Know Your Heart: A New Zealand - Tracey Alvarez Page 0,39
no big deal. “Let’s go get it, then.”
Tom gave him both barrels of teenage ‘tude. “Why can’t I stay here? I’m fifteen. It’s not like I need a baby sitter.”
“Let me get this straight. You stay here and make goo-goo eyes at my neighbor”—he gestured toward Savannah, outside her caravan with her back to them, stretching her hamstrings—“while I make the round trip to the depot to pick up a bag you forgot?”
“It was an accident.”
“You accidentally left your bag of school books behind, but remembered your guitar?”
“Yup.”
“Is everything okay?” Savannah had wandered over, her gaze switching between Tom and Glen.
“We’re fine. Tom left his backpack in town, so we’re heading off to collect it.” He’d hoped to squeeze in a couple of hours writing since his morning had been disrupted with housework and making up the futon couch in the office for Tom. Now he’d another long drive on his hands.
“Oh.” She dabbed her brow with the small towel draped around her neck. “These things happen. I’m sure the staff will be keeping it safe.”
She dazzled Tom with a smile, and he gave her a star-struck goofy grin in return.
“Right.” Glen skirted around her and opened the driver’s door. “Let’s hit the road.”
It wasn’t until he’d driven out to the locked gate that Glen discovered he’d left his wallet containing his driver’s license behind. He swore and turned around, Tom wisely keeping his mouth zipped shut. Slowing down as he reached Nate and Lauren’s house, Glen spotted Drew and Nate—his friend shouldering a small load of lumber and Drew reverently carrying a tool box.
Impulsively, because he now felt like a dick for making Tom come into town, he said, “You want to hang out with Nate and his boy? Looks like they’re working on their tree house.”
“I guess.”
But Tom quickly unclipped his safety belt.
Glen buzzed down his window as they drew alongside. After checking Tom was welcome to stay, he killed the engine and hopped out. Nate directed them to the remaining pile of wood, and Glen helped transfer it to the base of a puriri tree ready for construction. With a wave and a promise to pick up Tom on the return trip, Glen drove toward home.
***
Savannah sank into the water with a groan that would’ve given Meg Ryan a run for her money. How could something so simple as a tub filled with hot water and bath oil feel soooo wickedly good? They could if the bath in question was out of bounds in Glen’s house. Her house, she corrected, lifting a toe from the water and examining her pink nail polish. Screw the legalities.
She’d waited until the sounds of Glen’s SUV had faded and then counted off a full five minutes before using her spare key to slip inside the house. A soak after a hot and sweaty run was just what she needed.
Daisy’s tiny shower didn’t cut it.
Sav set the alarm on her phone for forty minutes, giving her a decent wallow in this watery heaven, with time left over to clean up any breaking-and-entering trace evidence. What Glen didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Though really, how could one break and enter her own adorable bathroom, complete with tub, multi-jet shower, and enough space to extend her arms without touching both of Daisy’ claustrophobic walls?
Sav turned on the jets and closed her eyes. The water gushed against her sore muscles, unfurling the pockets of tension that had gathered in her body over the last week.
Pure bliss.
“Enjoying yourself?”
A gruff male voice, lit with amusement and something else, pierced her bliss bubble.
She jerked, butt slipping on the bottom of the bath. Hot water surged over her head.
Oh, crap! Ohcrapohcrapohcrap!
Feet skidding on slippery acrylic, Sav struggled into a sitting position and hugged her knees, snorting water out of her nose.
Her blurred gaze flew to the open doorway and Glen’s rangy body filling it, forearms braced on the frame, a smile on his mouth that could only be described as predatory.
And she was the prey lined up in his cross-hairs. Dripping, choking, buck-naked prey…
“Just how long”—she paused to emit a body-wracking cough—“have you been spying on me?”
“Spying?” He crooked an eyebrow.
“What would you call it?” She hugged her knees tighter, hoping her legs and the churning water gave her some coverage.
“An unexpected treat.”
The power of his grin hit the soft, wet target between her thighs.
She snorted, but the sound came out more of a choked gurgle than cool disdain. Dammit, why couldn’t she have chosen bubble bath instead of