Just Once More (12 page)

“So he took you kayaking,” Reka said dubiously. “In the spot where you nearly drowned. And that was romantic.”

“It was,” she protested. “Because it wasn’t just the spot where I almost drowned. It was the spot where he saved me.”

“Isn’t there some group somewhere that believes,” Koti said, “that if you save somebody’s life, you’re responsible for them?”

“Thought you didn’t want to hear the story,” Drew said.

He shrugged. “Just asking.”

“Well,” Hannah said, laughing, “that would explain it, maybe. He felt responsible for me that day, anyway. He took me to breakfast. He said that, in fact. That he’d saved me, and now he needed to know I was all right.”

“I
said
that,” Drew told her. “Of course I said that. What did you expect me to say? ‘Glad you didn’t drown, and now how about going to bed with me?’ How well would that have worked?”

She was actually staring at him, her mouth open. “You did not think that.”

“I didn’t? Right, then. I didn’t. I was being chivalrous. I like your version much better.”

“Huh.” She still looked surprised, and he had to chuckle a little. “Well, anyway. He took me to breakfast that day, and then he took me to breakfast again, a year later.”

“To the same place,” Drew said. “Sat in the back garden, at the same table. Had the same breakfast, too.”

They’d drunk their coffee while they waited for it, and he’d looked at her across the table from him, her hair in its shining knot, a blue sundress today instead of the yellow one she’d worn that day. And waited.

“What?” she asked, the third time he looked around the lushly planted patio to the little café’s entrance. “Are we in a hurry? Or are you starved? We could have eaten back at the house.”

“No,” he said hastily. “Nothing. So…” He cast about for a topic. “Uh…how’s Kristen?”

“How’s
Kristen?”
She laughed. “Drew. You don’t have to chat. We can just sit.”

He grinned at her sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“And here’s your breakfast,” she said as the server approached. “Saved by the bell.”

The girl was Italian this time. A romantic, fortunately, because she’d smiled when he’d confided his request, had patted the back of his hand and promised him, “Yes. It will be done.”

“Not the one with the tomatoes,” he’d thought to add. “The one with just the eggs.”

“Si,”
she’d said. “I understand.”

Now, the girl set the plate in front of Hannah, turned to Drew and deposited his own, gave him a wink and a smile, and walked off. Drew had a suspicion she might be watching from the doorway, but that was all right. There was nobody else back here this early, he’d seen with relief. One Italian girl—that was all right. One girl, and Hannah.

She didn’t eat, though, just took another sip of coffee, finally picked up her toast and took a nibble. And…nothing.

Maybe they’d stolen it, Drew thought wildly, wanting to look around to see, but needing to watch Hannah. The waitress and the cook were probably on their way to Auckland right now. Splitting the profits. Aw, shit. He’d never even considered that. He’d been living in New Zealand too long.

“Aren’t you hungry after all?” she asked in surprise.

“What?”

She gestured with her fork at his still-laden plate. “Your breakfast.”

“Oh.” He picked up his own fork, dug in. “Nah. Starved. You should eat too.”

She laughed. “I am eating.”

“More. You should eat more.”

Time stretched out as he plowed determinedly through his own breakfast, watched her make agonizingly slow inroads into her own. He held his breath when she finally picked up the second triangle of toast, and…still nothing.

Definitely on their way to Auckland.

She took another bite of egg, and then a comical expression twisted her lips, her blue eyes going wide.

“What?” he asked.

She held the serviette to her mouth, spat something into it. “I think I chipped a tooth. There’s a
bone
or something in here. In my eggs!” She reached a cautious finger into her mouth, felt around.

“All right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said with relief. “I think so. Nothing jagged or anything. What
was
that?” She folded the serviette back to check. Then sat, breath held, and stared.

They hadn’t taken it to Auckland. They’d put it under the eggs. And it was sitting in her serviette now. His ring. Her ring. He hoped.

“Drew.” Her eyes had flown back to his. “It’s…”

“Yeh,” he said, tried to laugh. “They were meant to put it under the toast. Sorry.”

She was scrubbing at it now. “Oh, Drew. And I almost
swallowed
it.”

He had to smile. “Glad you didn’t. That wouldn’t have been too romantic, getting it back.”

“No,” she said, succumbing to a fit of the giggles. “We’d have had to…”

“Yeh,” he said. “A bucket, I reckon.”

“Oh,” she gasped, laughing harder. “Oh.
Disgusting.”
Which made him laugh too, and so much for his romantic moment.

“Well,” she said, wiping her eyes with the clean serviette he handed her. “That was…novel.”

“Now that you have it,” he said, his heart galloping in his chest again, “how about if I put it on you?”

She still had it in her hand, and now she looked at it for the first time. “Is it…”

“Yeh.” His mouth was dry despite the water he’d just drunk, because there wasn’t enough water in the world for this. “It is. It’s me asking you to marry me. It’s me asking if I can put that ring on your finger, and keep it there.”

“Are you sure?”

He had to laugh again. Only Hannah would answer a proposal that way. “I’m sure, sweetheart. I’ve been sure for a good long while now. The question is, are you.”

He waited, his heart in his throat. Wanted to say something else, and didn’t know what. Because it wasn’t up to him. It was up to her.

Finally, she spoke. “I said I’d spent half my life scared. I’m not spending the rest of it like that.”

That was good, and he was glad, but it didn’t answer the question.

“From now on,” she said, “I’m taking the risk. I’ve gone through my life saying no. Not yet. Not me. Not now. That’s not going to be me anymore. If it’s worth it, if I want it, I’m saying yes.”

She was handing the ring back across the table to him, and his own hand went out for it. She wasn’t going to take it. She was saying yes, but she was telling him no?

He stared at her, took his ring back, and waited.

“Please,” she said. “Please put it on me, Drew. Because I’m saying yes.”

“And that’s what he did,” Hannah told Reka proudly, turning the huge diamond on her finger.

Reka had her hands at her chest. “Aw. That’s so sweet. Who knew?”

“Course, she said the diamond was too big,” Drew said with a crooked grin. “Wanted me to switch it out.”

“Better than telling you it was too small,” Reka said. “Easy premarital test. If she says it’s too small, you need a prenup. What did you say to that?”

He laughed. “I said no.”

In fact, he’d got her in his lap and kissed her good and properly, for once heedless of watching eyes, until she was melting, sighing and whimpering into his mouth. Then he’d taken her home, put her on his bed, taken everything off her but the ring, and done his utmost to convince her that he was her man, and he always would be.

Long and slow, kisses and touches and soft murmurs in the warmth of late morning. Until he was threading his fingers through hers, sliding into her, hearing her gasp and seeing her eyes stretch wide. Just like that first time. Just like the best times.

He’d felt the ring on her finger against his own skin, had looked into those blue eyes, and had known that it was true, and it was real. And had known, finally, that she knew it too.

An hour later, and Nate was pulling out of Drew and Hannah’s drive and turning left, back toward Mt. Maunganui and the hotel.

Hemi and Reka, Koti and Kate had stayed behind to clean up, but otherwise, there’d been a general exodus. Not too late at all, because of all the pregnant partners. A whole new world.

Just as well, because as a crash course in WAGdom, the day had been pretty intense, he suspected. He and Ally had done a bit of socializing with his Hurricanes teammates, of course, but this was a different level.

He looked across at Ally. She’d been quieter than usual tonight. A bit subdued, but then, that was to be expected, even from somebody as outgoing as Ally.

“All right?” he asked her. “Not too bad?”

“A little overwhelming,” she admitted, confirming his suspicions. “Easier than I thought it would be, though. I always figured Drew and Hannah were just nice to me because of Kristen. But they’re all that way.”

“You know me,” he pointed out. “You know Mako.”

“Yeah, and how different are the two of you? You can see why I wasn’t sure. Especially about Finn. He’s pretty frightening.”

“Finn?” Nate laughed. “Not exactly. He’s like Mako. A hard man on the paddock, and a pussycat off it. Just like me.”

She scoffed. “Oh, yeah. You’re some pussycat.”

“Working on it. Very nearly human by now.” He cast a cautious look behind him, merged onto the motorway.

“Let’s not go back,” she said. Impulsively, of course, because that was how she said everything. “Let’s go for a drive. And a swim.”

“Don’t have our togs,” he said. “Or any towels, even.”

“So?”

He glanced at her again, saw that look in her eye, and he had a feeling he was going to be doing something he’d regret, and not regret at all, before this night was over.

“What, is my big, tough rugby captain too chicken to skinny-dip with me?” she teased with her best saucy smile. “Afraid you’ll get cold? Afraid you won’t be able to think of any way to warm up? Or are you afraid you won’t be able to warm
me
up?”

He laughed again, happiness bubbling up like champagne. “One week engaged to you. One
week
. And you’re already getting me into trouble.”

“You never know,” she said. “Maybe you’ll get
me
into trouble, if I’m very, very lucky. Seems to me I got you a little carried away once or twice.”

“I am controlled,” he pointed out. “I am disciplined.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “You just tell yourself that. Right up until you’re not.”

She got him. She always got him. “So, drive?” he said. “Beach?”

She snuggled down into her seat with a little sigh of satisfaction. “I knew I could talk you into it.”

He smiled again, swung off the motorway, went through a roundabout and was on it again, headed east this time. He punched the button for the moon roof and let the night fill the car.

Darkness outside, and Ally in the car with him, wanting an adventure. And in what universe wasn’t that a wonderful thing?

“Maketu Beach,” he decided. “Much more private. Take us about twenty minutes. Why don’t you find us some music? Get us in the mood.”

“To swim?” she asked.

“Yeh.” He smiled at her. “Music to…swim by.”

Ten minutes in, and the music, the night were working for him. His headlights splitting the darkness, and they hadn’t met another car for kilometers. And the thought of what was to come. The inky blackness of the nighttime sea, the cool of the water. And Ally.

Who wasn’t able to wait, clearly. Something about the night, the music, the mood had got her going too, because her right hand was on his knee. And it was moving.

He glanced across at her, turned his eyes hastily back to the road as he felt himself drifting. He corrected, then found himself taking his foot off the gas entirely.

She’d switched hands. The one wearing his ring was on the inside of his thigh now, and she had the other one on the back of his neck. The hair was standing up there, and everything else was stirring too. Her touch did something to him. Every single time.

“I love watching you drive,” she said, caressing him with her hands, her voice. “I loved watching you tonight, too. Did I say that? How proud I am of you? How much I like being with you?”

“Ally,” he said, as sternly as he could manage. “Slow down.”

It was his Captain’s Voice, and it didn’t work a bit. She laughed, and now her hand was up higher, and he swerved again, swore, slowed a little more. Her hand moved, stroked, and his foot hit the gas just like the rest of his body did.