“It was my fault, Albie. I shouldn’t have said it. I was out of order and wasn’t thinking. I apologize.”
I look out across the fields to where the dark-gray clouds hang above the horizon. The Pacific is also a stormy gray, white-topped waves beating the shore with their fists. It’s going to be a helluva storm.
“I don’t want her to go,” I whisper. “But I don’t know how to get her to stay.”
“Talk to her,” Hal says. “Tell her how you feel.”
“It won’t be enough.”
“If it’s not, you can always handcuff her to the bed.”
“I was going to do that anyway.”
Hal gives a short laugh. “You really like this girl, don’t you?”
“I do. You know you told me to ask her to marry me?”
“Yeah…”
“I kind of did today.”
A smile spreads across his face. “Holy shit. What did she say?”
“She said no. Which of course was the right answer.”
“No, because I don’t want to marry you? Or no, we can’t marry because it’s too soon blah blah?”
“The second one. I think. I’m not a hundred percent clear.” I sigh. “I’m such an idiot.”
“Not all the time,” Hal says. “Come on. Let’s see what the girls are up to.”
We go inside, and it’s a relief to be out of the noise of the gale. The animals are restless, some of the dogs whining or clawing at the cages. “I’m going to check on Ward Seven,” Hal says, and he walks off to my left to check his patients. I can see Izzy in there, examining the wound on a terrier, while Miss Daisy, their own rescue dog, sits at her feet. Summer and Clio—Leon’s sister who’s a trainee vet—are also there, making sure the animals are comfortable, as I think they’ve sent all the veterinary nurses home. The Border Collie gets up and wags her tail as Hal approaches. He ruffles her ears, then slips his arm around Izzy and kisses her neck, and she laughs.
I turn away and walk into the daycare room. The cages that hold the dogs who come in for grooming are empty today. Leon’s four dogs are in the pen—a large area with a low fence, and so is Stefan’s Jack Russell and Fitz’s Irish Setter. Also, to my surprise, I can see Noah’s two German Shepherds, Willow and Spike, the latter lying on his side, dozing, temporarily out of his wheelchair. Noah’s here?
I walk into the rehoming center. Ryan’s there, talking to Leon. Jules and Remy are in the process of returning a couple of the rescue dogs to their pens, presumably after taking them out for a last-minute walk before the storm hits.
Noah’s in the corner, sitting on the floor with a little Maltese on his lap, talking softly to it while it looks up at him with its huge eyes.
I approach Ryan and Leon and say softly, “What’s Noah doing here?”
“He’s worried about the Ark and the animals,” Leon murmurs.
“He heard the Met report,” Ryan adds. “I think he’s half expecting us to get whisked away like Dorothy’s house in The Wizard of Oz.”
I walk over to Noah and bend down beside him. “How’s she doing?” I ask, stroking the Maltese’s ears.
“She’s fine. Must be nice to be a dog,” Noah says. “They have no clue what horrors are lying in wait.”
I glance at him, but his gaze is fixed on the dog. His hands are shaking. I feel a rush of emotion for the guy. After going through what he’s been through, I suppose it’s a natural step to catastrophize everything. He knows the storm is coming and he’s terrified it’s going to destroy the one good thing in his life.
“I asked Remy to marry me today,” I tell him.
He looks up at me then, and his lips curve up in a smile. “Seriously?”
“Well, kinda. I was serious. She didn’t think I was.”
“I didn’t realize you two were an item.”
“We’re not. Which was probably why she said no.”
He chuckles. “She’s going back to France in two weeks, isn’t she?”
It doesn’t surprise me that he knows. Leon keeps him updated with all the staff news, plus I think Noah sees himself as the father of us all at the Ark, and he likes to know what’s going on in our lives.
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh. “I was just saying to Hal, I don’t want to her go, but I don’t know how to get her to stay.”
“What was Hal’s advice?”
“To handcuff her to the bed.”
That makes Noah laugh. Out of the corner of my eye I see the others look over, and Leon smiles.
“I’m willing to consider it as an option,” I add.
“If you love her,” Noah says, “you’ve got to go for it. Tell her how you feel.”
“All joking aside, she’s all ready to go. She has the rest of her life planned out. I left it too late. How can I ask her to stay for something that’s not even started yet?”
“Better to regret something you’ve done than something you haven’t,” Noah says. “If it were me, I’d definitely go for the handcuff option.” He smiles.
“She’s here on a year’s working holiday visa, though,” I say, somewhat desperately. “I don’t think she could get an extension.”
“I’m sure she could get a work-to-residence visa if we offered her a permanent job.”
“You’d do that for her?”
He gives me a strange look. “I’d do it for you, Albie. What’s the point in having all this money if you can’t make your loved ones happy?”
And for the first time, I see it—he created the Ark for us. For Hal and Leon and me, and he’s gradually brought in Summer and Ryan, Jules, Clio, and Poppy, all the sons and daughters of the Three Wise Men. It’s a sanctuary in more ways than one—he sees it as a place he can keep us all together, all safe, all happy. No wonder he was so thrilled that Hal ended up with Izzy, and Leon with Nix, and now he’s trying to make sure I get my happily ever after. I’m so taken aback, I can’t speak, and I watch him drop his gaze back to the Maltese, my heart aching for this broken guy who’s trying to protect his loved ones so they don’t suffer the way he has.
It’s futile, of course, because you can’t wave a magic wand and make people fall in love, and you can’t cheat sickness and death. You can’t stop the world turning. But in his own small way, Noah’s doing what he can.
A huge bang outside jolts me out of my reverie, and I rise and walk over to the window. “It’s just the trash can fallen over,” I tell the others. “Remy, give me a hand?”
“Sure,” she says, and she follows me out of the room, along the corridor to the back door.
We go outside, and stand for a moment, taking in the disturbing view. The sky is thick and gray, and the world is lit by a strange light, slightly yellowy. The wind whips the tops of the trees that border the field, and I’m relieved to see someone has stabled the horses and sheep.
“It’s scary,” Remy says, shivering. “It’s like God is angry with us.”
“Nah,” I say, walking over to the trash can and rolling it over into the corner. “He’s just hot and he’s fanning himself with the newspaper. He’s forgotten about the butterfly effect.”
She smiles, helping me right the trash can, and we place the lid back on and lift a heavy stone together to put on the top. Then I take her hand and lead her around the corner.
The view across the Pacific sends a thrill through me—all those wild waves tearing up the shore. The wind whips Remy’s hair across her face and tugs at our clothes, and I feel a strange sense of exhilaration. Maybe it’s the weather, maybe it was talking to Hal and Noah, I don’t know.
I turn to Remy and push her gently against the wall. Her eyes widen as I move up close to her.
“I told Hal I don’t want you to go,” I tell her.
She tries to tuck her hair behind an ear, but the wind just whips it away again. “What did he say?”
“He told me to handcuff you to the bed. I said I was considering it as an option.”
She laughs. “Albie…” she scolds.
I
slide a hand against her cheek, wishing I could beg her not to leave, but I know I can’t do that.
She lifts her brown eyes to mine. “Izzy told me about your dogs.”
My smile fades at the thought of my two beautiful Pointers. I still haven’t recovered from that terrible day—from losing my two best friends, and the way my old neighbor sobbed and sobbed in my arms when she came to tell me.
“I’ll have to have words with Izzy,” I attempt to joke. “Telling you all my secrets.”
But her eyes are full of sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Al-bear.”
“Aw,” I tell her, “when you say my name like that, it makes everything all right.”
“Kiss me,” she whispers.
I don’t need to be told twice, and I lower my lips to hers.
The wind gusts around us, lifting leaves to dance at our feet, but all that exists for me at that moment is Remy’s soft mouth, and when she opens it and touches her tongue to my lips, I’m more than happy to deepen the kiss. She slides her arms around my back and I wrap mine around her, and we exchange a long, surprisingly luscious kiss considering we’re in the tail end of a cyclone, and the wind is doing its best to tug us apart.
But I don’t want to let her go, and I don’t hold back, letting my passion for her sear through us as I plunge my tongue into her mouth and press my hard body into her soft curves. Ohhh… Remy, I want to take off all your clothes and have you naked against me, I want to cover your skin with kisses, to bury my mouth in you, to taste you, to have you. I burn for you. I’m changing at a molecular level; you’re going to consume me, turn me to ash, and I’m never going to be the same again.
Chapter Twelve
Remy
Within an hour, the storm has built to scary proportions outside. Trees are bent double, the grass is flattened, the fence around the car park has fallen down, and odd bits of detritus go tumbling by—a cardboard box; a tarpaulin that had been covering some boxes that obviously hadn’t been fixed tightly enough; a plastic bag that had contained dog food, that dances in the square as if possessed. When Stefan goes out to retrieve it, he has trouble standing upright, and comes in with his short hair bolt upright on his head.
Inside, there’s something of a party atmosphere. We’ve locked up the rest of the Ark, retrieved what food and drink we could from the break room, and brought it into the hotel. We’re all sitting in the rehoming center, on odd chairs and blankets covered in dog hair, and there are animals everywhere—dogs and cats and rabbits and even a couple of Guinea Pigs. Every now and then, Hal or Izzy or Summer gets up to check on the animals in Ward Seven, but all the other animals are in this room—Leon’s dogs and Noah’s dogs and Miss Daisy, and all the animals hoping to get rehomed.
I sit to one side, on a blanket not far from Albie, and listen to the conversation around me, feeling a strange twist inside. I love this place. I wish I’d found it earlier, although I can’t say the time I spent elsewhere in New Zealand has been wasted. I’ve had a wonderful time, and I love this country and its relaxed, friendly people with all my heart.
And Albie? I glance across at him. He’s lying on his side, head propped on a hand, eating a packet of crisps—doling out one for him, one for a Yorkshire Terrier sitting in front of him waiting patiently. He’s completely the opposite to Pierre, who would never have sat on the floor, wouldn’t dream of going out without being clean-shaven and with every hair in place, and who hated dogs because they slobbered on his clothes. Albie’s hair is all over the place. His jeans have dirty knees, probably from where he was kneeling down fixing the fence. He lets the dog lick the salt and vinegar off his hand before he uses that same hand to shove another handful of crisps in his mouth. Mon Dieu. He’s disgusting. He’s an animal.
Ohhh… he’s gorgeous, and I want him so badly I think I’m going to self-combust.
“You’re drooling,” Jules whispers to me.
I give her a wry look. “You can talk.”
Her eyebrows rise innocently. “What?”
“I saw you ogling you-know-who.”
“Lord Voldemort?”
“You want me to say his name? Like, really loudly?” I start forming the letter S as if I’m going to call Stefan’s name, and she pushes me, making me laugh.
“I wasn’t ogling him,” she insists.
“Yeah, right.”
“Aw, Remy. You sound like a real Kiwi when you say that.”
I smile. “Do not change the subject.” I gesture at Stefan with my head. “Why do you not ask him out?”
“He wouldn’t be interested in me, Rem. He only goes out with gorgeous girls.”
“Are you kidding me?” Jules is lovely. Okay, maybe she’s not model-girl beautiful, but she’s got thick dark hair, a curvy figure, and an amazing smile. She’s fun and chirpy, and she doesn’t take any nonsense from the guys, who all adore her, Stefan included.
“You’ve seen the girls he’s dated,” Jules tells me. “They’re all eight-foot tall and blonde with seventeen-inch waists.”
“You are exaggerating, ma chèrie. Nobody has a seventeen-inch waist this side of the twenty-first century. But even if that was the case, it does not mean he would not go out with you. I have seen the way he looks at you. He thinks you are hot as.”
The Kiwi-ism makes her laugh. “Don’t think I don’t realize you’re changing the subject,” she says. She glances at Albie. “Are you two going to hook up?”
I look back at him. He glances up, sees us watching him, smiles, and goes back to feeding the Yorkie. Just that smile is enough to make me melt. The way he kissed me outside sent my head spinning. I want more of that. I want to spend hours in bed with Albie King, kissing him, touching him, making love with him. Ohhh…. someone save me.
“I am leaving in two weeks,” I say to Jules.
“That wasn’t my question.”
“I know. I should not. I must not.”
Her lips curve up. “But you want to.”
I look at him feeding crisps to the Yorkie. As the dog crunches, Albie leans forward and kisses the top of its head. I sigh. “I do.”
“Then you totally should.”
“But—”
“Carpe diem, Remy. Jesus!” We both jump out of our skin at a loud crash outside. Leon gets up and looks out of the window. “A branch just fell off the tree over the square,” he announces. “It broke the taillight on one of the ambulances.”
“Shit.” Fitz joins him. “It’s getting wild out there.”
“Is Poppy okay on her own over at the petting farm?” Leon asks.
“I think I’ll join her,” Fitz says, “make sure everything’s okay over there.”
Hal gives a short laugh, and Albie grins. “Fuck off,” Fitz says mildly, grabbing his jacket and walking past them, and they both chuckle. He tugs on his jacket as he walks down the corridor. We hear the wind howl as he opens the door, and then it bangs shut again.
Leon watches him out of the window. “He’s having trouble standing upright. Man, it’s crazy out there. The sky is a really weird color.” He’s right—the room is filled with a yellow-gray murky light.
“Do we have any flashlights?” Hal asks. “There’s sure to be a power outage.”
“There are some battery ones in the office block,” Leon advises. “Come on Nix, let’s go and get them.”
She rises, and the two of them head down the corridor to the office part of the building. Most of us have our phones with us for light if we need them, but I’m guessing not everyone’s phone is at one hundred percent charge.
“Anyone who wants to go home had better do it now,” Hal says, checking his phone. “According to the Met Office the worst is yet to come.”
Nobody rises, and in the corner I see Noah’s lips curve up a little. He’s pleased that everyone wants to be here together. One big happy family.
Everyone settles back down again. Someone opens a box of chocolates, and everyone takes one.
“So, Remy,” Summer says, popping a truffle
in her mouth. She’s sitting on the tiles next to me on a blanket, cross-legged. I like Summer. She’s tiny but full of character, and always smiling. “Only two weeks to go?”
“Yes,” I reply. “Not long now.”
“How has your search for your father gone?” she asks. I told her my reason for coming here when I first arrived.
“Not great,” I admit. “You would be amazed how many Richard Andersons are in the Northland, and none of them seem to fit.”
Albie clicks his fingers as if to say Eureka! “I’ve remembered where I heard the name,” he says. “Hal, isn’t your mother’s maiden name Anderson?”
“No,” he says. “It’s Bloom. Erin Bloom.”
“Grandmother?” Albie persists.
“Nan’s maiden name was White,” Jules says.
Albie frowns. “I’m sure there’s an Anderson in your family somewhere.”
“There is.” This time it’s Ryan who speaks. I don’t know him as well as some of the others. I know he’s Hal’s and Jules’s brother, and that they have different fathers, but that Brock adopted Ryan when he married Erin, and that’s about it. Like many modern-day families, the Kings are full of stepchildren and adopted children, and their family tree is confusing to outsiders.
“What?” Jules asks Ryan. “Who?”
“Anderson is our great-grandmother’s maiden name,” he says.
Jules stares at him. “Seriously?” Hal also looks surprised.
“Quelle coïncidence,” I say, trying to stay calm, although my heart is racing. Surely I’m not related to the guys at the Ark?
“On Grandad’s side,” Ryan clarifies. “Mom’s maiden name was Erin Bloom,” he explains to me. “Her dad was Pete Bloom. His mom—our great grandmother—was Valerie Anderson.”
“I never knew that,” Jules said. “How did you know that and I didn’t?”
“I pay attention,” Ryan says, and grins.
“True,” Jules admits. “I always switched off when Grandad started talking about the old days.” She sends me an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry I didn’t know that. I can’t believe we could be related!” She looks delighted at the thought.
It’s still a long shot, though. They’re probably related to one of the men I’ve already discounted. “I do not suppose you have heard of a Richard Anderson,” I joke to Ryan.
My Roommate, the Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 3) Page 9
