Page 57 of The Player in New Zealand
I half-heartedly pushed against his chest. “Still, you could have picked any—”
My words were cut off by Tane’s lips on mine. He hadn’t touched me in eleven days and I wasnotcounting, it was just that...
Ah, fuck it. I definitely wanted Tane again.
His hands were all over me, tugging at my hair, grabbing my ass, and we kissed so hard, we had to break away on a gasp to breathe.
“Fine, I want you. Let’s not make a big deal of this, okay?”
He grunted in agreement.
“This isn’t serious.” Kiss. “The rest of my time here is going to fly by.” Kiss. “I might not stay in Wellington.” Kiss. “Your sister can’t know.”
That gave Tane pause. “How are we going to hide it from her?”
“I could sneak up after my shifts.”
He pulled back slightly. “She closes every night. I could come to your hostel?”
I winced. “My bed is tiny. I barely fit in it, and if you stay too many nights, I get in trouble with the hostel. I’m only paying for one person.”
Something clattered outside the door and I guessed we weren’t alone anymore. Tane pressed a kiss to the side of my neck that had me shivering. “We’ll figure something out.” He pushed off the door and gave me an easy smile. “Let me finish sorting these boxes and we can talk more later.”
I left the stockroom, ready to start my day and definitely unprepared to hide the giant smile on my face. But I did my best to tamp it down. Thankfully, Nina was off for the afternoon, so she wasn’t around to witness the disappearance of my resting bitch face.
Later, when we had only a few groups out back, Tane sat across from me at the bar as he cashed out one of the servers, a small frown of concentration on his face.
“Why does Nina close every night?” I asked, leaning back against one of the coolers as I wiped off menus.
Tane’s lips turned down even farther. “The few times I tried to close back in the day, I drank too much and didn’t do it properly. We agreed I wouldn’t anymore.”
I wiped another menu while Tane counted brightly colored bills. “You’re sober now,” I pointed out.
“It’s about earning her trust back. She needs to know I won’t muck it up.”
The faith of sisters. That I could understand.
NINETEEN
Okay,intellectually, I knew why you shouldn’t sleep with a coworker, or your boss. You could get fired, sexually harassed, etc. Yes, I knew. Bad, bad Claire.
But also... it was fucking hot. Now that we had discussed a second night together, Tane came down every time that I worked. If a buddy came in, or a rugby fan, he stood opposite them behind the bar, chatting, or maybe even took a seat next to them. I could see the man Tane used to be when people asked him about his rugby-playing days. His eyes lit up, and the die-hard rugby fans, well, they often kept him going long into the night, and this new Tane, this sober Tane, would offer them autographs as he corralled them out the door at night so we could close.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Tane without the smell and sway of booze was a hit with the ladies. But when things got too personal, he’d stand up, or stride away, making an excuse to check something for the bar.
And on top of these layers, this new Tane was the man I’d slept with. The man whose fingers had dug into my hips, who’d gripped my body, who’d grunted low and guttural as he’d made me come.
And the reward was a passing touch. A steamy glance across the room. Maybe even an ass grab when we were the last ones doing cleanup, or a hot kiss in the stockroom.
But we hadn’t done anything further yet, just teasing each other and sneaking kisses for three weeks. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that him living here made it complicated. Now that I was paying attention, in the mornings when I was opening, if he wasn’t downstairs yet, I could hear him clomping around. Even if we were able to slip upstairs undetected, we’d have to bang quietly and somehow manage to get out again.
One Saturday afternoon in March, we had a joint bachelor and bachelorette party out in the range. Most people seemed to be about my age, and definitely the bride and the groom. The bride was from Australia—or “Straya,” as I’d heard about fifty times already today, and as I’d gathered from my time here, there was a friendly rivalry between the two countries.
“STRAYA!” the bride shouted upon coming back into the bar from outside. Her friend, a redhead whose skin was flushed from being outside and drinking, rolled her eyes and guided the bachelorette to the bathroom.
When they returned, the redhead asked for water, and I quickly filled two tall glasses and set them down in front of them.
“Thank you,” she said. The other woman slumped forward, putting her mouth on the rim of the glass and trying to slurp the water out.
