Just My Luck (8 page)

“Devon.” He was getting angry himself now. “Yeh, that’s a good idea. Take his bloody word for it.”

“And why not?” she flashed back at him. “He knows you. He knows how stuck on yourself you are. You think you’re a hero, because you’re a great big fish in this little tiny pond. But nobody else in this world even
cares.
So go on down to the beach. But make sure you only talk to the New Zealand girls, because nobody else thinks you’re special.”

He got up, feeling as if he were the one who’d been smashed in the face. “Are you done?”

He saw the sheen of tears in her eyes, the tremble of her mouth. “Yeah,” she said, and he could see her losing the battle, the tear that had welled over the lid of the black eye, was making its way down her cheek. And, despite the anger he felt, hated that he’d made her cry. Was disgusted with himself. And didn’t know what to do about it. So he just turned on his heel and left her. Got back in the car and drove himself on out of there.

“Was that Nate?” Kristen asked, coming outside.

“Yeah.” Ally blinked the tears back, surreptitiously wiped away the one that had escaped. “Come and gone.”

“What happened?” Kristen asked.

Ally had shared the story with her the night before. Well, some of it. She hadn’t seen any point in passing along what Nate had said about Kristen. That would only hurt her, and Kristen didn’t need to be hurt any more.

“I told him I’d heard him,” Ally said shortly.

“Oh, man,” Kristen sympathized. “That must have been awkward. And so uncomfortable for him too. I can’t imagine how embarrassing it would be to find out you’d been overheard like that, caught saying something so wrong.”

Ally snorted. “I don’t think he’s suffering. I might’ve hurt his pride, but he seems to have enough of that to spare. Looks like you and Hannah have the inside track on attracting rugby players who are . . . worth attracting. I could have got laid, I’m pretty sure. I could have had casual sex with the captain of the All Blacks. Lucky me. But I think I’ll hold out for something a little more special.”

New Opportunities

They said the hair of the dog was the best remedy. If that were true, Ally thought, opening the door to Devon a few days after she and Kristen had returned to Wellington, she should be cured any time now. Being asked out by a handsome, charming guy, after her recent disastrous almost-dating experience, was good. Being asked out by a handsome, charming guy who disliked Nate Torrance as much as she did was
great.

Devon greeted her with a flashing smile and a quick kiss that did nothing to depress her fizzing spirits.

“You’re ready, I see,” he said approvingly, casting a glance down her body. Not enough to be sleazy, just enough to make her feel appreciated.

“I am,” she agreed with a laugh. She’d been pretty excited when he’d called, at the prospect of having a real, grown-up date. No pretext of consulting about the event this time, he’d simply asked her out for dinner because he liked her, because he wanted to be with her. And wasn’t that something?

“I’ll have to give it some thought,” he’d said when she’d asked how she should dress, where they were going. “Find someplace good enough for you. Someplace special.”

Which had given her some pretty good warm fuzzies, but left her still confused about what to wear. After a serious consultation with Kristen, she’d settled on a not-too-short skirt, a not-too-low-cut V-neck sweater with tiny buttons down the front, and some not-too-high heels.

“A little sexy,” Kristen had approved when she’d had Ally outfitted to her satisfaction, “but not over the top. Second-date appropriate wherever he takes you, unless it’s a bowling alley. And just enough to make him wish he could see more.”

“You’re the expert,” Ally had agreed. And judging by Devon’s expression, Kristen had come through again.

Devon held up the plastic bag he was carrying. “Can I interest you girls in a glass of wine before we go out? We’ve got time.”

Ally exchanged a quick glance with Kristen, settled on the couch for the evening.

“I was just going to my room.” Kristen uncurled her long legs and stood quickly. “You two go ahead.”

“Nah, please stay,” Devon urged. “I’ve hardly had a chance to chat with you yet, and you know what they say. The best friend’s important.”

Kristen smiled again, sank back down as Ally went for glasses.

“Just sorry it’s taken so long,” Devon said when the wine was poured, “to see you again, Ally. Hazards of meeting somebody you like in mid-December. Did you have a good holiday, though?”

“You did pretty well,” Ally said with a smile. “We’ve only been back a couple days. And yes, we did. We spent it with Kristen’s sister and brother-in-law. The very best part was that they have a great bach on the Coromandel, near Hahei. That was quite the bonus.”

“Really,” Devon said. “Your sister’s married to a Kiwi, is she?” he asked Kristen. “Or did they emigrate?”

“A Kiwi and then some,” Ally laughed. “Her sister’s married to Drew Callahan.”

“Really,” Devon said again, taking another sip and sitting back in their single good chair. “That would explain how you know Nasty Nate.”

Ally choked on her wine, which made him laugh. “Yeah,” she managed to say at last, getting up for a paper towel and laughing at herself in her turn. “And he doesn’t improve upon further acquaintance. You were absolutely right about that. We saw
him
over Christmas too.”

“Bet you did,” Devon said. “He takes care to cement his friendship with Drew, I’m sure. Quite the ambitious fella, our mate Nate.”

“But I’ve never heard anything but good things about Drew,” he hastened to assure Kristen. “I expect you could tell me, though. You must know him well.”

“Pretty well,” Kristen said. “As well as you could expect, considering that they’ve been here all these years, and I’ve been in the States. But you’re right, he’s a great guy.”

“Pity you aren’t able to be closer to your sister, now that you
are
here,” he sympathized. “Must be hard, being so far from home, and not even in the same city with what family you do have. D’you get to see much of her? They ever come down here to visit you?” He reached out to refill Kristen’s glass, but paused as she hastily put a palm over the top.

“Once,” Kristen answered. She smiled briefly at Ally, then stood. “And now I really am going to my room. I’ve got some homework to do. Have a nice time.”

“You were a little standoffish with Devon tonight,” Ally said when she was back in the flat again a couple hours later, after a romantic dinner complete with candlelight and wine, some good-night kissing that had been pretty nice too, had started a lovely little fire inside that was still glowing. “Don’t you like him? It’s not the first time I’ve seen your touch-me-not thing, but I was surprised that you used it on him. Did you think he was coming on to you, maybe?”

“No, of course not,” Kristen said. “And maybe I’m overly cautious these days. I probably just don’t trust that handsome, smooth type anymore.”

“You’re going for the ugly, awkward ones now?” Ally asked with a smile.

Kristen flushed. “Looks aren’t everything,” she said, a rare edge to her tone.

“Sorry,” Ally said hastily. “Of course they aren’t.”

“What I care about most these days,” Kristen said, “is sincerity. I like people who are open, where I can tell they mean what they say, even if I don’t always like what they say. People like you,” she added with a smile. “And Devon . . . he seems perfectly nice. Perfectly friendly and interested. There’s nothing exactly wrong with him. He sure never says anything that isn’t flattering, does he? That’s it, I guess. And if I can’t tell, I tend to assume the worst, I suppose. But don’t go by me, because I’m probably over-sensitive to that. Listen to your own instincts, what they’re telling you.”

What Ally’s instincts were telling her was that she could really use a flirtation—or more—with an attractive, interested man. And that she couldn’t wait to see him again.

She’d assumed she’d hear from him within a day or two. Once again, he’d said, “I’ll call you,” but nothing more specific than that. She found herself on edge, as excited as a teenager hoping for an invitation to the prom. Checking her mobile too often at work, keeping it near her at home. Well, no wonder. The last experience she’d had with this kind of dating practically
had
been
the prom.

Devon was a whole lot better-looking than any boy she’d known in high school, though, and her body was letting her know fairly insistently that she hadn’t had sex for months. Some fun times, maybe even a real relationship with a handsome Kiwi, she’d already decided, would be the perfect addition to her year abroad.

She told herself the first day that it was too soon for him to call. That he wouldn’t want to seem that eager. And when that day had passed, she told herself that, well, it was still only Thursday. But when Friday came and he still hadn’t called, she looped back through their evening together, wondering if she’d misread his signals. Especially when he’d flattered her by asking her opinion of the PR he was doing for the Heat.

“We’re just not getting the traction we should,” he’d sighed. “The games are televised on Sky Sport, right enough, but we aren’t getting the viewership numbers from women
or
men that we’d projected. The time should be right for women’s sport, but somehow we aren’t quite where we’d like to be. What d’you think? Any bright ideas?”

“I did look the team up online,” she admitted, “and saw the news stories and so forth. It could be this is just me, but it seems like a lot of what you’ve done is more . . . soft news. Fluffy, you know?”

“Fluffy,” he said slowly.

“I’m not being critical,” she went on quickly. “Just giving you my impressions.”

“No, please,” he insisted. “Tell me.”

“Well, I didn’t see a lot of emphasis on them as athletes,” she said. “It all seemed to be almost glamour pieces. And I thought you said that you were trying to get the sport taken more seriously.”

“We are,” he said immediately.

“Well, first thing I’d say, maybe stop having them play in little dresses,” she said with a laugh. “Because that just screams ‘girly non-sport,’ doesn’t it? But you probably can’t do anything about that. So maybe show them in the gym, training, taking part in clinics with schoolgirls, things like that. Emphasizing their skills, even their personalities, as long as it’s their drive, their athleticism you’re talking about. Focusing less on their looks and their personal lives. Because even though netball’s so resolutely non-contact,” she added, “which, along with those dresses, does make it seem a little girly to me, I can tell they do have skills. But it’s almost like you’re scared to show that.”

Now she wondered. Had that been too blunt? Nate had commented on that aspect of her personality, after all. Even Kristen had, and Kristen rarely said an unkind word about anybody. Ally knew she was pretty direct by North American standards, and in polite New Zealand, she was beginning to realize, she might well qualify as downright abrasive. Had Devon resented her criticism? He hadn’t seemed to at the time, but even though it had seemed like he’d enjoyed himself too, and he’d appeared even more interested than before, the week turned into the weekend without another word, not even a text. So she snatched at her mobile when she saw his name come up on it as she sat eating a late breakfast with Kristen on Saturday.

“Hi,” she said happily, seeing Kristen’s eyes sharpen on her across the table. Too bad she was working late tonight, Ally thought quickly. She’d have liked to have dinner with him, and that was probably what he was calling to ask about.

To her surprise, though, it wasn’t. “I was wondering,” he said instead, “if you and Kristen would like to go to the City Market with me tomorrow morning. Do some food shopping, have a look around, a bit of breakfast. It’s a nice outing, and I’d love to talk to both of you before the event next week, get any last-minute thoughts.”

“Hang on.” Ally felt the disappointment rise. Did he really want to go out with Kristen, then? Was he thinking he could somehow switch roommates? Good luck with that. Kristen wouldn’t do it even if she liked him. Or maybe
Ally actually
had
offended him. No, that couldn’t be it, or why would he be asking her out again at all?

She gave up on the speculation, pressed the phone against her chest. “Want to go to breakfast with Devon and me tomorrow?” she asked Kristen. “He’s invited both of us.”

Kristen was shaking her head vehemently. “You’re busy,” she hissed. “Say, ‘sorry, I’m busy.’”

“What? I’m not, though,” Ally whispered back. “I want to go. Do you?”

Kristen shook her head again. Ally shrugged, put the phone back to her ear. “Kristen’s busy,” she told Devon. “But I’d love to go.”

“Why?” she asked Kristen when she’d hung up after making plans to meet Devon near the Market the following morning.

“He’s calling you Saturday, for Sunday morning,” Kristen pointed out. “After not calling for days.”

“So?”

“So he’s telling you you’re not important,” Kristen insisted. “Giving himself the upper hand, because he knows you’ve been waiting to hear from him. Now he knows he doesn’t have to bother to call in advance, or to hide the fact that you’re not the one he’s taking out on Saturday night. He’s not even coming to pick you up.”

“Maybe he’s broke, like me,” Ally protested. “Maybe breakfast is all he can afford.”

“Then why couldn’t he have called you a couple days ago to schedule it?”

Ally shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s been busy. Or maybe he’s more spontaneous, also like me. Anyway, I can’t play those kinds of dating games.”

“OK,” Kristen sighed. “But I have a feeling he can.”

“So. Sport,” Devon said when the two of them were perched on tall stools in a seating alcove behind the City Market on Sunday, drinking coffee and eating an assortment of delicious items, from tiny dumplings filled with chopped prawns and fresh ginger to an almond croissant from the French Bakery table that had Ally’s eyes almost crossing with food lust on her first bite.