Chapter Fourteen
“I can’t believe you’ve lived in DC for a whole year and you haven’t gone paddle boating on the Tidal Basin,” Bea said as Zane situated himself in their paddle boat.
She grinned at his grunt of discomfort, smothering her laugh with her hand. His body was large and the boat was…not. For a moment she wasn’t sure if he’d actually fit.
“I didn’t realize it was a tourism staple in this city,” he grumbled.
“Shows how much you know,” she said as he fought to regain his balance. Despite his lack of gracefulness, he looked magnificent in the glow of sunset. Or maybe her state of postorgasmic bliss made everything look that way. “What have you been doing since you got here, other than working?”
He paused to think. “Aside from work and trying out all the pubs in the city, that’s pretty much it.”
She tutted. “The situation is more serious than I thought. You haven’t spent even a weekend just seeing the sights?”
He settled his feet on the paddles, avoiding eye contact. “Haven’t had a lot of time. Plus, that’s not exactly something I’m dying to do alone.”
“Then you’re clearly in need of a good tour guide.”
His eyes snapped to hers. “If you’re referring to yourself, I believe you’ve already shown me a few things. And I must say, those sights have been…” His words trailed off as he glanced down at her body, lowering his voice. “Spectacular.”
She shook her head and smiled. “Smooth.”
He returned her smile. “I know.”
Once they were both comfortable in the boat, they began paddling, setting out into the Tidal Basin at a leisurely pace. She didn’t know why she had suggested it after their shower sex. But after they’d gotten dressed and that heated lust fog dissipated, a sense of emptiness had filled her at the thought of leaving him. She’d needed to make their time together last longer. Her solution for that was paddle boating.
She wasn’t really sure what any of that meant.
She didn’t want to think about it, either. Not when they were paddling toward the stunning sight of the Jefferson Memorial with nothing but a few inches separating their bodies.
“So, your football skills were…impressive,” he admitted in a quiet voice.
Her chest swelled with pride. “You say that like you’re surprised.”
He chuckled. “You’re nothing if not modest.”
“Well, I’ll admit that yours were also…above average,” she said.
He looked at her skeptically. “I can’t always tell when you’re being sarcastic.”
She laughed. “Normally, I would balk at giving you a sincere compliment. But in this case, it’s genuine. You’re pretty good.”
As per usual, she felt oddly at ease with their ribbing.
“Not overly sentimental, but I’ll take it,” he replied. “I ought to be good, since I played at university.”
Her interest in his life hadn’t yet been sated. She suddenly wanted to know everything about him. “A jock who’s into computers, huh? You’re a contradiction, Zane Price.”
“I don’t like to fit stereotypes.”
His blue eyes were brighter than ever in the sunlight, mesmerizing her.
“Clearly,” she replied. “I had a college scholarship, too. For track.”
It took her about a second and a half to realize what she’d said. Shit. The words had just slipped out. She didn’t talk about that time in her life with anyone besides Felicity, so she had no clue why she’d felt the need to bring it up with Zane. But she had, and now she was struggling with how to shove all the worms back into the can.
“I didn’t know that,” he said, sounding genuinely intrigued. “How’d you do?”
She chewed on her lip for a moment before taking a deep breath and biting the bullet. “I, uh, didn’t take the scholarship.”
There was an awkward breath of silence before he spoke again. “Why not?”
God, this was much harder to admit than she’d thought it would be. Probably because she actually cared what Zane thought about her, how he saw her. Though she would never admit that aloud.
Then she thought, to hell with it.
So she’d made a bad call when she was practically still a kid. Everyone made mistakes. And if Zane wanted to judge her, then they clearly weren’t meant for anything more than a few good hookups.
“I was dating someone at the time,” she said. She didn’t want to face Zane, but she felt his body tense at her words. “The scholarship was in Oregon, and he did a good job of convincing me that running at a school so far away wasn’t worth ruining our relationship over.”
Zane grunted. “He sounds like an arsehole.”
She smiled at his description. He didn’t know how accurate he was.
“So, what happened?” he asked.
“I turned it down and went to school here in DC.” This was the embarrassing part, but she lifted her chin and took ownership of her misguided decisions. “I was still in my first semester when I found out he had ulterior motives for dating me. He just wanted to get close to my father the congressman and use his political connections for his own gain.”
She finally braved a peek up at Zane’s face and was surprised to see an intense look of censure firmly stamped there. But she somehow knew it wasn’t targeted at her. There was no judgment in his eyes.
“I stand by what I said,” he murmured in a lethally low voice. “He’s an arsehole.”
She released a relieved laugh. It felt good getting the story off her chest. Better than she would have expected. “I can’t argue with you there. I won’t say I don’t wonder about what would have happened if I had taken the scholarship, but I don’t have any regrets.”
She noted a spark of admiration in his eyes that made her smile. But that admiration quickly turned to something that looked like…sadness? No, regret. There was regret in his eyes. Suddenly, she was desperate to know the reason behind the look.
But she didn’t get the question out fast enough.
“Good,” he said, nodding in approval. “You’ve made quite a name for yourself in DC, so everything worked out for the best.” He chuckled. “I have to wonder, though, is there anything you’re not good at? Because if I’ve learned one thing about you, it’s that you approach almost everything with an ‘anything you can do, I can do better’ attitude.”
She narrowed her eyes, not sure how he meant that. “It’s called being ambitious and setting goals.”
He threw his hands up. “I wasn’t saying that’s a bad thing. On the contrary. I think it’s an admirable quality.”
She relaxed a little and thought about his question. “Now that you mention it, I’m terrible at learning new languages.” The look he sent her made her laugh. “It’s true. I barely passed high school French.”
He tilted his head, studying her. “What else? What else are you less than proficient at?” Once again, his voice held genuine curiosity.
She inhaled deeply when a light breeze sent the smell of nearby cherry blossoms wafting through the air. “Well, let me think about it. I mean, the options are so limited.”
He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything, just waited for her to go on.
“Um. I definitely wasn’t born with a green thumb.” When his forehead creased in confusion, she explained, “Zero gardening skills. I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever owned, including some fake ones.” She pursed her lips. “And according to Felicity, I’m also terrible at doing the dishes.”
A laugh rumbled from deep within his chest, making her want to wrap herself up in his arms and listen to it all day. Stupid.
“And you?” she asked him, ignoring the stroke she was clearly having. “What are you not good at? Besides darts and shuffleboard and—”
“Okay, that will do,” he interrupted, raising his hand to silence her. He glared at her when she failed to suppress her giggle. “Scrapbooking.”
“Scrapbooking?” Not what she was expecting.
He nodded once. “Yes. I’m a bloody menace at scrapbooking. My mum loved it, though.” He grinned with a far-off look in his eyes, as though thousands of miles away. That regretful look was back, which she really hated to see. She missed his smile.
“I tried to make her a scrapbook once when I was in secondary school. I put pictures of our family holidays and all sorts of memories in it.” He laughed to himself. “It was a bloody mess, nothing like the ones she used to make. But when I gave it to her, I had never seen her look so happy. She must have known how hideous it was, but she said she loved it and that it was the best gift anyone had ever given her.”
She realized he only ever spoke of his mother in the past tense. Three months ago she would never have asked him about it in a million years. But something was different now, and she felt she needed to ask.
“What happened to her?” she asked softly.
He picked at a thread on his pants, avoiding eye contact. “Car accident. It happened just a few months after I gave her that scrapbook. She and my father were arguing one night. He stormed out to go work his night shift, and she was still pretty upset. She said she had to go run an errand and that she’d be right back.”
Bea watched as Zane swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
“I knew how angry she was,” he continued. “I knew she shouldn’t have been driving like that. But I was young and didn’t really know what to do. That was the last time I saw her. My father got a call from the hospital an hour later saying she’d lost control of her car and crashed into a utility pole. She died in the ambulance.”
An unbearable ache settled in Bea’s chest. “I’m so sorry, Zane.”
He looked back up and smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks. It was ages ago, though.”
But he still hurt. She could see it in his eyes. That would explain those glimpses of sadness and regret. Knowing him the way she did, she had the feeling he’d been carrying a heavy load of guilt around with him all these years. She wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t blame himself. It wasn’t his fault. There was literally nothing he could have done.
But Felicity’s warning of getting too involved with him echoed in Bea’s mind, so she held back.
“What about your father?” she asked. “Do you get to see him a lot? Back in England, I mean.”
Zane’s expression softened, and some of the tension in her shoulders eased. She was so used to his goofy grin and playful banter, seeing him unhappy was different…and unpleasant.
“Yeah. We got pretty close after her death, and we still talk all the time. He actually remarried a couple of years ago. She seems to make him happy, and that’s all I can really ask for, I suppose.”
It was obvious Zane had a deep love for his family, and that only made him more attractive. Before Bea could ask him another question, he beat her to the punch.
“Your turn. Are you close with you parents?”
Sensing he wanted to switch the focus to her, she swallowed her questions. “More with my dad, but Mama and I have always had a good relationship. Felicity and I were just so different growing up that we formed different bonds with each of them. Daddy loves us both, of course, but he always wanted a son, and I think I more or less filled that void for him. He taught me how to play sports and did all the things he would have done with a boy, so I pretty much became a tomboy.”
“Which meant that Felicity was closer with your mother, I take it?”
“Yep. She was the girly girl who liked to play with Barbies and practice putting on makeup. Mama had her in beauty pageants for most of her childhood. Instead of trying out every activity known to man like me, she stuck with gymnastics until she was fifteen. Mama was a beauty queen and a gymnast herself, so you could say that each parent was grooming us in their own way.”
“Do you visit them frequently?”
“Not as much as we used to. Ever since we started the business, we haven’t had as much time. But they come up to see us as often as they can. We’re usually able to make it down South for holidays.”
After several more minutes of conversation about their personal lives, the topic inevitably turned to work.
“So, the launch is still scheduled for a month from now, right?” she asked.
He nodded. “Assuming there aren’t any major disasters, yes.” He was silent for a moment, then added, “I know I’ve already said this, but I just want to reiterate what a fantastic job you and Felicity have done. The store is looking amazing, and my people back in England are very pleased.”
“You should probably wait until after the launch before you sing our praises,” she told him. “We don’t know how consumers will respond yet.”
He shot her a look as if to say come on. “Oh, please. Even you know it’s going to be a big success. I think you and I make a pretty good team.”
She snorted. “Yeah, when we aren’t at each other’s throats.”
His head whipped around, his feet halting their paddling. She was surprised he looked so taken aback.
“I admit I can be a bit high-handed at times, but—”
“High-handed!” she said on a mirthless laugh. “Zane, I can’t so much as answer my phone at the store without you hovering over me, ensuring I’m not making any decisions without you.”
His eyes narrowed, his expression turning uncertain. “What are you saying? That I’m overbearing?”
“Maybe not overbearing so much as controlling.” He started to shake his head, but she waved him off. “You insist on overseeing every minute detail. It makes me wonder why you bother hiring employees at all if you end up doing all the work yourself. It’s no surprise all you’ve done is work since you moved here. With the way you check on everything and verify it twice, it’s shocking you have a life outside of work, at all.”
“I call it managing,” he retorted.
“Yeah, but there’s a thing called delegating. Besides, you hired Felicity and me to do a job. That’s why you brought us on, because you supposedly trusted us with the task. But every time we turn around, there you are disagreeing with me about something, or throwing in your opinion after we’d already gone in another direction.”
His jaw ticked and he looked away. But not before his eyes had grown thoughtful. She hoped she hadn’t overstepped her bounds. But seriously. Had no one ever told him this stuff before?
“So, you’re saying I need to back off?” he asked in a subdued voice.
She tucked her hair behind her ear as she pondered how to answer. “Maybe a little. Part of being a good manager is trusting the people around you to do their jobs. I’m just saying your micromanaging makes it a little difficult—and a lot frustrating—at times to do our job the way we feel comfortable.”
“Why haven’t you said anything before now?”
A couple standing by the water’s edge taking a kissing selfie caught her attention. A feeling of longing swept over her as she watched them, one she couldn’t explain.
“Every time I tried, I just ended up getting mad at you,” she said. “Felicity kept telling me to let it go because she didn’t want me to piss you off enough that we would lose the account. I think I’ve mentioned these paychecks are really helping us pay off our business loan. But the point is…” She thought about her choice of words for a second. “You just don’t always have to control everything.”
He turned back to her, an eyebrow raised. “This coming from the woman who stomps her foot anytime she doesn’t get her way?”
Her spine stiffened, her defenses rising. “I do not. I just have strong opinions.”
His loud laughter was annoying. She wondered how mad he would be if she pushed him into the water.
“And an independent streak a mile wide,” he said. “Did you ever consider that maybe you also need to let go a little and trust in others?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He angled his head toward her, and the sun caught on the natural golden highlights in his hair. “Just that you’re so bound and determined to do everything yourself—to prove that you can do it all by yourself—that you forget to ask for help when you actually need it.”
“I do n—”
“And then you get angry when someone tries to step in. We’re actually quite similar in that regard, if you think about it. We just have different motivations, I suppose.”
The one thing she was not in the mood for in that moment was psychoanalysis. She wanted to get off that particular subject immediately. And the brilliant way she did that was by reverting to her fifteen-year-old self.
“You’re annoying, you know that?” she muttered.
He grinned as he resumed paddling. “So I’ve been told. But I think you’ll agree there have been a few particular instances when I was anything but annoying.” He looked over and winked at her, laughing at her instant scowl. “I thought so. Women go insane for the Zane. It can be a curse, really.”
She gaped at him. “You did not just rhyme.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “It’s a Price vice. Don’t lie, it has you in its clutches.”
His laughter died a quick death when she leaned over and splashed a handful of water right in his face. Her heart sped up when his eyes darkened. Because it wasn’t anger she saw in them. It was blatant, raw lust. She tried to imagine how well they could keep the boat balanced if she climbed onto his lap and rode him like a bull.
Best to try that another time, when there weren’t so many nice families around.
“You just went behind enemy lines, luv,” he grated in a husky voice. “You have no idea who you’re messing with.”
Wrong.
She was starting to get a pretty good idea.