‘I’ll get this,’ Nixon laughed.
‘All yours.’ She loved his laugh, deep and sexy, and, today, so relaxed.
Shouts and hilarity came from the other side of the trees where teenagers were kicking a football and some were throwing a plastic disc. On this side couples were strolling with toddlers and dogs. A typical Sunday afternoon. Enjoyable, fun, and a little bit dull, if she was being honest. But she was out of the house and doing something.
‘Don’t break it, Nixon,’ ordered a certain little madam.
‘Would I do that?’ he answered around a smile aimed solely at her daughter.
I’d like one of those, solely for me.
Emma shrugged off the pathetic despondency. He was here, wasn’t he? ‘How did the endurance race go?’ He’d mentioned he was doing today’s Lake Hawea challenge during that aborted lunch.
‘Cold, and exhilarating. Came in ninth.’ Satisfaction flooded his face, those dark eyes turning charcoal. ‘The weather knocked some of the contestants off their pace.’
‘But not you.’ He’d have been totally focused, snow, rain or sun.
He handed the kite back to Rosie. ‘Try to stay on the other side of the park. If it gets caught high up in one of these suckers we won’t get it back.’
‘Okay, Nixon.’ Rosie headed for the far side, at the water’s edge. Lake Wakatipu might look beautiful and inviting but it was glacier fed and dangerous for unsuspecting souls. Other children playing on the foreshore would be temptation in full dress for Rosie.
Emma immediately followed. ‘Rosie, wait up. You’re not to go near the water until I’m there.’
‘Okay, Mummy.’ Except she didn’t stop.
‘Rosie, stop.’ Emma picked up her speed. ‘Now.’
Nixon strode out, those long legs gobbling up the distance to reach her daughter where he matched her pace and redirected her as he chatted, as though he were used to wayward little girls. Which was fictitious, as far as she knew. He didn’t have a clue. So he was a natural. All charm. Don’t forget wary. A cautious charm. Yeah, she could see the potential in that. It won him everything, and lost him nothing. Nothing except involvement. Go, Nixon.
*
Nixon watched Emma helping Rosie bundle up the kite. Perpetual vigilance with her daughter meant she didn’t do relaxed in her down time from the department. He was used to seeing her constantly on the go, watching, caring. She’d carried the same instincts into motherhood. Rosie was one lucky little girl.
Talking of luck. The young boy from the accident had collected too. ‘The woman we pulled from that car wreck will make it with few consequences,’ he told Emma.
‘That’s great news. And her son?’
‘Paddy. His dad met the ambulance.’ Paddy hadn’t been on his own, nor had he lost his mother.
He had relaxed on that score. There’d been a sleepless night afterwards, reliving his own day of fear and reality, but those horrid memories had been overlaid with pride for helping another boy avoid collecting similar memories.
Emma walking beside him made him happy. As if they were right together. Whoa. Where was this going? Foreign territory for certain.
‘Remember, don’t put your hand in front of its mouth,’ Emma told Rosie, who was talking to a Labrador.
‘It’s cute.’ Rosie leaned forward, her hands clasped behind her back, almost rubbing noses with the dog as the owner told it to stay.
‘Don’t even ask,’ Emma muttered. ‘Not until you make up your mind between kitten and puppy anyway.’
A shadow, a brief glimpse of movement and Nixon spun around. Saw a disc hurtling through the air at head height. ‘Watch out,’ he yelled as he swung his arm to snatch the spinning disc before it hit Emma. Bloody maniacs using one of these when the park was busy with families enjoying the summery afternoon.
‘I’m sorry.’
Emma’s words barely registering, he flicked the plastic dome to the teen who’d thrown it, sending a stern glare with it. Then he heard her strangled gasp. ‘Em? Are you all right?’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.’ Her words were halting and filled with—fear.
Nixon stared as Emma huddled in on herself, her arms wrapped around her body, her hands white where her fingers dug into her sides. What was going on? ‘You haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘Don’t hit me.’
Whoosh. All the air was driven out of his lungs by those three words. Without thought he reached for her, to hug her, to show she was safe with him.
She jerked backwards, tripping. With fast steps she righted herself, but still didn’t look at him.
Be calm, don’t add to her misery. ‘Emma. It’s me, Nixon. I am not going to hurt you.’ That bastard had a lot to answer for. ‘Emma, please look at me.’ He stood still, his hands loose at his side—not easy when rare anger raged through him.
Her head lifted slowly. Fear from those green eyes sliced into him. Fear that began dissipating as she studied him from under lowered eyelashes. ‘Nixon?’ Her tongue lapped her bottom lip. ‘Nixon.’ Her relief was rapid and enormous, lifted her head further. ‘Hell.’ Glancing around the park, she took in where she was and who was nearby before her gaze came back to him. The fear had gone. ‘Sorry.’ This time it didn’t sound like a plea.
‘Now can I hug you?’
‘Would you?’
She shook like a puppy in a thunderstorm. Every protective cell in his body held her from danger. His chin rested on the top of her head as she wept against his chest. OMG. Emma. This was what her ex had done to her. Hopefully her father and brothers had beaten the guy to a pulp. They were very protective of her. The other night they’d been friendly and accepting, but, deep down, how had they really felt about him being there with Emma?
‘I reacted without thinking. I saw your hand flying through the air and responded instinctively as I learned to do a long time ago. It’s something I’ve tried to control but there are times when I act first, think second.’
‘Did that save you in the past?’
Her head moved back and forth. ‘Not often. He was usually too quick for me. He’d be there hauling me out of a corner. There was never anywhere to hide. Best to get it over with than rile him some more.’
Nixon couldn’t help the expletives that spewed across his lips. And got a nudge in the ribs from a sharp elbow.
‘Young ears.’
Talk about being out of his depth. ‘I was catching that flying toy before it hit you.’
‘I never saw it.’
‘That’s why I put my hand up.’
Sniff, sniff. His shirt was rapidly becoming soaked. ‘All I saw was a hand flinging through the air in my direction. I haven’t reacted like that in a long time.’
‘I hate that you ever had to.’
‘Mummy, I want a hug too.’
Emma jerked in his arms. ‘Rosie,’ she sniffed. ‘Of course, darling.’
Nixon reached down for the sweet little girl he was becoming too fond of and lifted her up between them. The three of them stood bound together by arms and concern and…
No. Not the L word.
That wasn’t what this tight feeling in his chest meant. If it was he’d be pushing away. Loving anyone was dangerous. Loving these two in particular even more so. They could decimate him with their power to tug him in and wrap their magic around his heart. Give him the things he refused to expose himself to. He needed to stick to being fond of them both.
But he couldn’t step away, couldn’t lower his arms or deny himself this brief moment. Not of joy, considering what had precipitated it. But he felt good; that protective streak of his was wired and ready to hold the world at bay for this brave, strong woman. With a quick, barely touching kiss on the top of Emma’s head he finally managed to pull away, leaving the child in her mother’s tender hold.
‘Why are you crying, Mummy?’
Emma rubbed her arm across her face and dredged up a parody of a smile. ‘Not crying. I got dust in my eyes, sweet
heart.’ Placing Rosie on her feet, she looked across to the lake, around the trees, over at the gatherings of people. Everywhere but at him.
Hurt lanced him. Why this sudden avoidance? He’d seen her break down. They had this between them now. But he hadn’t been where she’d been, didn’t know what it was like to have the confidence beaten out of him. That could account for any number of reactions, and yet she was still here with him. He’d take that as a good sign. ‘Do you want to go home now?’