Know Your Heart: A New Zealand - Tracey Alvarez Page 0,24
along, a small posse of surf casters tried their luck in hooking a snapper or kawhai off the beach. Where the bush-covered hills met the low, rocky reef, a line of cars waited to cross the rocks exposed by the low tide to better, but more isolated, fishing spots around the coastline.
“Is this safe?” Sav blurted as the SUV’s tires bumped and jostled them over the rocks.
She flicked a glance at Glen, who stared out the windshield, following the exact path as the Range Rover ahead. To their right, waves rolled in, kicking up plumes of spray as they tumbled over the rocky edge. In a few hours, this ledge would be under water again.
“It’s safe. You’ve never been around here?” he asked, tapping the brakes.
“My parents’ family lives south of Auckland. We never came north when I was a kid, and I didn’t get a chance to go with Nate and Lauren when I was up here last. Have you spent much time in the area?”
Glen shifted his legs, board shorts whispering on the seat. “Nate and I and some mates came up to fish a couple of times over the years, and once to go surfing. It’s a popular spot.”
Glen, surfing? She couldn’t imagine it. Arguing in court or looking down his nose at some poor client over a fancy-schmancy desk? Yes. Wet and ripped and carefree, out there riding the breakers? No. He was the polar opposite of Lauren’s big teddy bear of a brother, Todd—who was six-foot-three of genuine, laidback, blonde surfer dude.
“You surf?”
Glen aimed an indecipherable look at her. “Surfed. It was a one-time deal, and I sucked. Major-league sucked.”
The tough guy admitting suckability at something? That she hadn’t expected.
She offered him a wry smile. “I’m not great on the whole upright balancing on a slab of fiberglass thing either.”
The corner of his mouth kicked up as he faced front again.
Nate’s Range Rover continued on around the coastline, occasionally passing a fisherman’s shack tucked behind the dunes. Although the day was clear, the water temperature wasn’t warm enough to bring droves of families down to the beach, just gumboot-wearing people casting lines off the exposed reef.
Finally, Nate pulled into a sheltered inlet and parked near a grassy bank—a perfect spot for the afternoon snack Lauren insisted on preparing. Glen stopped a short distance away from Nate, and Sav exited his car as if her shorts were on fire, jogging over to where Lauren hauled out a huge cooler.
“Need a hand?” Savannah asked.
Lauren shooed her away. “No, no. You go set up with the guys. Drew’s looking forward to teaching you to fish.”
Super. Sav couldn’t turn down one of Nate’s spare rods, not when Glen smirked next to her. Fishing ranked up there with watching nail-polish dry or listening to sports commentary in a foreign language, but it was a necessary evil in order to make a little boy’s day.
“Come on, Aunty Sav!” Drew tugged on her hand. “We’re going to catch the biggest fish ever.”
An hour later, the four of them had lost two hooks, dragged in numerous clumps of seaweed, and had ninety percent of their bait nibbled away—all without catching a single thing. Sav kept close to Nate and Drew, while Glen chose a spot farther down the rocks.
Nate and Drew bent over to examine the hook—once again minus the bait. “Looks as if the fish don’t want to be caught today.”
“One last time, Dad?”
Sav caught Nate’s eye and grinned at the sappy expression on her cousin’s face.
“Never get tired of hearing it,” he said and slipped the rod into Drew’s hands. “You hold this, and I’ll bait us up.”
She laid her rod next to Nate’s tackle box. “I’ll keep both my fingers crossed that you get a fish before Glen does.” She demonstrated crossing her fingers.
Drew giggled, trying to cross his fingers while not losing his grip on the fishing rod.
Sav flicked her gaze sideways at the long, lean line of Glen’s three-quarter profile, the sharp grin a dead giveaway he’d heard her comment. The corded muscles in his biceps flexed under the tee shirt sleeves as he wound in his line. Without returning to the dwindling slab of stinky fish bait, Glen glanced at his empty hook and then cast off again.
She watched him behind her sunglasses and huffed out a sigh as the wind ruffled his slightly too-long-on-top brown hair. He was sweet to a little boy, so what? He’d stopped and loved up Java before, too. Being kind to