Headstrong (7 page)

“I bloody love
Drunken Master
,” he murmured as the movie recommenced.

“I bloody love Linda Lin,” Reece added, watching the screen, casual again. “She can beat the shit out of me any day.”

“She must be like seventy now,” Libby said, struck by an irrational twinge of jealousy. Now
there
was an emotion she wasn’t used to. It felt ugly, like a wad of acid burning a pit in her stomach.

“The restaurant brawl’s coming up.” Reece’s relaxed posture suggested all that needed to be said earlier had been, and Libby released the breath she’d been holding.

The smell of popcorn—then burning popcorn—wafted in, followed by a tardy
ding
.

Chapter Four

Libby woke the next morning to a large, warm hand jostling her shoulder. She opened her eyes to find Colin staring down at her, brushing his teeth with his other hand. He raised the fingers around the brush in greeting.

Libby propped herself up on one arm and yawned. “Morning.”

The sky beyond the windows was dark and gloomy. Though the wind seemed to have died down, the storm was still raging.

Colin wandered toward the bathroom and called back in a gargly voice, “Coffee in the kitchen.”

“Thanks.” Libby shuffled in her pajama pants and undershirt to the next room and found a mug. She peeked inside the fridge and was impressed by its tidiness, given that it was the territory of two bachelors.

Colin passed by on the way to his room, and Libby was suddenly glad she’d slept with her bra on.

“Bath’s free. Help yourself to whatever.”

“Thanks.”

“We don’t have any decent soap or conditioner. Hope that’s all right.”

“Do I look like I use it anyhow?” Libby’s hair was its own beast. It got marinated in so much salt from the ocean she’d long ago given up trying to keep it looking shampoo-ad silky.

Colin smiled and disappeared.

She padded across the apartment to the bathroom, passing Reece’s open door. She could see the corner of his made bed and wondered if he’d already left for the morning. She needed him to give her the cue when she officially overstayed her welcome. Though she wouldn’t mind putting off her departure for at least a little while—the weather looked truly nasty. She hoped her boat was in one piece.

Rhythmic, guttural noises drifted from Reece’s room. Libby fought a brief battle between curiosity and worry—worry over whether she might be about to catch Reece in the middle of being intimate with himself. But as she framed herself in the threshold it turned out she was the one destined to indulge her pervier side.

Reece ceased his sit-ups when he spotted her, wrapping his arms over his bent legs. His pajama-pant-clad knees obscured his bare torso, making Libby scowl internally. She wasn’t used to being affected this much by a man and was finding it extremely enjoyable. Reece’s tone when he’d said good night after the movie had been casual, if cautious, and Libby decided to push this civility as far as it would stretch.

She set her coffee down and grasped the pull-up bar mounted on the doorframe, letting her legs go limp and dangling. “Morning, loverboy.”

“Morning.” Reece gazed up at her then down at her mug, no particular emotion on his face. “Did you find milk?”

Libby’s heart gave a jolt, relief he was at least
pretending
to not be irritated. “Yeah. You boys keep a pretty tidy fridge.” She scanned his room. Tidy also, in a bland sort of way. Plain white walls, several unpacked cardboard boxes still stacked beside the closet and no attempts at decoration anywhere to be seen. Her eyes snapped back to the bare shoulders flanking the handsome face she could have stared at all morning.

“Do you work today?” She wasn’t sure what answer she was hoping for.

“Yeah. I have to head out in a few minutes.”

“What do you do, exactly?”

“Teach tae kwon do,” he said. “Part time.”

“That’s what you did in England too.”

He nodded.

“Kids or adults or…?”

“Both,” he said. “All kids this morning. Then I get most of the afternoon off.”

“Does it pay well?”

He laughed as if to say “hell,
no” and Libby grinned.

“But I get keys, so it’s a free gym membership. I can use the studio whenever I want after classes are out.”

“That’s cool. So…”

Reece raised his eyebrows.

Libby straightened up in the doorway. “Have you given my offer any more thought? It still stands.”

Reece glanced at the alarm clock by his bed. He stood, and Libby enjoyed the sight of his body as he grabbed a clean white T-shirt from his dresser. Long, lean muscle and fathomless calm.

“I don’t know.” He tugged the shirt on.

“Well, it’s on the table. It’s good money. And I’m getting sick of acting like a normal girl, worried you’re watching me.”

“I haven’t been.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve been reporting a load of bull to your father, but no photos. He’s getting impatient with me, I think. To be honest, I don’t enjoy spying.”

“I can help you get some shots,” Libby offered. “Without spying. And you should decide soon, before he gives up on you.”

“Can’t you find something better to do with your trust fund than play this sick little double-agent game with your daddy?” Reece asked, cold again.

Libby gratuitously scanned his body. “I can think of several things I’d rather be doing, sure.”

He didn’t reply, just hauled his gym bag onto his bed and removed a white tunic-style uniform and a long black belt. He tossed the dirty uniform into his hamper and replaced it with a clean one from the dresser.

Libby eyed his belt. “Black belt.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t look up.

“Can I see?”

“Sure.” He slapped it into her palm, and she unfolded the length of thick, quilted cotton.
R. Nolan
was embroidered in yellow at one end, Korean characters on the other. Each end had four red stripes.

“What are the stripes for?” Libby asked, dredging her brain for ancient details imparted by grade-school friends who’d taken karate. “Degree?”

“Yeah, it’s called
dan
. Same idea.”

“And you’re fourth
dan
?” she asked.

“You guessed it.”

“Is that impressive?”

He shrugged. “Depends on what impresses you. It’s taken me over twenty years to earn, so I hope it impresses my peers and students a little bit.”

She held it to her nose. “Damn, it stinks.”

“Stinky’s good. Means you’re experienced. You’re not allowed to wash your belt.”

“Can you do a move for me?” She handed the belt back and mimed a little kung fu.

“It’s not a parlor trick.”

“Don’t get all serious on me, lover. I saw you and Colin peeing your pants over Jackie Chan last night. You know it looks cool. Do something cool-looking for me.”

Reece smiled dryly.

“Can you do that thing like you’re about to kick me in the face, but then you freeze your foot like an inch away?” she asked, excited.

“Will it make you shut up?”

She thought a moment. “Possibly.”

“Right, I’ll take those odds. Let’s go in the living room.”

“Gorgeous.” Libby led the way.

Colin was on the couch, flipping through a newspaper. He looked up as Libby stepped to the center of the room to face Reece. “What’s going on here?”

“He’s going to fake-kick me in the face,” Libby said. “It’s going to be awesome.”

“Flash. Forgotten what happened the last time he unleashed the dragon, eh?”

“I trust him. Go on, lover. Can you do that thing you did to my flare gun? That was good. The swoopy thing.”

“Wheel kick?” Reece considered it. “Yeah…although you’re flipping tall.”

“Do it, mate,” Colin said. “I’ll get a can.” He jogged to the kitchen, leaving Libby curious. He returned with an empty beer can and balanced it on top of her head.

Reece fell back into ready-stance, fists raised at his shoulders. Libby held her breath.

Colin stood by, arms crossed expectantly. “Don’t move, for goodness sake. Mum’ll kill him if he breaks your nose. She’s already picking out names for the grandchildren you’re going to give her.”

Reece pivoted his entire body in a lightning-fast movement, and his heel made an arc from the ground to Libby’s head, knocking the can across the room and fluttering her hair. A split-second later he snapped back into ready-stance.

“Holy shit.” Libby gaped with delight. “Do that in slow-mo. Away from me.”

Reece complied, giving her a quarter-time performance of the kick.

She clapped. “That was awesome. You are one flexible bastard.”

“Ta.” Reece nodded to his brother. “He can do it too. He’s a black belt.”

“Yeah, a delinquent first
dan
with no discipline,” Colin amended. “We’re not in the same league.”

“Maybe you should come to class more regularly, then.” Reece looked to the clock on the DVD player. “Right, I need to head out. Do you need a lift into town?” he asked Libby.

She shifted her jaw. She’d been afraid of this… She hadn’t thought her plan through beyond securing a place to sleep in Reece’s general proximity.

Colin came to her rescue. “You’re welcome to hang out. I don’t courier on Tuesdays and I’m not due behind the bar ’til six. It’s still hosing out there.” He gave Reece a look that said plainly,
I don’t give a shit if I just ruined your day.

Libby glanced at Reece’s unreadable face, then back at Colin. “Is that completely inconvenient for you?”

“Nah. It’s not like we can go anywhere, anyhow. I’ll make us some brekkie. We’ll play Jenga.”

“Gorgeous, thanks.” She smiled from one brother to the other, and Reece disappeared into his room.

“I’m not sure what I have to offer you that can follow being assaulted by Reece, excitement-wise,” Colin said.

Libby shrugged and stared out the window. “Anything that means we can stay inside is fine by me.”

“You’re in luck then. I’m very good at a variety of indoor activities.” He ran a mischievous hand over his freshly shaved chin.

“Cute. I’ll stick with Jenga, though.”

Reece whisked past them in jeans and a jacket, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. “Be good,” he said, the directive aimed at no one specific. He grabbed an umbrella from a coat hook.

“Don’t forget your gummies,” Colin chimed in a grandmotherly voice.

Reece replied with a rude hand gesture as the door shut behind him.

“And think about my offer!” Libby shouted as his footsteps descended the stairs. She turned to the other Nolan, suddenly and inexplicably nervous to be left alone with Colin.

He gave her a long, open study—not sexual, but not innocent either.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” she said.

Colin snapped out of his scrutiny. “Not a problem. I’ve got a girl coming over at noon, but you should join us. We’ll probably just sit around and watch telly. She’s pretty low-key.”

“Wow, hot date.”

An odd smile curled his lips. “Oh, she’s a real stunner.”

“Do you always invite thirds along for your trysts?”

“Stranger things have happened,” Colin said, giving Libby a look she knew well—the conspiratorial look of one sexually accomplished individual thinking they’d found a kindred spirit. “But I assure you that is
not
the order of the day, so you can just cool your jets, miss.”

She followed him into the kitchen and hopped her butt onto the center island. She picked at her stubby fingernails as Colin assembled breakfast ingredients.

“So, Reece is thirty-one, right? How old are you?” she asked.

He tossed sausages into a pan. “Twenty-eight.”

“Hey, me too!”

“Nice. When’s your birthday?” he asked, slicing tomatoes.

“February seventeenth.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “No flipping way. I’m three days older than you.”

“Wow, neat.”

“Too right. We were both crapping our nappies at the same time then.”

Libby laughed.

Colin set the knife down, turning to aim a warm, sad smile at her. “You fancy Reece, don’t you?”

She bit back her own smile and nodded, hoping this wasn’t about to turn awkward. “Is it that obvious?”

“Nah. I’m just good with that sort of stuff. Don’t worry. Reece is oblivious.”

She looked down, then fixed Colin with a narrowed eye. “Do you think he’d ever like me back? You know,
like me
, like me?” She knew she sounded like a twelve-year-old, but Colin was easy to level with—Good Cop to Reece’s Bad Cop.

“I dunno. You mean if you dropped your provocateur shtick and quit winding him up all the time?”

“Maybe.”

He sighed. “I hate to be the one to piss on your parade, but you’re not really his type. Historically speaking.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry.”

She frowned at the insecurity squirming in her middle. “What’s his type?”

“Quiet, for one. Smart but, like, book-smart. Not scary, evil-genius smart like you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Unlike Reece, I googled you. This morning.”

Her stomach flip-flopped. “Oh?”

He nodded. “Don’t worry. He doesn’t want to know what you did to freak your dad out—he can be a bit of a basket case about ethics. Stalking you notwithstanding. I think he’s going with the ignorance-is-bliss approach, so that’s just between you and me and the internet.”

“Good,” she said, not entirely relieved. “So you know, I’m not in New Zealand to start any trouble.” Her history was murky, riddled with police run-ins over various minor offenses. And some not-so-minor.

Colin shrugged. “I like your kind of trouble. But I believe you—if you were out to cause that type of chaos, you came to the wrong country. I’m willing to believe you’re here for the glowworms.”

She nodded.

“And at any rate, Reece fancies boring girls. Sweet…
curvy
.”

“Now
that
I am not.”

“Nah. You’re a panther. Reece is into house cats. Girls who teach kindergarten or start their own catering companies. Wholesome stuff like that.”

Libby pouted.

“Hey, don’t give up or anything. You’re bloody hot the way you are. I’d wrap your legs around my ears in a heartbeat.”

“Poetic. Thanks, Tiger.”