— FIVE —
FAITH woke before dawn and pounded out two chapters. She didn’t even blink until Eric politely tapped at her office door and announced it was time to take a break that she realized her family had also gotten up.
“Breakfast time, huh?” She grinned at her son as he tugged her toward the kitchen.
“Yep. Then Grandma says you need some sunshine.”
She probably did. “Want to go to the park?”
“Can I ride my scooter there?”
Faith pretended the request didn’t make her palms sweaty and nodded. “Sure. We can try out the new knee and elbow pads I ordered.”
She wasn’t going to let her fear stop her son from living his life and getting outside.
She would, however, buy stock in as much safety equipment as possible. If it didn’t have a serious social life downside, she’d happily suit him up in bubble wrap.
In the kitchen, Miriam had coffee brewed and tomatoes sliced. Faith pulled eggs and thick-sliced ham from the fridge, only to have them whisked from her hands a second later.
“Pour yourself a cup, honey. I’ve got this.” Her mother pushed her toward the coffee pot and Faith stifled a protest. If Miriam wanted to make breakfast, who was she to say no?
But sometimes—on a day when her daily word count had been met before anyone else woke up, when the rest of her day would look nearly normal, with a trip to the park and maybe finger painting or Lego building or rock collecting—maybe on a day like that, she could make breakfast for her son.
Even if he had come to get her and if he hadn’t, she wouldn’t have noticed the morning slipping by.
“Thanks, Mom.” Faith sighed. She couldn’t have her cake and eat it, too. She was blessed and needed to get over herself.
“What’s on your agenda for today?”
“We’re going to the park first. Then Eric has that back-to-school prep afternoon thing at the library. My day is wide open, really. Need to do some laundry, and order back-to-school stuff for Eric.”
Miriam lowered her voice, careful not to be heard. “Remember he needs elastic waist—”
“Mom!” Faith bit her lower lip and nodded. “I remember. We’ll look at the online stores together after I pick him up and he can choose what he likes.”
The nearest mall was an hour away, and it wasn’t particularly good. Other than groceries, everything she bought was delivered by courier companies. She didn’t miss fighting crowds to only find out her size was out of stock, although shopping online required a fair amount of advance notice when she needed something specific.
Miriam cracked three eggs into the frying pan, then threw out the shells before sliding a look back at Faith. “So if I wanted to go out for the afternoon and evening…?”
“You don’t need to ask me if you can head out.” She could feel worry twisting her mouth down at the corners, but she couldn’t fight the frown. “Have I been asking you for too much?”
“No. No! Really not. You and Eric are all I’ve had, and being able to help has been a gift to me. I’m happy to spend as much time as I can with him.” Miriam set down the ham she’d just picked up and turned to face Faith. “With both of you.”
“Don’t make me cry so early in the day,” Faith sniffed, then they both laughed. It had been a standard refrain as they established their new normal. No more tears. They’d cried enough for a lifetime. “Go have a day to yourself. You deserve it.”
After breakfast, Eric helped her do the dishes—too much soap, and both tea towels got soaked before anything could be dried, but that’s what the dish rack was for—and he went and put on long pants without any complaint.
Faith looked down at her black yoga pants that she might have slept in and her tank top that had seen better days. It was an unseasonably cool morning, but as the sun rose, it would warm up and if she wanted to take off her hoodie at some point…
She laughed at herself. It was clearly mid-book, race-to-the-deadline season if she was bemoaning having to put on clean clothes. She jumped in the shower real quick to wash off the grumpy writer, and came out refreshed and ready to be Mom for the rest of the day.
But she’d just thrown her last pair of yoga pants in the laundry, so she’d be a mom who was flashing a fair bit of leg in cut off jean shorts, apparently.
This seemed like not a big deal at all until they’d been at the park for an hour and she heard the rumbling growl of a motorcycle slow down, then stop.
Zander’s tall, broad form was unmistakable, even from fifty feet away. Even with his helmet on.
Heat snaked across her chest and down her arms, making her fingers tingle. He looked impossibly fine swinging his long leg off his bike. He pulled off his helmet and set it on his seat before running his fingers through his hair.
He was wearing jeans and a dark t-shirt. She was torn between wanting to run her hands over his tan, corded forearms and yell at him for having all that exposed flesh.
Stupid, handsome idiot.
He lifted his hand in greeting and her breath jammed hard in her throat. She swallowed uselessly against it and waved back, nerves still sparking erratically in her arm.
The Zander Effect.
It was real and dangerous.
He strode toward her, and her eyes gobbled up the way his muscled thighs flexed beneath the denim that fit him perfectly. Look somewhere else, she told herself, but dragging her gaze up only meant she got to sigh over how good the man looked in soft cotton. All of a sudden, her legs felt doughy and far too pale, and she worried if her own t-shirt clung too tightly to her never-seen-a-gym midsection.
Maybe it was his unexpected intrusion into her day or the aforementioned Zander Effect and how uncomfortable it made her, but either way she was rattled. By the time he stopped in front of her, she was feeling suddenly snappish. Like how dare he look that good and make her ogle him.
So instead of saying hello, or something equally polite and normal, she went with, “What are you doing here?”
He gave her a half-smile and enough of an eyebrow lift to show he saw right through her. “I had a meeting with an accountant. Nearby.”
“Ah.” That wasn’t any of her business, and it wasn’t what she’d meant to ask, anyway. “I mean, here, in this park.”
He gave her a funny look. “I saw you.”
“So?” She was being rude, like a teenager with her nose out of joint, but he threw her off-kilter.
His lips twisted a bit, a hint of a smile that threatened to get a lot bigger, and his eyes crinkled at the corners as he held her gaze. “So when I see you somewhere, Faith, I can’t head in the opposite direction without saying hi.”
Oh. His words pulled at her insides, once again waking up those parts of her body she’d all but forgotten, at least in a real-life, with-a-real-man kind of way.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he said on a rough exhale. His smile disappeared and he shoved his hands in his pockets.
“I’m not…” Well, she was a little surprised, but it wasn’t her primary reaction. Unexpectedly turned on, yes. Achingly drawn to him, definitely. Painfully aware he was just visiting for a week…yep. He at least deserved the bit of honesty she could safely give him. “It’s nice to see you again.”
He nodded, his gaze holding hers, boring deep.
“Is that your son?” He changed the subject, and like a world-class spy or your average four-year-old, Eric picked up on the inclusion of himself in the conversation and came running.
He stopped between them, like a tiny guard throwing himself in front of the queen, and stared up at Zander, equal parts suspicion and curiosity on his face. “Who are you? I don’t know you.”
She could always count on her son to call a spade a spade. She bit back a grin, but her amusement shifted to a bittersweet ache when Zander dropped into a low squat and held out his hand. “I’m Zander.”
“He knows Maya’s dad,” she interjected.
Eric nodded solemnly, his sunglasses sliding down his nose a bit more with each bob of his head until Faith just reached out and took them. “Okay. I’m Eric. I’m almost five. Do you like spaceships?”
Zander nodded solemnly. “Sure do. You ever been on a spaceship?”
Eric giggled, his dimples popping hard at the silly question. “No.”
“I have.” Zander lowered his voice and leaned in. “But not in space. Not yet.”
“I know,” Eric said, equally serious now. “No civilians.”
“That’s a big word for an almost five-year-old. You know about civilians?”
“I have a spy base I go to. We learn about stuff like that.” It was his imaginary playscape, where he disappeared when he needed to retreat from the world. Faith heard about the spy base on a nearly daily basis.
“Ahhh.” Zander nodded. “Well, I’m not exactly a civilian.”
“Are you a pilot?”
Zander laughed and glanced up at Faith, his eyes crinkling. But the smile got bigger than any she’d seen before, and then she realized, he had dimples, too. Damn, why did he have to have dimples? Although his were less boyishly-cute and more seriously-lethal. But her ovaries weren’t just aching because he was cute, but because her son brought it out in him. Zander likes kids. Her kid, to be exact. Like, more than adults, more than talking about warfare. Eric made him smile like this, up at her. The tip of his tongue darted out between his even white teeth as he laughed, a sound of pure happiness, and she just about had an instant orgasm. “The truth is going to be less cool, isn’t it?”
She joined him in his quiet chuckle and nodded by rote, although inside everything was still rioting. “‘Fraid so.”
She’d underestimated the Zander Effect. The height, the swagger, the incredibly sexy, encyclopaedic knowledge about weaponry…it all paled in comparison to watching this conversation, seeing Zander open up and give Eric little bits of himself without even thinking about it. Zander Minelli, you’re a dangerously kind man.
He turned his attention back to Eric. “I’m in the army, actually.”
Eric tipped his head to the side. “Maybe you can still go in the space shuttle.”
“I hope so.”
“Me too. I’m small. I’ll hide in your suitcase.”
As cute as this was, Faith couldn’t let her son think for a second that hiding in a stranger’s luggage was acceptable. “Eric, you’ve just Mr. Minelli. Ease up on the spy plans, okay?”
Her son sighed and leaned closer to Zander, echoing the grown man’s earlier action, right down to the lowered voice. “She doesn’t get it. But she’s cool in other ways.”
Zander laughed and tried to stop himself at the same time, making himself cough. Eric patiently waited for him to recover. Giant man, tiny boy. Instant friendship the likes of which Eric rarely had a chance to form.
Zander held out his hand again. “Eric, it was really a lot of fun meeting you today. Your mom is right about the escape plan—it’s not safe—but I like you, bud.”
Faith’s heart squeezed so tight she had to actually rub her chest to make the feeling go away…and still it lingered.
Eric shook right back with the fervency of a boy on a mission. Don’t count on this plan being dismissed, his little pumping arm said. But he knew when to re-group. “I’m going back to the playground.”
Zander stood and shoved his hands in his pockets as Faith watched her son scamper to the top of the climber. “He’s a great kid.”
“He’s fragile.” The warning tumbled out of her mouth before she realized she said it out loud.
“Okay.” His mouth tightened and his dark eyes searched her face. “I was just making conversation.”
“I know. And you didn’t say anything inappropriate. Actually, that was…really good. And thank you for backing me up on the safety thing. We’re edging into the age where he’s questioning everything I say.”
His lips turned up a bit and he nodded ruefully. “I remember the first time Tom told our mother she was wrong. It didn’t go well.”
Faith burst out laughing.
He shook his head. “I can still hear the wooden spoon splintering as she whacked it against the kitchen counter to make her point about how just not wrong she was, and just how grounded he was.”
That was…extreme. Her reaction couldn’t have been well-masked because Zander rocked forward on his heels and grinned at her.
“It was a different time?” he offered, his dimple making another appearance. “My mom takes the whole Italian passion thing quite literally.”
“Ah.”
“Your parents were different?”
She shrugged. Yes. A quiet academic father, lost in his thoughts most of the time, and when he blinked and realized he had a precocious child growing right in front of him, he’d just found her fascinating. And her mother had doted on both of them. “A bit, yeah.”
“Tell me more.”
“Why?”
“Haven’t you ever met someone and just wanted to know more about them?”
Yes. Again with that stupid tug deep in her belly. “I’m not that interesting.”
“I find that hard to believe.” His voice rumbled with barely restrained laughter.
“Mom!”
Saved by the child. She turned toward the climber and raised her voice. “Yes?”
“Will you push me on the swing?”
“Yep!” She started moving in that direction, walking backward so she could say goodbye to Zander. “Sorry, Mom duty calls.”
He didn’t take the hint. “That’s okay. I’ll join you. I’m not in any hurry.”
“Oh. I…” What? Wanted him to go away? That would be a bald-faced lie. Didn’t know how to handle his interest? That was certainly true, but not something she wanted to admit.
She blinked as he sauntered around her, coming close enough that his shoulder brushed hers as he passed. She pivoted on her heel, her breath shallow in her chest as she tried hard not to pant at the view of Zander’s ass encased in denim.
Ooooh, this was a mistake.
A beautiful, beautiful mistake.
He looked back at her, and the way the sun backlit him as he stood between her and the swing set made him look like a fallen angel. For a second she pictured him as Deacon. Dark, growly, full of attitude. Perfect.
She told her brain to remember every detail of this moment for when she got back to the computer.
The way her heart was pounding in her chest promised that wouldn’t be a problem.
He settled against one of the posts of the swing set as she gave Eric a gentle push.
“Higher, Mommy,” her son urged, and she made it so, because he didn’t call her that very often anymore. If he ever figured out that she’d give him almost anything when he did, she’d be screwed.
After the second push, she waved her hand in the space between her and her airborne son. “This is everything there is to know about me, Zander. Playgrounds and camps and packing lunches and wiping noses and kissing scraped knees. Bath time and story time and middle of the night cuddles because of nightmares. Nothing interesting.”
He just stood there, watching her, until Eric wiggled his feet and announced he was done. She wanted to follow him back to the climbers, wanted to escape Zander’s pinning gaze and swing on the monkey bars and sail down the slide.
Instead she just stood there and shared a long, silent, bittersweet moment with a man who would have been perfect for her a lifetime ago.
— —
Zander knew he should leave Faith alone.
Chemistry didn’t trump practicality, and she’d given him a bunch of reasons why being pursued didn’t thrill her—being a mom and dealing with grief, although she didn’t name that specifically.
But then they had shared looks like this, where her face was naked with longing and he thought, how is this beautiful woman all alone? How can I not pursue her? It was a raw, primal reaction that evaded logic and reason.
Eric’s strong little voice cut through their moment. “Mommy! I’m hungry!”
She nodded woodenly. “I’ve got snacks in my backpack, baby.”
Zander watched as she turned and jogged over to a bag sitting on a bench on the other side of the small park.
She had the sweetest legs. Long, curvy calves and soft, creamy thighs. This was the second time he’d seen her in cut-off jean shorts and a faded graphic tee, and that outfit was rapidly climbing his top-ten fantasy list. She made it look good. All curves and pale skin that made him wonder if it was even paler under the soft, clingy fabric.
And she had a tattoo on her ankle.
How had he missed that before?
He added it to the growing list of little details that made Faith special—the way her hair tumbled loose from her ponytail, the sparkly stud in her nose, how her blue eyes turned grey when she was thinking.
That she was giggle snorting over a bathroom humour joke with Eric.
“Because it’s poo!” the kid yelled, and Zander watched as Faith wiped tears from the corners of her eyes.
He’d missed the setup, but it was still somehow funny.
Slowly he made his way over to them. She’d crossed her legs and the dark ink was now hidden, but he’d figure out what it was soon enough.
“Did I miss a funny joke?” he asked.
Eric giggled. “Knock knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“Touch mop.”
“Touch…” Touch mop who… Touch mah poo. Zander grinned. “Touch mop who?”
Eric cackled and Faith turned pink. “I’m sorry,” she whispered between hiccupping laughs. “It’s really inappropriate.”
Zander dropped into a squat so he could be eye-level with Eric. “That’s okay. Army guys like crude jokes.” He cleared his throat. “Not that I’m going to teach you any.”
“Teach me!” Eric bounced on the bench. His granola bar got caught in the excitement somehow and tumbled to the ground. The little boy’s face immediately fell, and Zander picked up the bar, but it was covered in dirt. Eric reached out with his fingers and gingerly brushed at the sticky mess. “My snack…”
“We’ve got more at home,” Faith said smoothly, standing up again.
That brought Zander eye-to-eye with her legs. Her knees. Her smooth skin and not far from where his hand was hanging, her ankle with it’s gorgeous quill tattoo.
A writer’s ink.
The quill curved around her ankle bone before exploding into a flock of birds. All her stories?
He wanted to tug her ankle into his lap and trace the outline of the tattoo, make her shiver and giggle until she told him all about it. When. Where. Why.
With who.
He wanted to know everything about her. More than just the surface details that made her fascinating enough already. He wanted to know what made her tick, what got her excited.
What turned her on.
“Let me buy you lunch,” he said abruptly, standing up again. He towered over Faith, and he liked it like that. Liked how she looked up at him with that what-are-you-doing expression on her face, and how she licked her lips.
Especially that part.
He wanted to chase the plump, shiny flesh with his own tongue and find out if she tasted as serious as she looked most of the time, or if she was secret laughter and sighs on the inside, too.
“We couldn’t…” she said, but her eyes held his. “I tried to explain Friday night…”
“Ah yes.” He gave her a reproachful look. “You led me to believe you were a taken woman.”
She laughed. “I’m sorry about that. That wasn’t fair.”
“Then make it up to me.” He grinned down at her. “I did make Eric drop his granola bar, after all.”
“I want fish and chips,” Eric interjected, standing on the bench beside them. He was almost as tall as his mother that way—an equal part of the conversation. “Please, Mommy?”
And thank God for that, because it was likely the reason Faith relented. “Fine. We can go and get some lunch.” She glanced back at Zander. “And if Mr. Minelli happens to go to Castaway Pete’s at the same time, that would be…nice.”
They were only a block from the tiny strip of restaurants that did a booming business in the summer, for the tourists getting on and off the ferry and area cottagers, too. Two more weeks, once school started and the summer season officially wrapped up, and Tobermory would be nearly a ghost town.
He’d come back at exactly the right time, because this was easy. Walking together, with Eric in the middle, slowly coasting along on his scooter. Grabbing one of the bright blue picnic tables.
Arguing over who should pay.
Faith got right in his face when he tried to treat them, waving a twenty at him. He nearly grabbed her wrist and pulled her tight against him, and from the spark in her eye, she didn’t miss what was on his mind.
Oh yeah, she was interested.
And this time, the confusion over how she felt about that fact seemed less vexing than before.
Progress, he told himself. Significant progress.