his boots.
I said, “I’m guessing those jeans weren’t ripped and muddy this morning, either. Why are you limping?”
Matiu said, “I’ll get my bag.”
Gray asked, as if I wasn’t even there, “Is that really a thing? Do doctors still carry those?”
“Only ones who live with Olivia,” Matiu said. “My daughter. She’s five. Dettol required at a moment’s notice. Hi, by the way. Matiu Te Mana. I’d shake hands, but maybe not. Hang on.”
He was out the door, and I breathed a sigh of relief that at least we’d have supplies and told Gray, “Come into my bedroom and take down your trousers.”
“Excuse me?” he said. “We’ve only just met.”
I sighed. “I want to check your knee.”
“Daisy,” he said. “Listen to me. Listen closely. I am a rugby player. Well, I was. I’ve bashed my body every single day for most of my life. If it’s not dislocated or broken, it doesn’t hurt, and it doesn’t matter.”
Florence Nightingale I was not, because now, I was crossing my arms and saying, “Excuse me? Who carried me out of the river? Did I make a fuss about that? No, I did not, even though I could have walked. I could easily have walked. But I recognized your need to care, or whatever, and I let you do it. Just like I need to care now.”
Did he accept my gracious explanation? Of course not. “No,” he said, “I carried you because you needed carrying. You’d almost drowned. You were exhausted and hypothermic.” And then he ruined it by saying, “And because you’re you, and I’m me.”
“Oh,” I said. “Because you’re the man.”
“No,” he said, “because I’m the rugby player. You know how to do … medicine. Whatever. I know how to be hurt and keep going, and how to carry things. It’s not much, but it’s what I’ve got. What are you trying to do to me, woman? Here.” He offered his hand. “Open a vein. Just drain my life blood away, why don’t you.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed, and after a second, he grinned. And then he pulled me down into his lap, knocking me completely off balance, so I had to hold onto his shoulders, kissed my mouth in an almost-hard way that sent a jolt straight down my body, and murmured against my lips, “Pity bossy women seem to be my weakness. Also, I love adrenaline.” And kissed me again.
I was so shocked, I couldn’t move. That had to be the reason. Or maybe not, because somehow, I had my hands in his hair and was asking, “Are you all right, though? Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he said, and now, he was the one doing that smiling with his eyes. “But thanks for caring.”
Fruitful said, “Daisy?”
Oh. Gilead. I pushed off Gray’s lap and said, “I’m still treating you. So we’re clear.”
“No worries,” he said. “I’m still expecting it.”
Matiu came back inside carrying a sports bag, and my phone rang.
Gray
I hadn’t meant to do that.
It had felt so good, though. I’d been exactly right. She was pick-up-able. And if she had her hands in your hair when you did it, when you were kissing her, when you were backing her up against the wall …
She wasn’t a sparkler. That would be fireworks all the way.
I had to stop thinking about it, because Matiu had come back into the house and was telling me, “Come sit in the kitchen where the light’s better, and I’ll check this out.”
I did, trying to listen to Daisy’s half of her call. She’d taken it into the bedroom, but I could hear too much forced calm in her tone. If it was Gilead, I wanted to be the one talking. I had a pretty simple message for him. It centered around what I’d do to him if he turned up again. My palms were itching to grab the phone from her and do it. They were stinging a bit, because Matiu did have the Dettol out and was dabbing at them with about as much finesse as a team trainer—meaning not much at all—but they were itching, too.
He looked up and said, “Daisy’d be more careful. She’s got a gentle touch. Pity you’ve got me instead. What happened?”
“He broke into her place. I caught him at it.”
“Surprised he could’ve got the better of you,” Matiu said.
“Cheers,” I said. “Rub it in, why don’t you.”
He laughed.
This was brilliant. Not only had I not saved the day, but the brother-surrogate now thought I’d lost my step, too.
A rush of feet on the