“Body Pump it is,” she said, abandoning all hope and going for “cheery honesty,” or perhaps, “I’m tired of pretending.” “In my lounge, with dumbbells and the app. And the rugby is mainly when I’m watching my son play. How about you?”
She hadn’t realized you could actually see the interest drain out of a man’s face. She smiled again and said, “Never mind. We’re not a match, but you still have two more to go. Tell me who youhaveliked. Anybody tickle your fancy?”
“Uh …” He looked confused.
“Oh, come on. We have about two and a half more minutes, and surely you want to tell somebody how the evening’s gone.”
“Well, yeh, then. As you mention it. There’s a girl, Jade, who’s quite fit. Heaps of energy. Sparkling, you’d call it. Brimming. Like that.”
“I heard sparkling was good. Which one is she?”
“Two back,” he said, and glanced over. “Huh. She’s with some big bloke right now and seems to be telling him off. Waving her arm a bit. Think I should go over there and ask if she’s OK? Chivalrous, possibly.”
Skylar glanced over.No,she thought.Not possible. What’shedoing here?“I think,” she said carefully, “that that might be a bad idea.”
“Oh?” He looked disappointed. “Not respecting her agency, or something?”
“Well, mainly that that’s Zane Mahuta with her, and he’d probably break you in half.”
“Who?” Now, he looked disappointedandpuzzled. Alsooffended, but seriously? A man in linen trousers was planning to tell off a hooker?
“All Black?” she suggested. “Hooker? Hard man? Plays for the Blues? Are you sure you’re a Kiwi?”
“Oh.” He shrugged. “I’m more of a soccer man myself. More finesse to it. Arsenal’s my team.”
“Huh. The writhing around pretending to be injured doesn’t bother you? Running around beating their chests after a goal?”
“Expressing emotion,” he said stiffly, “isn’t unmanly. What, you still pine for the stoic Kiwi bloke? Swanndri shirt, stubbies, work boots, and beer with his mates? A bit behind the times, aren’t you?”
“Well, that’s certainly a point of view to consider.” It was a phrase she often found helpful with parents. “Good luck with Jade. The gong’s about to go. Nice meeting you, Trevor.”
The gong went at that moment, but Trevor paused before getting up. “How did you know the time that exactly?”
“I’m a Year One teacher. Five-year-olds. I also have three kids, the kind of cat that leaves hair everywhere, and a scary mortgage. I’m a widow, too. Reckon I’ll find a date?”
Trevor practically bolted out of there. It had been worth it, though.
She marked her card with yet anotherNot for me, and thought,Two to go.Eight minutes each. Sixteen minutes. She could do sixteen minutes.
What was she meant to do about Zane Mahuta, though? Introduce herself? Not introduce herself? How embarrassing was this going to be?
Help.
By the time he planted himself in his eighth chair, Zane was in a bad mood, and the fizzy water with lime he was drinking wasn’t doing much to cheer him up.
On the other hand, this one was dead fit, in a homespun sort of way. The kind you’d see onHyundai Country Calendarhelping to run her family’s sheep farm and think, “Well,sheworks for me.” The kind who’d get letters from hopeful farmers after the show. Her hair was a mix of red and gold and curled in corkscrews that had to be natural, she had pale skin and freckles on her nose and not much makeup, and her lips turned up at the corners as if she just couldn’t help smiling. Until his eyes met hers, at least. Then she looked like she was about to bolt for the door. She actually shifted her chair backward.
“I’m notthatbad,” he said.
“What?” She blinked at him. Her eyes were green and shaped like almonds, and they tilted up at the corners, too. Like a cat’s. Maybe she didn’t look quite as wholesome as he’d first thought.
“Oh.” She got the smile back. “Are you grumpy because you got told off back there? What did you say?”
“What?” Nowhewas the one blinking. “When?” He looked at her name tag.Sky.Was that a name? She looked like a Sky, though. Sort of open.
“Two dates back,” she said, and he had to work to remember what they’d been talking about. “She was going off on you, my so-called date thought. He wondered if he should go over and rescue her. I told him that probably wouldn’t end well. Of course, he only wanted to do it so he’d look heroic, and that wouldn’t have happened if you’d bent him like a pretzel. She’s sparkly, he said. I was told I should be sparkly tonight. Pity the most I ever get is a bit fizzy.”
“Oh, I dunno.” He was feeling better, somehow. “I’d say you’re doing some sparkling. And I don’t bend people likepretzels. I’m required to be a good citizen. Helpful. Friendly. Like that.”
