The last time Nat attended a meal so fraught with unspoken undercurrents was a lunch her foster family the Palmers had organized soon after Nat and Jackson became engaged. John Palmer had acted like a starstruck kid meeting his idol, spending the excruciating two-hour ordeal hinting for season tickets. His wife, Janet, went on and on about their daughter’s accomplishments and virtues, so much so that Nat was convinced her foster mother was about to pry the diamond ring off Nat’s finger and shove it on Isobel’s. And Isobel, who introduced herself to Jackson as ‘Nat’s big sister,’ lost interest in the conversation once Nat had been cornered into assuring the Palmer family of their wedding invitation.

Today’s lunch at Owen and Gracie’s set out to surpass the awkwardness of that long ago luncheon. Nat and Livvy pulled into Gracie and Owen’s driveway behind Isaac’s black truck.

“Isaac’s coming for lunch, too?” Livvy asked as Nat handed her the brown bakery bags containing freshly baked bread. “Sweet as.”

Nat shot her daughter a glance, checking for any glimpse of sarcasm on the girl’s face since there wasn’t any in her voice. So much had changed in the past weeks.

“He’s a good coach, isn’t he?” Nat kept her voice neutral as they climbed out of the car. She reached into the back seat for the deli containers of shaved ham and slices of roast beef.

“Yeah.” Livvy hugged the fresh bread to her chest. “And he’s a pretty good guy, too. I’m glad you’re friends with him again.”

Friends? Crap. Nat kept her gaze on the plastic containers and away from Livvy’s face. One glance at her daughter’s earnestness and her face would burn up like a vampire exposed to sunlight.

“Me, too,” she said and shut the car door.

From out the back of Gracie and Owen’s house came the rumble of conversation and explosive barks as the family dog, Dobby, let everyone know how happy he was to have guests. Nat and Livvy headed in that direction, preparing to fend off Dobby’s slobbery affection once they reached the backyard. Flat-heeled boots or not, Nat nearly toppled over when she rounded the corner of the house and narrowly avoided another collision with Isaac’s big, bad body. Bad, because even as she took a wobbly side step to prevent falling into his arms, her traitorous body wanted nothing more than to wrap itself around him again.

He grasped her upper arm to steady her, then released it so quickly it was as if her sweater were made from stinging nettles. Once again, wraparound sunglasses covered his eyes, the wall of protection back in place. The rest of his features gave away nothing.

“I was coming to see if you needed a hand,” he said.

“We’re good,” Livvy said from Nat’s side. “Mum went a bit overboard at the deli, though.”

His chin dipped down to the containers Nat was white-knuckling. “Just as well. Sam and Vee and Ruby have shown up, too.”

“Everyone’s here. It’s like a party.” Livvy waved at Morgan who was on the edge of the deck keeping an eye on her younger siblings, William and Charlie.

Nat’s stomach did a half flip. If by party her daughter meant conspiracy among Nat’s two closest friends to put her in the hot seat. They continued on toward the large wooden deck.

Sprawled on comfortable outdoor furniture, Sam and Owen were in deep discussion, Owen with Ruby on his lap, tugging his hair and shouting “Daddy” at him. Nat watched as Sam plucked the little girl off his friend and swung her up over his head to her squeals of delight. At that moment, Vee walked onto the deck with a serving dish and jerked to a halt. Her gaze zeroed in on Sam and Ruby and she gave a subtle head shake, placing the dish on the already laden picnic table.

Livvy nudged Nat’s arm. “C’mon, I can smell the sausage rolls. Let’s grab a plate before Sam and Ruby eat them all.”

A perfect excuse to put some distance between her and Isaac. “Good idea. I’m starving.”

Fortunately, there was plenty of distraction during a meal that included two teenagers, two kids, a toddler, and an excitable pup. Natalie, along with everyone else, had fallen in love with Owen’s adopted nieces and nephew since they’d moved to Bounty Bay. Today was the perfect opportunity to chat to Morgan about fashion, Morgan’s younger brother, William, about his current obsession with natural disasters, and the youngest, Charlie, was happy to monopolize Nat’s time with a lengthy review of her last playdate. If she avoided eye contact with Isaac and Owen, or anything more than small talk with Gracie and Vee, who could blame her? The kids were adorable.

After they cleared the lunch dishes, Owen suggested a walk on the beach with the kids and Dobby, which was enthusiastically received.

“You all go,” Nat said with a quick glance at Isaac who was already barefoot and rolling up the legs of his jeans. “I’ll stay and whip Gracie’s kitchen back into shape.”

“I’m a kitchen hand from way back, so I’ll stay, too, and give Nat a hand.” Vee slid Ruby off her hip and pointed her toward Isaac. “Go to Matua Isaac.”

Nat’s breath snagged on the way down at Vee’s use of the Māori word for uncle.

“Here’s your matua,” Jackson had said when he’d first placed baby Olivia in Isaac’s arms. “Don’t puke on him.” Nat had watched, all those years ago, as the cracks had appeared in Isaac’s tough facade and he’d bent to brush a kiss on her daughter’s downy head.

Isaac crouched down and spread out his palms. “Haere mai, heihei.”

Come here, chicken.

For a moment, Nat wondered whether his size and generally gruff persona would give Ruby pause. While the baby went to Sam and Owen without hesitation, Isaac hadn’t spent as much time with her. But Ruby was as brave as her mum, and she took off at a wobbly run toward Isaac. He scooped her up and stood, tucking her under his arm as if the laughing, squealing toddler were a rugby ball.

Nat’s heart gave a painful thud at the memory of Livvy at the same age, when both Jackson and Isaac would gently roughhouse with her. In the past five years Nat had deliberately reassigned her memories of the hours Isaac had spent with her daughter growing up to a dark and dusty corner of her heart. Because mulling over them would have sliced tiny cuts all through her conscience for removing him from their lives.

“I’m staying, too,” Gracie said from Nat’s side. “I need me some girl time.”

“Not fair if the women do all the kitchen work while we do all the fun stuff,” Sam said. “Kinda chauvinistic, don’t you think?”

Vee, stacking up serving dishes ready to be hand-washed, snorted. “Obviously you’ve little experience with females other than the legions you date. We’ll be doing the fun stuff in peace and quiet; you guys will be doing all the work.”

Sam grinned at her. “A beach walk with our favorite little guy and four beautiful girls is hardly work.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.” Vee picked up the serving dishes. “C’mon, ladies, the sooner we get these cleared away, the sooner it’s time for V-I-N-O.”

“What’s vino, Uncle Owen?” Charlie asked.

Nat loaded her arms with more dishes and hurried inside Gracie’s kitchen.

Ten minutes later, the men, kids, and dog left through the back gate and disappeared between the sand dunes toward the cerulean blue curve of the Tasman Sea.

Vee poured three glasses of wine and set them on the dining table. “Sit,” she ordered. “Wine first, dishes later. Let’s get our priorities straight.”

Gracie slid onto a chair, propped her legs up on another, and reached for a wineglass with a soft groan. “This is why you’re the brains behind Bountiful, you know.”

Nat sank onto a chair opposite Gracie and took her first slow sip, willing the rigid muscles spanning her shoulder blades to relax. She knew what was coming from the expression on Vee’s face.

Four years ago, a twenty-six-year-old stranger had knocked on Nat’s front door and introduced herself.

“You don’t know me,” she’d said, “but I’m Vee Sullivan, and I know you.”

Nat, who’d spent thirty minutes earlier that morning convincing herself to get out of bed for Olivia’s sake, almost shut the door in her face. Everyone thought they knew her. Every man and his dog in Bounty Bay had stopped her at one time or another to say they were “sorry for her loss” and to make insincere offers of “anything we can do to help.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” Nat’s voice was as brittle and sharp as broken china as she went to shut the door—and would’ve if she hadn’t spotted the woman’s gaze locked on hers, Vee’s eyes kind but stubbornly determined at the same time.

“I know you’re a graduate of the Auckland College of Fashion Design, and probably one of the most skilled machinists in Bounty Bay.”

Nat’d paused, then opened the door again. “And?”

Vee’s pretty face had creased into a smile. “And I know I want ten minutes of your time to ask you if you’ll come work with me. How ’bout it?”

Still in her pajamas, Nat had twisted her lips thoughtfully. A job offer? “Know how to make coffee?”

“Betcha bed hair I do. You look as if you need a wicked-strong brew.”

Nat had invited Vee in, and after a wicked-strong coffee and a two-hour conversation, Nat had found two things. Something to get her out of bed each morning, and a new friend.

And now that friend had the same kind, stubborn look on her face as she said, “Why don’t we skip the bullshit where you pretend you don’t know that we know about the smoking-hot pash you had with Isaac this morning?”

Gracie, who’d only become friends with Nat and Vee at the beginning of the year, momentarily choked on her wine. She coughed, sending Vee a murderous glare.

“Jeez, Vee. What part of tactful didn’t you understand?” She shot an apologetic glance to Nat. “She was here when Owen arrived back from practice and, um…”

“I beat it out of him with a rolling pin,” Vee finished. “Because the man’s nose grew like Pinocchio’s when Gracie asked him if you and Isaac were getting on okay.” She twisted the chair around and straddled it, folding her arms on the back. “So…was this the first time you kissed him?”

“What makes you think I kissed him? I don’t just go around kissing random men, and wow, that came out really defensively.” Nat scrunched up her nose.

Gracie and Vee exchanged glances.

“Ah,” Gracie said, “I think we made that assumption because although Isaac’s all, you know, alpha wolf top dog of the pack, he sometimes looks at you as if you’re a veterinarian with a really big needle in your hand.”

Vee snickered. “Gurl, that is a hell of an analogy. Isaac the alpha wolf—what does that make Sam? The beta who’s always trying to slip it to the pack’s other females?”

“Beta wolves aren’t to be taken lightly,” said Gracie. “William and I watched a documentary about wolves, and the beta wolf is an integral part of the pack hierarchy and definitely no wuss when it comes to protecting his pack—”

The girls thought Isaac was scared of her? Seriously? Nat rapped her knuckles on the tabletop. “Isaac kissed me, not the other way around.” Or at least, not that time around.

“Aha!” Vee stabbed a finger at Nat while aiming an I told you so smirk at Gracie. “She wants to talk about the kissing. All that sexy, up-against-the-wall, tongue-dueling kissing.”

“Can you stop saying kissing?” Nat said. “It makes me feel like I’m in high school again.”

“Technically you were in a high school.” Gracie sent Nat a grin over her wineglass. “But what we really want to know is what the hell—Isaac?”

“Yeah,” Vee said. “You’ve gone from I can’t be in the room with him to having your tongue down his throat. It’s a whoa—that escalated quickly kind of thing.”

“It has. It really, really has.” Nat rested her chin on her steepled fingertips. “I still haven’t figured out the whys and what-the-hells and what-is-wrong-with-mes.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Gracie said loyally. “You’re a strong, independent, gorgeous woman, and if you want to ki—um, hook up with an unattached, good-looking man, that’s completely normal.”

Nat blinked at her and jerked back in her chair. “I’m not hooking up with him.”

“Why not?” Vee asked. “You’re obviously into him. Those sexy vibes shooting back and forth across the deck today”—she made a fanning motion in front of her face—“was it me, or was there enough heat generated to warm the sea temperature by a few degrees?”

“Definitely,” Gracie agreed. “So if you don’t want to just hook up, maybe you should go out on a date or something? I’m happy to babysit, not that Olivia technically needs a babysitter.”

The wine soured on Nat’s tongue and she swallowed convulsively, trying to erase the taste from her suddenly dry mouth. Gracie was as sweet as sugar, but only in her mid-twenties. She’d no idea what it was like to be thirty-three years old with a gaping, husband-sized hole missing from her heart. How could she even consider something as trivial as dating. And because, at the bare bones level, dating meant testing someone out as potential long-term relationship material, Nat just couldn’t comprehend it. Couldn’t risk even flirting with the idea.

“We’re not going to date, either,” she said.

Vee leaned forward to refill Nat’s wineglass, which was mysteriously empty. “Drink,” she ordered. “Then listen.”

“I have to be tipsy to listen to what you’re about to say?” Nat said, but she took a big swallow anyway.

“Isaac’s not a bad guy—” Vee said.

“We’ve already established that.”

Vee held up a stop sign palm. “Let me finish. He’s not a bad guy for you to climb back in that saddle with again. You know, to get over the man drought currently withering up your lady parts.”

Gracie once again choked on her wine, and even Nat couldn’t stop herself from laughing.

“Are you seriously telling me my lady parts are withered?” Nat asked on a giggle. But, damn, they must be if the leftover ache in them from that morning was any indication.

“Yep.” Vee toasted Nat with her wineglass. “And since this is the first man you’ve actually kissed back since I’ve known you—and with enthusiasm, so we heard—Isaac could be just the rainstorm you need to, er, freshen things up.”

“I can’t rush in to sleep with the man,” Nat said. “I’ve got Olivia to think of.”

Though exactly what she meant by that clichéd statement, she wasn’t sure. Thinking of Olivia because her daughter wouldn’t approve of her mum being in a physical relationship? Or because Olivia wouldn’t approve of her mum being in a relationship with Isaac?

“The two of you are very open about stuff,” Gracie said. “And wasn’t she trying to fix you up with one of the high-school teachers a few months ago? You won’t scar her for life if you announce you’re dating someone—”

“Or only pretending to date someone while you screw his brains out.” Vee rolled a shoulder. “Then everyone’s happy. Olivia has a mum who isn’t wound so tight, and you and Isaac can indulge in a few harmless, enjoyable sexy times until the fizzle naturally burns out—which it will.”

“Oh, that’s not at all cynical,” Gracie said. “But I agree with the first part of what Vee said. Have some sexy-time fun with Isaac if you want to. Keywords here—‘if you want to,’ and ‘fun.’ You deserve to have some fun in your life.”

“Perhaps I do.” Nat slitted her eyes at the diminishing wine left in her glass.

Could be the alcohol talking, but, yeah, she did deserve to have some fun.

Sexy, adult fun.

Vee, in her shoot from the hip and sometimes crass style, had it right. Isaac was the man of the match to dip her toe into the water with while she figured out if she wanted to continue getting back into the saddle to play ride ’em cowboy with a more suitable man in the future. And…

Maybe it was her withered lady parts or the wine talking, because those jumbled up clichés somehow made sense and seemed like a bloody good idea.