Right where we belong, p.4
Right Where We Belong, page 4
He’d never had any intention of doing anything with it either. As far as he was concerned, he’d bought the land to help Jim out and to keep it in the hands of locals who cared about that town. And while technically he wasn’t a local, he cared about the town very much and wanted the same things for it that everyone else did.
At least, until Indigo Jameson had come onto the scene and he’d decided she needed a place to live.
“That’s right.” He kept his voice level as he added another couple of stitches. “That’s the land I was talking about last night.”
“The land you were just going to give to me.”
“No, I was not going to just give it to you.” He glanced over at her, met her gorgeous blue eyes. “There’s a moderately flat bit up the hill behind the gallery building. It’s a great spot for one of those little houses and it’s close to the gallery, which is great for you since you don’t drive.” Indigo opened her mouth, but he put down one needle and raised a hand. “Wait, I haven’t finished.”
To her credit, Indigo waited.
“I made a promise to Jim that I wouldn’t do anything with the land or sell it and that it would stay bush. Those houses have a tiny footprint, which means I won’t have to do much in the way of clearing, and I don’t think any of the locals will mind if you have a little house there. But I can’t sell you the land or give it to you, even if I wanted to.”
Indigo stared ferociously at him. “So, you’d give me the use of it?”
“Yeah, if you want to put it like that.”
“What about a lease? Or rent?”
That wouldn’t be happening. He had a lot of money, and he didn’t need any more, and certainly not from someone like Indigo who didn’t have any to spare.
What about her pride?
He shifted uneasily in his seat. He’d love to say he didn’t care about her pride since, as she didn’t have anywhere to live, she couldn’t afford to have any. But he’d been in that situation himself, and he knew how difficult it was. And apart from anything else, he did care about her pride, and he didn’t want to make her feel bad. It was an irritating conundrum.
“I don’t want money,” he said gruffly. “I’ve got enough. I don’t need any from you.”
Her chin came up. “And I don’t care if you need it or not. I’m not going to accept someone giving me land, building me a house on it, then me living there without paying a cent. It’s not right. And it wouldn’t be mine. It would be a pity house you built for me because you felt sorry for me.”
“I do not feel sorry for you,” he insisted, now feeling irritated. Only for his irritation to die away as he realized that actually, he understood.
He’d had his pride too as a foster kid, and sometimes charity wasn’t really all that charitable. Plus, he’d never had anything that was his and most especially not a home, and it was why he was so fiercely protective of Brightwater Valley and the people in it. This was his home, and they were his family, and he’d do anything for them. Anything at all. And that included newcomers like Indigo.
“Look,” he went on, more calmly this time. “I get where you’re coming from. But that house with lavender and the little garden for herbs has a cute little window seat.” Yeah, he’d seen the look that had crossed her face when he’d presented her with the brochures he’d collected. Especially the one with the slightly witch-cottage look. He knew longing when he saw it, and it had been plastered all over her face the moment he’d shown her that particular brochure.
Her eyes narrowed and her chin got stubborn.
“You could push the windows open and sit on it in summer and knit. Watch the bees buzzing. Get some chickens…”
“Don’t,” Indigo said grumpily. “I’m going to teach you the knit stitch now.”
But although she might be grumpy, he could tell she was wavering. She really did like the idea of that little house. And no wonder. She’d left her home thousands of miles away to come to New Zealand, and since she’d gotten here, she’d been staying in the Rose and then in Clint’s farmhouse. She didn’t have a place of her own, and everyone needed one of those.
“Here,” she said, “this is how you do a knit stitch.”
Obediently he paid attention, watching her long clever fingers work her metal needles. Her fingertips were stained with color from the yarn dyeing she did, all red and blue and green, and he found himself wondering how those fingers would feel on his skin. Would her touch be as deft on him as she was with those needles? Would she leave stains of color on his skin? He kind of wanted her to…
Uh, stop right there.
“Are you listening?”
He was now. “Of course.”
“Show me.”
Briefly he debated the merits of showing off and then decided not to. Another, much better idea slid into his subconscious before he knew what was happening.
It’s also a very bad idea.
It was, but then he was the king of bad ideas. He also couldn’t resist.
“Hmmm,” he murmured, deliberately mucking up a stitch. “I don’t think I’ve quite got it. Why don’t you come over here and show me?”
He thought she might pick up on the slight note of flirtation in his voice, but she didn’t, making a small exasperated sound instead. Putting down her knitting, she leaned over the arm of her chair in his direction.
It put her very close, the silken mass of her ponytail slipping over her shoulder and trailing over his forearm. She was warm and he was very conscious that the soft curve of one breast was pressed to his upper arm as she leaned over to grab his needles.
“It’s like this.” She demonstrated by knitting a stitch, then a second one, slower this time. “See?”
But he didn’t see. Because he was suddenly painfully aware that the skein of dark hair lying across his forearm was full of shades of caramel, toffee, and chestnut, and that she smelled of lavender, herbs, and a soft, sweet musk that made everything male in him spring to attention.
Bad idea. Very bad idea.
Oh yeah, it really was. Yet he was in no hurry for her to move away. For over two months, he’d been irritatingly and completely physically aware of her, and he was going to take this moment while he could. A moment to drink up her warmth and inhale her sweet scent, catch a glimpse of softness beneath all her sharp prickles.
“No, I didn’t quite get it,” he murmured. “Show me again.”
She made an irritated sound and showed him the stitch again.
Clearly, she wasn’t as affected by his nearness as he was by hers, which wasn’t a disappointment, not in any way. Not when he wasn’t going to be doing anything about it even if she had been.
It was just a little odd, since he could have sworn that Indigo wasn’t entirely indifferent to him.
Yes, she’d told him to stop flirting with her in no uncertain terms, and he had, because he wasn’t a man who pushed himself on uninterested women. Why would he? When he had so many interested ones to choose from?
Yet if she’d truly been indifferent, she’d have left him alone and she hadn’t. She was somehow, mysteriously, always in his vicinity, looking balefully at him as if he’d personally offended her. Which he took to mean that she was into him but was very, very annoyed about it.
Not that it mattered. Not when he wasn’t going to touch her.
He’d asked Izzy and Beth a few surreptitious questions about her for idle curiosity’s sake—at least, that’s what he’d told himself—but all they’d told him was that she’d lived with her grandmother in an isolated homestead in Alaska, and that after her grandmother’s death, she’d come to Brightwater.
Nothing about any previous relationships or anything, which he didn’t care about either. She might have a long-distance boyfriend and that would be okay. Yep, A-OK with him.
“There,” she said. “Do you see now?”
But he was still staring down at the top of her head and thinking about whether she had a boyfriend or not. “Do another one.”
This time she turned and looked up at him, her dark brows drawn down in one of her habitual ferocious frowns.
Her eyes really were the prettiest shade of blue. Light and clear, like the sky at high altitudes, up near the peaks where he took clients heli-skiing. He loved the sky when it was like that. It felt like freedom to him.
Then she blinked and he saw awareness suddenly take hold. Awareness of him and how close she was making that infinite light blue darken into deep azure. Pink flushed her cheeks and her mouth opened.
Then abruptly she dropped the needles she’d been holding into his lap and shoved herself away from him like a scalded cat.
“Well.” She grabbed her knitting and stuffed it back into her patchwork project bag. “That’s that. I hoped you learned something.”
Levi didn’t move, noting that her cheeks were still bright pink, and she was very, very flustered. It appeared she wasn’t quite as oblivious to him as he’d thought.
Well, you’re screwed.
“But you haven’t taught me what the other stitch was,” he said mildly, ignoring the thought. “The ruby stitch or something.”
“It’s a purl stitch.” She got to her feet and brushed past him to the stairs. “I’ll show you later.”
“Indigo,” he said, pitching his voice low.
She stopped at the top of the stairs that led down to the street, just as he hoped she would, but she didn’t turn around. “What?”
“Think about it.” He didn’t elaborate. She’d know what he was talking about.
“Okay,” she said woodenly, then went quickly down the stairs and was gone.
Chapter 3
Beth sat at the farmhouse kitchen table, a cup of hot chocolate at her elbow, examining the brochures that were lying on top of it. Izzy, sitting opposite with one of her favorite coffees, was also frowning at the brochures.
Indigo was at the head of the table nursing a cup of herbal tea in her favorite flavor, which was currently cinnamon. She didn’t have many tea bags left, and she knew that was going to mean a trip into Queenstown at some stage. She didn’t much like towns and so was trying to hoard the tea as much as possible, but dammit, talking about her living arrangements was difficult and the situation called for some cinnamon tea.
The other two had invited themselves to Clint’s farmhouse so they could have a more private chat about Indigo’s housing problem that didn’t involve random men suddenly wanting knitting lessons.
“Honestly?” Beth gave Indigo a look. “I don’t know what your problem is. This house is gorgeous.” She tapped the brochure with Indigo’s favorite on it.
You could push the windows open and sit on it in summer and knit. Watch the bees buzzing.…
Indigo shoved Levi’s deep voice from her head, along with the shiver that went with it. When he’d spoken about that little house… Well. He’d made it sound so good. Everything she hadn’t realized she’d wanted.
Except that didn’t change her feelings about him giving her the land and building her the house.
People promised all kinds of things and then never came through with them, and she didn’t want to be put in that situation again.
She didn’t want to tell the others about the real reason she couldn’t take his offer, so all she said was, “It is. But if I let him pay for all the building and land and stuff, it wouldn’t be mine, would it? Plus, I don’t want him paying for everything just because he feels sorry for me.”
“Good point,” Izzy said, sipping her coffee. “No one wants a pity house.”
Beth grimaced. “Okay, sure. I can see that. But what are your choices? You have to stay at the Rose and wait until Chase can get hold of that guy who owns the vacant house—and let’s face it, he’s been trying for months with no luck. Or you wait until something comes up.” Her green eyes lit suddenly. “Or you could come and stay with Finn and me. We’ve got a spare—”
“No,” Indigo said firmly. “I mean, thanks, Beth. I appreciate it. But I’m not being a third wheel in your happy love nest.”
Beth scowled. “We do not have a happy love nest.”
“Also,” Indigo went on, “you’re pregnant and you’re going to need all the room you can get once the baby’s born.”
“What about Chase’s and my place?” Izzy asked. “If the worst comes to the worst, you could always sleep on the couch.” Her friend’s dark eyes were full of concern. “I don’t want you to have nowhere to go.”
A warm glow sat in Indigo’s chest, and she tried very hard to disregard it. She was wary of people who seemed to have her best interests at heart, for the same reason she couldn’t accept Levi’s offer. Being brought up on a steady diet of her grandma’s paranoia hadn’t helped either.
Izzy and Beth were the exception to this rule. Over the past couple of months, she’d learned that they genuinely cared about her and wanted the best for her. It was strange having friends. She’d gone to school before her parents left, and presumably she’d had friends then, but she barely remembered them. Grandma had homeschooled her after her parents had gone and hadn’t liked outsiders, even kids, so friends hadn’t been a thing.
Indigo liked having them now though, even if that left her feeling a bit exposed.
“I know.” She sighed. “I just…don’t want anyone to have to have to put themselves out for me.”
“But we’re not—” Beth began.
Indigo held up a hand to stop her. “I really appreciate your offers and I mean that. But it’s not just that I don’t want to impose. I want…” She paused, because it was hard telling people what she wanted. Even all these years later, after her mom and dad had gone, it left her feeling vulnerable, as if she’d given something away she wasn’t supposed to. Not that telling people how badly she wanted a little house of her own was any big secret; it was just that it meant a lot to her, and she was used to keeping those secret desires private. After all, you never knew when someone could use them against you.
They’re not going to use it against you, come on. They’re your friends.
That was true; they were.
“I want a home,” she forced out, holding her teacup between her hands and staring down into it since it was easier to stare at the cup than it was to look at the other two. “I want to feel like I belong here, and I can’t when I don’t have anywhere to live.”
“Of course, you do.” Beth reached across the table and laid her hand gently on the tabletop in front of Indigo, a gesture of comfort. “You really need a place that’s yours.”
“Yes,” Izzy agreed. “Absolutely you do. And not like it’s a gift from some guy, right?”
She couldn’t help smiling at that. They got it, her friends. They understood. She’d been distrustful of them at first, Izzy especially since she didn’t come from Deep River and had turned up out of the blue at Auckland Airport, just as Indigo and Beth had arrived in the country. Izzy had told them that she was Georgie’s replacement and would be joining them on their expedition. Georgie was supposed to have been the third member of their team, but she’d had to pull out for family reasons.
Indigo had viewed Izzy with some suspicion, but over the past couple of months, she’d heard Izzy’s story and knew her to be a woman of strength and courage. A problem solver with a whole lot of smarts and a caring heart to match.
“Yeah, that’s exactly it.” Indigo bit her lip. “I mean, I’m grateful to Levi for the offer but… How did he find out about the tiny-house thing anyway?”
Izzy sighed, looking shamefaced. “Sorry, that was me. I was feeling frustrated for you and mentioned what you wanted to Chase, and he must have said something to Levi.”
It wasn’t anything Indigo hadn’t suspected, and she knew she shouldn’t get pissed off about it. After all, not wanting to give anything away to people was her own deal, not Izzy’s, and besides, she hadn’t told Izzy not to tell anyone.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It wasn’t like a state secret or anything.”
Izzy gave her a concerned look, then said hesitantly, “He’s not a bad guy, you know. Levi, I mean. Chase wouldn’t be such good friends with him if he was.”
Everything in Indigo tightened. “I don’t have to be friends with him if I don’t want to.” She tried not to snap yet knew she sounded snappy anyway. “And while I’m on the subject, leaving me alone with him on the porch of the Rose yesterday was mean.”
She wasn’t going to think about what that had led to. Nope, not at all. Not about how she’d leaned across the arm of his chair to help with his knitting, not thinking about how getting close to him might not be the best idea. She’d been too focused on showing him how a knit stitch was done.
Then as she’d demonstrated a couple of stitches and he’d told her he still didn’t get it, a slow awareness had filtered through her. Of the way she was leaning and how she was almost in his lap. Of the long, muscular male body stretched out beneath her and how warm he felt. How she could smell something spicy and earthy that reminded her of the bush on a hot day, and that it was a delicious smell. And that he was probably lying when he’d said he didn’t quite understand the stitch yet, because he was an intelligent man, and he should have picked it up.
She’d turned to look at him—probably the stupidest move ever—and met his gaze. The impact of it had stolen her breath. Because deep in the green and gold of his eyes, she’d seen sparks of heat.
Even the memory of it made her face flame, so she quickly shoved it from her head and hoped the other two hadn’t noticed her blushing.
“Sorry,” Beth said, not sounding sorry at all. “I’d be more sympathetic if you genuinely didn’t like him and didn’t want to be around him, but I don’t think that’s the case, is it?”
Damn Beth. The woman could read minds like nobody’s business and had a sixth sense when it came to people’s emotions too. And she tended toward bluntness.
It was clear she wasn’t going to let Indigo get away with anything tonight.
