But Nixon had told her. A horrific accident had stolen so much from him. A plane crash. ‘I don’t understand how you’re okay with flying.’
‘Learning to fly was another tactic to put myself out there, face the same odds my family faced.’
‘You’re a pilot?’ The words spluttered across her lips. ‘You’re flying us tomorrow?’
‘Yes.’ He watched her as he asked, ‘That all right with you?’
‘Of course. It never occurred to me.’ But it made perfect sense. This was Nixon after all. ‘I presumed there’d be someone else at the controls.’
‘You can pull out.’ He gave a strained laugh that said he’d be hurt if she did.
‘What? Miss out on winging over Milford Sound? Sorry, Nixon, but you’re stuck with me for tomorrow morning at least.’ Longer if you’re interested. She nudged him forward, walking behind him on the narrow pathway. Any excuse to check out that sexy butt and those long, muscular legs sending her heart into palpitations. Nixon was no longer just a sometimes friend, or any kind of friend, but a man she was looking at very differently. Where was that going to get her? Nowhere unless he lightened up some more with her. Or maybe it was time she showed him a little of how she felt.
Whoa. Her heart rate lifted, sending her blood zinging around her veins. Tell Nixon she cared about him? Really, really liked him? Lay her heart on the line? No. He wasn’t ready to hear any of that. Was she ready for this? She wasn’t sure, but it seemed she also didn’t want to slip back into her box and hide away from life any more.
Now what was she going to do?
*
Nixon stumbled, righted himself and waited for Emma to catch up. He let her retake the lead to set the pace. No longer walking very quickly, she looked thoughtful.
His hormones liked that it was slower, giving him an opportunity to admire that sweet backside that had him in a lather far too often. He shouldn’t be looking, let alone thinking about those curves. But they were meant to be appreciated. They were also a wonderful diversion from the revelation that he might’ve been wrong about Henry. He cringed with embarrassment. He’d held himself aloof from the only family he had. Did his uncle understand why he’d done that? His cousins? What did they feel about his attitude to their father when in fact he’d been given everything he needed to grow up into a successful man?
Instead he watched Emma, ignored the guilty ache these unasked-for questions were causing. He would deal with it in good time. Nothing he could do right this minute anyhow.
After a silent ten minutes they reached the road back at the bottom of the hill and Nixon turned towards town. Emma was tired but quite capable of seeing the challenge in doing another round. ‘I’m ready for a beer.’ Hopefully she didn’t see through his attempt to head her off.
A light red hue coloured her cheeks, and not from excursion. Running a hand over her head, she shook her head. ‘Definitely out of shape. I’m going to have to put in a lot more effort, just not for a few weeks.’
So she wasn’t trying to prove a point. Got that wrong, along with lots of things about Emma. He did know there was nothing wrong with her shape. Nothing at all. ‘Does that mean we’ll stop for a drink when we reach the wharf?’
She looked at him over the top of her sunglasses, which had slid down her nose. ‘Try stopping me.’ Her tongue did a lap of her lips. ‘I’m picturing a cold bottle of beer already.’
‘Then let’s hustle because I’ve got the same image.’ Along with another one involving that tongue on his fevered skin.
The little pub hidden away down a back street was heaving with locals when they squeezed their way inside to the bar.
‘Looks like we’ll be better off out in the garden when we get these.’ Emma looked around. ‘Can’t hear myself think in here.’ Her eyes were wide with happiness.
‘You don’t get out often enough.’
‘Tell me something I don’t know.’
The wistful twinge in her voice didn’t dampen her pleasure beaming out at him, making him feel oddly pleased. There’d been a moment back there on the hill when he’d have sworn Emma had been about to hug him, before she’d turned away, cutting further conversation and that maybe hug. He’d been grateful and disappointed. If she’d wound her arms around him he would not have been able to resist, would’ve held on tight, and a little bit more of his barricade would’ve cracked open. Dangerous. Gulp. To be that close to her, to let someone know his history and understand him, hell, but that would be wonderful. A release. Relief. If he had that, who knew what the future could hold?
Getting in deeper here, Nixon.
‘You going to stand there having a conversation with yourself all night?’ Emma winked over the rim of her bottle, her elbows wedged on the top of the high wooden bench they were using.
He found her a smile. ‘Thought you couldn’t hear a thing.’
‘It’s way better out here.’ She swallowed a mouthful of her drink. ‘You moved to Queenstown from Dunedin, right?’
He nodded. Where was this headed?
‘Had you come up here very often before?’
‘Of course. The mountain biking is awesome, and the skiing is right up there with the best in the country.’
‘Of course,’ she repeated his words with a smile. ‘The adventure capital of New Zealand is a perfect playground for you. Reckon this is a permanent move or will you up stakes and move away some time? Get a job in a bigger hospital?’
It might be a question people asked each other every day, but for Nixon it felt loaded. Fraught with road bumps. ‘Queenstown suits me. We get more trauma injuries per capita than anywhere else in the country and those are my specialty so why leave? But who knows? A fabulous offer might come along that I’d be stupid to turn down. Though I doubt there’s too much out there I’d trade for what I’ve got here.’
‘Not a big city guy, then?’
‘Not even for holidays.’
‘Damn. I always planned on going to LA and the fun park when Rosie was old enough.’
What did that have to do with him? ‘Never been there, and can’t say it’s on my list, but then I haven’t had a little girl to factor into the equation.’ What would it be like to go to a theme park with Emma and her daughter? There’d be lots of laughter for one.
‘What’s your favourite colour?’
A laugh bubbled up and out. ‘Green.’ As in the colour of her eyes. ‘What’s yours?’
‘Haven’t got one.’ She grinned.
‘Okay, what’s your favourite breakfast?’
‘Pancakes with bacon, bananas and maple syrup.’ One eyebrow rose. ‘You?’
‘The whole works: bacon, eggs, hash browns, mushrooms, et cetera. Holiday destination apart from that one for Rosie?’
‘Wanaka, staying in the family beach house. Summer wouldn’t be the same without going there.’
That was something he hadn’t had. There’d been a rumpty little shack on the West Coast his dad went to for fishing and hunting, occasionally taking the family with him, but it had been sold when the estate was wound up and the proceeds invested for his future. ‘Sounds wonderful.’
‘It is. As of now you are officially invited to come and stay with my lot over the summer. Bring your bike and swim shorts, beer and an open mind, and you’ll have a load of fun.’
‘Seriously?’ Of course it was serious. Emma didn’t do things by half measures. ‘Invitation accepted. I am already looking forward to it.’
And to spending more time with you away from the hospital.
CHAPTER EIGHT
EMMA STARED OUT of the Aero Club window onto the airfield beyond where planes were tied down in neat rows. Past the terminal, an international flight was lining up in preparation for take-off. Beyond the airport boundary Coronet Peak rose into the sky, dominating the scenery with its sheer rock faces and snow-capped peaks.
Excitement made her squirm. Last night’s beer and pizza had been a world away from her usual Friday night, but this was out
of the park.
‘Ready?’ Nixon called across the room from where he and the flying instructor had been talking over weather and flight paths.
She’d tuned out minutes ago, but now they were about to go flying. Looking up at the man who was becoming more important to her by the day, she nodded. ‘Are you?’
He grinned, not a tense muscle in sight. ‘Always when it comes to flying.’ Piloting a small plane must be his best place, his most comfortable environment. If that grin was anything to go by then she’d join him at every opportunity. It sparkled with heat, was filled with cheeky temptation, so that right about now she should be getting very afraid. Because damned if she wasn’t falling into the pool that was Nixon. What lay ahead for them? Patience was usually her way—except when it came to Nixon and she wanted to rush through the tape, see where they arrived and what their future held. ‘Settle down,’ she warned, walking beside the man tempting her heart.
In one hand Nixon held something like a large compass, a map and a key. In his other hand he held…hers.
Did he know what he’d done? Had winding his fingers through hers been an intentional move? Or was he so focused on preparing for their flight that he’d done it without thought? Meaning that he accepted her as a part of his life in some way?
Emma kept quiet, tried not to squeeze her hand a little bit tighter to feel his strength, his long fingers between hers. She was holding hands with Nixon. Her feet danced. The sky was breathtakingly blue. The air clear and crackling. She’d got it bad.