Making Sense (3 page)

“Ash asked me to walk you home. He’s my boss. I wouldn’t dream of going against his wishes.”

“Really, I insist.”

“Now this is going to get awkward, because I’ll be following you ten paces behind, which will look like I’m stalking you, and that won’t end well.”

She met his determined gaze, and her lips started to curve. “Do you always do what Ash tells you?”

“Yes. So are you going to get me in trouble, or will you behave and let me escort you home?”

“Okay. You can walk me home. But you’ll have to walk on the road side in case we get attacked by pirates.”

He laughed, falling in step beside her as they began to walk south along Willis Street. “You do shifts? Where do you work?”

“At Wellington Hospital. I’m a nurse.”

“Ah.” It had been so busy in the bar there wouldn’t have been any point in examining her aura. Now, however, as he glanced at her and relaxed his gaze, he saw the tell-tale green glow around her head and shoulders, marking her out as working in the caring professions. “Have you worked there long?”

“Several years. I’m mostly in oncology now.”

He’d have to remember that and check her shifts next time he went there to make sure he didn’t bump into her.

She smiled at him. “So tell me about yourself, Nate Taylor. I know nothing about you.”

“Nothing much to say,” he replied. Was she going to barrage him with questions? It was his own fault—he shouldn’t have flirted with her in the bar. A wave of uneasiness engulfed him, and he looked away, up at the star-filled sky. They turned into Manners Street, and to the north he could see Orion, the three bright stars in his belt glowing brightly.

“Betelgeuse is bright tonight,” Freya said, following his gaze to the glowing red star at the bottom right of the constellation. “Not much cloud cover, is there?”

He glanced at her. “You into astronomy?”

“A bit. I used to live near Stonehenge Aotearoa. I’ve always wanted to go to the real thing in England.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I have to make do with studying the sky from home. There’s a great view from my bedroom window.” She glanced at him and clearly realised the implication behind her words, because her eyes widened. “Eek! Sorry, that came out wrong. ‘Come up and see my swatches.’” He couldn’t help but laugh at that. She shook her head, her blue and green eyes gentle. “I’m not hitting on you, Nate, I promise. I’m so far from wanting a relationship right now, I couldn’t tell you.”
 

Suddenly, he realised that not only was she telling the truth, she was also trying to put him at ease. He could feel the soothing energy coming from her, even though she wasn’t aware of sending it. Someone had obviously told her he didn’t date, Ash probably. That realisation made him relax, and the fact that she’d stated she wasn’t interested either meant he could show a little attention without causing trouble. “Why don’t you want a relationship? Because of your work?”

“Work’s busy, but no, that wouldn’t stop me dating.” She waved her hand in the air vaguely. “Family stuff. Commitments, you know. People relying on you—duty, responsibility. The last thing I want is someone else thinking they deserve a piece of me. There’s only so much of me to go around.”

“Yeah,” said Nate. “I know what you mean.”

“I want to travel, when I’ve saved up enough money. Be free, you know?”

“Oh yeah.”
More than I can tell you
. He smiled at her. He liked her more and more as the minutes went by.

She sighed, casting him an amused glance. “Grace will be hugely disappointed. She’s desperate to get me hooked up with someone by the end of the year.”

“Me too. I suppose it’s only because she’s happy, and she’s the sort of person who likes to share that happiness.”

“Mm. She’s a sweetie.”

“How did you meet her?”

“She works with Mia—they went to university together and shared a flat for several years, but then their rent went up, and they decided they could do with another flatmate. I met Mia at the hospital. I was in the ER then, and Mia came in because she’d nearly sliced her finger off doing the dinner. We got talking, and I happened to mention I was looking for a place to live. I met her and Grace one evening, and we all got on famously.
Et voila
.”

“Mia’s a handful,” he said, smiling, and she grinned.

“Yes. Her and Grace—she who says the first thing that comes into her head—are a right pair.”

“And you’re the quiet one,” he observed. “
Aroha.
” He couldn’t stop his lips curving.

Her eyes met his, and she smiled. “Are you flirting with me now that you know I’m safe?”

“Yep.”

She shrugged happily. “Fair enough. Flirting’s fun. Usually a girl has to be careful otherwise she gets called…” She wrinkled her nose. “Well. It rhymes with ‘quick freezer’.”

He laughed out loud at that. “It’s a shame you’re not on the market, Miss…”

“Fletcher.”

“…Miss Fletcher, because I’m sure you’d make some man very proud to call you his young lady.”

“I could say the same of you, Mr. Taylor. But substituting gentleman for lady, obviously.”

“Well indeed, aren’t we being all Jane Austen tonight?”

Freya glanced up at him, eyes widening.

“Oops. What did I say?”

“Just an earlier comment from Mia,” she said airily. “Nothing to do with you.” But her gaze slid from his face, running lightly down his body before she looked away, and he knew she was lying. He could only imagine what the mischievous Mia had said to cause the beautiful blush painting Freya’s cheeks.

Time for him to repay the misdirection she’d done earlier. “Did you like the music tonight?” he asked, and she gave him a grateful smile before starting to talk about bands and what kinds of music she liked listening to.

They chatted about this and that for another five minutes, walking down Courtenay Place, the occasional group of loud, inebriated young men crossing their path. He was glad he’d insisted on accompanying her home. He didn’t like to think of her walking late at night alone.

“Our house is down Marjoribanks,” she said, crossing the main road and leading him into the slightly more suburban street, the two-storey Edwardian houses casting shadows across the pavement. With less light pollution here, the sky was brilliantly clear, the Milky Way a wide brushstroke of light against the black dome of the night, studded with a million stars.

Her phone jangled in her pocket, and she took it out, giving him an apologetic look. “Excuse me.” She flipped it open and pressed a button, reading a text. Her pace slowed, and he watched her read, pausing next to her as she stopped.

“Shit,” she said vehemently.

“Bad news?”

She glanced up at him, agitation and frustration written all over her face. Flipping the phone shut, she looked away, biting the soft bottom lip he’d been unable to drag his eyes from since he met her. “Oh, it’s just…stupid family stuff.” She started walking again, and he joined her, saying nothing until she stopped outside a large, whitewashed house, tucking the phone in her pocket.

“Thanks for walking me home,” she said, but the starlight had gone from her eyes, leaving them dull and flat.
 

He could feel the waves of despair rolling from her. “Anything I can do?”

“No…” She looked down, obviously trying to control herself, taking a shaky breath in, and letting it out slowly. “Why is life about control? Why does everybody want to control everyone else?”

“I don’t know.”

She spoke fiercely. “Why do I feel like I have a permanent leash around my neck? I just want to be free. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have no responsibilities, no duties to fulfil.”

“It’s pretty good,” said Nate.

Her eyes met his, and she gave a brief, wry smile, but looked away again, shaking her head. “You don’t know how lucky you are.”

“I really do.” He didn’t elaborate, didn’t need to. He could see she understood, that she could read some of the past pain that still lingered in his eyes like smoke from a stamped-out campfire.

She looked away, her body tight, defensive. “I’m only twenty-five, and I’m tired of life. I don’t want to be, but I have absolutely no say in the matter, and it makes me mad. Everything’s always so fucking complicated.”

He felt for her so much it hurt. He knew exactly how her throat would be tight with frustration, how her helplessness would be an oppressive weight on her chest. Just the memory of being so powerless made rage boil in his stomach. He hardly knew her, and yet he wanted to grab whatever it was that had hurt her and wring its neck until it lay gasping on the ground, then let her fly free like a bird. But there wasn’t anything he could do to help her.

Even as that thought entered his head, he remembered some of Ash’s first words to him, the day Ash had invited him backstage after the Auckland show. “Sharing a problem halves the burden,” he’d said, when Nate had sat silently, so weighed down with unhappiness he’d hardly been able to lift his head. “Knowing we’re not in it alone can be the first step toward healing.”

Nate still had a long way to go. But he recognised pain when he saw it, and in spite of everything that had happened to him, relieving others’ pain would always be important to him.

“Not everything has to be complicated.” He reached out to cup her cheek. His hand immediately grew warm, and he stroked her skin with his thumb.

She looked up at him, but she was too far gone, and a tear tipped over the edge of her lashes and spilled down her cheek.

It nearly broke his heart. “Oh, come here.”

He cupped her face with both hands, moved closer to her and kissed her.

Cherry
, was his first thought as their lips touched and he tasted the lipbalm he’d seen her apply earlier.
Concentrate
, was his second, and for a moment he focussed on the heat in his palms, feeling her soak it up like a sponge.

He’d only meant to make it a quick kiss, a reason for him to touch her, a playful method of cheering her up when she was so obviously down. But she shivered and inhaled, her lips opening slightly beneath his, and all rational thoughts fled his mind as her body relaxed and melted against him, the tension flowing out of her.

He slid his hands into her hair, and it was as soft as he’d imagined, curling between his fingers like pale silk ribbons. It smelled of orange blossom, sweet and light, making him think of warm spring evenings in the sub-tropical Northland as a child, times when he was happy, before all the problems started.

Her lips were soft too, unbelievably so, parting automatically to receive his tongue as he brushed it into her mouth, wanting to savour her. She tasted of the sweet wine she’d been drinking, intoxicating and delicious, stirring his blood and making him deepen the kiss, even though a small part of his brain tried to remind him that this was only supposed to be a fleeting attempt at consolation.
Shut up
, he told himself. This was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time, and he was going to make the most of it while it lasted.

She stroked his tongue with her own, shy at first, growing bolder. When his teeth grazed her beautiful, plump bottom lip, she gave a little murmur of appreciation, low and sultry, erotic enough to flood him with heat.
 

He groaned, and in response she moved the hands she’d placed on his chest around his waist beneath the guitar hanging across his back, pulling him closer. He cupped her head with one hand, his fingers sliding into the cool hair at the nape of her neck, the other hand moving down between her shoulders to the small of her back.

Desire flowed through him, making him grow hard where he pressed himself against the flat of her stomach, and he wondered if she’d pull away, shocked. Instead, however, she reached up on tiptoe, moulding herself to him, and he sighed. She was soft against him, from her breasts pushing against his muscled chest to her butt yielding beneath the pressure of his fingertips as he slid his hand lower to hold it. She moved her hips slightly, rubbing against his erection, and an image jumped into his head of stripping off the thin cotton cut-offs, spreading her legs and sliding into her wet, swollen centre.
 

A white-hot heat kindled between them, perhaps born out of the sultry weather that made their skin damp with perspiration and the smell of roses rise from her to ensnare his senses. It made her rake her nails lightly down his back, and in response he plunged his tongue into her mouth, tightened his grip on her ass, and pushed her back against the wall. She met it with a bump sharp enough to make her gasp, jolting him to his senses.

He lifted his head, blinking. “Shit.” He took a step backward, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what made me do that. Sorry.”

Her pupils were so dilated her eyes looked an eclipsed sun, the unmatched irises showing as slender, shining coronas around the black centres. She pressed her lips together, tucking her hands underneath her butt against the wall. Looking up at him, her chest heaving, her lips curved. “Don’t apologise. Jeez. That’s the best kiss I’ve had in, like, ever.”

He met her gaze and started to smile. “Uncomplicated, though.”

“Oh God, yes, totally.” She raised an eyebrow at his jeans, eyes twinkling. “Didn’t affect either of us at all.”