by Heidi McVay
She heard his voice coming from behind her as the sky opened up. When she looked up, he was jogging toward her, his suitcase in one hand, her duffel thrown over his shoulder and a garment bag containing the suit he’d wear to the funeral held aloft. “Why are you just standing there? Get inside.”
She moved up the walkway with leaden feet, cursing fluidly as she hopped down onto the boat’s deck and ducked beneath the overhang. Scarlett fumbled, inserting the key in the lock before she managed to finally twist it and push the door open just as Zarek squeezed beneath the shelter of the deck roof next to her. He was as soaked as she was.
“Damn. Usually, there’s a little more warning.” He gave her a nudge forward with the hand that held the garment bag. “Don’t just stand there like a moron, Scar. Get inside. It’s gonna get-”
Thunder boomed overhead, and she jumped, stifling a small yelp as she scrambled through the open doorway. When she finally stopped in the center of the tiny space, she turned to find Zarek pushing the door closed with his foot. The entire place was dark, and she wasn’t surprised to see him simply drop the bags without preamble.
He moved past her, toward what passed for a living room, and crouched beside the wall in the corner. A moment later, she saw the glow of his phone in his hand and heard his voice, soft and strong, an anchor in the storm that now raged outside. “I had them connect it to the shore power today. Just give me…ah.” It was as though the entire place came to lifewith the flip of whatever switch he’d been messing with. The lamp beside the couch flicked on, along with the overhead light in the small kitchen. “There we go.”
Scarlett headed for the kitchen and set down the reusable grocery sacks she still clutched, averting her gaze from where he stood in the corner of his living room. This place screamed of the Zarek she’d once known so well, in ways that his place in Calabasas didn’t. She didn’t want to look at it, didn’t want to look at him, not when she was so close to breaking. Her hair was plastered to her head, and her jeans and t-shirt were soaked through, and she was freezing. And it didn’t help that Zarek stood so close by, shaking out the garment back, hanging it from a hook on the back of the door they’d come through.
She wasn’t going to look at the way his jeans clung to his firm ass as he unzipped the bag and pulled out the suit before it could be damaged. And she wasn’t looking at the black t-shirt that was clinging to every muscle of his upper body, or the water that dripped down his biceps and toward his hands. Nope. Nope. Nope. Scarlett wasn’t looking at any of that. She was putting away groceries. Leeks. Potatoes. Steaks. Lettuce.
Those were things to focus on. Not Zarek and the confusing things that had begun happening to her as if the two years of his absence in her life had never happened. Fuck him. Fuck him and the perfectly sweet ass that she definitely wasn’t staring at the reflection of in the window over the tiny kitchen sink. Fuck Zarek McCall and the way he’d managed to confuse her in new and more irritating ways in the past two days than he had in years. And fuck her too, for weakening when she needed to be shoring up her defenses. The real question that Scarlett now faced, though, was did she have the strength?
She focused her gaze on the food as she began to sort through it. Her fingers had just reached around the handle of the milk jug when she heard his voice coming from behind her. “You're shivering.” He reached to take the milk from her hand as she turned toward the small fridge. She gripped it a little tighter only to find him stepping between her and the spot she needed to get to. His voice was a little firmer. “The water heater should be working now. It’s tankless, so the hot water is pretty much instant. The bathroom is just inside the bedroom. There should be towels. Go and take a shower and warm up, I’ll put this away.”
“You’re soaking wet too.” She pointed out, without meeting his eyes. “I’m fine.” The thunder came again, louder this time, and it took everything in her not to flinch at the sound as her heart began to race.
“My lips aren’t turning blue.” This time Zarek’s voice was a little harsher. “If you don’t go now, I will take you in there and shove you under the showerhead and turn on the taps. I’ve done it before.” And he had, the first time she’d visited him in LA when he’d lived in a shitty little studio apartment while booking nothing more high-profile than commercials.
Scarlett graced him with her most scathing glare, turned to reach for the bag he’d placed on the small dining table and wordlessly retreated in the direction of the back of the boat. This was not going to be a pleasant night. He was too close, too present, and she was so damn close to the brink she had to wonder if he was going to push her right over the edge.
Chapter Eight
Zarek listened to the shower running as he dropped his suitcase on the bed. Scarlett’s bag was open on the foot, and for a moment, he paused, staring at it. It was such a mundane thing, the sight of their bags together on his bed, but for the life of him, he couldn’t seem to rein in his curiosity as he stared at the bag. It was familiar. Very familiar. It had niggled at him as he’d loaded the car when they’d left for the airport hours earlier. And now, her bag just sat there, unassuming and stupidly captivating.
The bag was nothing special. Black leather with polished brass hardware. It took a second, but recognition dawned on him a split-second later. He’d given her that bag for her college graduation. It had been the first really nice thing he’d ever been able to buy for her. She still had it. And moreover, she was still using it, right down to the engraved zipper pull.
He heard the shower turn off and jerked his hand away from the monogrammed luggage tag he had touched with the backs of his knuckles. Zarek forced his attention on his own suitcase, pulling out a pair of pajama pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. When Scarlett emerged a few minutes later, he had his body, if not his brain, under control.
The sight of her little form clad in a pair of leggings that clung to her shapely legs and a loose t-shirt made his belly tighten all over again. God, he needed a drink. Soon. Training his gaze on her face, he intoned the words lightly.
“Still want to play War?”
She appeared surprised for a moment and then nodded. Zarek noticed that she was still shaking, though he knew it was from the thunder that still boomed overhead, and not from the cold. Her usually fair skin was still pink from the heat of the shower. He gave a grin in response. “Good. Whiskey is in the cabinet to the left of the stove; playing cards are in the drawer of the end table by the couch. I won’t be long.” Zarek watched as she nodded and headed for the tiny kitchen, pulling the bedroom door closed behind as she disappeared.
Less than ten minutes later, when he joined her in the living room, she’d placed the bottle of Jack Daniels on the coffee table, along with two shot glasses, and was quietly scrolling through something on her phone. Zarek made a beeline for her, plucked the phone from her hand without a word, and turned for the bedroom. She didn’t argue with him as he plugged it in next to his own on the nightstand and returned to the living room.
He lifted the bottle from the table, setting it on the plush rug, and lifted the coffee table by its end, pushing it out of the way. As the thunder boomed again, he saw Scarlett pale and shake for a moment, her eyes closing. Every protective instinct in Zarek rose up, but he knew that to do more than this would be unwelcome. And so he did the only thing he could.
He took a seat on the carpet in front of her and reached for the cards. “You pour the first round. I’ll shuffle.” Zarek slipped the rubber band off the deck and split the deck in half, watching as she uncapped the bottle and dutifully poured the first two shots. “You remember how to play?”
Scarlett’s eyes were on his, her expression scornful. “You trying to insult me, McCall?”
“No, ma’am.” He answered with a grin as he began to deal the cards with practiced ease. Once finished, Zarek lifted his own pile. “Ready?”
In answer, Scarlett leaned forward, flipping her first card face up. Zarek responded in kind, and the game was on.
It was nearly ten minutes before they finally turned up matching sevens. Scarlett’s movements were graceful, and Zarek’s eyes locked to those delicately formed fingers as she fluidly laid down three cards and then flipped up the last, a four. He glanced down to his own, which he’d laid automatically, then sighed as he saw the two.
They both reached for the shot glasses, Scarlett raising hers in a mock toast as he saw the beginnings of a smile tip up the corners of her full lips. He downed the shot, unprepared for the question that came his way. “If Tatiana hadn’t been pregnant, and I’d told you that you had to choose between us. What would your choice have been?”
Zarek lowered his shot glass and placed it down beside hers on the floor, reaching for the bottle to refill them. “The night she got pregnant, I went to her place to break it off. I guess there really wouldn’t even have been a choice to make.”
He watched as she swept the cards toward herself, adding them to her pile. He flipped up the next and was rewarded with a king to take her eight. The game continued quietly for the next several minutes until they laid down matching nines. One, two, three, flip. Zarek’s gaze flicked between his ten and her three.
Another shot. This time, she reached out to refill the glasses, and when he asked his question, he saw her go still for a moment, her hand hovering next to the bottle. “If I’d asked you to move to LA with me, would you have done it?”
Her eyes were on his, suspicious and narrow. As her hand snaked out toward the glass, Zarek realized she was thinking of not answering. She was going for the penalty shot.
Thunder pealed overhead, and the room lit up with a series of bright flashes of lightning. It was only then that Zarek realized the boat was rocking as the wind buffeted against the sides. He glanced back to the window to see the sky lighting up once more as the storm grew more intense. The rain was no longer simply steady. It was battering against the sides of the vessel with ever-increasing violence. Scarlett’s hands were shaking when he glanced back at her. Zarek studied her more closely and realized that her entire frame was trembling. He released a low breath. “Do you want me to hold you, Scar?”
Her green eyes were wide, and he read the same fear there that always tore at him. Her jaw tightened for a moment, and she tensed as waves slapped against the side of the boat. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”
“Fuck this shit.” Zarek spoke softly as he abandoned the cards and moved to take a seat beside her. “Just don’t get pissy about it later. Remember the truce. Okay?” He twisted to pull the blanket off the couch. While it was cool in the living room, it wasn’t cold. He didn’t have a decent closet on the houseboat, but he knew from past experience with Scarlett and storms that darkness and closeness was the best combination. He couldn’t recall how many long stormy nights he’d spent tucked into her closet with her, the door half-open to appease her mother’s sense of propriety.
Scarlett leaned forward and lifted her shot glass, downing the whiskey before handing him his own. He drank it and then watched as she retrieved the bottle and scooted closer to him as the thunder rumbled ominously once more. Zarek settled the throw blanket over their heads. It wasn’t complete darkness, but as he felt her trembling, he was instantly tossed back to high school. He needed to distract her. Zarek slid an arm around her shoulder, shifting his position to stretch one leg out behind her, propping the other up over her lap and pulling her into his chest. She lifted the bottle and took a healthy swig. Zarek watched her for a moment before pulling the whiskey from her fingers and helping himself as well. He was drinking for entirely different reasons now.
He’d almost forgotten how tiny she was compared to him, and even with the solid weight of her body tucked into his chest, he was acutely aware of just how long it had been since he’d had the chance to simply hold her. Zarek heard a harsh intake of breath and passed the bottle back to her. Even in the dimness beneath the blanket, he saw her wince when lightning flashed, a series of bright strobes.
He began to talk, not even knowing what to say, but knowing she needed something to focus on besides the sound of the wind that blustered and the thunder that raged out its fury. “Do you remember that kid, Duncan Marshall? The one that asked you out at the beginning of your sophomore year?”
She was still tense, and her head snapped up, eyes seeking him out as she nodded. Zarek watched as she took another drink, then clutched the bottle to her chest. “Of course I do. He was my first real date. Why?”
Zarek tugged the whiskey from her gently and held it for a moment before he took his own healthy pull. “You went out with him once, and then he didn’t come back to school for three days. Remember that?”
Scarlett nodded as she tugged the Jack Daniels from him once more. “Yeah. He came back with a black eye and a broken arm. Told everyone that he’d broken it skateboarding. I was afraid he’d tell everyone how that date ended, but he never said anything. That’s a random thing to bring up now. That was more than a decade ago.”
Zarek watched as those lush lips wrapped around the opening of the bottle, and his body tightened in response. He remained utterly still as he waited for her to lower the bottle. When she did, she spoke again. “You were supposed to come over when I got home that night, but you never showed. Something about food poisoning.”
Did he really have anything left to lose? He’d already lost Scarlett once. He’d been through the worst. His belly warmed with arousal and the whiskey as he reached out to take the bottle back. He drank deeply this time, several fortifying mouthfuls. When he lowered it, he gripped her a little more snugly, pleased when she allowed it, though she was still shaking. Zarek barely heard the thunder, just as close, and louder than ever, but his lungs were full of the scent of gardenias and his eyes full of Scarlett back with him, at least at this moment. He had nothing left to lose. She’d leave in a few days, and Zarek would go back to the numb existence that he now understood was his life without her in it.
He began slowly, thumb dragging over the label as he focused his eyes on it. “You want to know what really happened?”
Scarlett’s voice was low and for the first time, threaded with curiosity instead of fear. “Yes.”
Zarek closed his eyes for a moment, then sighed heavily. “I had my window open. I was waiting for you to get home so I could come over and see how it went.” Scarlett was utterly still as he continued in a quiet voice. “I saw him get out of the car and go around and open your door, so I figured he was walking you up to the porch. By the time I made it to your side of the hedge, I had heard you laugh. It was this soft little laugh I’d only heard you make for me before.”
He could feel the weight of her gaze on his face, and he forged onward. “I’d just come down the driveway. I was standing next to your dad’s car when he kissed you.” Zarek’s eyes moved to Scarlett’s face to find her staring at him intently. “It seemed fine, at first. And then he grabbed you, and you tried to push him away. I was going to let you handle it, Scar, I swear. But then he grabbed your ass and tried to shove his tongue down your throat, and something inside me just snapped. I froze. I couldn’t even breathe; I was just so angry.”
She was no longer shaking, focused entirely on his words. One hand had moved and was now resting on his chest. She’d used to do that, long ago, something about the tactile connection or whatever, but Zarek wasn’t about to point it out. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze to the bottle he stilled toyed with once more. “After you slapped him and ran inside, I went into my house and got my car keys. I followed him home, and when he got out of his car, I was right behind him. The black eye and the bruise on his forehead, that’s how I got the dent in Buttercup’s front quarter panel. I threw the son of a bitch into it, face first.”
“What?” Scarlett’s voice was soft with disbelief.
Zarek shook his head minutely. “Duncan staggered and then tried to take a swing at me. So, I broke his arm. I told him if he wanted to grab a girl like that, then maybe it was better he didn’t have the use of bo
th hands for a while. I also warned him that if he ever went near you again, looked at you wrong, even so much as breathed in your general direction, I wouldn’t hesitate to track him down and break his other arm.”
She was now silent and completely still. A second later, her head dropped, and she buried her face in his chest. Zarek exhaled slowly, his eyes closing in a moment where everything seemed right in his world once more. “Then, I left. Just left him there, bawling like a baby on the curb in front of his house. I fully expected the cops to show up and arrest me. That’s why I never came over that night. I didn’t want you to be dragged into it if the police did come. But Duncan never said a word about it to anyone, I guess. He never went near you again, and I never had to break his other arm.”
“Why would you do that?” Scarlett’s voice was muffled in the fabric of his t-shirt. “I took care of it. He wasn’t going to bother me again.”
Zarek tightened his arm around her, bowing his head to murmur the words into soft, dark curls. “I did it because he’d hurt the most precious person in my little world, Scar. I did it because he dared to lay his hands on you, and I had to make sure he didn’t do it again. And because I was seventeen, stupid, and jealous.”
Another loud clap of thunder had her jumping in his grasp. Zarek set the bottle down and brought his hand to rest on top of her head. She was trembling again, and without thinking, Zarek brushed a kiss over the top of her head, murmuring the words quietly. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just breathe.”
He felt her give a soft huff against his chest and then another. He began stroking her back slowly, trying to coax her to relax. Slowly, the tension began to drain from her body, and the shaking began to ease. She said something, a single word, but it was muffled in his chest. Zarek lowered his head again, to hear her better. “What did you say, sweetheart?”
