Kiwi Strong (New Zealand Ever After Book 3) by Rosalind James

Author:Rosalind James [James, Rosalind]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bellbird Publishing
Published: 2020-06-18T16:00:00+00:00

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 stairs, and a freckled face peered over the railing at me. I recognized that look. Awe. Not about me, not really. About the dream.

“Hi, mate,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Hamish Cantwell,” he said shyly, coming the rest of the way down the stairs. “Are you really an All Black?”

“I was,” I said, as Matiu transferred his attentions to my arms. “I was a Highlander as well, though. I’m thinking you may be a supporter.”

A little black-and-white dog with a feathery tail had come down with him and was frisking around Xena, play-bowing and rising onto his hind legs like he was hoping for a wrestling match. Xena looked at him with tolerant bemusement, as if she couldn’t fathom ever being that undignified, then dropped to the floor at my feet, laid her head on her paws, and sighed.

“The Highlanders are my very favorite,” the boy said. “Because they always wave to the crowd and things, like they’re saying thank you for coming to see them, and two of them are gingers like me, but nobody teases them. They’re good at rugby, but they’re nice. Buddy has a Highlanders collar besides his All Blacks one, too. Matiu and I have season tickets, so we can always go, except when they play somewhere else, and I have a jersey and a bobble hat and a flag and everything.”

“That’s good,” I said. “What position do you play

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