Know Your Heart: A New Zealand - Tracey Alvarez Page 0,78
bubblehead.”
A feminine throat clearing made Glen jump. His gaze shot left to Savannah, a polite smile affixed to her glossed lips, hands fisted on her hips.
“Hi. You must be Tom’s dad,” she said sweetly. “Delightful to meet you.” Her smile could’ve cut concrete.
Jamie had the decency to flush an unflattering shade of pink before offering his hand. “James Cooper. Likewise.” He tipped his head toward the barn and the rumble of voices inside, accompanied with the background sounds of a couple of guitars still jamming it out. “You’re responsible for this?”
Sav’s chin rose. “If by this, you mean the natural talent and passion your son has for music, then no, I’m not responsible.”
The scuffle of loose pebbles alerted Glen to another intruder.
“Dad?” Tom hurried along the path, his face puckered into a grimace like that of a dog preparing for a kick after peeing on a rug. “What are you doing here?” He stopped at Savannah’s side, his gaze jumping between his dad and Glen.
“I’ve come to drive you back to Auckland. Riding with me is better than six hours in a smelly bus, right?”
“I guess.” With arms crossed over his chest, Tom pried the tip of his sneaker under a stone stuck in the dirt.
“Son?” Jamie asked.
Savannah leaned her upper body toward Tom in silent support.
“What?” Tom’s arms hugged his ribcage so tight it looked as if they’d crack a rib.
A honey-bee buzzed past Glen’s ear and veered into the thick bush. Seconds plodded past in slo-mo, while he sent urgent psychic messages to his brother to go easy on his son.
“You played skillfully,” Jamie said, and then dredged up a smile. “I mean, very cool, Tom. Very cool.”
Tom rolled his eyes. “Nobody says cool anymore.”
But tension drained out of the boy’s jaw, and his arms loosened their death grip. Coming from Jamie, that small compliment was akin to a religious conversion.
“I think we should head off as soon as you’ve packed your gear,” Jamie said. “Miss the evening traffic.”
Tom’s face fell. “But I was gonna go to Nate and Lauren’s to help Drew finish the tree house.” Jamie opened his mouth to object, but Tom continued. “And Uncle Glen is helping me rework my second English essay after dinner.”
Glen slung an arm around Jamie’s shoulder, earning him a puzzled look half frown, half smile.
“Stay the night,” Glen said. “You can drive back in the morning.”
“Please, Dad?” Tom caught on and moved to his father’s other side. “Remember how you used to show me the constellations at night? We could borrow sleeping bags and sleep on the deck under the stars.”
Jamie glanced at Glen, hope warring against the habit of putting career before family. Working weekends were common in his brother’s household—no doubt, a pile of paperwork waited for Jamie in Auckland.
“It’s Ms. Payne’s house,” said Jamie finally. “It depends if she wants another uninvited guest.”
Tom turned his best puppy-dog-eyes on Savannah. “Please, Savvy?”
Savannah gently bumped the boy with her shoulder, and they grinned at each other.
Then she turned to Jamie, a beautiful queen bequeathing a favor on a rude peasant. “Ms. Payne, the bubblehead blonde, gives you permission to stay.”
***
One more night, then they’d no longer have a teenage chaperone.
Savannah stared at the office ceiling. Tom and James slept on the deck in borrowed sleeping bags, so technically…she could sneak down the hall to Glen. But she wouldn’t. Not after putting up with James speculative smirk all evening.
But tomorrow, they’d finally be alone…and surely they didn’t need to make any concrete plans for what happened after Glen’s tenancy agreement ended in six days?
With a sigh, Savannah kicked off the covers and stood. Only one thing would help her sleep—hot milk. And who would nark if she added a spoonful of hot chocolate mix into the mug?
Savannah slipped into the kitchen, casting a quick glance at the drapes covering the glass sliding doors. Tom’s studied indifference changed into boyish enthusiasm once his dad finished off a couple of wines and finally loosened up. Her mouth curved as she opened the fridge and removed a carton of low-fat milk.
Savannah poured milk into a mug and placed it into the microwave, leaning against the counter as the machine hummed.
The sliding door hissed in its tracks, and the drapes billowed inward on a gust of air. James stepped inside, his gaze leaping to hers across the room.
“I saw the light on.” He hesitated in the doorway. “Thought I’d grab a glass of water.”