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Mick managed to summon a flicker of amusement.
“It has been, what, two years since the last one? Seems about right.”
“Which poor sacrificial lamb have they roped in this time?” Sean asked, making a rude noise. “Ten bucks says she’s the daughter of a politician or oil magnate.”
“Safe bet.”
“And the wedding is next week? Nice of them to give you so much notice. Were they hoping you wouldn’t be able to make it?”
“Apparently not,” said Mick. “Since I’ve been threatened with everything bar legal action if I don’t do my brotherly duty and make an appearance. They do have form for keeping me out of the loop.”
He couldn’t disguise the bitterness.
“So,” said Sean. “Back to Auckland.”
“Yeah.” Mick’s mouth set grimly. “It’s been a while.”
Not bloody long enough.
Chapter Four
“Done and dusted.” Sophy put down her pencil and looked at the wooden floor, which was coated with a layer of fine white stone particles. The chisel dust had a similar appearance to sieved icing sugar and the same habit of getting all over her skin and clothing when she worked with it. “In a manner of speaking.”
She laid the last prep sketch aside and looked at Mick, who was unfortunately wasting no time in putting his shirt back on. He’d given her four sketching sessions this week and she thought she had enough to start work on the actual sculpting next week. From this point, she could work from the drawings, the live model requirement fulfilled.
She wasn’t going to pretend that she wouldn’t miss him.
Any lingering self-consciousness when they were alone together had all but vanished. She actually enjoyed talking with him. Only once had she reverted to her habit of listening with one ear while inwardly retreating to her own thoughts and frankly he should have known better than to introduce Motocross into the conversation. She could manage rugby or basketball chat at a pinch. She drew the line at dirt bikes. She’d also discovered that he religiously watched Game of Thrones, but preferred the books and could state the numerous reasons why with the fervour of a true fanatic. She found the latent streak of geek immensely reassuring for the continuing prospects of their friendship.
He had noticeably engaged the brakes if the conversation steered near either his family or his love life.
“Are you sure you have everything that you need?” he asked, looking up from the buttons of his shirt. He shrugged his wide shoulders, adjusting the fit.
Sophy nodded.
“I can’t thank you enough for this, Mick.”
She ought to offer to buy him drinks or dinner. It would be the polite thing to do. There were limits, however, to her bravery. She wasn’t sure that she would ever conquer her anxiety to the extent of being able to ask a man out. In hindsight, shy men probably felt the same way, which was likely why she’d only ever had short-lived flings with obnoxious extroverts. And why most of her friends were at least three times more outgoing than she was. If you were too shy to make the first move, you had to wait for someone who could do so.
Not that dinner with Mick would be a date. It was friendship. They were friends. Of a sort.
“How much longer are you in town?” she asked hesitantly.
Mick slipped his watch back over his wrist.
“Ryland has business interests here, so he wants to stay with the exhibition another couple of weeks,” he said. She tried not to look openly relieved, but her spirits dropped when he went on, “But I’m taking leave to head to Auckland next week.”
“Oh,” she said lamely, and prayed that the sinking feeling in her stomach didn’t show in her expression. “Nice.”
She thought she heard a muffled snort, but his face was still lowered to the leather strap.
“It’s only for a couple of days and then I’ll be back until Ryland is ready to move on.” Having finished dressing, he looked up and presented her with that abhorred impersonation of granite. It wasn’t even a legitimate expression. It was a non-expression. “You’ll be getting stuck in with the carving?”
“Mm. I’ll start prepping the stone on Monday,” she said, looking forward to it. She always had a blast picking up the chisel for the first strike. She nervously picked at her thumbnail, her eyes skating away from his. “Hopefully I’ll get a reasonable amount done before the show packs up, so you can get an idea of what it’ll look like.”
“That would be good.” His voice was non-committal, but when she ventured a peek, his gaze had softened.
“Oh, cripes,” she said suddenly, catching sight of the wall clock. “Sorry, I have to make tracks. I swapped my shift at the bar tonight so I could spend the weekend at the vineyard with my parents. My friend Dale offered to drive me out there, but I have to call him before twelve.”
