causing her to melt. A big hand cupped the back of her head and stroked her hair. She clung, and Owen’s arms wrapped around her until they were as close as two people could get without being naked.

  Gracie closed her eyes and breathed him in. While attraction and arousal still simmered below the surface, something else passed between them now. Connection. Empathy. Affection. A feeling of home and belonging—here, with this man.

  Some scary, scary stuff.

  From elsewhere in the house, floorboards squeaked and a door opened. One of the kids was up. Gracie wriggled, but Owen didn’t immediately release her.

  Instead, he left a soft kiss on her earlobe and murmured, “Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?”

  Gracie pulled back to meet his gaze. The pain in them was once again hidden, shuttered behind the clear hazel depths and replaced with confident humor…with just a smidgeon of adorable worry.

  So she smiled. “Yeah, Doctor O-for-Awesome. I guess it does.”

  ***

  Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?

  Owen’s teasing words still bounced around in Gracie’s brain the next day as she parked behind a two-story block of Bounty Bay apartments. Vee’s was the one on the bottom right, she’d said via text yesterday when she’d invited Gracie for a girls-only lunch. In front of the mustard-colored building, dandelions poked out of concrete cracks. Inside a small, fenced yard, a child’s ride-on plastic trike sat on the sun-baked grass like a sentinel.

  Gracie checked her expression in the rearview mirror before climbing out of the car with the shopping bags of deli meat, loaves of bread, and two big bottles of juice. Plus another bag filled with two jars of jam and a container filled with blackberries from the wild brambles she and Owen and the kids had raided behind the house yesterday. They’d all helped cook a dozen jars of homemade jam, and later, after the kids’ bedtime, Owen had shared kisses with her sweeter than any sugary preserve. But by unspoken agreement, there hadn’t been a repeat of their late-night office antics.

  Gracie nudged the car door shut with her hip and strode toward Vee’s apartment. It just didn’t seem right, not with the three kids in the house.

  How’s the whole girlfriend thing gonna work, then? A little voice queried in her head as she knocked.

  “No freaking idea,” Gracie muttered then peeled her lips back in a cheerful smile as Vee opened the door.

  “Hey,” Vee said. “Speak of the devil. Mum’s just left with Ruby, and Nat and I were wondering if the good doctor would let you leave this morning.” She stepped backward in the narrow hallway to let Gracie enter.

  “The kids are keeping him busy,” Gracie said. “They’re baking bread from scratch. It won’t end well.”

  Sunlight illuminated wallpaper lifting from the wall at the joins and the worn-thin ash-gray carpet runner in the hallway. Considering some of the places she’d lived in throughout the lower-income areas of Europe, she didn’t judge. But her stomach still plummeted as she walked past Ruby’s room filled with stuffed animals, colorful toys, and a homemade dollhouse. Opposite that bedroom was a smaller one, containing a double bed, a single chest of drawers, and a kitset comput
er desk shoved into the corner.

  “I don’t need much space,” Vee said, her arms folded across her chest, her mouth twisted to one side as she followed Gracie’s stare. “It’s more important that Ruby has room to play.”

  She held out her hand to take one of the shopping bags, and Gracie passed it over.

  “There’s way too much food in here for just the three of us.” Vee’s pretty face collapsed into a frown.

  “I’m hungry.”

  Not a whiff of a lie there—Gracie was hungry. Food tasted better when a man looked at you as if he’d like to eat you up in one big gulp.

  “Don’t mind her.” Natalie appeared in the doorway at the end of the hall. She leaned into the doorframe, eyes softening at Vee’s stiff posture. “Pat the Rat deigned to show up first thing this morning for a flying visit with Ruby. It didn’t go well.”

  “Pat the Rat?” Gracie echoed.

  Vee’s mouth tightened into a hurt pucker. “The dick-waffle who contributed half his genes to my daughter before deciding daddyhood wasn’t for him.”

  “I’m sorry,” Gracie said. “I didn’t know your ex-dick-waffle was still in the picture.”

  “Oh, he isn’t.” Vee’s scowl disappeared momentarily into her normally wide, friendly smile. “The rotting douche-funnel just turns up from time to time, either to check I’m not growing fat and rich off his measly child support, or to assuage his conscience that he isn’t a complete deadbeat dad. Anyway, let’s not talk about him anymore.” She gestured with her chin toward Natalie and the open doorway, which, judging from the delicious smell of baking inside, must be the kitchen. “The cheese scones I baked smell like they’re ready.”

  Gracie followed Vee down the hallway. Natalie draped a companionable arm around Gracie’s shoulder after they stepped into Vee’s kitchen.

  “Not all men are complete dick-waffles like Pat the Rat,” Natalie said.

  Vee unloaded the contents of the shopping bags onto a small dining table.

  “My Jackson, for example, was a wonderful dad and the perfect husband,” Natalie continued. “I wish you both could’ve known him.”

  Natalie gave Gracie’s arm a quick squeeze and then crossed over to collect three glasses from a high cabinet. On her return trip to the table, her eyes looked suspiciously shiny. “A man like Jackson, girls, is the type of man who’s a keeper.”

  “Amen to that,” Vee said softly. Then she pulled out a kitchen chair, gesturing for Gracie to sit. “Now let’s eat since you’re starving.”

  After lunch, Vee rose from the table to switch on the kettle. “Gracie, have you got a date for your brother’s wedding yet?”

  “Um…no…” Gracie wriggled on the chair, her cheeks growing warm, which couldn’t solely be attributed to the cayenne pepper in the cheese scones. “I planned to go solo.”

  “Oh,” said Natalie, twisting a curl around her finger and narrowing her eyes. “Not brave enough to ask Doctor O-for-OMG-he’s-hot to go with you?”

  “O-for-OMG-he’s-hot?” Vee rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Really? You can’t just go with the man’s name?”

  Gracie laughed. “This from the inventor of rotting douche-funnel and dick-waffle? I’m never going to get those names out of my head.”

  “She’s got plenty more where they came from, right, Vee?” Natalie ate the last chunk of her cheese scone and wiped her fingers on the paper napkin.

  “Bet your butt plug, I do.” Vee grinned and pulled a bright green teapot down from a shelf. “Now tell us why you haven’t asked Owen to your brother’s wedding.”

  How about because everyone in her family would jump to a bunch of conclusions if she brought Owen as her date? Her father, worst of all, would smirk and scheme. Grace has finally come to her senses and found herself a decent, respectable man.

  Just because Owen was decent and respectable wouldn’t make it rankle any less.

  “I wasn’t going to ask anyone,” Gracie said, and in a flash of inspiration added, “I was just going to see who showed up at the reception. Maybe I’ll hook up with one of Savannah’s actor pals from LA.”

  “You won’t.” Natalie stacked Vee’s plate on hers and wiggled her fingers for Gracie’s. “You’re not the hooking-up type.”

  Gracie’s jaw sagged, but she passed her plate over to Natalie, who stood up and stacked a couple of glasses on top.

  “I am so.” She totally wasn’t. And hooking up with an actor, who looked both airbrushed and photoshopped and probably had teeth that glowed luminous white in black light…yeah, nah, as the kiwi saying went.

  “Not when you blush at the mention of Owen’s name.” Vee poured boiling water into the teapot. “Gurl, you have got it baaaad.”

  “Now wait a damn minute,” Gracie said then caved. “Okay. I’ve got it really, really bad.”

  “Then ask him,” Natalie said. She joined Vee at the kitchen counter and stacked the dirty dishes beside the sink. “Tell him the kids are welcome to stay with me for the night while you two go on a real, grown-up date.”

  “An overnight date.” Vee wriggled her eyebrows and giggled. “In a fantasy suite. Will she get a rose if she puts out, do ya think?”

  “Oh, shut up,” said Gracie, her face open-flame hot.

  Both the other women burst into brays of laughter, and after a moment, Gracie joined them. Once they finally got themselves under control, Vee brought the teapot to the table, with Natalie carrying the mugs.

  The two of them continued to swap glances back and forth until Gracie said, “What? What’s going on?”

  Vee and Natalie exchanged further glances, and then Vee huffed out a sigh.

  “This is way out of left field, but would you consider becoming a partner in our business? We were so impressed with the sketches we saw the first time we met you, and then those amazing bridesmaid designs.”

  Natalie nodded and took over. “Plus the initial work you did on our website. It looks amazing now, thanks to you—and we’d like you to continue to grow and expand it.”

  Gracie’s stomach dropped in an exhilarating, roller-coaster swoop. “You can’t be serious. You hardly know me.”

  “We know all we need to know about you,” Natalie said. “You’re the kind of person who’d drop everything and rearrange her life to look after someone else’s kids. And the type of person who helps out two strangers with their crappy website without expecting to be paid half as much as she’s worth. Who’s loyal and honest and designs the most amazing clothes that look good on real female bodies.”

  Vee passed Gracie a steaming mug of tea. “You don’t have to agree to anything yet; we can hammer out the details over the next few weeks. Vee’s Closet is only small, but we’re hoping to expand soon, to take on some more outworkers, and maybe even change the name of the business and shift into a bigger retail space.”

  “Two job offers in the space of a month.” Gracie shook her head. “It’s amazing, but I’m only going to be in Bounty Bay for as long as Owen wants me”—she sucked in a deep breath—“to look after the kids, I mean.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Vee.

  She and Natalie swapped another series of glances, this time with added eye crinkles and barely concealed smiles.

  “But for how long will you want him?” Vee asked.

  Gracie pretended to laugh it off, but inside, the answer terrified her.

  Because she couldn’t envision an expiration date.

  Chapter 14

  Boundaries drawn between work and home were something Owen hadn’t experienced.

  Before Gracie, that was.

  But now, he turned down extra shifts and delegated his ass off to ensure he got home at a reasonable hour each weeknight. And unless it was his turn to be on call, he didn’t volunteer. Home was where he wanted to be.

  Home with Charlie curled up on his lap, Minions blasting from his TV. Home with William talking ten to the dozen about his latest Harry Potter project, or making Morgan laugh with his “uncle” jokes. Home had bec
ome the center of his world rather than an outpost he avoided whenever possible.

  And then there was Gracie…

  Owen glanced up from loading the cooler with the plastic-bagged sandwiches, to Gracie who’d just finished applying sunscreen on Charlie’s arms.

  “There.” Gracie dabbed her finger into a pot of green zinc and swiped it on Charlie’s nose and cheeks. “Now you’re ready for the most awesomest beach day ever.”

  Charlie giggled and dipped her finger into the pot, smearing a streak on Gracie’s nose. “You look funny. Like an alien.” She added a few more uneven daubs of zinc.

  Over Charlie’s shoulder, Gracie’s gaze met and locked with his.

  Most other women Owen knew would’ve headed straight to the mirror to repair the damage wrought by a four-year-old with free access to fluorescent goop. Not Gracie.

  No, Gracie grinned at him and poked out her tongue.

  She directed her attention back at Charlie. “I’m an alien princess—no, wait, an alien warrior sent to protect the real alien princess—that’s you.”

  “I’m Princess Charlie?”

  Charlie giggled as Gracie slipped a tee shirt over the little girl’s head.

  “So what’s your name?” Charlie asked.

  “My full name is Zeerrg Izofflaban of the Haunted Forest, guardian of the planet Doj’lon, fiercest warrior of all my people.” Gracie tugged the shirt down over Charlie’s swimsuit. “But you can call me Zee.”

  “Okay, Zee. But what about Uncle Owen? You have to make him be an alien, too.”

  “Hmmm.” Gracie stood up from the couch and strolled into the kitchen, the zinc pot in her hands.

  Owen tucked the last bottle of chilled water into the cooler and faced her, the wicked grin on Gracie’s face stirring little bubbles of delight inside him. When had he last been so happy? God knew, but he’d enjoyed every damn minute of their Saturday morning so far.

  “You gonna protect me, too?”

  Before she could answer, he lifted Gracie onto the breakfast bar counter. Then, bracing his palms either side of her hips, he leaned forward—to be met with her green-coated fingertip gliding across his cheekbone.