Cassie's Chance (2 page)

Chief Boatman

Tuesday
dawned sunny, but very gusty and cool. So she stayed at the studio and painted and read until well into the afternoon, when the wind calmed. It still wasn't warm, so she decided against a swim, but guessed it wouldn't hurt to see if he was at the beach. She could get his picture with her phone.

She got distracted on the way.

She found the art gallery again, in the middle of things, bookshop on one side, outdoor café on the other. Bustling. Lots of cars nosed into the kerb, and many people wandering. On a whim, she decided she'd have a closer look at the art.

They had
bits of everything. A wall of paintings drew her; a striking seascape particularly. Spray seemed to fly from its canvas. She'd never been able to capture sea like that.

A weather-beaten, kind-eyed man came over, having seen her interest, and
she found him as fascinating as the painting.

Cassie
admitted she painted too, that her passion was depicting birds. She said she also painted people if they had something that attracted her. She agreed to show him a picture if she finished one while in Marsden Bay.

When he broke off talking to answer a question from another tourist
, she realized time was passing, and she'd better hit the waterfront.

Her mouth crease
d tight as she walked past the cats, their sails down, tidied away. Perhaps the wind had been too strong for sailing. And she didn't see any paua-eyed men in orange-fading-into-red tees with Marsden Cat Hire scrawled across. Too bad. She'd do without a live model; she'd make something up.

"
It's you again. Looking for me?"

Damn. Sh
e hadn't heard him coming. His eyes were hidden by the silver-coated shades, but the same chest, tousled hair, and deep bass voice wooed her mind. Her skin tingled.

He lift
ed the shades and his intense eyes swallowed her, his lips opening as his smile broke out.

She
turned, so she wasn't looking toward the dancing dazzle of sun on the water, and pulled off her sunglasses.

"
Hi," said Cassie. "I remember you." Was there a sillier line in all the world? Her glasses twisted in her hands.

"
You like sailing?" His voice had an allure, a teasing quality.

He indicated t
he nearest yacht. "Free trial. A bit windy today though, eh? We have wind surfers too." He pointed over toward the sea wall.

Cassie
looked over at the fiberglass boards, their sails laid flat on the sand, each daring her to lift it so the breeze could fly her across the bay. No, she concluded. She'd have spray in her face for a moment and then be tipped in a wet heap. And that wouldn't look attractive.

"I don't
," she said. "That is, I never have."

She indicated the boards and the boats with a brief sweep of her arm.
"Is this what you do all day: mind surf boards like an aquarium keeper looking after sharks? Flat whites." She giggled. "What's your name?"

God, she was beha
ving like she'd had three wines. She rarely had
any
. Alcohol was not a slimming drink.

He laughed and scratched his cheek
"Rangi. Short for Rangatira, eh. Chief."

Right.
So he
was
Maori.

Rangi moved a step closer. "I
like to be in charge . . . of everything." Why did he stand so close? He was almost in her space again. His eyes widened and focused on her more closely. "Going to tell me your name?"

She
'd been holding her breath, and let it out slowly.

"
Cassie."

He
was gorgeous. She tried hard to look at him without appearing to. It wasn't easy to look disinterested with her sunglasses off.

"
Chief? I guess you mean Chief Boatman?" She waved at the cats. "It doesn't look like you've got a very hard job."

Shame he had an attitude. He had looks to die for
, but an ego big enough to trip over. And it no longer seemed the moment to ask if he'd pose while she took a picture to paint from.

Rangi shrugged. "You haven't any idea what the job involves." He sounded dismissive, as if her opinion didn't matter.

She'd thought about him off and on all day. But she could stop now. He might be hunky, but he was rude.

"I was out for a walk,
and a swim, that's all," she said.

"
I finish in an hour, at five." he said quickly. "I could buy you a drink. In fact, you should let me." He smiled again and her doubts wavered. Hunky described him well.

Cassie
told him she'd read a bit and think about it. She squished her way up the dry sand to the seawall. She flopped down on her towel under the pohutakawa and pulled out her Kindle.

Rangi
had moved back among the boats, and was pulling one at a time further up the beach. She saw him turn and run to the water's edge as another of the boats approached at speed. He helped the sailors pull it out and drop the sails.

Cassie had lost her place.
Her Kindle had shut down. She tapped it impatiently to get past the advertising so she could continue with
Two Hours Past Sunset.
But the story didn't seem familiar.

What was
Rangi doing? Those reflective silver sunglasses were pointing in her direction, but then he bent to pick up something off the sand.

S
he tapped the screen to go back further. She glanced up. He was leaning against the hull of one of the catamarans.

Ca
ssie wasn't in the mood for
Two Hours.
She closed up the Kindle and rummaged for her phone. No texts since Auckland. She scrolled through, looking to see if she owed anyone one.

She'd missed
one from Glenda, a friend at her former job. She hadn't let Glenda know she was taking the holiday, so she fired off a brief one. And Glenda replied, so she had to give her the story. That took a few texts.

"I'm done, Cassie."

She jumped. She'd forgotten about him. The boards were stacked, the baby catamarans pulled up beyond the sea's reach. 

His dry, smooth hand pulled her up. But she felt awkwa
rd, ungainly, in the face of another wide smile that seems to shut out everything else, even the magnificent rose hue above the horizon.

"It's j
ust across the road," he said. "Great kai there too. You hungry?

C
razy. But she couldn't claim any prior plans.

"Ok."
She'd be safe enough in a hectic, noisy bar.

They ran across
the busy road between cars.

"Alcoholic or
non?"

So
Rangi was choosing for her? Cocky bugger. Most people would ask what you liked.

"
Non," she said quickly. He nodded and squeezed past the brightly clothed crush at the bar.

"
Here." Rangi held out a tall glass. "Lime and bitters. Let's go over there." He pointed to some booths that faced the road, and the view out to sea. Folding windows stood open and the evening breeze wafted across their table.

"
Cheers," he said, lifting his beer. "Thank you for joining me. You look lovely."

With her artist's eyes she studied him.
Thick arched eyebrows with glistening close cropped hair. He obviously liked the short look, though he had a tuft up top. And a hint of beard, but not enough to scratch.

She sipped.
Not that it mattered. She wouldn't be kissing him, and she squeezed her legs together firmly under the table.

"What's your real name," she
asked. She liked to keep the upper hand and he wasn't getting away with that chief business.

He
laughed. "I was named Kahurangi after my koro; my grandad. But everyone shortens it to Rangi. Obviously I'm not really a Chief. That's a family joke. You probably have a proper name too -you can't be just Cassie."

"
Oh." She flushed, and quickly took another sip. "You're right. I'm Cassandra, but my parents never called me that."

"Do
you like it? It's a grand-sounding name."

She shrugged.
"I never hear it; no one uses it."

She liked his hands. She wanted her sketchbook. Long fingers in many hues of brown.

Rangi nodded.
"You in Marsden Bay by yourself?"

She nodded.
"Yes. I gave up my job and have a couple of weeks before I'm going to start freelancing.

"
Graphic art," she added as she saw the question on his face.

"
I like artists," said Rangi. "My mum painted a bit. So did I when I was a kid, but I was never very good."

He leaned forward.
"Tell me about your work."

So
she did. There wasn't much to tell. Computers, mainly. Logos and advertising banners and photo manipulation. But it paid the bills. Hopefully freelancing would pay a few more.

Rangi nodded when she finished.
"You picked a nice place for a holiday. Should get some nice hot days."

S
he was feeling hot right then. He was so near; not threatening, just near. Part of her wanted to reach across the small distance and touch him again. The hand-up had felt so good. He smelled nice - not perfumed - just manly, his open face growing on her.

"
A few months ago, when I still thought my ex might be worth it, I booked us a 'rediscovering the lust' holiday," Cassie said. "Two weeks ago, I told him he was a wimp and we were past our use-by, but I was taking the holiday anyway." A smirk played around her lips as she recalled the scene.

"
Do you like doing outrageous things, Cassie?"

Her mouth dropped open.
"What's outrageous about dumping a guy who won't take responsibility for anything?" She exclaimed. "And the holiday was paid for. With my money. I wasn't wasting it."

He leaned back slightly, his tongue caressing his teeth as he looked at her.

"You're adventurous," he said. "You need a challenge."

Cassie felt
a gauntlet being thrown down between them. It was time to go, before she got in too deep. The sun was setting. She could walk back before it got dark.

"Thanks for the
drink." She stood, reaching for her raffia bag's green straps.

H
e stood too, only a small lacquered table with two glasses on it between them. He grinned. "Retreating, Cassie? What about dinner? You don't have something organized, I'm sure."

"
Well. . ." She could listen to his voice all night, and while she had been practical and shopped, she didn't particularly want to go and cook. But she didn't want to get hooked into anything she would regret, either. Men all wanted the same thing. She loved to get off too, but the whole relationship deal had no appeal any more, and she couldn't imagine when it would again. The occasional drink, ok.

"
What do you have in mind?" She said.

Oh my god.
Her voce seemed to be controlled by someone else. She didn't want an invite. She wanted to get away from him.

H
e guided her out of the booth; they ordered at a side counter and he looked into her eyes as they waited. She hoped her brown eyed gaze held as much directness as his did. She wasn't going to be anyone's walkover.

She
realized it was takeaways. "Where are we going? Can't we stay here?" She kept it light, but she didn't know him at all.

"We could stay here, but I'd like
to sit with you back on the beach. It's noisy here and I like the sound of your Aussie accent, which I can hardly hear. I think you'd prefer some quiet too, wouldn't you?

Rangi's challenge

They sat on the sea wall, legs dangling, fish and chips on paper between them.

"Hope you like it," he said.

"I like anything fishy," she told him. And she was hungrier than she'd thought. The smell of the snapper was so inviting, she nearly burned her tongue on the first piece she picked up.

The
horizon held a fiery glow; all that remained of the day's heat and light. His face was indistinct now.

"
How long have you lived here?" she asked.

"Just a few months."

Rangi told her he came from Whangarei, and was working the summer for his Uncle, which meant sitting on the beach most of the time. But it was something to do. He wasn't enthused, so she knew there was more behind the story. Wasn't there for everyone?

Cassie knew how claustrophobic relatives could be - and how obliged one felt to assi
st when they came asking. She didn't pry, but when the chips were finished and the paper tossed in a bin, she found herself leaning against him as he moved his arm behind her. She liked his warmth. Maybe it was just the evening. The jacket stayed in her bag.

"What's the
craziest thing you've ever done," he asked.

"I dunno
," she said. What a question. "Sleepovers without consent when I was at high school." She suppressed a giggle at the memory.

"
How do your girlfriends rate you? A risk taker or a closet-dweller?"

Cassie had no idea.
"Not everyone is cut out to be Marco Polo," she said.

He chuckled.
"Very few people. But do you try new things, or do the same ones all the time?"

He was definitely going somewhere with this; her skin prickled.

Cassie wavered. "I guess I take risks, she said."

She flicked her head round suddenly.
"That doesn't mean I jump into bed with someone I just met. Or go home with them!"

Rangi ignored the indignation
. "I won't be following you home. But if you were given a challenge that didn't involve anything sexual or harmful, what would stop you doing it?"

She felt his arm
squeeze a little tighter around her. "Well, Cassie?"

She was more than confused. "
Um... you mean like drinking games to get someone wobbly so you can take advantage of them?"

"Silly girl,"
he said softly. "That would potentially be both harmful
and
sexual. You didn't listen to the question."

She bristled
. The term 'girl' wasn't a term she thought appropriate.

"
I guess," she said, "I'd be up for a challenge if it wasn't going to be harmful.

"
-or embarrassing," she added, recalling an office Christmas party from five yrs earlier. It had been best forgotten; thankfully held in the days before most people knew what could be done with Facebook.

T
ell me," he said, as he pulled her off the wall and upright onto the sand. "Are you staying close by?"

She told him the apartment complex name.

He nodded. "That is close. But it's a very small town. I'll walk to the end of the road with you. It's near where I park."

His hand
felt good wrapped around hers. She grabbed the bag with her other hand and they walked along the beach.

It was a beautiful night,
with lights of many colors on the water. The tide sucked and gurgled softly as it receded ripple by ripple, and occasional bursts of talk and music came over the wind from the bars across the road.

She would come and see him again.
She knew she would. Just to see him so she could paint him, if for nothing else.

She noticed
the wharf looming closer, and expected they would step up onto the road, but he led her underneath it. As they passed into its shadow, he stopped, and turned to face her, taking both hands in his.

"
Time for a challenge, Cassandra," he said. "When was the last time you went skinny-dipping?"

"
What?" Her first reaction was to pull away. Stories of raped and murdered girls flooded her conscious.

He h
eld her firmly, but as she settled, his grip lessened. She could easily pull loose if she wanted.

"Well, C
assandra? Nothing sexual or embarrassing; it's too dark for me to see you, no one else will either, and I won't touch you."

H
e paused and the tide slapped at the wharf piles, applauding his challenge. "You know you want to."

How could he possibly think she wanted to? She did not.
She'd only just met him.

"
No way, Rangi," she hissed through the dark. "I never skinny-dipped at high school. What makes you think I'd do it with a stranger under a dark wharf, miles from home? You think I'm crazy?"

She bit her lip. Why had she decided against swimming earlier and come without her
Speedo? She had on white lingerie. Would it show if she kept it on?

Damn him.

"What's with calling me Cassandra," she finally got out.

He stepped away.
His alluring voice came through the darkness; she could barely make out his shape. "I like your long name, and I've decided I'll use it. Put your clothes in your bag; leave it up by the wall. The tide's going out, nothing will happen to it."

As he spoke the,
tide slopped around the wharf piles and sucked at the sand near their feet.

Breeze ruffled her dress as h
e stood in silence.

L
ight from the rest of the world sneaked under the wharf edge and danced for her on the surface as the sea tickled the piles.

What a cheap trick.
Daring her without warning. She supposed it was safe enough, and she couldn't think of a suitable retort. She guessed he was trying to show her up: teasing her, with no intention of following through. Time to call his bluff.

"All right
Mr Smartass. Get your stuff off."

She pulled her dress over her head with a quick tug, and loosed her bra, balling them and bending to tuck them into the bag. She didn't want wet pants either, and it was too dark to matter, so they followed. She could see the darker shape of the concrete wall and walked the few steps
up to it, putting her sandals on top of the bag.

She sensed him, scented him. Was he really
going to strip? She heard something drop lightly onto the sand, and then, silhouetted against the water's gleam, saw his dark shape merge with the harbor and sink low.

"
There are no rocks in the middle here, Cassandra. It's all sand, so come close to me and you'll be fine."

She wasn't
going anywhere close to him. The water stopped her breath as she walked into it and submerged herself to the neck.

"
Wooo, it's not as warm as yesterday," she said.

She could hear his smile.
"Nice though, isn't it? I'm pleased with you, Cassandra."

Pleased with her?
She wasn't a kid in his class.

"Y
ou do take risks, don't you?" His voice was very close, velvet in the darkness. Anticipation welled, jostling with panic. What was next?"

"
No touching," she gasped, after a remnant of swell found its way under the wharf and its energy wooshed water over her shoulders and into her face.

H
is voice was reassuring. "I'm staying where I am. You're quite safe. But I will push you to try things. Like I just did."

"
I barely know you."

"True, but you know me more than you did when you
stepped off the bus. I expect you'll soon know me quite well."

The tide swirled and breathed as she wondered how to answer.

"You're attracted, aren't you?" The voice in the night continued. "Didn't you come down to the beach this afternoon in the hope you'd see me?"

She saw his form had swum closer. But not too close.

The stupid thing was, she
did
feel safe. Everything screamed warning and danger and yet something reckless in her wanted to be held. She wanted to send that piece away in a strait-jacket.

She shivered. "I've had enough."

"Of course. Don't get cold." She saw him rise and wade out. Amazing how her eyes had adjusted. But not enough to see very much. Which meant he wouldn't either. Thank God.

In the breeze, it was colder out. She found
her bag. She skipped the towel and underwear to get covered faster. It wasn't easy to get the dress on while wet. She wished she'd not panicked. She rummaged around and found her jean jacket, and pulled it on.

"
Here." His hand touched her arm and found her hand. She held it. Damp but reassuring. Breath gushed out of her. She'd dared and it had been ok.

She giggled.
"I guess that was fun."

The
sand clung to her toes as she walked out from under the wharf with him and up onto the road. She saw he'd only pulled his shorts on, and carried the rest; his chest had a wet luster under the streetlights' glare. And he didn't low-ride; that was a pleasant relief.

She squinted
while her pupils contracted, and let go his hand to fish out her sandals. Rangi pulled his shirt and his canvas shoes on, after dusting the sand off his feet.

"
That's your road." Rangi pointed across the crossing to the street opposite. Recognise it?

She did now he pointed it out.

"Thanks, I'll be fine from here," she said. Was this the moment when he invited himself into her sanctuary? And, if she said no, would he listen?

However, before she could decide
on a response - and she wasn't sure she was going to decline, which appalled her mind's remaining rational part - he lightly touched her cheek.

"It'
s been great meeting you. And you know where I work." He gave her the smile again. "I'm off home now. Take care, eh?"

And he walked away. Stunned, she saw
him drag open the driver's door of a battered pick-up parked in the first space past the crossing.

Without a look back,
he was gone, accompanied by a snarly snort from an obviously worn muffler.