Hot Island Nights (15 page)

But for now, she was staying. That was more than enough for a guy who had turned taking it day-by-day into an art form.

When she entered the studio, Nate was shoving a huge old wardrobe into the corner.

“Where did that come from?” she asked.

“Spare room. Thought you’d want somewhere to put your things.”

“Ah. Other than on the floor or the bed, you mean?”

Then she glanced around and realized he’d cleaned up. Even the bed was freshly made.

“Dear me. Don’t you think it’s dangerous to set standards that may never be met again?” she asked, absurdly touched that he’d gone to so much trouble for her.

“It’s all downhill from here, baby,” he said, but he was smiling.

“I guess I’d better unpack, then.”

He helped her, then they walked to the yacht club and took the
Ducky
out for the afternoon, gliding across the deep blue ocean, the salt spray on their faces and the wind in their hair.

It became a routine of sorts over the next week—whatever needed to be done was tackled in the morning, then they went sailing or Nate surfed while she paddled in the shallows and watched him defy Mother Nature and gravity all at once.

Twice the postman delivered fat envelopes from Smartsell. Nate barely glanced at them before adding them to the pile in the corner. She didn’t say a word. One day, he’d want to pick up the threads of his old life, but clearly he wasn’t ready yet. So be it.

After much deliberation, she made contact with her grandparents for the first time after arriving in Australia. She and her grandfather exchanged a few very polite words about the weather and her grandmother’s health before Elizabeth told him about Sam being interstate and that she most likely wouldn’t be home for Christmas because she was waiting for him to return to the Island. There was a short pause and she pictured her grandfather’s face, knew that he was probably aching to tell her what a mistake she was making, what a huge mistake she’d already made by ending things with Martin.

“Well. We’ll miss you, of course. But if this is something you feel you have to do…”

“It is.”

“Then we both wish you the best of luck, Elizabeth,” her grandfather said.

It was hard to stay angry when she could hear the sadness in his voice. They talked for a few more minutes before ending the call and afterward she went for a long walk along the beach to clear her head.

When she returned to London, she was going to insist that they all sit down and talk honestly, adult to adult, for perhaps the first time in her life. Perhaps then they would all have a better understanding of one another.

She glanced at Nate, but he was frowning.

“Who is it?” she asked.

He threw her an unreadable look. “That’s Sam’s car.”

She stilled. Sam. As in Sam Blackwell. Her father.

“I thought he wasn’t due back until after the New Year?”

It was only the fifteenth. She hadn’t even begun to think about coming face-to-face with him yet. Hadn’t even begun to think about what she wanted to say to him, what she wanted to ask. “He wasn’t.”

Nate took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You okay?”

She thought about it for a second, then nodded. “Yes. I mean, I have to meet him sometime, don’t I?”

They walked down the driveway and past the house. The rear door was open, the bead curtain swinging in the breeze. The radio was on in the kitchen and she could see someone moving around inside. Her father.

Nate walked toward the back steps but she resisted his lead. He stopped and looked at her.

“You want a moment?”

She nodded, appreciating his understanding. He didn’t say anything else, simply squeezed her hand one last time before releasing it and climbing the steps to the house.

Elizabeth pressed her palm flat against her churning stomach as he disappeared inside.

Her father. She was about to meet her father. Unexpectedly, despite the fact that she’d been waiting for him for more than two weeks now. She wanted so much from this meeting. She wanted to have a father again. She wanted to belong to someone.

It was a hell of a lot of expectation to bring to a first meeting, but there wasn’t much she could do about that.

She could hear conversation inside the house. She took a deep breath, let it out, then climbed the back steps.

The bead curtain announced her arrival and two heads turned toward her as she stopped just inside the door. A nervous smile curled her mouth as she stared at the very tanned, fit-looking man leaning against the kitchen counter. His hair was cropped short and mottled with gray, and he was dressed neatly in a pair of dark navy tracksuit pants and a polo shirt. His eyes seemed very blue against his dark skin as he looked at her, the lines around his eyes and mouth deeply scored. She tried to find some point of resemblance between them. The eye color, perhaps—although her mother had been blue-eyed, too. Maybe the shape of her chin? And perhaps her high forehead…?

She took a tentative step forward. “Hello. Um, I’m Elizabeth.”

He nodded. “Sam.”

He’d been studying her, too, and she waited for him to say something else, ready to take her cue from him. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned to Nathan and resumed their interrupted conversation.

“Anyway, they reckon it’ll take weeks just for the swelling to go down, let alone for them to work out if they can operate or not. Bloody doctors.”

Elizabeth stared at his profile, utterly thrown. She hadn’t expected her father to throw his arms around her and hold her to his bosom or anything as dramatic as that, but she’d expected
something.
Some recognition that she was more than a casual acquaintance.

Across the room, Nate was frowning, his gaze going from her to Sam and back again.

“Sam was just telling me that he’s torn a ligament in his knee. Which is why he’s home early,” he said.

For the first time Elizabeth noticed the crutches propped in the corner and the bulge around her father’s left knee beneath his tracksuit pants.

“That must have been very disappointing for you. I know you were looking forward to the race,” she said.

Sam glanced at her briefly before looking away again. “
Disappointing
isn’t the word. I’m going to miss all the majors this season now, on top of losing a major charter to the Caribbean. I’ll be stuck on these bloody things for months.” He thumped the crutches with a fist.

She tried to think of something else to say, but her mind was a complete blank. “Well. That’s disappointing,” she said again.

Her father shrugged impatiently and reached for his crutches.

“Better go unpack.” His gaze took in the plates in the sink and the newspaper Nate had left folded on the kitchen table. “Looks like there’s plenty of work to do around here, anyway.”

He tucked the crutches under his arms and started down the hallway.

Elizabeth stared at his retreating back for a long beat. Then she swiveled on her heel and headed for the door. She barreled down the stairs and across the yard and didn’t stop until she was in the studio. Then she simply stood, hands loose by her sides, and tried to understand what had happened.

She’d just met her father for the first time. They’d introduced themselves. And then he had proceeded to ignore her.

“You okay?” Nate’s warm hands landed on her shoulders, his thumbs brushing the nape of her neck.

“I just— I thought—” She shook her head, unable to articulate the jumble of hurt, outrage, anger and disappointment churning inside her.

Nate slid an arm around her, his forearm beneath her breasts as he pulled her against him. He pressed a kiss into her hair and laid his cheek against her head. His silent support helped calm her thoughts and finally she faced the reluctant truth.

“This isn’t going to be what I want it to be, is it?”

Nate pulled her tighter against his body. “Give it time.”

“Nate. The man is not interested. Never has been.”

“It’s not about you, Lizzy. He doesn’t even know you. Whatever is going on is Sam’s problem. He’s always been more happy on his own than with anyone else. That’s why he looks after this place for me. In the off season, there are only about seven thousand people on the island, and he likes it that way.”

She understood what he was saying but it felt like a cruel joke to have found a parent only to learn that he wanted nothing to do with her.

“Want to walk into town and buy some fresh fish for dinner?” Nate asked.

She nodded, unable to speak past the emotion choking her throat. He turned her around in his arms and tilted her chin so she was forced to meet his gaze.

“It’s his loss, Lizzy. Believe me.”

There was so much warmth in his eyes. It went a long way to assuaging her hurts. She reached out to touch his face. He was such a good person. It continually amazed her that in the midst of all the crap he was dealing with he found room to care for others.

For a long moment she battled with the urge to say the things that were in her heart. It was too soon, her gut told her. But one day she wouldn’t bite her tongue. One day she would tell this wonderful, wounded, generous man how she felt about him.

She dropped her hand.

“Let’s go.”

Not surprisingly, Sam made an excuse about catching up on his sleep after dinner and disappeared to his room. There was a small silence, then Elizabeth turned to Nate with a bright smile.

“Want to toast marshmallows on the barbecue again?”

That brave, bright smile pretty much tore it for him.

“Sure. Why don’t you get a head start and I’ll be out in a tick?” he said easily.

“Okay. But remember, he who snoozes loses.”

“Sure. I won’t be long.”

What he had in mind would take about sixty seconds—he figured that was about how long it would take for him to grab Sam by the scruff of the neck and shake some sense into him.

Nate waited until Elizabeth had gone outside before walking to Sam’s bedroom. The door was slightly ajar and he knocked on the door frame and waited, temper simmering.

“Who is it?” Sam asked.

Nate pushed the door open. Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, his bad leg extended in front of him. He’d stripped to his boxer shorts and polo shirt and for the first time in all the years Nate had known him he looked older than his fifty-two years.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Nate demanded.

“Just leave it, mate.”

“No,
mate,
I won’t. She’s your daughter. Have a conversation with her. Get to know her.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Yeah, it is. It’s really simple.”

“Look, I know you’re only looking out for her, but it’s best this way. I just spoke to a mate up in Melbourne, he’s going to let me bunk down with him for a few weeks.”

“So, what? You’re just going to head off tomorrow? You’re giving her
one night?
When she’s flown halfway around the world to find you?”

Sam didn’t say anything.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Nate said. “A selfish asshole.”

Sam’s mouth tightened and he pushed himself awkwardly to his feet. “You finished? Had your say?”

He hobbled forward, trying to crowd Nate out of the room.

Nate jabbed a finger at him. “If you do this, if you take off tomorrow, you’re the biggest pussy I know.”

“That’d sting a whole lot more if it didn’t come from a guy who’s been hiding in the bottom of a beer bottle for the past four months.” Nate flinched.

“What’s wrong? You can dish it out but you can’t take it?” Sam said. “Don’t come in here on your high moral horse, telling me what to do and how to behave when you don’t even have the balls to open
your own bloody mail.
”

The other man’s face was red and a vein pulsed at his neck.

“If you go, don’t bother coming back,” Nate said.

He turned and walked away. The door slammed behind him, the sound echoing up the hallway. Nate strode into the kitchen and swore viciously. He really, really wanted to punch something. His hand curled into a fist and he tensed, ready to smack a hole in one of the overhead kitchen cabinets. Then he remembered Elizabeth was outside, waiting for him.

He didn’t want her to know what had gone down. Didn’t want her to know he’d had to threaten her father to try and make the guy stick around.

He let his breath hiss between his teeth and braced his hands on the counter, dropping his head and taking a few seconds to let the anger drain out of him. If Sam went ahead with his plan and bailed on Elizabeth tomorrow… Nate was going to be sorely pressed not to punch his lights out.

He lifted his head and released his grip on the counter. He would deal with whatever came tomorrow when it happened. Right now, Elizabeth was waiting for him.

He turned toward the door but his gaze snagged on the pile of envelopes overflowing from the magazine rack in the corner.

For a moment he stood frozen. Then he brushed a hand over his head.

Bloody Sam.

Annoyed all over again, he grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and took them outside. Elizabeth looked up from toasting a stick full of marshmallows as he exited the house.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?” he said, even though he could hear the edge in his own voice.

“You’re frowning, for starters.”

She paused, waiting, and when he didn’t say anything she cocked her head to one side. “Going to play it strong and silent on me, huh?”

“Silent, anyway.”

He sat on the picnic blanket and she held the stick out to him.

“Have a marshmallow, then.”

It was one of the things he loved about her the most, the calm way she had of simply accepting things the way they were. She never pushed. She never clung or offered advice he hadn’t asked for or tried to tell him what to do or how to be.

He slid a marshmallow off the gooey stick and put it in his mouth. It tasted like burned sugar and she laughed when he pulled a face.

“Not my best batch.”

He caught her hand and pulled her down onto the blanket.

“You okay?” he asked.

Her smile faded a little. “I’ll survive.”

He fought a battle with his conscience as he looked into her eyes. Was it better to warn her or not? If Sam chose to go tomorrow, there was no way she could fail to take it as a kick in the teeth. But if he warned her in advance and Sam didn’t wind up going, he would have upset her for nothing.

“You’re frowning again.”

She reached out and pressed her fingers against his forehead.

“Sam’s talking about heading up to Melbourne tomorrow.”

Her gaze dropped to the blanket. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. Still she didn’t say anything and he used their joined hands to pull her into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and she pressed her face into his neck.

They sat in the dark, the fire dying to embers, not saying a word for a long time.