— SIX —
FISH and chips had never tasted so good.
Zander had disappeared inside with her twenty dollars, and returned with a single tray of food—and her twenty dollars.
“Your change,” he said with a wink. Then he turned to Eric before she could say anything. “Hey bud, I need help with the second tray. The pirates inside are holding it hostage. Do you have any gold?”
Eric laughed. “You mean, do ye have any gold.”
“Argh, me matey, I do indeed.” Zander held out a couple of loonies, and Eric took the one-dollar coins and led Zander back inside.
When they returned, Eric crowed about how he’d tipped the pirate behind the counter—the main reason to visit Castaway Pete’s—and they all dug into their lunch.
Eric filled the silence with excited chatter about the library program he was going to for the afternoon.
Zander nodded along, asking questions like how long it would be and how many days he’d take it, and Eric sat up taller and beamed brighter with each answer. But Faith felt like with each question, she was being stripped bare. Zander didn’t look her way and yet she felt his attention most keenly.
"And how about you, Faith? Working this afternoon?"
He knew she had the afternoon to herself—today and every day this week—thanks to her son, so she'd seen the question coming. But she still wasn't prepared for it. “I’m…” Done writing for the day. “Going to do laundry.”
His eyes leapt like amused, glittering chunks of coal. “Fun.”
Shrugging, she stole one of his French fries. “I told you, nothing about my life is fun.”
He dipped another fry in ketchup and held it out for her. “This is fun.”
Yes, it was, and admitting that—to him, to herself—was surprisingly easy. “Once or twice a year, maybe we go wild and have lunch out.”
He grinned. “So it is possible for Faith Davidson, serious writer extraordinaire, to have fun.”
“Possible, yes. Probable, no.” Her phone sounded from the pocket of her backpack. She pulled it out—the alarm reminder that Eric’s library program started in thirty minutes. “Finish up your lunch.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Zander said softly, his lips quirking as he looked down at his tray.
“I meant Eric,” she laughed.
“Right.” Zander turned to Eric. “You’ve got a busy afternoon ahead.”
Eric stared right back at him. “What are you going to do with my mom this afternoon?”
Faith enjoyed seeing Zander speechless, so she waited a beat before saving him. “I think we’ll take you over to the library, then Mr. Minelli might walk me home, where I will wash your soccer uniform so it’s shiny and clean for your game tomorrow night.”
Eric shrugged. “Boring.”
“Excuse me?”
“Thank you.”
“That’s better.” She handed over a napkin, then started to stack their trays.
“I’ll get these,” Zander said, his fingers brushing hers as they both reached for the pile of ketchup-smeared paper plates, crumpled napkins, and empty tartar sauce cups.
Faith froze.
So did the six-foot-something tattooed biker she couldn’t get out of her mind.
She didn’t know she’d been missing his touch. Not exactly. But the moment the contact was made, she knew she was in big trouble. Even though it was innocent, it didn’t feel innocent at all. Faith forced herself to keep breathing.
“Come on.” His voice strained to sound normal—or least that’s what she told herself she was hearing. It would be good to not be alone in this craziness. “Eric’s got a thing to get to, right bud?”
“That’s right!”
Faith blinked and pulled her hand away. She buried her burning face in her backpack, looking for the smaller bag and water bottle that Eric would take with him to the afternoon program.
“And then you’re going to walk my mom home?”
Seriously, why was Eric so obsessed with what Zander was going to do to her that afternoon?
With. Not to.
She jerked the backpack closed and stood up, her hip banging against the picnic table. “Okay, let’s go.”
She managed not to look at Zander until they got to the library—damn small towns, everything being only a block apart barely gave her time to de-blush and try to restore her natural defences.
“You have a good time.” She kissed Eric on the forehead and smoothed her hand over his hair. “I’ll be back in three hours to pick you up.”
“With Zander?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“Awww!”
Zander leaned in and offered his fist to Eric, who solemnly bumped knuckles with his new friend.
Faith cleared her throat. “What do you say?”
“Thank you for laughing at my poop joke.”
“Eric!”
“And lunch.”
“That’s better. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
She watched as her little boy scampered off, high-fiving the program leader as he took his seat on the carpet alongside a handful of other children. Probably all the kids that would be in his class in two weeks—Tobermory didn’t have a huge population at the height of the summer. It dwindled to almost nothing over the winter.
When she turned around, Zander was watching her with a weird look on his face.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He stepped out of the way and gestured to the door. “Lead the way, laundry lady.”
“See? I’m no fun.”
Maybe if she hadn’t said that, he’d have let her pass him and step back out into the sunshine.
But she had, and as soon as it was out of her mouth, she’d known it was a mistake. His hand snapped out in front of her, touching her hip.
Zander’s fingers brushing against hers had been distracting. This?
This was mind-altering. His palm curved around her side, his forearm a steel bar across her waist. “I don’t believe that for a second,” he whispered before releasing her just as quickly as he’d stopped her.
Desire seized her body, making her tremble for the first time in years. If they weren’t in the doorway of the library, she would have grabbed his hand and returned it to her side. If she weren’t still wrapped around the axle about trust and loss, she’d lead him to the nearest alley and let him do a lot more than just touch her.
But they were in public and she wasn’t ready for the kind of adventure that Zander promised.
She’d never be ready for that, truthfully, because she’d dated the bad boy before. Married him, had his baby, and gleefully kissed him before he set off on adventure after adventure.
Until the day he didn’t come home to her.
Now her face was burning for a completely different reason.
Not her whole face.
Just her eyes.
Damn it.
Just as quickly as she’d burned hot, now she was shivering from the nearness of Zander’s large form.
Ducking her head, she started walking again.
Blink.
Blink.
She wouldn’t cry.
It wasn’t that she was afraid of emotion.
Hell, she was a fan of tears. A big one. They could be cathartic and healing. Freeing and therapeutic. She’d shed them for all of those reasons, and other, sadder reasons. Because she was scared and alone. Depressed and worried and not sure anything would be okay ever again. But they had their time and place, and whatever her flirtations were with Zander, he wasn’t a confidant.
Over the pounding of her heart, she heard Zander talking to her. Apologizing.
She shook her head, then waved her hand when he didn’t stop. “It’s not you.”
“Hey, slow up.” He pulled ahead of her, holding up his hands. “I’m not going to touch you again, just wait a minute.”
She jerked her head up. She’d crossed the street and they were halfway down the road to her place.
“What’s wrong?”
Faith took a deep breath and shook her head a little to shake the dredged-up feelings loose.
Zander rocked back on his heels and carefully slid his hands into his jeans pockets. She knew what he was doing, backing off and clearly demonstrating he wasn’t a threat. But she couldn’t find her voice to tell him it really wasn’t him, not like that. He hadn’t creeped her out. She was just freaked out by all the uncontrollable feelings. Triggers can be the most unexpected things. It was a primary lesson in grief counselling and she knew it well. After four years, she thought she’d experienced all the triggers she might encounter.
She’d been wrong.
Zander had sparked the worst kind of reaction by being the best kind of person. By being awesome with her son and teasing with her, coaxing parts of her back to life. By being gut-achingly perfect in all the most unexpected ways.
“I know I’m a nice guy…” he started, giving her a slow grin that teased her, that promised she’d never live down that brush off. And that teasing eased some of the tension, helped her breathe again. He watched her face, and slowly nodded. “And since nice guys just aren’t your type…”
She laughed weakly. “Nice guys are totally my type and I thought we’d agreed you weren’t one.”
“Is that how that conversation went? Because I assure you, I’m as square as they come.”
She frowned. “Let’s talk about the fact that you should wear a leather jacket when you’re on your bike.”
He frowned right back. “I do.”
“I watched you get off your bike at the park.” She rolled her eyes at the way his eyebrows quirked at her admission that she’d watched him earlier. “Yes, I saw you pull up, and…yes, you are a very distracting sight.”
“So the storming away from me at the library was a ninety-minute delayed reaction to that?”
She shook her head, and as he gave her a far-too-gentle, far-too-understanding look, she started to feel silly.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Are we storming to your house, by any chance?”
“I am heading home, yes. I think the we portion of the day should probably come to a close.”
“Even though you found me a very distracting sight?”
“Yep.” She stepped past him and continued down the street. He loped alongside her, and it didn’t matter how fast she trundled, he easily kept up.
She couldn’t actually run. That would be weird.
This whole thing was weird, of course, but that would be too much.
So when they got to her driveway, she stopped again.
As did he.
She noted that her mother’s car was gone, and ignored the flight of butterflies that started twirling in excitement in her belly.
Being alone with Zander was not a big deal, because he was leaving. She’d go and do laundry and put this whole weird encounter behind her.
Until she fell asleep—then she’d twist it into a bizarre fantasy where they had wild monkey sex at Castaway Pete’s, probably.
That would be her cross to bear.
Before he could figure out where her mind had just gone, she returned to their discussion.
“Where were we? Oh yeah. You. Distracting sight. You’re also an idiot because you were on your bike in this very thin t-shirt.” She tapped her fingers against his chest.
Oh, he felt good. Big, hard, warm… With a slow exhale, she flattened her palm against his very thin t-shirt and enjoyed the flex of his pecs against her hand.
She ignored the surprised look on his face.
He’d touched her. Now she’d just touch him. Just for a minute.
“And it would be a shame…” She trailed off, her eyelids drooping a bit as she smoothed her hand across the significant width of his torso. More muscles flexed against her touch. Great.
“You were saying?”
She jerked her hand away and cleared her throat. “Don’t be reckless.”
“You’re right. I do have a jacket—it’s in my saddlebag. I didn’t wear it from my meeting with the accountant over to the park because I knew I was just going a few blocks.”
She knit her brow together. That sounded like he’d deliberately tracked her down. “I thought you said you saw me at the park and that’s why you stopped.”
He dropped his head, probably to cover up the fact that his cheeks were turning ruddy.
“Zander?”
“Shit, you’ve got the lecturing mom voice down pat.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You’d have to know the Foster brothers to really get it, but they’re a bunch of meddling Cupids. Matt’s on duty today as a paramedic, and their station backs onto the park. His brother Dean was with me—we went to see the accountant together—and Dean called to see if Matt had time for a coffee. Mentioned me, and Matt pointed out that he’d just seen you and your son at the park.”
Faith did know the Foster brothers. Not well, but enough to understand that they were beloved sons of the peninsula, all upstanding members of the community in one way or another. How had they already connected her and Zander? “And what did you say?”
“I said I was heading straight back to Pine Harbour. Then Matt had a call come in and Dean took off as well.” He searched her face, his eyes not as dark as before. Endless pools of melted chocolate…a cruel shade of eye colour. Irresistible, really.
“So you came straight to the park.”
“I did.”
“To see me.”
“Yes.” He held her gaze for a beat. “I don’t need to broadcast what we’re doing. I’m not a guy who hides his interest in a good woman, though.”
She dropped her gaze to his neck. Solid muscle, tan skin. A healthy-looking vein she wanted to press her lips against. He thought she was a good woman?
“Is that a problem?” He reached out and stroked his fingers along her jaw, lifting her face. Her mouth went dry at the caress and the look on his face made her knees weak. “If people find out that I like you?”
“You like me?”
He crowded closer, and she took a step back. He stepped forward, she stepped back.
Again and again until they were right up against the side of her house and under the shade of the oak tree that loomed above her driveway and gave a decent amount of privacy.
“I’ll ask you again…is that a problem?” The question rolled off his tongue loose and light, but it still made her head swim. He made the simplest words sound infinitely dirty.
“I don’t know…” she breathed, bracing her hands against the vinyl siding wall behind her.
“I’m sorry about what happened at the library.”
“I’ve got some issues,” she whispered. “About bad boys.”
“Ah.” His lips thinned and he gave her a steely look. “The jacket.”
“All of it. That was just…something I noticed.”
“I’m careful. I promise.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything. Hello, stranger, let me dump my worries on you.”
He shifted closer, bracing one arm on the wall above her as he lifted the other hand and brushed some loose hairs off her face. “Dump away. I’ve got wide shoulders, Faith. I can carry a pretty heavy load. And I don’t want to be a stranger to you.”
Her heart skidded hard, sending electrical misfires throughout her entire body. She rolled her head to the side, then back again, because hiding from his gaze hadn’t worked so far, and really, she didn’t want to hide from him. Not right now. “What are we doing?”
“I walked you home so you can do laundry.” He grinned. “Now I’m just saying goodbye—for now.”
Confusion and disbelief were familiar feelings to Faith. That they were tinged with this bubbling edge of happiness was new and strange and not entirely acceptable.
Nothing was this easy or light.
Everything had a price.
“For now?”
His grin got wider. “I’d like to see you again. I understand if you aren’t ready. If you’re still mourning…”
“It’s not that.” She shook her head. She’d always love Greg, and always miss him, but the acute ache had faded. She’d grieved and made peace with losing her husband and, in theory, she was ready to date again.
In reality, she’d never be ready for Zander.
“It’s…complicated.”
“I’m not asking for much. Just making my interest known, hoping we can maybe see what this is between us.”
“I get that. But that’s the problem. You’re…I have trouble believing that—” She carefully set her hands on his chest—there was that warmth again, making her want to do stupid things—and moved him a foot away from her. She waved her hands up and down between them. “It doesn’t make sense that you are interested in fish and chip lunches and talking about spaceships and walking me home so I can do laundry.”
His jaw clenched and he crossed his arms. Jeez, he had nice forearms. And she had zero focus.
“I mean, not without expecting something.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “Something?”
“A booty call or afternoon delight. A one-night stand or an easy fuck.” She said the words, maybe to shock him—which didn’t work—or maybe to make a point that she knew that was something people looked for. She didn’t want to think she might be testing him, although as soon as she said them, she held her breath, waiting for his answer.
A scowl darkened his face. “I’m not asking you for an easy fuck.”
More’s the pity, screamed her lady parts, but the rest of her relaxed.
“Faith, I have four tattoos to your…do you just have one?”
Heat flooded her cheeks. He’d noticed her tattoo? She nodded dumbly.
“To your one. No piercings to your…”
Oh God. The heat inched further down her neck and she was sure her ears were bright red. “Three,” she mumbled.
“At some point, I’m going to want a detailed accounting of where all of those are,” he said, every inch a modern rake, right down to the dirty twinkle in his eye. “But I don’t see those and make any assumptions about you. It feels like you’re making some assumptions about me here.”
She’d started blushing when he started talking about her piercings, and now the embarrassed warmth sank deeper into her skin. Oh. “It’s possible that I’m conflating a few things,” she started before pausing to drag in a shaky breath. “And it’s definitely possible that I’m making a bigger deal about a lot of this than I need to.”
“Hey.” He rocked on his feet, bending a bit at the knee to put them more eye-to-eye. “I know I’m not Mr. Right. Never have been, never will be. But the only something I want from you is your company. I’m visiting for a week and other than a few family dinners and trying to figure out what the fuck my career is going to be after my current one comes to an end, I have nothing to do. And you are fascinating and kind and beautiful, and I’d love to spend some of this week with you. And Eric, if he’s interested and you’re willing. Hell, invite the entire town to lunch tomorrow if you want.”
“Tomorrow?”
“That was my really bad way of asking you out again.”
“Again? When did you ask me out before?”
“I bought you lunch today, didn’t I?”
That he had. And now, even though she’d turned pink and lost her tongue, he wanted to do it again. “Oh.”
His grin practically sparkled this time. “So. How about you stop worrying about the fact that I’m obviously not Mr. Right, and give me a chance to be Mr. Right Now?”
“Right now?”
“This week. Lunches and whatever else you want.”
No… the long list of X-rated whatever else she wanted couldn’t be on the table. No matter how delicious his forearms were. Or his biceps. Or the chest, the rakish smile, the dark, shining eyes or kind way he disproved all her assumptions about him.
“Okay.” She grinned at him, and the answer felt totally right. With one caveat. “I’d love to have lunch with you again. But just as friends.”
He gave her a look of pure disbelief. Yeah, she got that.
The chemistry between them was off the charts. She didn’t want to just be friends and he knew it.
But it was all she could handle from a guy who was disappearing in a few days.
“Friends…”
She nodded.
He shrugged and his t-shirt bunched up, stretching wide around the top of his biceps. He tugged on the collar, revealing another slice of tattoo. Every time she saw him, his t-shirts were like this, worn and tugged on, like he just couldn’t find any that fit his body properly in the store.
Well, that made sense—there was no comparing Zander to the average man that t-shirts were designed for.
This was no khaki-wearing, minivan-driving, rectangular-torsoed man. Lean through the middle, but impossibly broad across his shoulders, she imagined that the only shirts that would properly fit him would need to be custom made. And Zander wasn’t the type of guy to be that vain.
Not that she was complaining. The bunching and stretching that should make the t-shirt look ill-fitting did the exact opposite. It highlighted his muscular build. Hugged his strong arms and smoothed proudly across his impressive chest.
And most of all, it said, this guy doesn’t preen. Zander got up, put his fucking shirt on, and went about his day.
That was obvious and she loved it far too much. Another reason she needed this boundary.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing.”
He grinned. “You were checking me out.”
“I was thinking your t-shirts never fit.”
“Sounds like the same thing.”
She laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I hear that’s a good trait to have in a friend.” He winked. “Okay. Until tomorrow. Fish and chips again?”
She shook her head. “Greta’s. After I drop off Eric.”
“It’s a date. I’ll see you in twenty-four hours at our table.”