Just Once More (Escape to New Zealand Book 7) Page 8

  Because, yeh, he’d known what to do. He’d known exactly what to do.

  It had been ten days since that grueling World Cup victory, since that night when nearly every man here had dug deeper than he ever had, to win a match they should by all rights have lost.

  They’d held, and held, and held some more, all their strength long since expended. They’d reached down to the darkest places, found that final reservoir of will, and kept holding. Until the final whistle had blown and they’d been able to stop.

  The stadium had erupted. Exploded. And Drew had stood, hands on hips, head down and fighting for breath, and had felt…nothing.

  He’d seen Finn embracing Nico, Mako, more players joining the happy mob. The big man sinking to the turf, the tears flowing unchecked and unashamed. The emotion coming so easily to him, always, joy or anger, pain or loss.

  Drew had stood alone and felt only relief. That he could stop. That it was over.

  It had been the toughest battle of his life. Not just because of the game, but because he’d had the loss of Hannah weighing him down, a dark, cold hole low in his gut. And instead of feeling it, of hurting, had had no choice but to use it to fuel his resolve, his burning need to win. To win this. To win one.

  He’d won, in the end. But it had cost him almost everything. And now, he was empty.

  Then he’d looked up, had seen her leaning across the barriers to him. Crying. Reaching for him.

  A second before, he’d been numb. And then he’d felt so much. So much that, if he’d been a different man, he’d have been on his knees, exactly like Finn. But he wasn’t that man. So he’d held her, and laughed, and watched her cry, and had gone off to celebrate with the team. And had come back to her, and known she’d be there.

  He’d woken up with her on the first day of their Coromandel holiday, the day he’d scheduled so carefully. The team celebrations over, the Cup shared with an exultant nation on a victory tour from the Bluff to the Cape. And now, released from responsibility, knowing he had eight days with her. Knowing exactly how he wanted to start them. If she said yes.

  Of course she’ll say yes, his logical, practical side had scolded again on that November morning, the sun already making its presence felt. Hannah was turned away from him in bed, her pale hair streaming across the white pillowcase, a mermaid washed ashore. Her bare foot lying lightly against his calf, because even in sleep, some part of her always seemed to seek him out, to need to touch him, her body and her heart knowing what her mind kept shrinking from. But it was her mind he needed to win. He’d won her heart, he was pretty sure of that, and she’d given her body to him a long time ago. Time to go after that final barrier, bring it crashing down.

  She stirred as if she could feel him watching her, rolled over, opened her blue eyes, and smiled, a wide, sleepy, glorious thing. “Morning.”

  He smiled back, hope surging. “Morning.”

  He took her kayaking, because that was Step One of his plan. Launched from the golden sand of the beach, pushing her boat off first, then following her. Paddling with easy strokes until they neared the point that marked one end of the curving bay.

  A calm sea today, gentle swells taking them for a pleasant, rocking ride. Seabirds flying overhead, a pied shag breaking off, dropping from the sky like an arrow, coming up with a flash of silver in its beak. The sun sparkling on the water, thousands of tiny diamonds against the blue. The sky a paler shade, clear as crystal. A mild breeze caressing his cheek, the water sliding down the paddle onto his hand, cooling his skin.

  And the treacherous, deceptive current pulling them inexorably out to sea, just as it had done on that day.

  “Stop paddling a moment,” he told her.

  She lifted her paddle, and he moved his own kayak close to hers with a few draw strokes, then reached for her boat and pulled it next to his. “Grab hold.”

  “Something wrong?” she asked, doing as he asked, setting her own paddle next to his across the front of their boats, and feeling that current taking them.

  “Nah.” His throat worked a bit. “Just that this was it. A year ago today. This is the spot where I found you.”

  “I remember,” she said quietly. “I remembered this morning, when you wanted to do this. And when we got in. My first time stepping in the water here since that day. Is that why we’re doing it? And was it today? Really?”

  “Yeh. It was today. And that’s why. Bad idea?”

  She looked out past the point, to the Pacific, the vast expanse of blue that stretched all the way to the Americas.

  “No,” she finally said. “I guess not. Probably good. But hard, remembering. I’ve been thinking about it. I haven’t been able to help it, ever since we got in. I almost asked you to turn around,” she confessed. “Because it’s hard to remember.”

  He sat, waited for what she’d say next.

  “I was so afraid,” she went on at last, “and trying so hard not to be. Trying to believe I’d make it, and knowing somewhere down deep that I wouldn’t, but that I was going to keep trying until I couldn’t anymore. Wondering how much longer I could struggle, and when I wouldn’t have a choice. When I’d have to stop, because I couldn’t go on. Trying not to imagine what it would be like to drown. But I knew. I knew it would be…horrible.”

  “It would have been,” he said. “But it didn’t happen.”

  She didn’t seem to hear him. “Know what else I thought, afterwards?”

  “No, what?”

  “I thought, what if it had been over? What if that had been my life?”

  “And what did you answer?”

  She looked out to sea again, the sea that had almost claimed her that day. Had so nearly taken her from him before he’d even had the chance to know her. To love her.

  “That I’d spent half my life afraid,” she said. “Feeling just like that. I thought I was brave. And I was so wrong.”

  “You were brave,” he said. “You are brave. You got in the water today. You did that. Didn’t even say anything to me. You thought, this is hard, and it’s a good thing to do. So you did it. That’s courage. And that’s you.”

  She shook her head. “No. I wasn’t brave, not then. I hid. I hid behind work, and being right, and being in control, and never taking a chance.”

  “You came to New Zealand alone,” he said. “I’d say that was a chance. And then you took a chance on me.”

  She turned to him, smiled. “Do you know why I love you?”

  He laughed in surprise. “No, but I’d like to. Why?”

  “Because you know me so well, and yet you still think that well of me. You think better of me than I do of myself.”

  “And that’s why I love you too,” he said. “One of the reasons. Come on. Let’s go around the island, ride the waves a bit. Since we’re both alive, let’s live. Plus,” he added practically, “work up an appetite for breakfast.”

  “So he took you kayaking,” Reka said dubiously. “In the spot where you nearly drowned. And that was romantic.”

  “It was,” she protested. “Because it wasn’t just the spot where I almost drowned. It was the spot where he saved me.”

  “Isn’t there some group somewhere that believes,” Koti said, “that if you save somebody’s life, you’re responsible for them?”

  “Thought you didn’t want to hear the story,” Drew said.

  He shrugged. “Just asking.”

  “Well,” Hannah said, laughing, “that would explain it, maybe. He felt responsible for me that day, anyway. He took me to breakfast. He said that, in fact. That he’d saved me, and now he needed to know I was all right.”

  “I said that,” Drew told her. “Of course I said that. What did you expect me to say? ‘Glad you didn’t drown, and now how about going to bed with me?’ How well would that have worked?”

  She was actually staring at him, her mouth open. “You did not think that.”

  “I didn’t? Right, then. I didn’t. I was being chivalrous. I like your version much better.”


  “Huh.” She still looked surprised, and he had to chuckle a little. “Well, anyway. He took me to breakfast that day, and then he took me to breakfast again, a year later.”

  “To the same place,” Drew said. “Sat in the back garden, at the same table. Had the same breakfast, too.”

  They’d drunk their coffee while they waited for it, and he’d looked at her across the table from him, her hair in its shining knot, a blue sundress today instead of the yellow one she’d worn that day. And waited.

  “What?” she asked, the third time he looked around the lushly planted patio to the little café’s entrance. “Are we in a hurry? Or are you starved? We could have eaten back at the house.”

  “No,” he said hastily. “Nothing. So…” He cast about for a topic. “Uh…how’s Kristen?”

  “How’s Kristen?” She laughed. “Drew. You don’t have to chat. We can just sit.”

  He grinned at her sheepishly. “Sorry.”

  “And here’s your breakfast,” she said as the server approached. “Saved by the bell.”

  The girl was Italian this time. A romantic, fortunately, because she’d smiled when he’d confided his request, had patted the back of his hand and promised him, “Yes. It will be done.”

  “Not the one with the tomatoes,” he’d thought to add. “The one with just the eggs.”

  “Si,” she’d said. “I understand.”

  Now, the girl set the plate in front of Hannah, turned to Drew and deposited his own, gave him a wink and a smile, and walked off. Drew had a suspicion she might be watching from the doorway, but that was all right. There was nobody else back here this early, he’d seen with relief. One Italian girl—that was all right. One girl, and Hannah.

  She didn’t eat, though, just took another sip of coffee, finally picked up her toast and took a nibble. And…nothing.

  Maybe they’d stolen it, Drew thought wildly, wanting to look around to see, but needing to watch Hannah. The waitress and the cook were probably on their way to Auckland right now. Splitting the profits. Aw, shit. He’d never even considered that. He’d been living in New Zealand too long.

  “Aren’t you hungry after all?” she asked in surprise.

  “What?”

  She gestured with her fork at his still-laden plate. “Your breakfast.”

  “Oh.” He picked up his own fork, dug in. “Nah. Starved. You should eat too.”

  She laughed. “I am eating.”

  “More. You should eat more.”

  Time stretched out as he plowed determinedly through his own breakfast, watched her make agonizingly slow inroads into her own. He held his breath when she finally picked up the second triangle of toast, and…still nothing.

  Definitely on their way to Auckland.

  She took another bite of egg, and then a comical expression twisted her lips, her blue eyes going wide.

  “What?” he asked.

  She held the serviette to her mouth, spat something into it. “I think I chipped a tooth. There’s a bone or something in here. In my eggs!” She reached a cautious finger into her mouth, felt around.

  “All right?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said with relief. “I think so. Nothing jagged or anything. What was that?” She folded the serviette back to check. Then sat, breath held, and stared.

  They hadn’t taken it to Auckland. They’d put it under the eggs. And it was sitting in her serviette now. His ring. Her ring. He hoped.

  “Drew.” Her eyes had flown back to his. “It’s…”

  “Yeh,” he said, tried to laugh. “They were meant to put it under the toast. Sorry.”

  She was scrubbing at it now. “Oh, Drew. And I almost swallowed it.”

  He had to smile. “Glad you didn’t. That wouldn’t have been too romantic, getting it back.”

  “No,” she said, succumbing to a fit of the giggles. “We’d have had to…”

  “Yeh,” he said. “A bucket, I reckon.”

  “Oh,” she gasped, laughing harder. “Oh. Disgusting.” Which made him laugh too, and so much for his romantic moment.

  “Well,” she said, wiping her eyes with the clean serviette he handed her. “That was…novel.”

  “Now that you have it,” he said, his heart galloping in his chest again, “how about if I put it on you?”

  She still had it in her hand, and now she looked at it for the first time. “Is it…”

  “Yeh.” His mouth was dry despite the water he’d just drunk, because there wasn’t enough water in the world for this. “It is. It’s me asking you to marry me. It’s me asking if I can put that ring on your finger, and keep it there.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He had to laugh again. Only Hannah would answer a proposal that way. “I’m sure, sweetheart. I’ve been sure for a good long while now. The question is, are you.”

  He waited, his heart in his throat. Wanted to say something else, and didn’t know what. Because it wasn’t up to him. It was up to her.

  Finally, she spoke. “I said I’d spent half my life scared. I’m not spending the rest of it like that.”

  That was good, and he was glad, but it didn’t answer the question.

  “From now on,” she said, “I’m taking the risk. I’ve gone through my life saying no. Not yet. Not me. Not now. That’s not going to be me anymore. If it’s worth it, if I want it, I’m saying yes.”

  She was handing the ring back across the table to him, and his own hand went out for it. She wasn’t going to take it. She was saying yes, but she was telling him no?

  He stared at her, took his ring back, and waited.

  “Please,” she said. “Please put it on me, Drew. Because I’m saying yes.”

  “And that’s what he did,” Hannah told Reka proudly, turning the huge diamond on her finger.

  Reka had her hands at her chest. “Aw. That’s so sweet. Who knew?”

  “Course, she said the diamond was too big,” Drew said with a crooked grin. “Wanted me to switch it out.”

  “Better than telling you it was too small,” Reka said. “Easy premarital test. If she says it’s too small, you need a prenup. What did you say to that?”

  He laughed. “I said no.”

  In fact, he’d got her in his lap and kissed her good and properly, for once heedless of watching eyes, until she was melting, sighing and whimpering into his mouth. Then he’d taken her home, put her on his bed, taken everything off her but the ring, and done his utmost to convince her that he was her man, and he always would be.

  Long and slow, kisses and touches and soft murmurs in the warmth of late morning. Until he was threading his fingers through hers, sliding into her, hearing her gasp and seeing her eyes stretch wide. Just like that first time. Just like the best times.

  He’d felt the ring on her finger against his own skin, had looked into those blue eyes, and had known that it was true, and it was real. And had known, finally, that she knew it too.

  An hour later, and Nate was pulling out of Drew and Hannah’s drive and turning left, back toward Mt. Maunganui and the hotel.

  Hemi and Reka, Koti and Kate had stayed behind to clean up, but otherwise, there’d been a general exodus. Not too late at all, because of all the pregnant partners. A whole new world.

  Just as well, because as a crash course in WAGdom, the day had been pretty intense, he suspected. He and Ally had done a bit of socializing with his Hurricanes teammates, of course, but this was a different level.

  He looked across at Ally. She’d been quieter than usual tonight. A bit subdued, but then, that was to be expected, even from somebody as outgoing as Ally.

  “All right?” he asked her. “Not too bad?”

  “A little overwhelming,” she admitted, confirming his suspicions. “Easier than I thought it would be, though. I always figured Drew and Hannah were just nice to me because of Kristen. But they’re all that way.”

  “You know me,” he pointed out. “You know Mako.”

  “Yeah, and how
different are the two of you? You can see why I wasn’t sure. Especially about Finn. He’s pretty frightening.”

  “Finn?” Nate laughed. “Not exactly. He’s like Mako. A hard man on the paddock, and a pussycat off it. Just like me.”

  She scoffed. “Oh, yeah. You’re some pussycat.”

  “Working on it. Very nearly human by now.” He cast a cautious look behind him, merged onto the motorway.

  “Let’s not go back,” she said. Impulsively, of course, because that was how she said everything. “Let’s go for a drive. And a swim.”

  “Don’t have our togs,” he said. “Or any towels, even.”

  “So?”

  He glanced at her again, saw that look in her eye, and he had a feeling he was going to be doing something he’d regret, and not regret at all, before this night was over.

  “What, is my big, tough rugby captain too chicken to skinny-dip with me?” she teased with her best saucy smile. “Afraid you’ll get cold? Afraid you won’t be able to think of any way to warm up? Or are you afraid you won’t be able to warm me up?”

  He laughed again, happiness bubbling up like champagne. “One week engaged to you. One week. And you’re already getting me into trouble.”

  “You never know,” she said. “Maybe you’ll get me into trouble, if I’m very, very lucky. Seems to me I got you a little carried away once or twice.”

  “I am controlled,” he pointed out. “I am disciplined.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said. “You just tell yourself that. Right up until you’re not.”

  She got him. She always got him. “So, drive?” he said. “Beach?”

  She snuggled down into her seat with a little sigh of satisfaction. “I knew I could talk you into it.”

  He smiled again, swung off the motorway, went through a roundabout and was on it again, headed east this time. He punched the button for the moon roof and let the night fill the car.

  Darkness outside, and Ally in the car with him, wanting an adventure. And in what universe wasn’t that a wonderful thing?