Chapter 1

1

“I don’t bloody believe this.” Nathaniel “Nate” Dunn took a deep breath. “So, any idea when my flight might actually leave?”

The woman at the counter gave him what she probably thought was a pleasant smile. Instead, it came across as condescending with a touch of oh, help me, God, how stupid is this guy?“I’ve already told you—” she glanced at his ticket “—Mr. Dunn…Nathaniel…I don’t have that information. The fog will lift when it decides to lift, and we can’t begin to reschedule flights until that time. In the meantime, you’ll have to wait like everyone else.”

“You don’t understand. I have to be in Christchurch this afternoon. I have a job interview tomorrow.”

“Of course, you do.” The woman seemed ready to dismiss him but then appeared to reconsider. “If you’re desperate, perhaps you can catch the afternoon ferry sailing to Picton and then a flight from either Blenheim or Nelson.”

“The ferries are full.” Nate read the name on her badge—Heather Rawlins. “Ms. Rawlins, I’ve already thought of that.” He waved his hand to indicate the full airport. Many of those in line behind him were students. Several of them looked very young, and they had parents hovering around them. Probably their first time away from home, and not a great start to a course of study at either Canterbury or Otago universities. “Uni starts back last week of February. That’s next week. There’s only me and several hundred others trying to make it to the South Island.”

“You’d better settle in and wait, then, hadn’t you? This might take a while.” Heather looked past him. “Next, please.”

“Charming,” Nate muttered. Why the hell had the fog decided to pick today of all days to turn up? Beautiful weather for weeks, and on the only day he needed to fly out of Wellington, the bloody stuff foiled his plans. His flatmate, Amy, had warned him to be prepared for delays when they hadn’t been able to see the airport from across the harbor that morning, but he hadn’t listened. Fog in the morning didn’t mean the stupid stuff would hang around all day. Typical of his luck lately. “Windy Wellington” and today there wasn’t even a breeze to blow the fog out.

It was a conspiracy.

Much like the rest of his life. One could only take so much of pretending everything was hunky-dory and plastering on a false smile. He was sick of it. Bad enough that Glenn—who he’d thought was the “one,” the guy he’d be with forever—had dumped him, but to find out his job of the last ten years was finishing as well? And now this…

“Next, please,” Heather repeated.

“Excuse me, sir,” a man behind him said in an American accent. “There’s a line here, and I’m sure the lady has done all she could to help you.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Nate mumbled. He moved to the side but didn’t walk away. Although he knew he was being difficult, once he got started, he couldn’t stop. He was on a roll, and this shitty morning was the icing on a very shitty year.

A year that was supposed to be better than the last one but so far had started off way worse.

Maybe he should have given in to his initial urge to curl up into a ball and ignore life, the universe, and everything. But then, that would have been boring, wouldn’t it? That was what Glenn had called him, and heaven forbid he let that arsehole be right about anything.

Nate would give Glenn “boring.” He wasn’t boring. He was the least boring person he knew. Wasn’t he?

Oh God.

What if Glenn was right? While Nate knew he wasn’t the most exciting person in the world, he’d always been comfortable with his existence. What if he’d been toocomfortable?

And what if this whole mess was a sign he shouldn’t be going for this job?

On the other hand, if he wasn’t qualified, why would they give him an interview? The woman he’d talked to seemed to think Nate might be exactly the person they were looking for to run their new gallery. The job was the opportunity of a lifetime, not to mention one hell of a move up from his current job—the one that was about to disappear out from under him. Opportunities like this didn’t come up often, but the quake in Christchurch meant rebuilding, and that offered him the chance to be involved in a project right from the beginning, to put his mark on it and make a name for himself. But that wasn’t the only appeal. They’d asked for some of his sketches after he’d let it slip that he was an artist, and after he sent them, they seemed really excited by his work.