Part 19 (1/2)
Nate pressed his lips to hers, and the flash of heat sweeping through her melted the last vestiges of indignation.
Giggles and a loud throat clearing doused the equivalent of ice water on them, and they sprang apart. Todd and Drew stood at the corner of the house, her son's mouth wide open, her brother with folded arms and a you've got to be kidding me scowl.
”Mummy was kissing Nate. That's so funny.” Drew hurtled over. His eyes sparkled as he tugged on Nate's coveralls. ”Now you have to get married. It's the rules.”
Nate grunted like he had when Drew accidentally kneed him in the groin as they mock wrestled on the family room floor a couple of evenings ago.
”It doesn't quite work that way, sweetie.” Lauren's cheeks stung hot, and she couldn't meet Nate's gaze.
What on earth must Nate think of Drew's marriage comment? What on earth was she thinking-since warmth at the idea of having Nate around on a more permanent basis lit up her insides like a cranked-up furnace?
Resisting the temptation to touch her kiss-wet lips, she s.n.a.t.c.hed up Drew's hand. ”Let's make the tea before Java or your uncle sniffs out those brownies.”
Nate had approximately an hour's sleep the next morning after he'd slunk into the garage at 5:00 a.m., before a truck rattled to a stop outside. He cracked open an eye and glared at the workshop's wooden cross beams. The engine died, and a car door creaked open, a guitar rift from some old '70s. .h.i.t tw.a.n.ging through the silence.
Todd.
Nate had expected a verbal a.s.s-kicking from Lauren's brother after the silent, just gimme a reason glances the big guy fired in his direction all yesterday afternoon.
Nate lurched off the futon and s.n.a.t.c.hed up his jeans, the bang of a fist against the metal door making him wince.
”You in there, Fraser?”
Nate rolled his eyes. On his property, Todd referred to him good-humoredly as boss; but now, in Lauren's workshop, he'd been relegated to a surname.
”Yeah, give me a second to get my pants on.”
A grunt from the other side of the door and a muttered but still audible, ”If you'd kept your b.l.o.o.d.y pants on, I wouldn't be here.”
Biting back a grin that might earn him a punch in the nose, Nate b.u.t.toned his jeans and strolled across the floor.
He yanked open the door and squinted at Todd and a black thing bunched in one of his giant fists.
”What's up?”
”A good southwest swell. So we're going surfing. Boards are already in the back.”
The big black thing smacked him in the chest and then flopped to the ground.
”This spare wetsuit should fit. Get a move on.”
Nate opened his mouth to protest, caught the challenge and faint glimmer of humor in Todd's eyes and decided to can the excuses.
”Five minutes. And remember, if I drown, you don't get paid.”
Todd snorted as Nate picked up the wetsuit and shut the door in his face.
”Yeah, yeah.”
Forty minutes later, broken by little conversation other than brief discussions on the brilliant offsh.o.r.e wind and ideal conditions, Nate and Todd waded into the surf and paddled out past the whitewater.
”Like riding a bike, right?” Nate said as Todd slanted him an evil grin. ”Ten years is starting to feel like fifty.”
”Man up and show me what you're made of, Fraser.”
Great-a macho test to see if he was worthy of Todd's sister. How that worked, Nate wasn't sure. The swell moved beneath him, the salt water dripping off his hair stinging his eyes. Suicidal to accept Todd's unspoken challenge, but Nate had never turned down a challenge yet.
With a whoop, Todd caught a wave, carving away toward the distant beach with an easy grace that belied the man's size. The pro pitted against the quimby-the annoying novice surfer.
Nate glanced over his shoulder at the next wave building. He hauled himself forward on his board, turned the nose toward sh.o.r.e and paddled his a.s.s off. What the h.e.l.l, quimby or not, the morning was too d.a.m.n fine to waste by complaining.
”You're not bad, for a city slicker,” Todd told Nate two hours and countless wipeouts later.
Nate limped away from the tiny waves hissing ash.o.r.e, placed his borrowed board on the sand then stretched out next to it with an unmanly moan of relief.
”Screw you; I'm awful. It's not like riding a bike. Bikes don't try to drown you every time you fall off.”
”More practice and you'll be away.” Todd lounged beside him, casually leaning on his elbows as if he'd just dipped his toes in the ocean for a few minutes instead of fighting the waves, wind and board.
Nate flung an elbow over his face with a grunt. ”Haven't had time for surfing since I was a uni student; what makes you think I've time now?”
Time to lay in the suns.h.i.+ne with sand gritting against his scalp, every muscle screaming yet strangely satisfied.
”Depends how long you're planning to hang around sleeping with my sister.”
Nate sat up. Not a conversation he wanted to have spread-eagled like a dazed starfish.
”You really want to go there?”
”You going to stop sleeping with her?”
Nate's toes curled into the sand. ”No.”
”Then, yeah, I'm going there, since my old man isn't around to speak up for her.”
”So you're asking on behalf of your dad what my intentions are?”
”Yep.”
”h.e.l.l.” He shot Todd a glance. ”You know I'd never hurt her like her sc.u.mbag ex did.”
Todd yawned and crossed his ankles. ”Thousands of acres of dense native bush around my place, pretty easy to conceal a body. So yeah, I know.”
”Think you underestimate your sister allowing anyone to hurt her again, the woman wields a chainsaw like a maniac.”
Todd threw back his head and bellowed out a laugh. ”Doesn't she just?” Then his expression turned serious. ”Lauren's not the same broken woman who arrived on my doorstep two years ago.”