Chapter 7
Early Sunday morning Zane sat in his desk chair at A To Z, scrolling through the schedule and trying to focus on the day ahead instead of whom he’d been with the night before, when Adam strolled into the office. He set a coffee beside the computer and then wiggled two twenties in front of Zane’s face.
Damn.
Snatching the bills, he half-shoved them under the pen- and pencil-filled cube on the desk.
“No wonder you look like hell,” his twin said. “Blue balls, huh?”
“We shouldn’t have made that bet,” he muttered.
Adam fell back on one foot, his hand over his heart like he was having an attack. “You never hesitate to make a bet, take a bet.”
“I shouldn’t have done it this time.” Only jerks bet on bedding woman, though he had bet that he would not. No difference.
“But—”
“Shouldn’t have done it,” Zane repeated, aware he sounded surly as hell.
“It wasn’t exactly a land giveaway,” Adam said.
That had been the seed for five decades of feuding that had divided the town. A card hand and a bet gone wrong…meaning that Grandpa Max had lost a tract of his most valuable land and winner John Westbrook hadn’t hesitated to scoop it up. But there’d been other causes and other grudges that kept the hostility alive for years until Bailey and Ryder’s romance forced everybody on both sides to begin to play nice, finally, just this spring.
At that moment, Gambler ambled into the office, took one look at the low cupboard door Zane had left open when he went for printer paper and nearly jumped out of his fur coat. With a whimper, he dashed to the knee well cut into the desk, knocking over a waste basket on his way, and cowered between Zane’s legs.
His brother bent to peer inside the cabinet. “Better add boxes of paperclips to the Terror List.”
Zane sighed, his hand reaching down to fondle the dog’s ears. Just yesterday Gambler had seemed to be a whole new canine when listening to little Bella read. But there it was, proof that leopards didn’t change their spots.
Adam hitched his hip onto a corner of the desk. “You know, we haven’t talked about Wednesday night.”
“Huh?” Zane gave his brother a wary look. He’d kissed the librarian in public on the sidewalk then. “What about Wednesday night?”
“When Bailey shared with us that Mom is coming back to town for her restaurant opening.”
“Oh.” Zane frowned. “That.”
“I guess they’re making a reunion movie for Mom’s old sitcom.”
“You mean Tori Remington’s old sitcom.” Their mother left for Hollywood as Vicky Tucker, but when she’d been cast as the mother in Mother May I, she’d become another person. Leaving her real name behind as well as her husband, sons, and daughter.
“According to Bailey, it got her thinking she wanted a chance to reunite with us.”
“Huh.” Zane returned his attention to his computer screen.
After a moment’s silence, he sensed his twin’s impatience. “Well?” Adam finally said. “What do you think about it?”
“That’s my favorite part about being a twin. We know what each other’s thinking most of the time, meaning we don’t have to get into it.”
“So then I’m right and you think it’s crap that she’s coming back because it might upset everybody—including threatening that he-man, got-no-soft-side front you show to the world—and you feel—”
“The two of us definitely don’t get into our feelings,” Zane hastily put in.
“Brother.” Adam shook his head. “For God’s sake, just because you don’t like to talk about your feelings doesn’t mean I believe for a second you don’t have any.”
Zane’s head shot up and he pointed an accusing finger at his twin. “That woman has done something to you.”
A small smile turned up his brother’s lips. “That woman is Jane and you know you like her. I know you like her.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Zane said, conceding the point with little grace.
Adam remained looking amused. “And now that we’re on that subject of females…what’s up with you and the librarian?”
Zane would have liked to say it was none of his twin’s business, but the fact was…twin. It came with the territory that he had to string a few words together to make an answer that filled in what his brother hadn’t already intuited. Zane sighed. Opened his mouth.
And realized he didn’t know what the hell to say.
Because he didn’t know exactly what was up with him and the librarian. He wanted to say nothing was up, or at the very least, only that they were friends, but they’d had sex last night and then he’d left her to wake up alone. That wasn’t nothing. Nor was it particularly friendly.
And it meant what he really didn’t know was, what was up with Harper this morning. How she might be feeling now about…just, well, anything. Everything.
Hell. Feelings again.
Something had to be done. There was no doubt about it.
He squeezed shut his eyes then opened them to return his attention to the computer screen and the day’s schedule. “I’m slated for a kayaking class at three,” he said.
“I’ve got it covered for you,” his brother replied. “No problem.”
Proving the twin thing. Zane didn’t have to even ask. His brother understood without words being spoken that he’d just assigned himself a pressing task.
Just as Zane understood that he couldn’t get the woman out of his head until they had a short talk and came to a mutual grasp of what last night had meant…and what it didn’t mean for the future.
In that, there was no future for the two of them.
To make that happen, at around 3:30 he was skulking at the park trying hard not to look as if he was skulking at the park. He had running shoes on his feet, workout pants and a T-shirt covering the rest of him, Gambler on the end of a leash. It was only speculation that she’d come to run here as he’d suggested, but as everyone knew, he was a gambling man.
Which this time, as it so often did, paid off.
Earbuds in her ear, her attention on the phone in her hand, Harper came jogging along the trail, wearing navy-blue running tights and a matching jacket. Her hair, worn in a high ponytail, swung side-to-side with each step.
He stood on the edge of the path, Gambler pressed to his knees. When Harper registered Zane’s presence, he saw her jolt. Her feet halted and her gaze jumped to his.
“Hey, Harper,” he said.
“Hey,” she returned, in that toneless, almost-too loud voice people used when their ears were plugged.
Reaching out, he snagged the pink cord and popped out one of the devices. “Care for some company?”
“Um…” Her glance returned to her phone, but it didn’t hide the flush that was crawling up her cheeks. “I’ve got an audio book to pass the time.”
He put the bud to his own ear, listened, then grimaced. “Someone is getting brutally murdered. I must be better company than that.”
Gambler chose that moment to leap at Harper. Zane managed to rein him in, but instead of exhibiting panic, she laughed at the dog and bent over to pet him. “I’ve got your number, you big, silly softie,” she said, kissing the dog’s head. “You’re no threat to me at all.”
“So you’ll let us run with you?”
Instead of answering, she retrieved her earbud from Zane, bundled the cord, and stuffed it and the phone into the pocket of her stretchy hoodie. Then she glanced at him, as if having second and third thoughts.
“If you start lagging,” he said, “I promise Gambler and I will go all Butcher of Eagle’s Ridge on you.”
It made her laugh again, and then without another word she started off, nice and easy.
He thought it said something that she hadn’t flat-out refused him, so he kept to her pace in silence for a few minutes. But more needed to be communicated.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Great,” she replied, not yet breathless.
Zane searched his mind for the best way to bring up matters. It was mostly a first for him. Women he bedded knew him, knew the score. Spelling out that what they’d done didn’t signal a relationship or a future—God, not that—had never been an issue.
He mentally tried out a couple of conversation-starters.
That was fun, but you have to know…
I really enjoyed myself, however…
He opened his mouth, hoping something along those lines would fall out. But instead, he heard himself ask, “Geoffrey?”
She glanced over. Wisps of dark honey hair had already worked its way free of her thick ponytail and fell around her face. Her small hand brushed them back.
So damn pretty, he thought, distracted from his own question.
“Geoffrey?”
The ugly ex. “How the hell did you get near-hitched to some dumbass cheater?” Zane demanded, startling himself with the heat in his voice. “Did you love him?”
Another glance, this one accompanied by a glare. “Of course not.”
“Then why were you engaged to him?”
“Our mothers introduced us. They serve on a couple of charity committees together.”
Cold washed over Zane.
“You’re a society girl,” he said, feeling stupid that he hadn’t realized it sooner. Hadn’t he been down this road before? She was the kind of woman who wanted—
“He’s a corporate attorney.”
Yep, Zane was right. She was the kind of woman whose people wanted her to marry an attorney, and not one that worked for truth and justice out of some cramped, dusty office, but a corporate type who worked to make a shit ton of cash and find a high perch in the great ladder of life.
Her people, just like Lucy’s, would see Zane as the opposite of that. He wasn’t even a Ryder Westbrook, the golden boy from the moneyed side of Eagle’s Ridge. He was an ex-soldier, a man who had calluses and not papercuts on his hands. A man who wanted to spend his life on the river and in the mountains as opposed to wasting time in ballrooms and corporate retreats.
They wouldn’t think him good enough for Harper.
They’d expect her to be with a gentleman.
Like the one who’d cheated on her.
“Did you love him?” Zane demanded again.
“No. I told you.”
“So then—”
“I couldn’t love a man who would do that, step out on me over and over with a succession of women. So whoever I thought I fell in love with…it wasn’t Geoffrey.”
“Just like the Butcher of Eagle’s Ridge.” Now Zane got it. “You made up in your head the Prince Charming of Harper Grace’s life.”
“I hope I wasn’t that dumb,” she said. “But I was dumb enough not to realize that a man shouldn’t say he doesn’t care about setting a wedding date. He shouldn’t say that his fiancée should go ahead and do that whenever.”
Whenever. Shithead.
“A man who really wants to marry someone should want to settle on a date right away.”
Yeah. Zane couldn’t imagine Ryder or Adam, once they popped the question, letting that detail go unresolved. Certainly not for as long as two years.
“So because I was that dumb or naïve or whatever you want to call it, he got to live his life, making his mother happy with an engagement to the right woman, without foregoing his exciting succession of one-night stands.”
How Zane detested the jerk, he thought, fuming. And yeah, it didn’t escape him that he’d experienced his own single-night flings, but he’d never been promised to marry anyone either.
The trail turned right and their footsteps thumped over a footbridge that crossed a narrow creek. Suddenly, there came a soft splash. Gambler yanked on the leash just as Zane saw a fat frog leap from the water and onto the bank. Lost in a mood over Harper and this Geoffrey character, Zane was unprepared for the dog’s abrupt bolt and the lead slipped from his hold.
The Lab fled, going off-path and through the trees. Zane followed, of course, cursing and panting and sliding on wet leaves and patches of mud. Finally, executing a mad leg lunge, he managed to get his shoe on the trailing end of the leash. But then his sole slipped on more mud and he went flying up, only to land on his back in a graceless heap of pissed-off man.
Next Harper skidded up, just as Gambler turned around and rushed back to hover over his owner like he was a loyal canine overcome with concern and not a crazy, gigantic ball of fur with an absurd fear of amphibians. On a frustrated sigh, Zane struggled to a sitting position.
Female laughter rang through the trees.
He glanced up. Harper stood over him, her hands on her hips, her face alight with amusement. “You should have seen…” she said, then broke off to laugh some more. “That was q-quite the fall.”
He tried quelling her with a glare, but found himself reluctantly laughing too, despite the ache in his bones. “Don’t ever say I don’t know how to show a woman a good time.”
“I would never say that,” she said, then with one small finger made a cross over her heart. She was still grinning.
And something shifted inside Zane. Maybe it was the limb-jarring fall. Or her expression. Or her eyes, their arresting gray trained on him and still alight with humor.
“I showed you a good time,” he said.
Her face sobered. She knew he didn’t mean just now.
“What we did was exciting,” Zane continued. “Last night.”
“Um…” She bit her bottom lip, her natural flush from the exercise turning to a much brighter pink. “Yes.”
“I don’t want to be tit,” Zane declared, because that was the damn truth.
Harper blinked. “Um…what?”
“For tat.” He got to his feet, his gaze focused on her. “I don’t want to be a tit for tat.”
Harper was all big eyes and now-moistened lips. “What do you mean?”
“What we had…it wasn’t a one-night stand.” Though that was exactly what he’d thought to make clear when he sought her out this afternoon. But his intention had shifted, for whatever reasons he chose not to examine at the moment. “I don’t want to be payback to your cheating ex.”
As if he’d slapped her, she jerked. “Zane…”
“It wasn’t a one-night stand,” he said, firmly.
Her hands flew to her hips and she pressed those moist lips together. “You don’t have to try to save my pride. Maybe I was dumb and naïve then but don’t think I am now. Just because we were together last night, I don’t expect—”
“Yeah.” He didn’t expect either. He didn’t expect to be so certain about this. But the fact was, he didn’t want to walk away like he had so many times before. Not from Harper. Not yet. “You can have a say in this, of course, but I’d like to see you again.”
Her head tilted. “For another…run?”
He knew what that question meant. And it pissed him off that he’d made her feel like someone he only wanted to take to bed. But he couldn’t blame her, could he? Yet he wanted to make clear he wasn’t hoping to set her up as some sort of regular booty call.
He slowly bent for Gambler’s leash, then straightened again and pinned her gaze with his.
“I want to take you to dinner,” he said. “Tomorrow night.”
Not two years from now. Not effing two days from now.
Her mouth dropped in surprise.
He held his breath.
And when she said “yes,” Zane wasn’t sure which of the pair of them was more surprised. Or pleased.
Or worried as hell, because this was new territory and he couldn’t figure out what he thought or felt about anything. Damn. Feelings again.
Brother, for God’s sake, just because you don’t like to talk about your feelings doesn’t mean I believe for a second you don’t have any.
Harper had the day off and she had an emergency.
She didn’t know how to get out of a date gracefully. Especially one that in her heart of hearts she wanted to go on more than anything.
This dilemma required coffee and the kind of breakfast served at No Man’s Land.
So she took a brisk walk there from her condo, ignoring the muscle twinges from her second training run, and peered through the diner front windows. It was past the usual breakfast hour and before the lunch crowd would hit. There wasn’t any member of the Tucker family that she could see, only a few customers occupying tables and Mandy, the young waitress, moving about the floor.
Harper slipped inside, found a seat at the table in the corner, and contemplated her choices. It had to be French toast or the cheese and bacon omelet. But coffee, for certain. Nothing fancy, just a big, thick mug of the stuff that she could doctor with real cream, a taste she’d developed during late night cram sessions in college.
Mandy arrived and Harper ordered her beverage and was vacillating between her food choices when Hildie Fontana sailed by, her caftan fluttering, and said, “French toast for the librarian, Mandy. Make sure that the maple syrup served with it is heated.”
Harper nodded at the waitress as the older woman took a seat at the next table.
“Um, thanks for the recommendation,” Harper ventured when Mandy headed for the kitchen. Then she pulled her e-reader out of her purse.
Hildie leaned closer. “Don’t bother, girl,” she said. “No need to bury your nose in a book when I’m going to talk your ear off no matter what.”
Oh, boy. Harper had heard the owner of the local antique shop was a shameless gossip and had experienced it for herself the first and second times she’d shown up at the library and peppered her with questions about her past, present, and future. But she thought she’d given the woman all the information she was comfortable providing outside of her shoe size and the make and model of her first car.
“That boy,” Hildie said now, shaking her head. Her silvery eyebrows moved up and down in a dance all their own. “Good boy. First of those soldier boys of his generation to come back home.”
“Um…do you mean Zane?”
“You two have a thing, right? Everybody’s saying the librarian is looking at Zane Tucker and he’s looking back. I may have heard about some kissing on the sidewalk.”
Harper’s face burned. “Um…”
“Though he told me you’re just friends.”
Oh. Deep disappointment cooled her skin. Definitely not going out on the date, Harper thought. Not when he’d just put her in the friend zone. That way led to disaster and heartbreak. She could already write the tragic ending to the story in her head.
“But Zane isn’t really the friends-with-women type,” Hildie continued.
“What type is he?” Harper asked, before she could stop herself.
“Not to say he isn’t friendly to ladies and even with most of them that he’s, well, you know.” Hildie’s expressive eyebrows got another workout. “He’s just never bothered to make such a declaration about a single eligible woman, as far as I know.”
And Hildie, Eagle’s Ridge busybody, would know a lot.
But Harper just didn’t know what it meant.
Hildie continued talking even as Mandy slid coffees in front of both of them and a small steaming pitcher of maple syrup in front of Harper. “In any case, I’m glad he got back safely and was able to work himself through his injuries.”
“Injuries?” Mandy now put a fragrant plate of waffles in front of Harper, but even that couldn’t distract her from what the older lady had just said. She remembered Zane telling her his shoulder had been hurt, but there’d been no detail beyond him not wanting her to be sad about it.
“They thought he might not move his shoulder or arm again. And he’d lost enough weight that you could see in him that skinny little boy he’d once been.”
Harper put her hand over her mouth.
“But he worked at it. Not once did he give into the pain it must have caused him to rehabilitate that shoulder every day on the river and every night at the local gym.”
“He looks…well now.” Fit. Ripped. Strong. Muscled in a way that made her feminine core melt.
“He is.” Hildie nodded, then nodded again to Mandy when she placed before her a plate holding a toasted English muffin and a packet of grape jelly. “He’s safely home, with a business he built and with a brother back who has helped him build it into something more. Now he just needs the right woman to make his life complete.”
Harper didn’t let that last sentence stick. Being Zane’s right woman to make his life complete didn’t concern her. Tonight did. Because the fact was you couldn’t break a date with a once seriously injured Army veteran—no matter how strong he might seem now. Instead you needed to be the prettiest you could be when you sat across the table from him.
Right?
Harper thought about her hair that hadn’t been with a stylist since her move to Eagle’s Ridge and her closet that didn’t have one date-worthy outfit in it.
An outfit worthy of Zane, anyway.
Or worthy of Stella, either. Because tonight she definitely needed to bring out that more confident, colorful alter-ego.
“Hildie,” Harper said, her gaze trained on her plate as she sank her knife into the squishy goodness of the waffle. “Which is the best hair salon in town? And is there a women’s clothing boutique you’d recommend?”
“A salon?” A new voice piped up and Harper looked over to see that Jane McAllen was threading through the tables, presumably on her way to the counter. Now she switched directions and came to stand by Harper’s table. “And you’re looking for a local boutique?”
“I could use some new clothes,” Harper confessed, then her hand went to the ends of her hair. “And this stuff grows fast but I haven’t found anyone yet to take care of it.”
Jane rubbed her hands together. “I’m not the clotheshorse I used to be, but if you want company, I’m your girl. I still love fashion. Not to mention, I do know a great local salon.”
“Sure, company would be great.” Harper smiled at the other woman who still appeared so together, even in dark jeans and a simple shirt. Her shiny hair framed a face that wasn’t heavily made up, but had just enough enhancement to polish her appearance. “And maybe you could help me pick out some new mascara and lip color?”
Jane’s smile only brightened. “Oh, boy, could I! And your hair’s so pretty, I can’t wait to see what the stylists at Rosalie’s will do with it.”
“Do you think they could fit me in today?” Harper asked. “I have a sort of, um, thing tonight.”
“Let me see,” Jane said, slipping her phone from her back pocket.
Hildie lifted her mug. “Jane will steer you right.”
At that moment Brenda bustled up with a pot of coffee and proceeded to top off Harper’s mug. As she poured, Jane looked up from her phone. “Hair appointment all set, Harper. Let the makeover begin!”
“Makeover?” Brenda said, turning to Hildie to give her more coffee.
“Yep.” Jane stood back on one foot and studied Harper’s face. “I think they should take off at least three inches. And get some movement at the ends with layering.”
Brenda glanced over. “You’re cutting your hair, Harper?”
“I never meant it to get to this length.”
“Oh.” Brenda’s free hand went to the long braid hanging over her shoulder. “I’m not sure I ever meant mine to get this long either. It’s just…how I’ve always worn it.”
Jane turned to the older woman, speculation in her gaze. “Brenda…” She drew out the name and the way she did it made it sound like she was dangling a carrot—or maybe a hot fudge sundae. “Would you like to be in on the makeover too?”
“I…um…”
Jane bounced on her heels. “That sounds like a yes!”
So it happened.
Shopping for clothes. Shopping for make-up. Hair appointments, followed by Jane doing both Harper and Brenda’s make-up for them before leaving the salon. Then they all returned for a celebratory round of hot tea at the diner.
Mandy served steaming cups to all three of them and Jane took in the results of her efforts with a more-than-pleased smile on her face.
“Brenda,” she said. “You’re a beauty.”
“Oh. Well.” The older woman flushed and her hand flew to her new hairstyle. “I admit I do like it.”
The braid was gone. In its place were long layers around her face, and the rest reached no farther than her chin. The stylist had shown Brenda how to use a roller brush to get the volume necessary and the result was chic, but natural-looking. Jane’s make-up suggestions were a tinted moisturizer, a delicate line of eyeliner on the edge of her top lashes, taupe shadow on her eyelids and a hint of blush. For her lips, she’d suggested a soft stick that was a bare shade brighter than Brenda’s own lips.
Still, she looked younger and fresher and ready to catch any man’s attention, especially in a new pair of dark jeans and a pale blue sweater that was slouchy until it hit her hips, where it gathered tightly, accentuating her nice figure. Delicate earrings of gold chain and blue stones hung from her lobes and could be glimpsed through those shining layers of her hair.
“You look wonderful,” Harper said.
“As do you.”
She couldn’t disagree. Though there wasn’t a mirror at hand, she absolutely loved what the magician at the salon had done to her hair. The length of it now just brushed her shoulders, and was side-parted. Layers were added around her face and she’d been sold on a product that somehow brought out the wave in her hair. Not as noticeable were the few highlights that made her honey color just a tad more sunny here and there.
Like Brenda, she’d turned herself over to Jane for a make-up lesson and the results boosted her confidence. Her eyes now stood out, their gray framed with dark mascara. Though she wasn’t made up for night at the moment, her new friend had shown her how to achieve a more dramatic look that she’d attempt achieving before her date with Zane. Bags from the boutique were gathered around her legs, and inside one of them was the short, pink, white, and black floral skirt that they’d found. It had tiny knife pleats and a black satin ribbon at the waist. She planned on wearing it with a simple black V-neck top that Jane had pulled from the racks and her own black, sling-back pumps.
That outfit was for later. Now, she wore a new pair of dark jeans and paired them with a thin, pretty sweater in pale yellow, that had a triangle-shaped inset of the same color chiffon at the back and tiny covered buttons marching up the middle of it.
“Are you sure you have everything you need for tonight?” Jane asked.
Harper had shared with them both about her plans for the evening and that Zane was taking her to a restaurant some thirty miles away.
“It’s a nice place,” Brenda said. “The nicest in the area until Bailey opens Blue Moon.”
“I think I’m ready,” Harper said, pulling in a long breath and letting it out. New hair, new face, new clothes, all of them sure to bring out the Stella in her.
Mischief in her eyes, Jane leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “I wish I could be there to see Zane’s face when he picks you up.”
Right then, the door to the kitchen swung open. Sam Tucker strolled out, and Harper was struck by his resemblance to his sons. It was there in the strong build, the confident manner, the handsome features. He wore faded jeans in a way that men half his age would envy, and a pullover sweater, sleeves pushed up to expose his muscle-roped forearms. His mind seemed somewhere else, because he stared straight ahead with a puckered brow, his focus on the diner’s entrance as he made for it.
Some new palpable sensation in the air caused Harper to glance in Brenda’s direction. Her focus was completely on the man, her eyes drinking him in, her body frozen, the teacup halfway to her mouth.
Oh, Harper thought, on a sudden, sympathetic pain. It looked as if Brenda had it bad for her boss and old friend. For confirmation, she shifted her gaze to Jane and they looked at each other, exchanging silent messages.
Gone for him?
Yes. Totally.
He’d nearly passed their table, still without acknowledging the three women or even seeming to be aware of their presence, when Jane spoke up. “Hey, Sam. How’s it going?”
His feet stuttered to a stop. He blinked, seeming to come out of his reverie as he peered at the young woman.
“Oh, hello Jane.” He ran a hand through his thick hair, obviously still preoccupied. His glance didn’t wander to Harper or on to Brenda either.
“Bad day?” Jane chirped. “You’re frowning.”
“Brenda’s going to be late for her shift. I expect she’s lost track of time with another of her dates.” He mostly spit out the last word and his expression turned thunderous.
“Are you sure about that?” Jane asked, her tone filled with sugary sweetness and an amusement that Harper detected but Sam apparently didn’t.
“She’s not answering her phone,” he growled.
“Oops,” the woman in question said now, reaching into the purse hanging off her chair. “I turned it off at the salon.”
At Brenda’s words, Sam’s head jerked in her direction and his gaze hopscotched over Harper to stare at the diner’s manager. His body twitched, his eyes widened.
“This is interesting,” Jane whispered, low enough for Harper’s ears only.
Several moments of silence passed.
Then Brenda jumped in, her voice a half-octave higher than usual. “But see, I’m here, and not late. So no worries.”
Sam’s expression morphed from surprise to anger as he continued to take in her face and figure. “What the hell did you do to yourself?” he demanded.
“W-What?” Brenda said.
Sam made a rough gesture in her direction. “Who the hell did you do that for?”
Uh-oh. Harper exchanged alarmed looks with Jane.
Brenda’s spine snapped straight. “For myself, of course.”
“Right,” Sam said, the word edged with sarcasm.
The diner manager’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you think I did it?”
“To get attention,” he said instantly.
Brenda jumped to her feet. Her boots snapped against the floor as she moved to stand toe-to-toe with Sam. “Whose attention would that be?”
“The only attention you should care about is mine,” he said, staring her down.
Harper and Jane gave each other big eyes as tension crackled in the room.
Brenda’s chin jutted up. “And why is that?”
“Because I was the one,” Sam continued, “who gave you that kiss that I know, I know knocked you straight out of your shoes.”
Brenda’s hands slammed to her hips. “But then you never gave me another one. And you act as if nothing has changed between us. So—”
“So I’m done fighting it,” Sam said, his voice rough. “I don’t know why the hell I’ve been fighting it except I’m middle-aged and set in my ways and I don’t much like putting my heart out there to be stomped all over by another woman.”
On an instant, Brenda’s expression turned soft. “Sam.” She put her hand on his chest. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”
“Good.” He placed his hand over hers. “You’re coming over once the diner’s closed. I’m making dinner. Then you’re spending the night.”
It was Brenda’s turn to twitch. Her free hand went to her new hair. Next she tugged on the hem of her sweater. “Um, think about Max. Your dad is living with you.”
Sam’s head dropped back, then it righted and he said, “Christ. I’m a middle-aged man, with a father living in the apartment over my garage, and a woman I want to have in my bed.” He paused, then his expression set.
“So that’s going to happen,” the man said, tone decisive. “Dad’ll deal.”
“You can come to my place,” Brenda offered.
“My kitchen, my bed,” Sam said, clearly firm on that. “Okay?”
Brenda swallowed, looking like there were some of Gambler’s dreaded frogs jumping around in her stomach. “Okay, Sam,” she whispered.
“Then see you after close,” he said, and started for the door again. When he reached it, Brenda called his name.
“Yeah?” he answered, looking over his shoulder.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I knocked you straight out of your shoes too.”
His sudden grin made him look as young as his sons. “Damn right,” he answered, then strode out the exit.
Hours later, Harper was still smiling over what she’d witnessed. But those Gambler frogs had taken up residence in her middle as well, and she put her palm over it as she studied herself in the full-length mirror.
Black pumps.
Knife-pleated, floral print skirt. She tugged on the hem because it was shorter than she remembered.
Short sleeved, V-neck top, also black, also different than she remembered. Clingier.
Jet drops hung from her ears and there was a matching choker around her neck and a delicate bracelet in the same design circling her left wrist.
Too matchy-matchy?
But before she could have time to change anything, her doorbell rang. She gave one last look in the mirror, this time checking her face. The more dramatic eye look she’d learned from Jane had taken a long while to replicate, but she’d done a fair job of it, she thought. Turning from her reflection, she pressed her lips together to make sure her color was evenly distributed as she walked to the front of her condo.
On a deep breath, she pulled open the door.
The frogs in her stomach instantly quieted. Everything inside of her went silent and still as she took in Zane Tucker, wearing dark slacks, dark shoes, a dark gray dress shirt with pinstripes the exact shade of his eyes. Stunning.
She’d never seen a man so beautiful, let alone gone out on a date with one.
Suddenly, her nerves reignited and she regretted not having made a call, or even texted to tell him she was unable to make it tonight.
And then she didn’t regret that at all, because as her gaze moved up to his face, she saw that same thunderstruck expression that had been on his father’s that afternoon when he’d seen Brenda.
A little of her Stella confidence came back. She placed a hand on her hip. “Well?” she asked.
His brows lowered, his expression turned intense, and she could see the heat that entered his eyes as he continued to take her in. “I’m screwed,” he said bluntly.
“Um. Why?”
“I promised myself I’d be a gentleman tonight. But you…in that…” With his hand, he gestured at her body. “Serious jeopardy, sweetheart.”
A hot little shiver worked its way down her spine. “You need only be yourself, Zane,” she said, and heard the prim note to her voice.
It made him smile. “Then you won’t mind when I rip the head off of any other man who looks at you.”
Oh, my. Harper bit back her answering smile. Though she didn’t want him to rip off anybody’s head, of course, it was hard not to feel just the slightest bit flattered by the unsubtle declaration.
She thought it was going to be a very great date.
Zane worried it was going to be a disaster of a date. He’d pep-talked to his reflection in the rearview mirror all the way to her condo—admonishing himself to be on his best behavior, promising himself he was going to show the nice woman a nice time, and then she’d gone and answered her door.
Wearing an outfit that molded her pert breasts and revealed a long length of bare legs.
She had on those damn black high heels that were permanently etched into his memory.
And there was something different about her hair—shorter, maybe? He couldn’t pinpoint what, exactly, but it just seemed to draw attention to the beauty of her big gray eyes and the puffy temptation of her delectable mouth.
How the hell was he going to make it to their table without the whole of the restaurant noticing the hard-on in his pants?
Pulling into a spot at the rear of the parking lot, he turned off his truck, then placed his hands back on the steering wheel, at ten and two, and breathed deeply, seeking control.
Of course doing so brought her perfume into his lungs and he recalled the scent of her on his hands after taking her to bed the other night. Swallowing a low groan, he squeezed the steering wheel.
“Um, Zane?” she asked, her voice tentative.
“Yeah?” He addressed the windshield, not daring to look at her face again, those eyes, those lips.
“Are we getting out anytime soon?”
“As soon as my dick forgets how damn beautiful you look.”
After a startled silence, she laughed, and he had to swallow another groan. Great. She’d think him a real gentleman now.
That thought threw cold water on him, and after another minute he popped open his door and then came around to meet her. She had trouble getting off the high seat in her short dress and he focused on a spot four inches to the right of her shoulder as he put his hands to her waist and helped her down.
He kept his attention away from any dangerous parts of her as they made their way into the restaurant and then were led to their seats. Settled at the corner table he’d reserved, he managed to relax a little. They ordered drinks and appetizers and they both agreed on steaks and a bottle of red with their meal.
With a gin and tonic in front of her and a beer in front of him, he leaned back and felt like, yeah, he could do this.
Harper glanced around at the tables. Each was draped in white linen, with glassware and dinnerware illuminated by the low glow of votive candles. In one corner of the room, logs burned in a massive rock fireplace. The fancy place settings and elegant atmosphere should make him feel as out of place as that bull in a china shop, but with Harper sitting across from him he didn’t feel nearly as jumpy as he’d thought he might.
“Is this a favorite place of yours?” she asked.
“I’ve never brought anyone here before,” he said. “We came once as a family to celebrate Dad’s birthday.”
“Oh.” She looked down at her lap. “It’s very nice.”
Exactly why he’d thought of it, that and he figured the classy atmosphere might rub off on him—polishing away a few of his roughest edges.
“I was out with Jane today…shopping and such,” Harper volunteered, then sipped at her G & T.
“You had fun?”
She nodded. “I did. And I heard about her recent adventures…including her close call.”
Zane grimaced. It had been close, and his twin had nearly lost his mind when Jane’s kayak had capsized in the river and she’d nearly drowned. A fear matching Adam’s had pooled in the pit of Zane’s gut, and he’d been as spitless as his brother until she’d coughed up the water she’d swallowed and started breathing again.
“Jane was lucky a Coast Guard-trained rescue swimmer was on hand,” he said. “That’s what Adam used to do before he came back to Eagle’s Ridge.”
“It seems lucky that you were on hand that day too. You detained the person who tried to kill her?”
He waved that away. “Right place, right time.”
“Right training?” she asked. “I think you said you were in the Army?”
“I was. But that had nothing to do with—”
“Brenda told me you were an Army Cavalry Scout.”
He smiled, trying to make light of it. “Blame all those Zane Grey novels.” Which was more than half the truth.
Harper sipped at her drink again. “She said that the Cavalry Scouts are the eyes and ears of the Army.”
“That’s the broad description.” He didn’t want to discuss his time in the military further than that. More details would only put a blemish on their evening. Though he wasn’t ashamed of his service—far, far from it—those ten years had been filled with mud, sand, blood, and bile. Nothing that he wanted her to connect with him. Not tonight.
“I read up on what all that means,” she said.
“Of course you did,” Zane muttered. So much for feigning some kind of veneer of sophistication. If she did any research, she’d know it was a job that often required brute strength as much as dogged focus.
Her gray eyes seemed to delve inside his skin and bones, finding soft, hidden places he would swear he didn’t have. “You’re quite the man, Zane Tucker,” she finally said.
Before he could process how that quiet proclamation affected him, food started arriving and the topic was left behind. Whew.
Zane had planned some innocuous date patter during his shower and now he drummed it up, trying to be smooth despite his inexperience with this kind of date. His usual evenings out with women involved playing some pool and drinking beer before drinking more beer and playing some, well, pool. But he and Harper managed well enough, helped along by the excellent steaks served with fluffy baked potatoes and an asparagus gratin.
“I’m going to have to diet after this meal,” Harper said on a sigh, as she set down her knife and fork. “Carrot and celery sticks are in my immediate future.”
“Don’t you dare do one thing to compromise that beautiful ass of yours,” Zane instantly said, then just as instantly wanted to punch himself for sounding so…uncivilized. Beautiful ass. It was true, of course, but he could have put it more politely.
She was staring at him, round-eyed.
“It’s that little skirt,” he muttered. “Okay? It’s making me kind of crazy.”
“Oh.” A smile flirted with the corners of her mouth.
It eased some of his tension. Maybe the librarian hadn’t taken offense.
He figured he was right about that after another few minutes when she excused herself for the ladies’ room. Because as she walked away, she took a quick glance over her shoulder, saw he was watching, and added a decided swing to her hips.
Zane didn’t even try to fight off his grin.
It died when a pair of arms wrapped around his neck from behind. “Hey, handsome.”
He turned his head to meet the velvet brown gaze of Marla Hopper. They’d gone out a few times before she’d had to temporarily move to Oregon to care for her mother after back surgery. “How are you?” he asked the tall, buxom brunette. “How’s your mom?”
“I’m good. In the area again now that my mother can take care of herself.”
“Great news,” he said, and as she loosened her hold, he shifted his chair to converse more easily.
Marla took it as an invitation to slip into his lap.
Shit. “Uh…” He had no idea where to put his hands and wondered how to make clear he was on a date.
Before an answer presented itself, Harper returned to their table. Taking in the scene, her eyebrows rose toward her hairline.
“Uh…” he said again, and got to his feet at the same moment that Marla jumped to hers.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking at the librarian. “I didn’t realize…”
“No problem.” In a practiced, polite move, Harper held out her hand and introduced herself.
Marla reciprocated, then added, “I’ve been out of the area for a couple of months. With my mom as she recuperated from surgery.”
“You probably haven’t heard then,” Harper said kindly. “Zane and I…well, we’re an item.”
He stared at her. That gossip was all over Eagle’s Ridge and its environs, of course, but to hear her claim it…damn, but it made a contented warmth settle in his chest. Dumbfounded by the feeling, he stood silently watching as the two women continued to chat.
Two such different women. Marla was a female version of himself, a lively person who liked to drink beer, shoot pool, and was the best dart player in two counties.
Harper, on the other hand, had a much quieter presence. But for some reason it only leant an intriguing bit of mystery to her, and challenged him to peel back her layers. He wanted to do things to test that reserve of hers—to make her spontaneously smile, laugh, sigh, and then shatter any and every one of her inhibitions.
“I’ll see you around,” Marla said now to Zane, brushed her lips against his cheek, then smiled a little. “I’d tell you to call me, but…”
He glanced at Harper. “I’m going to be pretty busy.”
As the brunette wandered back to the bar, he unearthed his best manners and held out Harper’s chair for her. She glanced up at him as she lowered into it, smiled, and that warmth bloomed in his chest again.
“Dessert,” he said, as he settled into his own seat. “We’ll share.”
The waitress only brought one fork and he didn’t ask for another. Leaning across the table, he fed bites of chocolate molten lava cake to Harper, fascinated by the soft look on her face and the tidy way she patted her napkin to her lips.
Still, she missed a spot, and he didn’t hesitate to touch his forefinger to the corner of her mouth, then dragged it slowly across her bottom lip. Her breath caught, and he saw her eyes dilate.
Zane’s own muscles tightened and his free hand shot up to flag the waitress. “I think I need to get you home,” he said, his voice gruff.
Before he went full caveman on her and dragged her across the table linens and fancy dishes to get a taste of the librarian.
Once outside, he held her hand while they crossed the parking lot toward his truck. The cool air did nothing to lessen the heat of his blood and the thrum of anticipation in his body. “It was a lovely meal,” Harper said, her small fingers curled trustingly in his. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” A lovely meal, a lovely woman, a lovely date. He’d managed not to blow it, despite a few lapses here and there. Maybe he had a domesticated side after all.
Then a muffled shout from the opposite corner of the parking lot caught his attention. He glanced that way and saw three men scuffling with one another.
It took a second moment to recognize that one of the scufflers was Denver, the ranch hand whose cowboy boots now sat in Zane’s closet. He recognized the other pair as river guides for the North Snake Adventures outfit. Hell.
“Stay here,” he told Harper, and took off at a run toward the fracas. Once closer to the trio, he deduced that Denver had wrested car keys away from the obviously drunken North Snake guys—and they strenuously objected to the precaution. Both seemed to believe that either one of them was capable of driving home.
Even sober, Zane didn’t think much of the guides, but overserved they were beyond stupid and bordering on nasty. Into their eff-bomb laden diatribe, Zane boomed a question.
“Got a problem, Denver?”
The younger man looked grateful as he came to stand by his side. “You know these guys, Zane? Tonight they shouldn’t be driving.”
“I know them.” And why the hell they’d been at this nice dinner house and how the hell they’d managed to hide from the bartender they were drunk as skunks, he couldn’t say. “Boys, why don’t we call you a car service? Safer for everyone.”
“Safer my ass,” one slurred. “Now gimme my keys.”
Zane took them from Denver and shoved them deep in his pocket. “Not a good idea. What I think—”
A fist came up and rammed into Denver’s face. He buckled, his hands going to his nose.
Shit. Zane moved in front of him. “Now—”
The boxer took another swing. Zane couldn’t duck, that would expose Denver again, so he caught the guy’s wrist. “Hey—”
Then pain exploded in his face as the second guy’s fist made contact with it.
Now it was he who dropped an eff bomb as the two river guides went nuts, letting fly with the insults and with their arms. Denver stepped from behind Zane and grunted as he took another blow to the face.
“Damn it, get back,” Zane said to his smaller friend, as he shoved Drunk One away. The guy stumbled back, tripping over his own feet to fall on his ass. Drunk Two took offense on his buddy’s behalf, and with a Viking cry, launched himself at Zane. His forehead thumped into Zane’s nose, causing sparks to fly in his vision. But he managed to wrap the skinny dude in a bear hug before getting head-butted a second time.
“Shit!” Zane lifted the fighter off his feet, and then flung him away. The man stumbled around, weaving like the drunk he was, and hadn’t regained his balance when a sheriff’s cruiser pulled up.
The situation was quickly managed—river guides in the back of the cruiser, statements given by Denver and Zane—and then the manager of the restaurant came running out with paper napkins to staunch the blood dripping from Denver’s nose.
And from Zane’s.
Shit. Hell. Damn. He looked at Harper hovering nearby, the lights from the sheriff’s car illuminating her wide eyes and alarmed expression. Then he glanced down at his heavily stained shirt and the wad of bloody tissues in his hand.
The poor woman looked freaked out.
Over a parking lot brawl, that was not, by any means, Zane’s first.
He sighed, the earlier warmth in his chest displaced by a sharp pain that ran parallel to the aching throb coming from his face.
He was no gentleman. Not any kind of man for the pretty lady librarian.