Chapter Ten
Go dance with him? Be sure to snuggle up to him?
What the hell was wrong with him?
Holly had been in his arms last night—wanting him—and he’d sent her to another man.
When had he lost his balls?
Zack growled under his breath as he stepped from the men’s clothing store nestled in between the pharmacy and the Welcome Center. Two dark-haired boys loped along on the sidewalk in front of him, pretending they were riding horses, and he squinted into the bright midday sun. He pulled his sunglasses from the top of his head and took in the lazy Saturday morning.
People were flowing from store to store, yet no one seemed to be in any huge hurry. Just coming and going, packages tucked under their arms. Many had kids by their sides. Others were with friends, maybe family, and were talking as much as they seemed to be shopping.
He didn’t understand the total laid-back style here.
That had bothered him at first. A person didn’t get anywhere in life if they didn’t work hard. Didn’t go fast. Yet the residents here seemed happy, seemed to be enjoying themselves. That made him wonder if there might be another way to play it. Possibly there wasn’t always someplace to be.
He would add that to his list of things to think about later. Along with the small-town bonding to throw support behind a person, how hot Holly had looked in her silver dress when she’d strolled into the Bungalow the night before, and the fact that he could have taken her to bed if only he hadn’t decided to grow a conscience.
Yeah. Things there were definitely causing him more than a second thought or two.
He looked across the square to where he could see a crowd through the diner windows. Sugar Springs had another, more upscale restaurant; a couple smaller ones he’d seen while out driving around; and of course, the Bungalow, which he’d understood was a calmer, more toned-down place in the daylight hours. But the diner seemed to be the hub of the town. There was currently a line of people out the door waiting to be seated for lunch.
A banner for the upcoming Firefly Festival flapped in the breeze off to his right, making him wonder what that would be like. It also made him think of his mom.
She’d been from a town similar to this—though Zack had never been there himself. Her family had been gone before he’d come along, and she and his dad had already been settled in Atlanta for a couple decades. There had never been a need to visit his mother’s hometown.
Yet he’d heard her talk about small-town festivals for years. She’d even dragged him to a couple in his younger days, but he had only vague memories. His dad hadn’t been a fan so his mother had eventually quit suggesting them.
Zack would be gone before Sugar Springs had their festival, but he could come back. Maybe bring his mother. She would like that.
Thinking about his mother, the festival, and how he really should be spending his Saturday morning working instead of shopping, he turned to head two stores down to where he’d left Holly. He saw the boys again. This time they were heading toward the street.
The younger one ducked between two cars parked end-to-front, giggling with all the freedom that young boys felt, and the other followed.
Zack lifted a hand. “Hey!” he yelled out. He took a step in their direction. “You’re—”
He didn’t get another word out before two large arms reached in from nowhere and swooped the boys up. Zack sagged in relief as the man pulled the boys back just as a truck rolled past.
“Whoa.” The man held the boys off the ground, each of them tucked under an arm as if they were footballs. “You two better watch where you’re going. If that truck would’ve hit you, you’d be flatter than a flitter.”
The man set the boys down, and they took off in the other direction.
Zack watched as a woman rushed from inside a nearby store. Her eyes were wide and panicked as she caught the two boys up by their collars. She stooped to hug them close, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
Then she proceeded to chew her boys’ ears off for running away from her.
The chastising made Zack smile. It reminded him of his mother again. He’d gotten into his own amount of mischief as a boy. She’d never veered from sounding exactly like that woman.
“Did either of you bother telling Mr. Bert thank you for saving your lives?” the mother asked her sons.
Contrite faces and stiff backs turned to the older man who’d walked over to them.
“Thank you, Mr. Bert,” they chorused.
Bert rubbed them each on the top of their heads. “No problem, boys. That’s part of the job. I watch out for the rambunctious ones out on the sidewalks.”
“Hey,” a female voice yelled out.
Zack looked around to find Joanie waving from the other side of the street as she jumped from her cupcake van and headed to her store. He waved back. He’d had a really good time with them last night, leaving only after they’d closed down the place.
Holly had disappeared a couple hours before that—after dancing with half the men in town. Too many of whom had merely been trying to get into her pants.
He had to give her credit, though. She seemed to be able to pick out the players easily enough. They hadn’t gotten more than one lukewarm dance, and some not even that. He had noticed a couple of men, though, who’d seemed legitimately wowed with her.
One was the guy who’d been hanging out by the bar. Keith something. The one Zack had told her to snuggle up to. What an idiot. And yeah, she’d snuggled.
Keith had seemed to enjoy it.
Thankfully, Holly had moved on to dance with others, before finally leaving alone. Zack wasn’t sure how he would have handled watching her leave with a guy.
It was something he didn’t want to think too hard about.
He neared the consignment store, peeking in the front windows as he went. Holly had dragged him out early that morning, only to drive them all over the back roads of Sugar Springs. They’d been stopping at yard sales, of all things. He’d never been to a yard sale in his life. Yet he’d found himself humorously entertained. Then she’d wanted to pick through more junk at the consignment store.
He found her inside now, digging through a pile of picture frames on one of the tables. An older lady was standing at her side.
“Good morning,” he was greeted as he stepped through the door.
He took off his sunglasses and nodded at the clerk. The place was crammed full of clothes, knickknacks, appliances. Everything he could imagine. Including people. They were everywhere.
Then his eyes landed on the walls above the shelving.
Decorative mirrors of all shapes and sizes hung in every available space.
Some were antique, some newer, but the thing that was the same about all of them was the creativity that made each and every one unique.
“Interested in a mirror, sir?” the clerk asked brightly. She was about twenty, with a head full of red hair. “We have quite the selection. It’s one of the things we’re known for. We even have out-of-towners drive in just to see them.”
“I’m here with . . .” When he spoke, Holly looked up from the table where she stood and her eyes met his. Her mouth curved up at the corners. His did the same. “Her,” he finished.
His lungs felt as if they were holding too much air.
“Ah,” the clerk said. “I should have recognized you, Mr. Winston.” She nodded politely. “Please let me know if you need any help.”
Holly hadn’t looked away from him while the woman at her side continued to rattle on. Her cheeks had a cute pink hue to them today, and her face was washed clean of makeup. She was like a breath of fresh air that kept hitting him in the face.
“Monday night?” the older lady asked as Zack approached. “I’ll set it up. Something nice. How about Talbot’s?”
Holly’s lips inched further up. She shifted her focus to the woman, politeness radiating from her. “That sounds lovely, Ms. Francis. But how about you have Tony call me? He and I can set something up if we decide we both want to go out.”
Ah, a date.
With Tony.
Whoever Tony was.
Ms. Francis beamed. “I’ll do that, sweetheart. And he wants to, trust me. I’ve already talked to him about it. I even gave him money to take you out. He’ll treat you right.”
Zack held back a laugh at the look on Holly’s face. Apparently she didn’t want to date someone who needed his mother to both give him money to take a girl out and get his dates for him. He couldn’t say he blamed her.
Ms. Francis finally noticed him, and scrutinized him up and down. The verdict seemed to be that she found him lacking because her nose turned up and she gave a little hmph.
Then she patted Holly’s arm, shined another bright smile her way, and trotted off.
Holly watched her go, that polite little smile still on her lips, before turning to him.
“Got a hot date?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “If only I could get away with giving out a fake number. But I’d get caught.” She motioned to the bag he held in his hands. “Did you find jeans?”
He held the bag up. “Two pairs in my size.”
The jeans weren’t the brand he’d choose if he were shopping in Atlanta, but with it being years since he’d worn any, he figured there was little need in being picky now.
“We could have gotten you more if you weren’t so particular.”
By more, she meant that he could have bought some “used” from one of the yard sales they’d stopped at. Several pairs had been available. She’d worked that angle until he’d finally convinced her it simply wasn’t going to happen. He preferred having his boys where he knew no other boys had been.
“Are you cleaning the store of their junk?” he asked.
He’d been amazed at the number of items she’d bought as they’d made their way from sale to sale that morning. At first he’d assumed she was just being polite, not wanting to leave empty-handed.
But as they’d loaded up her backseat after each stop, he’d begun to see a pattern. And strangely, that pattern reminded him of the mirrors hanging on the walls.
She’d been gathering items she could reuse.
And suddenly the mirrors made sense.
They were so beautifully unique. Just like her. Just like the mirror at the house. He stepped up beside her and almost bent forward to kiss her when she tilted her head up to his.
“Did you create all the mirrors in here?” he asked.
Her brows shot up. And just as quickly, she propped a hand on her hip. She cocked her head at an angle. “Who outed me? Who have you been talking to?”
“No one. They’re just so . . . you.”
“Really?” She studied him quietly. He began to think she wasn’t going to say more when she finally admitted, “It’s a hobby of mine.”
He took in the sheer number of items hanging on the walls. At the uniqueness in every piece. As he did, he saw three different people pointing out mirrors they wanted, asking a clerk to get them down. “Looks like more than a hobby to me.”
Her eyes dimmed a little and she refocused on the pictures she was digging through.
“Nope,” she said lightly. “Just a hobby. I do it in my spare time. Just like everything else.” Her last sentence was finished on a mumble, and he had the impression he’d just uncovered another clue to figuring out Holly Marshall.
She may act like she was perfectly fine doing nothing substantial with her life, but she didn’t really like it. This he could understand. He’d been struggling with her lack of desire to have more, but if she just hadn’t found it yet, then that was different.
“You ever thought about getting out of here?” he found himself asking.
Her green eyes took a quick peek at him. “You ready to leave?”
“I can stay here as long as you want.” He began rummaging through the items she’d already looked at, not seeing anything in his hands. “But I’m not talking about leaving the store. I meant Sugar Springs.”
She didn’t respond so he continued. “You complained about the lack of career potential.” He shrugged. “Maybe you could find whatever you’re looking for somewhere else. It doesn’t have to be as big as Chicago. Just . . . more than here.”
She put down the frame in her hand, and calm, grass-green eyes turned to him. The look sent chills down his spine.
“Don’t you dare judge me,” she said in careful, slow words. “I’m happy here. And I love who I am. I don’t need you to—”
“Hey,” he cut in. “No. I’m not judging. I’m sorry. I just . . .” He shook his head and took her hand in his. “I see sadness in you every once in a while. And for someone who’s so optimistic ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, I don’t like that sadness. I just wanted to help.”
“You’re wrong. I’m not sad. And I don’t want anything but Sugar Springs. Even if my family wasn’t here, they are my family.” She’d pulled her hand from his and swung her arm toward the windows as she said “they,” as if including the whole town. “They love me exactly as I am.”
Clearly he’d hit a sore spot. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“We can’t all be big-time lawyers, Mr. Winston. But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy.”
“Hey,” he said again. He kept his tone soft and calm. “I’m not Mr. Winston, remember? I’m Zack. We’re friends. And I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. I made a mistake. I apologize.”
He wished he knew what kind of mess he’d just stepped into.
She pulled a deep breath in and held it before slowly letting it out. The sadness was back. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “You hit a button.”
“I saw that.” He bumped her shoulder with his in a friendly manner. “Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
The word was final. He could feel her pulling in on herself. He didn’t like that.
“How about lunch then?” he suggested. “My treat. Let’s go into Gatlinburg and grab a bite, then find something fun to do. We’ll take my car. I’ll even drive fast.” He winked.
He thought the enticement of his car might make her smile again. He even expected she’d ask to drive it.
But it didn’t. And she didn’t.
She shook her head. “I have things I need to do this afternoon. We can grab something at the deli on the way back.”
And before he could protest, she’d gathered up her items and headed for the register. He was left standing there, staring after her. Wondering exactly what he’d just done.
When she turned, ready to leave, he took the bags from her hands. “Sure I can’t change your mind?” he asked as they walked to the door.
She cut her eyes to him.
“Sorry about that back there,” she said. “I shouldn’t have gotten upset over nothing. I know you were just trying to help.”
“I’d still like to.” He held the door for her and she stepped out.
“I really do have things to do this afternoon. But a drive into Gatlinburg would be fun. Especially if I was driving your car.” There was the Holly he knew. “Tomorrow?” she asked.
He stopped dead on the street as she went on ahead of him. He’d just realized something.
He liked her. Really liked her.
It had bothered him seeing her so upset. It still bothered him. He wanted to fix it, and he wanted to make sure all she ever did was smile.
Since when did he let himself care enough to have such thoughts?
She was getting under his skin, and that wasn’t allowed. That led to him wanting things he’d written off years ago.
Maybe it was simply the friendship thing. Friendship with a woman was new for him. People cared about their friends, right? That was natural.
Only, it felt like more than because she was a friend.
Which make him twitchy.
“You okay?” she asked. She’d reached her car and turned back to see him ten feet behind.
He nodded. He had to be okay. Because he couldn’t fall for her.
She had every intention of living the rest of her life in Sugar Springs.
Also, there was the fact that a relationship would get in the way of his career. Possibly he could see himself somewhere down the road having something. A live-in girlfriend maybe. But not now. Right now he had to make partner.
That came first.
Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he nodded. “Yeah, fine. Just thinking.”
“So, tomorrow then?” she asked. “Gatlinburg?”
He reached her car. “Sorry, I have somewhere to go tomorrow.”
Without thinking about the fact that they’d been storing everything in her backseat all day, he lifted the back door of the SUV to put away her purchases.
“Don’t.” She reached out to close it, but the packages tucked inside caught his eye.
“What are these?” he asked. He kept his hand clamped on the door when she tried to close it.
She had numerous wrapped items, all flat, each protected between sheets of Styrofoam.
“Nothing. Here, give me the bags. That’s why I’ve been putting everything in the backseat. Because it’s full back here.”
He handed off her bags, and when she reached to close the door again, he still didn’t let her. Instead, he picked up the top item. It was heavy in his hands.
“Don’t,” she begged.
The untaped bubble wrap slipped from one corner before he could put it back down. Curious, he propped the item on his thigh and tugged at the wrapping on the opposite corner. It was a mirror.
Holly let out a soft groan.
This mirror wasn’t at all like the ones inside the store.
Those all had standard shapes. Squares, rectangles, circles. He’d even seen a couple octagons and some triangles. But they’d each been a single shape with a unique frame.
The mirror in his hand had no frame. And it wasn’t just a rectangle. There was a rectangle in the middle, but then there were five- to ten-inch shards of mirror overlapping, and strategically placed around the outside. The shards themselves made up the frame.
It wasn’t just a mirror. It was art.
And it was stunning.
“What is this?” he asked.
He suspected he knew.
She shoved her bags in the car and didn’t make eye contact. “Just some things I picked up in Chicago.”
He set the piece down, carefully propping it against the car so he could pick up the next.
She groaned again.
This one looked like it was in an antique silver frame. The inside—the “mirror” part—was a rectangular shape running vertically with the corners rounded and bulged out slightly from the main shape. Yet the frame was what he couldn’t take his eyes off of.
At first glance it looked like scrolled silver. Lots of detail, lots of cutouts. It would be beautiful if that’s all it was.
But it wasn’t silver. It was a mirror also. Each detail looked to have been painstakingly cut, and then there were etchings along the edges that gave the whole thing a 3-D look.
It was spectacular.
“Oh, my God,” breathed out someone beside him. “Is that for sale? I’ll buy it.”
He and Holly looked around at the person who’d spoken. A woman who’d just come from the consignment store.
“I saw the other mirrors inside, and there were several I wanted,” the lady went on. “But we’re just up for the weekend, and my whole family is with me. I don’t really have room in the car to get a mirror back to Alabama safely. But this . . .”
She held her hands out in front of her as if wanting to hold it. “This is so amazing I’ll pay to have it shipped. Or I’ll make one of my boys walk home just so I can put it in his seat,” she added with a laugh. “The teenage one. It’ll be nice without him in the car.” She reached out her hands again. “Can I look at it?”
Zack turned to Holly. Her face had taken on a pinched, wary look, but when Zack raised his brows at her, she slowly nodded. He handed the mirror over to the lady.
“It’s exquisite,” she whispered. Her head tilted at an angle as she studied the intricacies of the edges. “Did you make this?”
Holly didn’t answer. Instead, she just stood there. Silent.
The woman angled her head in the opposite direction and studied the other side. When she didn’t say anything else, Holly finally asked, “Did you really want to buy it?”
Zack watched her. He’d never seen her look so unsure about anything, but that was definitely the look she was wearing now. Why would she have her doubts about anyone wanting to buy this piece?
“Absolutely,” the woman said. She handed it back to Zack. “Just tell me how much and I’ll take it.”
Holly’s jaw dropped open.
The two women quickly negotiated a steep, yet in Zack’s opinion, very fair price, and the woman walked off, still staring at the piece in awe.
Then someone else stopped and bought the mirror Zack had propped against the side of the car. When she left, he turned to Holly and gave her a pointed look. “You are such a liar.”
She continued to look dumbfounded over what had just happened. “How so?”
“You did not pick these up in Chicago.”
Her eyes locked with his. This time he saw fear.
What could possibly scare her about selling these?
“Can we just go?” she asked.
He nodded and closed the hatchback, then went around to the passenger side and climbed in.
At least she wasn’t the only one confused. He had no idea what was going on either.
And something told him she wasn’t about to fill him in.