Two—leave them as friends. No drama and angst that way.
And three—make rules clear at the start.
Jack turned toward his garden shed. “I’ll load the mower.”
His friend pulled Hone’s mind from women and rules. “If the grass is long, a slasher might work better. A chainsaw might come in handy. Stop at home on the way. Dad won’t mind if we borrow his tools.”
Jack’s phone rang. Emma again. Hone heard her sultry voice as she spoke to Jack. Something to pry up old carpet and mouse traps.
Soon, they were on their way to Clevedon.
As always, leaving the city excited his taniwha, but after the indulgences of sex in many positions, it wasn’t difficult to keep his human form. Instead, he opened the passenger side window and stuck out his head, inhaling the fresher country air.
Jack shot himthe look, his dark brows scrunched in disapproval. “Quit acting like a dog.”
Hone let the insult roll right off him, content with his world. “Does Emma’s friend realize how many oysters we’ll eat?”
“Behave,” Jack warned. “Cassie and Emma have been friends since they were in primary school.”
“She know about taniwhas?” He held up a hand and spoke before Jack could reply. “Scratch that. Emma wouldn’t blab.” Hone stuck his head farther out the window and dragged in myriad country scents—animals, grass, trees, a few people—ignoring Jack’s grumbles to delight in the crisp air.
Jack drove fast but with expert control and the journey didn’t take long.
Hone straightened, his eyes narrowing at the idea of a woman—any woman—living in such isolation. “This place is in the middle of nowhere.”
“This place is a dump.” Jack stated the obvious as he parked beside a red SUV.
Hone studied the wooden bungalow. The building had a sturdy frame. Sure, it was missing a few boards and needed repainting. “It will be better once the grass is cut. You go and tell Emma we’re here and I’ll start unloading. Glad we brought the chainsaw. Those trees will need trimming. Take away the gloom.”
“Might take more. Depends what the inside is like.” Jack climbed from the vehicle, his ground-eating steps taking him to the door.
Hone, used to Jack and his abruptness, didn’t take offense. He set to work unloading the mower and tools. The thump of Jack’s knock on the door, his call and the feminine response brought warmth to Hone’s heart, a sense of rightness. At one time, he’d considered hooking up with Emma, but anyone but an idiot could see she wanted Jack. Hell, Jack had been an idiot. Oblivious until a case on Waiheke Island in the Hauraki Gulf had forced them together. Add in a full moon, and Jack hadn’t stood a chance.
Not that his friend seemed unhappy. Emma was good for Jack, jerking him from his taciturn behavior. These days, he smiled more readily, behaved more human.
Hone adjusted the mower to a high setting, ripped off his T-shirt and began his attack on the long grass. No need for a catcher. Hopefully, the mower wouldn’t have a spastic attack and refuse to work.
He started on the right-hand side and discovered an overgrown concrete path on his third round of the lawn. The sun beat down overhead, and he paused to wipe the sweat from his brow with his forearm. Jack trotted outside with Emma and another woman. Emma waved and he returned the greeting. He recommenced his mowing pattern.
Jack said something to the women and strode to his work vehicle. He handed Emma a hammer and a crowbar. Hone chortled as Jack offered a comment to his wife. Advice probably. Emma with tools. He couldn’t wait to see what she intended to do with those.
On his next circuit, Jack gestured at the trees. The friend nodded, and she and Emma retreated. Jack hadn’t mentioned the friend was attractive, although to be honest, he hadn’t asked because an innocent question might make Emma consider matchmaking. Women did that stuff. Not gonna happen.
But from what he could see, the friend rocked some serious curves. Not as tall as Emma, which meant she would reach his shoulders in height. Long black hair gathered in a messy ponytail. Too far away to see the minute details, such as did she have freckles or white teeth or an agreeable scent. Not that it mattered. A short-term involvement with the friend would make his interaction with Emma difficult and would piss off Jack.
Yeah, he’d quell his natural inclination to flirt. Keep his boots firmly planted in the friend zone.
