Second Chance Christmas Read online

  Then she froze. So did Davy, who’d emerged from the spare bedroom, where she’d left her things.

  “Erm,” he said, then swallowed, the cords of his throat working. His eyes widened as they traveled from her bare shoulders to her concealed breasts and down her exposed legs. She pulled the towel tighter around her chest. She wasn’t what one would call shy about her body, but she felt vulnerable enough without being actually naked in front of him.

  “Yes?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “I, erm.” His eyes darted back to her face, his cheeks taking on a sunburned hue. “I left a clotheshorse in your room, in case you need it.”

  “Thanks.” She waited for him to move, since he was standing between her and her belongings, but his feet seemed to be fastened to the floor. “Do you mind?”

  “Oh, sorry.” He shuffled away, head down, the blush spreading down the back of his neck. Despite her best intentions, Evie found his embarrassment endearing. It wasn’t often that a capable, talkative man like him was at a loss for words, and she was flattered that he found her attractive. Part of her wondered if he’d still react that way to her body if she’d stayed with him after high school, as he’d wanted, or would the novelty have worn off?

  No, don’t go down that road.

  Hurrying into the bedroom, she closed the door with a soft click and leaned against it. You made your decision, she reminded herself. You don’t get to have second thoughts now.

  Evie could admit her weaknesses. She was flighty, scattered and temperamental, but she’d always been smart. Too smart to be dwelling on “what ifs” and the mossy green of Davy O’Connor’s eyes. She dressed, then withdrew a small fleece blanket from the bottom of her suitcase. From within the folded blanket she extracted a photo frame, then wiped the glass and placed it on the bedside cabinet. She studied the photograph, which showed a petite Maori woman with straight bangs and a short ponytail, her arm around Evie, both of them grinning. Evie and Kahurangi didn’t look much alike, except in stature, but their souls had been the same. They’d never had much, but Kahurangi had done her best and often sacrificed her own wants for her daughter. She’d been all the whanau, or family, Evie had. Now, she was alone.

  “E aroha no ahau ki a koe, e Mama,” Evie murmured. I love you, Mum.

  Next to the photograph, she placed her scuffed hardcover edition of The Little Match Girl. She’d read it tomorrow. Finally, she lay down, palms resting on her stomach, and closed her eyes. Almost immediately, unwelcome doubts crept up on her, weighing heavily on her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

  Sitting up, she rubbed circles over her heart and focused on the photograph of her mother. Kahurangi had never battled with restlessness the way Evie did, or with knowing where she belonged. She’d been happy here in Itirangi, and she hadn’t understood Evie’s desire to travel and educate herself about the world. Evie had thought her shortsighted, but now she questioned that. She’d been to half a dozen countries, worked dozens of different jobs, and she’d delighted in her lifestyle for a while, but it no longer held joy. Maybe Kahurangi had known more than her willful daughter thought.

  “Oh, Mama,” she sighed. “What am I going to do?”

  Davy had expected Evelyn to join him in the living area once she’d dressed, but half an hour passed with no sign of her. Was she hiding? It hardly seemed like her usual modus operandi—which as far as he could tell was to flaunt herself in front of him at every opportunity and show him what he’d missed out on—but he didn’t question her absence too much. Having some distance from her was a relief after how he’d reacted earlier. He’d never stopped being attracted to Evelyn—any man with a pulse would appreciate the way she looked—but he’d rather she didn’t know how she affected him. Not after all this time.

  Affixing a wreath to the wall, he eyed his laptop, which waited on the dining table. Sighing, he rubbed his temples, then took a seat in front it, staring at the rows and columns. Numbers and words shifted beneath his gaze, rearranging themselves into gibberish. He gritted his teeth and used his palm to cover all of the columns but one to reduce the distractions. He’d been battling to make sense of the damn spreadsheet all day and was getting nowhere. Dyslexia was a bitch.

  Scrolling through the numbers one by one, he tallied them on a calculator. Then two of the rows appeared to swap places and he lost track of where he was. Swearing wholeheartedly, he cleared the calculator and started again. This time, he made it to the end of the column, but even while his mind cheered at the success, his heart sank at the thought of how long it would take to get everything up to date. He had a long way to go.

  He grabbed a pen and paper to record the final number, but as he did his attention wavered and the words and numbers became indecipherable again.

  “Bollocks!” he growled, hurling the notepad across the room. It dislodged the wreath he’d just hung, which hit the floor with a thud. He hauled in several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. The more stressed he became, the worse his dyslexia got.

  “Are you okay?” Evelyn asked, hovering in the doorway. “I heard a bang.”

  “That was me,” he drawled. “Because a grown man is entitled to a temper tantrum sometimes.”

  To his surprise, she crossed to his side and looked over his shoulder. “What’s got you so wound up?” She scanned the screen. “The books for the bar?”

  He desperately wanted to slam the laptop shut and chase her away. It was bad enough that he was failing to take care of his business’s finances, but to have her witness his shortcoming—well, it wouldn’t do.

  “Yeah,” he muttered, twisting to face her, hoping to draw her attention away from the messy spreadsheet. “I thought you were gonna hide all night.”

  Annoyance flickered through her eyes as his verbal jab struck true. “I wasn’t hiding. I was trying not to intrude. But you’re hiding something. Tell me what the problem is. It might shock you, but I’m a pretty competent bookkeeper.”

  He stared, wide-eyed. He couldn’t help it. It wasn’t that he’d ever thought Evelyn was stupid, but in high school you’d be far more likely to have encountered her at a rave than a library. His thoughts must have shown on his face, because she huffed.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not dumb.”

  “Didn’t say you were, darlin’,” he replied, knowing the endearment would piss her off. “Go ahead, then. Take a look.” It couldn’t hurt to have a second set of eyes check his figures. He slid the laptop in front of her, and she sat.

  “These are a mess,” she murmured, scrolling down the page while he watched, enthralled. Not only did she seem to understand the blasted numbers and words, but with a few clicks, she transported the data into a tidy table that most people would have found easy to interpret. She’d been right, she was completely competent, a fact that served to remind him of his own incompetency.

  A tangled mash of guilt and shame churned in his gut. Guilt that he’d misjudged her, and shame that his brain was so broken he’d studied the numbers for hours and been unable to do what she had in a matter of minutes.

  Finally, she paused, placing her hands one on top of the other and meeting his gaze. “Who taught you to bookkeep?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “Nobody. I muddled my way through it.”

  “Oh.” She winced. “Sorry if I was blunt.”

  “That’s okay.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I know they’re not great.” That tended to happen when a person couldn’t tell an “A” from an “N” or a “5” from a “6”. He sighed. “I have an audit soon, and they’re going to have a field day when they see these.”

  Her eyes twinkled, and her lips quirked up at the corners. “I see an opportunity here. You let me stay the night, and in return, I’ll tidy up your books.”

  He hesitated, not sure she realized exactly how much work would be involved, and she mistook his hesitation for reluctance.

  “I’ll keep out of your way,” she assured him. “I’m sure you have fami
ly plans for Christmas that don’t involve me.”

  “I do have plans,” he admitted. His family weren’t the kind of people to be bothered by having extra guests, but he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about her being near them. It struck a little close to home when he’d once dreamed of her joining their ranks. But he’d also never find someone else willing to bail him out without charging thousands of dollars. “But yeah, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  “Great.” She grinned. “Then we’ll be even.” She paused, then added, “Perhaps I shouldn’t admit it, but I’m looking forward to digging into these. I love a good challenge, and it’s a well-timed distraction.”

  He felt compelled to defend his poor bookkeeping skills, but without admitting his condition, he really couldn’t, and he didn’t want gorgeous Evelyn to know his secret. “I hope you enjoy it, then.”

  Her gaze softened. “Thanks, Davy. For letting me stay here, and for not calling the girls. I just don’t think I can handle being around them right now.”

  More than anything, he wanted to know why that was, but she didn’t volunteer the information and he didn’t ask. Evelyn wasn’t his business anymore. She’d made that perfectly clear when she’d stuck a knife in his heart and driven away without a care for the shambles of a man she’d left behind.

  Chapter 3

  Evie texted Monica to tell her about the change of plans, then dived happily into Davy’s financial records, pleased to have both something to occupy her time and the chance to pay him back. It had been months since she’d challenged her brain with anything more than basic sums at the cafe counter, or the daily sudoku in the newspaper, and she’d been looking for something to test her limits.

  She bored easily, which was one of the reasons she constantly tried new jobs, learnt new skills, met new people, and moved to new places. At least, it had been until the constant rotation of people and places itself became dull and unfulfilling.

  Seriously, though. These records were in poor condition. She could only decipher as much as she had because she’d spent a lot of time poring over haphazard data before.

  Davy returned from making two cups of tea in the squared off kitchen in the corner and dropped into the seat beside her.

  “Is there a reason you don’t use a software program to manage your information?” she asked.

  He scowled. “I prefer to keep it simple. It’s a small business, there’s no point in spending money on a fancy electronic system.”

  It may be a small business, but based on the financials, he was making a tidy profit. “You should be able to afford a basic system,” she said. “Do you have any other records I need to see?”

  “I have papers in my office, but everything has been copied onto the computer. I can get the originals if you need.”

  “I’ll let you know if I do, but for now this should be enough.” She stood, shuffling the papers into a pile on the laptop keyboard. “I’ll take these back to the bedroom, so I’m out of your hair.”

  “Suit yourself. And thank you for your help.”

  “Oh.” She deflated. “You’re welcome.” For some reason, she’d been hoping he’d ask her to stay in the living area so they could work through the documents together. Silly, but she was disappointed he didn’t want to keep her company. “Okay then. I’ll see you later.” With that, she retreated to the bedroom.

  Sitting cross-legged on the bed, she began to organize the numbers, cross-checking when they didn’t seem to add up. Realizing that in some instances the numbers had been reversed, she frowned. Davy may be a sloppy bookkeeper, but he hadn’t struck her as careless. As a teenager, he’d been one of the most conscientious people she knew.

  Extending her legs, she reclined against the wall and scratched her chin. She’d have to get the original documentation so she could see which numbers were correct and which were mistakes. Fortunately, this only added to the challenge and gave her a reason to talk to him again. She wandered back to the terribly festive living room. She’d only glanced in as she’d passed earlier, and had been too distracted to fully appreciate the extent of Davy’s Christmas-mania, but now she paused and took it all in.

  Tinsel adorned every flat surface and lights were strung up on the walls. A number of wreaths were fixed in place, and an eight-foot-tall pine tree stood proudly in the corner with a selection of gift-wrapped boxes beneath it, surrounded by fake snow. The tree itself was only partially decorated. A work in progress. Davy hung a red ball from the end of a branch and turned to smile at her. It was an easy, toothy smile. The kind you might give a close friend. The kind that had no business making her heart flutter.

  “How’s it going?” he asked.

  Evie debated how to phrase this diplomatically. She decided the direct approach would be best. “Not all of the numbers match. Can I get those papers you mentioned to cross-check with the spreadsheet?”

  He raked a hand through his hair, tousling the ginger locks, which stood up like he’d been electrocuted. “Man, it’s worse than I thought. Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure,” she replied. “But it’s not a big deal if you keep all your paperwork.”

  He looked pained. “I do. I’ll get it for you.”

  She hesitated, then asked, “Would you like me to show you what kind of errors I’m talking about? I don’t want to go ahead and change anything if I’m going to screw up your record-keeping system.”

  The bauble clutched in Davy’s fist shattered, shards digging into his skin.

  “No,” he snapped, hating the way she flinched back from him. “You don’t need to show me. I believe you.”

  She persisted. “I know I agreed to tidy your books, but the decisions on how to do that are still yours.” She opened the laptop on the coffee table, hit a few keys, then beckoned him over.

  With a sense of impending doom, he crossed to her side and pretended to read over her shoulder. He nodded, as if it made sense. In reality, the letters were circling and spinning before his eyes. She pointed to a column and explained how she’d determined where the issues had arisen. Her words may as well have been gobbledygook.

  Finally, she leveled him with an irritated glare. “Have you listened to anything I’ve said?”

  “Abso-friggin-lutely,” he exclaimed, trying so hard to sound enthusiastic that it came out sarcastic. “I mean, of course.”

  “I highly doubt that. What’s one thing I’ve said in the last few minutes?” When he couldn’t reply, she stood abruptly. “If you don’t care about the details, just say so next time.”

  He grabbed her shoulder. “Wait.”

  She froze. Then, very deliberately, she lifted his hand off her shoulder and stepped out of reach. “What?”

  He swallowed, his tongue thick. He had to come clean and hope she didn’t laugh at him.

  “I’m dyslexic,” he admitted. “I can’t understand what you’re trying to show me, because I can’t read it.” He hung his head, studied the floor, and waited for her scorn. After all, what grown-ass man couldn’t read properly?

  But she didn’t laugh. Instead, she ordered him to look at her. He lifted his gaze slowly.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that at the beginning?” she asked, her tone gentle.

  He shrugged. “I was embarrassed. Wouldn’t you be?”

  Her brows drew together. “How did I not notice this when we were dating?”

  He shrugged again. “I have lots of coping mechanisms, but sometimes it isn’t enough. Some days I can manage, and some days I’m practically illiterate. It’s pathetic.”

  Evie held eye contact and enunciated clearly, “Some people are good at some things, and some are good at others. Reading isn’t your strong suit. That’s not the end of the world. As far as your records go, you’ll just have to trust me, or get a second opinion.”

  “I trust you.” He had to. No one else had ever seen the state of his records, and he’d prefer to keep it that way for as long as he could. He supposed that meant until the auditor arrived. Even th
e thought unsettled his stomach. He pushed it from his mind and instead pondered the mystery of Evelyn. When it came to his financial records, she seemed to genuinely know what she was doing—and enjoyed it. Weird, that. He’d never have picked her as the type of person who liked math, and he’d thought he’d known her well. Now, he wondered how much of what he knew was true and how much was his own preconception. After all, she’d thought she’d known him, too, but he’d kept his condition from her.

  “How long are you staying in the area?” he asked. “This might take a while longer than you thought.”

  She nibbled her lower lip. “I really don’t know.”

  He nodded. It wouldn’t be the first time Evelyn blew through town with no clue where she was going or what she was doing next. She seemed to prefer living that way. A fact that rankled when he’d once hoped for her to settle down with him.

  “If it convinces you to stay longer, I’ll pay you for your time.” Heck, she could name her price.

  She rolled her eyes. “I said I’d do it, so I’ll do it. I should be in Timaru for at least a week, which gives me plenty of time. A friend of mine runs an orchard and I’ll be berry picking for her over New Year’s. I can work on your books in the evenings. After I’ve gotten the old data up to scratch, you’re on your own for anything going forward. Deal?”

  “Deal,” he replied without hesitation, shaking the hand she extended. Then, overwhelmed by a surge of gratitude, he ducked his head and kissed her cheek.