Know Your Heart: A New Zealand Enemies to Lovers Romance (Far North Series Book 2) (2 page)

She waved and he grinned, holding up an index finger. He disappeared back inside the house, reappearing a moment later with a huge umbrella. The sight of the blue-and-white striped umbrella as Nate crossed the grass made her stomach churn.

Some sap holding an umbrella for you
, Glen had said. As if she were a femme-fatale with men catering to her every need and want. Divorced for nearly a year now, she wasn’t in a hurry to let a man get close enough to hold an umbrella for her, let alone touch her.

She popped open the door and climbed out. Wet grass, under-laid with mud, squelched beneath her boot soles.
Ugh
. Should’ve worn her brand-new gumboots instead of packing them in the trunk. She couldn’t say she hadn’t been warned about the conditions in New Zealand’s Far North. Gorgeous blue skies one day, torrential, sub-tropical rainstorm the next, and up here in the hills above Bounty Bay, the weather changed even faster.

Nate reached her side, angling the umbrella over her head. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s meant to be a surprise visit.” She had to raise her voice above the pitter-patter of rain on nylon.

“Come on then, let’s get out of the rain. You already look like a drowned rat.” He slammed shut her car door and she followed him onto the deck.

She stopped to pet Java, since the dog was canny enough to stay under cover. He swiped his tongue along her wrist—at least
he
seemed pleased to see her.

Nate led her to the sheltered back door and toed off his giant gumboots, gesturing for her to go inside. “Drew and Lauren are away at a school camp for the week. They’ll be happy to see you when they get home—Drew, especially. He still talks about playing Superman and Catwoman with you.”

Sav smiled, peeling off her boots in the pretty, brick-and-wood-lined kitchen-dining room. “Your boy’s a five-year-old heart-breaker in the making.”

In bare feet, she moved farther into the room and crouched beside the fireplace, warming her hands in front of the crackling flames.

“Wait there,” Nate ordered and moved through the brick archway that led to the large family room.

Footsteps thudded overhead and then came the sound of drawers opening and closing. Sav let the fire’s warmth soothe the ropes of tension encircling her muscles, a small smile teasing her mouth as she remembered Lauren’s recollection of her first meeting with Nate.

Sav opened her eyes. Nate had returned to the room with a dark-green towel and a hoodie with a university logo draped over his arm.

“Aren’t you a little long in the tooth for that?” She nodded toward the sweatshirt.

He arched an eyebrow. “Someone stole the original ten years ago.” He handed over the towel and threw the hoodie on the couch arm. “It’s a loaner.”

“That’s what you think.”

Nate sprawled on one of the couches, propping up his feet on the coffee table. She roughly dried her hair and then lowered the towel from her face, giving the smears of mascara on the fluffy pile a guilty grimace.

Sav stood, unbuttoning her shirt. “Eyes left.”

Nate turned his face to the window where Java sat with his nose fogging up the glass. “Your vehicle I heard going past before?”

“Yeah. I’d planned on staying at my house for a while.”

“A while? But you were—oh. Oh, yeah. Sorry, Savvy. The movie.”

She stripped off cold, wet silk and tugged the baggy sweatshirt on over her head. The soft, brushed fleece against her skin had a sedative effect, dampening the sting of Nate’s reminder.

“One of those things, it goes with the job. The powers that be always have the final say. But the director has pulled some strings with a buddy who’s a casting director for a new sitcom.”

“And
High Rollers
? You’ll just dump it?”

She hid her fingers up inside the long sleeves of Nate’s sweatshirt, dropping her gaze. “My character is currently in a coma after a dramatic car crash in the season finale. The writers can kill her off, no problem.” A dry ache in her throat made her swallow compulsively. “
High Rollers
has been good to me, but the show won’t give me a chance to get back onto the big screen.”

“Whereas, this new Hollywood production might be a stepping stone. Hopefully resulting in another Golden Globe nomination?”

She nodded, and her smile felt constructed of razor wire. “A starring role in this sitcom could change everything. It’s been seven years since the best supporting actress nomination. Seven years is a lifetime in Hollywood.” Pushing up the sweatshirt sleeves, she tucked her feet under her on the couch. “That’s why I’m here. Two months to get myself sorted and prepare for the audition.”

“Ah.” Nate scratched his neck and gave her a wry smile. “Only Glen’s in your house, and I’m concluding from your expression that his body is currently in an unmarked grave somewhere in the bush.”

“If I wasn’t convinced your mother could psychically hear me cussing and would turn up with a bar of soap in her handbag, I’d tell you exactly what I think of your friend.”

“What happened?” Nate picked up one of the colorful throw rugs on the edge of the couch and tossed it over.

Sav wrapped it around her knees and briefly told him of the conversation, judiciously omitting the tiny spark of attraction she’d felt as Glen had stood in the doorway of her house. “I offered to put him up at the Sea Mist and buy him dinner. Where’s he from, anyway—Auckland?”

Nate nodded. “He has an apartment in Newmarket, the kind of place Laur and I would worry about taking Drew for fear of him getting grubby fingerprints on something.”

“Ick. Figures.”

She could just imagine it. Minimalist look on steroids, devoid of any of the personality of her little, eclectic, 1930s restored villa. Funny that the man who would live in such prissy surroundings would appear unshaven and dressed in old jeans worn thin on the knees, buttery soft and clinging to his long legs… Sav blinked. She must be coming down with a chill after that arrogant, scruffy man refused to invite her inside.

“I’d never have convinced him to stay in your place if he wasn’t legit.”

“You
convinced
him?”

Sheepish was the only word to describe Nate’s glance. “He needed the peace and quiet, and as far as I knew, you were meant to be out of the country until the end of the year. He never would’ve agreed to come up if he’d known you’d be around. He was pretty adamant about that.”

“Was he now?”

Nate opened his mouth then snapped it closed, faint spots of color rising above the line of stubble on his jaw. “Look, he’s not a psycho, all right? Trust me. He’s a good guy.”

“Yeah, well, this
good guy
has gone all lawyerly over this agreement he drew up and refuses to budge.”

Nate ran a hand through his dark hair and offered up a non-committal grunt.

“And don’t tell me I should go home to Auckland, Nate,
I can’t
. Since the media got wind of Hayley Snow replacing me, I’ve had news vans parked outside 24/7. The day before yesterday, I caught a photographer in my back yard, and my phone’s ringing non-stop. I bought this place off you as a bolt hole, and now I actually need to use it as one.”

“Savvy.” Resigned affection in every nuance of her nickname, Nate sighed. “You should’ve called me; I could’ve gone and talked to him before you drove up.”

“You’ve already done so much for me in the past. I wanted to take care of this myself. Any reasonable person would’ve responded to my polite request—”

“You were polite?” Nate slanted a sly grin in her direction. “Really?”

“Best behavior, I swear. I was positively charming, and it didn’t make one bit of difference. I have to get this part. If I return to the city, I’ll be harassed by the media and tempted to let my friends talk me into going out every night instead of working my tail off on this role. Not to mention Mum hovering, making unhelpful suggestions every five minutes.”

When Nate’s grin widened, Sav bundled up the knee rug and hurled it at his head. “Of all the old uni pals you could’ve picked, you had to plant this butthead in my house.”

He caught the rug with a chuckle and stood. “Boy. Glen made a hell of an impression on you, huh?”

Sav bared her teeth, and Nate held up a palm, backing toward the door.

“Okay, okay. He’s my friend; I got him in there, and I’ll go try to convince him to leave.”

***

The blank screen mocked Glen, the cursor pulsing in a silent snicker as his fingers remained static on the keyboard. The words had flowed from brain to laptop almost faster than he could type before
she
showed up.

Glen flexed his fingers and tried again. Tap, tap, tap—freeze. He just couldn’t stop thinking about her. Standing on the deck, with her long hair turning dark in the rain, damp clothes clinging to outrageous curves. A transformation from pissy diva to bedraggled waif in less than five minutes. A beautiful, bedraggled waif, grown into her looks from when he’d last seen her in the flesh as a wild seventeen-year-old—and she’d been stunning even then.

An engine rumbling up the driveway had him slapping the laptop shut. He looked out of the window in the spare room, which currently doubled as his office. The window overlooked a few old gum trees keeping back the sprawl of native bush, and a large clearing of grass. A dirt path at the far end of the lawn led to an old, ramshackle outbuilding. Savannah’s car pulled up to where the grass met the gravel driveway, the wipers sweeping rhythmically back and forth over the windshield. She’d only left half an hour ago. Must’ve decided to try her luck again.

“Good luck with that.” He strode into the hallway as a car door slammed.

He had to admit going another round with Savannah sounded fun. More fun than staring at a blank screen, anyhow. Glen yanked open the front door and poked out his head—the same time Nate stepped onto the deck.

Not the pissed-off diva. She’d sent her bulldog of a cousin, instead.

“You gonna keep me out in the rain too?” his friend said by way of greeting.

Yep. Savannah had run crying to Nate about the mean dude living in her house. Probably pitched a massive tanty and demanded Nate take care of it. He backed away from the entrance and swept a hand inside. “Nope. Come on in.”

“You got beer?” Nate grumbled and stepped out of the rain, shoulders hunched as he swiped a hand over his hair.

Glen led the way to the airy, white-walled kitchen. Little touches of Savannah’s taste had been superimposed over Nate’s choices of wood-paneled flooring and clean white cabinetry. White probably wouldn’t have been Savannah’s decorating choice, as she’d splashed bold, primary-colored canvases on the dining-family room walls. Two couches, angled toward the front deck to get the best views through the glass sliding doors, were covered in brightly patterned cushions. Sunshine normally poured through the kitchen skylight, though with this afternoon’s downpour, shadows dulled the conjoined rooms.

He slapped a switch on the wall as he walked to the stainless steel fridge opposite the brand-spanking-new gas range; Nate had installed the kind of oven Glen’s youngest sister, Grace, would murder to have in her home.

“Have a seat.” He gestured to a bar stool at the center island counter.

Nate slouched onto a stool and selected a banana from the fruit bowl. He stripped down the skin and took a bite, not bothering to ask, same as Glen didn’t bother to offer. Full-service wasn’t a happening thing. Although circumstances meant they didn’t get together often, eleven years of friendship meant Nate could help his own damn self to the fruit bowl or fridge without either one thinking it weird. The only weird thing was Glen didn’t feel the same easiness around his brother, James—or Jamie, as Glen called him, because it pushed his bro’s buttons. After years working in their father’s law firm with his big brother, it literally felt like working with Big Brother, with Glen’s every move analyzed and criticized.
Easy
wasn’t a word Glen used to describe his relationship with his father and brother.

He opened the fridge. “Steinlager or Export? Or has shacking up with a woman made you start drinking lite?”

“Screw you,” Nate said amicably. “Long as it’s not that fancy designer stuff you keep in your fridge back in Auckland.”

“That’s for Jamie and Dad. A Steinie doesn’t go with their image.”

Nate snorted, polishing off the last chunk of banana. “Their stick-up-the-ass image? I’m surprised they condescend to even drink beer.”

Glen popped the caps off two bottles and handed one to Nate. “Your little cousin sent you to try your luck?”

Nate took a long swallow then set down his beer. Tugged on an earlobe. “Yeah, about that. She wasn’t due to finish filming ‘til summer. I didn’t expect her to just show up out of nowhere.”

“Was a bit of a surprise to find her knocking on my door this afternoon.”

“Disturbed you and your muse, did it?” Nate grinned. “How’s the book going?”

Going great, until Savannah shot his concentration to hell. Just talking to the woman for five minutes had likely destroyed his concentration for the rest of the evening. If he’d believed there’d been a chance Savannah could show up, Nate couldn’t have talked him into renting her house for six weeks, no matter how desperate Glen had been. Considering her movie was filmed on the other side of the planet, being able to avoid her had seemed like a safe bet. The first few days here had made him a little twitchy, but he’d gotten over himself. Pure, unadulterated silence had tamed the unsettling feeling of living in Savannah’s house…of sleeping in her bed.