by Liz Fox
Ten minutes later, I pull into Zach’s driveway.
“Hey, I’m here!” I call out when I see his front door cracked open. Pushing the door open with my gym bag, I peak inside.
There’s nothing there. No flooding. No water. No Zach.
Wait. That’s not completely true. There are two champagne flutes, a bottle of Dom Pérignon, and a long, velvet jewelry box on the coffee table.
“Hey, Sara. I’m glad you made it.” Zach comes down the stairs wearing a crisp, black shirt, open at the neck, and charcoal slacks. He looks good, as always. This is his cool and composed look, the one he wears for his public relations business, but I prefer him in jeans and a t-shirt. What he doesn’t look like is someone whose house is flooding.
“What do you mean ‘I’m glad you made it’? You just called me.” I step into his home and close the door behind me. “Where’s the flooding?”
“Well…” He scratches behind his neck and gives me his most charming smile. “There isn’t actually any flooding.”
“Wait. What?” His smile is wasted on me. If I canceled my evening plans for Zach’s made up ‘emergency,’ I’m going to kick his ass. He should know better than to rile my temper; I’m a redhead and I don’t hold back.
“What the hell is going on?” My hands clench around the straps of my gym bag. All I can think about is how kind Lincoln has been, and how I ditched him to help Zach.
Zach, with a sparkling clean home and a dozen roses in his hands.
“These are for you.” He offers me the flowers.
“No.” The roses are red, like the film over my eyes. “I can’t believe you did this,” I whisper. Of course, my volume raises as my fury grows. “I can’t believe you lied to me.”
“I had to.” Zach gives up the charm act and starts pacing the foyer, frustration in every line of his powerful body.
“No, you didn’t have to. You made a choice.” My voice fills with outrage. “You lied to your best friend. And for what?”
“I’m trying to protect you,” Zach says with a fierce vibrato that sends shivers down my spine, straight to my core.
“I don’t need your protection. Especially not from Lincoln.” It doesn’t matter how sexy he looks right now. I have no patience for liars.
“What do you like about him so much, anyway?” There’s a viciousness in his voice that I’ve never heard before.
“It’s none of your business! I can date who I want, when I want. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Maybe I want it to be my business.”
“You don’t get to decide that. Besides, you’ve never been interested before.”
“What do you think this is? Flowers, champagne, and this!” He stomps over to the coffee table and grabs the velvety box. He storms back to me, popping the box open and shoving it in my face. A simple gold bracelet lays inside on a white satin pillow.
“I don’t know. You haven’t said anything, really.”
The bracelet is beautiful. But it doesn’t mean anything. Not out of nowhere like this. I always hoped Zach would show interest in me, and part of me loves that he’s finally doing something. But these are just things. They aren’t even close to enough. Not without the words.
“You know who has said something? Lincoln.” I glance at my watch. “In fact, it hasn’t been too long. I’m sure he won’t mind if I’m a little late,” I say with as much sass as possible. At least, I hope I sound sassy. I’ve always loved Zach’s passion and determination. Now, it seems to be turned toward me, and I don’t know how to act. It’s infuriating, it’s maddening, and—fuck—it’s just as hot as I always imagined.
I spin on my heels and open the door, only to have it slam closed. Zach’s hand splays on the door near my head. The heat of his body warms my back side.
“You can’t go out with him,” he whispers in my ear like it’s god’s law.
“Why not?” I whisper back.
“Because you’re mine.”
He grabs both my shoulders and spins me around. My gym bag falls from my hand. For a brief moment, I register the intensity on his face before he claims my lips with his. His tongue delves into my mouth—tasting, teasing, tormenting.
In an instant, the raging heat of anger transforms into overwhelming, burning desire. My mouth presses against his, reveling in the electric pleasure of our first kiss.
His hands clamp onto the back of my thick thighs, lifting me so my back presses against the door. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. He massages my ass, each possessive squeeze a delicious torture.
I’ve pictured this moment for so long. It feels so good, better than I could have ever imagined. The physical chemistry between us is off the charts, as I always suspected it would be. What I didn’t expect was the series of events that led to it.
What should have been the best moment of my life is tainted by my lingering anger over his asshole behavior.
“Fuck, Sara.” He groans against my lips. “I can’t believe we’ve never done this before.”
His words feel like a bucket of cold water tossed on my face. Every muscle freezes, and the fiery heat of moments before feels like a distant memory. I rip my lips from his.
“Let me go, Zach,” I say with as much conviction as possible.
He ignores my demand, pressing soft kisses along my jaw. He reaches the sensitive part of my neck and a shiver greedily runs through me.
“No, I’m not doing this with you.” I shove against his shoulders, wiggling down as he slides me gently down the door.
“What? Didn’t you like it?”
“It doesn’t matter. This isn’t who I want to be.” I grab my bag and leave, slamming the door behind me. I love him and I probably always will, but my heart is breaking because it could have been so good. But I’m not willing to start a relationship with lies.
Chapter 6
Zach
Staring at my phone, I realize it’s been a week since Sara called, texted, or tried to communicate with me in any way. It’s not like her. Shit, it’s not like us. Usually we talk every day, even if it’s just to share a meme we think the other will like.
Of course, it took me messing things up to finally realize how much she means to me. I always thought I was so badass, hustling and crushing it all on my own.
This week has been enlightening, to say the least. Turns out, having Sara’s mental and emotional support helped more than I could imagine. Without her, I’m floundering. My business is okay, though I’m not operating at one hundred percent. My ability to focus has left the building. Every thought, every action, brings me right back to Sara. Her sweet laugh, her quick intelligence, and—god help me—her delicious curves.
A text comes in. I swipe to open it without even looking who it’s from.
Tana: Hey, big boy! Wanna go out tn?
What? Who the hell is Tana?
Zach: No
Tana: Bae, don’t be like that. I’ll let you take me to the lower levels of the OC.
Fuck. Now, I remember. Tana is that blond chick I took out on the day of the community fair. The one who spent the whole evening scoping out other men. What is she doing texting me on a Friday morning? Probably looking for a last minute date.
Zach: We’re done.
The three dots show up saying she’s composing another message, but I’m not interested. I block her number before she finishes. I’ve got more important things to work on. Like how to get Sara back in my life.
I went too far with the fake flood. In my mind, she would swoon over the romance of the gesture. We’d toast each other, sip champagne off each others’ naked bodies, and have sex all night.
Big nope.
You’d think someone who made millions in public relations would know exactly how to close a deal. It’s a rookie mistake to think that every person will react the same. Now, Tana. There’s a woman who would react predictably.
Clearly, I wasn’t thinking rationally, because I know Sara better than anyone in my life
. Sara doesn’t care about expensive jewelry. She cares about her friends and family, her job at the library and the people she gets to help there, and making a difference.
I want to be back in the circle of people she loves more than I can possibly say. Instead of brooding on my sofa, waiting for her to call, it’s time to do some work. If there’s one thing I’ve learned this week, is that she doesn’t owe me anything. It’s time to earn her love and affection instead of taking it for granted.
Grabbing my phone, I send her a text confirming that she’s coming to our regular pizza dinner date. After a few tense minutes, she replies with a thumbs up emoji. Thank god, I have a chance to make things right.
◆◆◆
I’ve been at Joe’s Pizza Place for two hours when Sara walks through the door looking like a goddess in a pair of fitted jeans and an off-the-shoulder sweater. My mouth dries as she slowly approaches our table. How the hell did it take me this long to notice how gorgeous she is?
Sara stops in front of the table but doesn’t sit down in her usual spot. She’s here, reluctantly. I need to convince her to stay.
“Hey, Sara, you want your regular?” Joe calls from behind the bar.
She opens her mouth to reply, but I hurry to interrupt. “Yeah, Joe. Get her regular.”
“Anything for you, partner.” Joe wipes his hands on a bar towel and turns to make our drinks. Today, he’s wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and an old ball cap to cover his growing bald patch.
With a frustrated huff, Sara sits down across from me. “What do you want, Zach?” She can act as mad as she wants, but I know my girl. She only rips up her napkins like that when she’s upset.
“Hey.” I put one of my hands over hers, stopping the frantic motion. “I’m sorry.”
Her hands fall slack beneath mine. “Sorry about what?”
“I’m sorry about lying last week. I’m sorry for being an ass when you came over. I’m sorry for hurting you.” Shaking my head, I still cringe when I think about how poorly I behaved. She nods along with each of my apologies, but her entire body freezes in place when I offer the next one. “But most of all, I’m sorry for taking our friendship—for taking you—for granted all these years.”
I’m so focused on our conversation that I don’t even notice when Joe drops off the pitcher and glasses until Sara pours herself a cup of beer and downs half of it.
After wiping her mouth on her sleeve, she sets the glass down with a firm thunk. She leans forward, face serious. “Zach, we’ve been friends for almost half our lives, and I’ve rarely seen you apologize to anyone. Be straight with me. What is this about?”
This is it. My chance to tell her how I feel. Don’t screw it up. Again.
“Sara.” I wipe my sweaty palms on the leg of my jeans. “We’ve known each other a long time, right?”
“That’s what I just said.”
“Right. Okay.” She’s not making this easy. This is what happens to a suave PR guy when his heart is on the line. “You know you’re my best friend.”
She nods. “You’re my best friend too, when you’re not being a dick.” She mumbles the last part.
“Yep, I was a dick,” I agree. “But I’m trying to make it up to you now. Joe, can you come over here for a second?”
Sara, understandably, looks a little shocked at my invitation to Joe but she doesn’t say anything.
“Hey, partner.” Joe ambles over, throwing his towel over his shoulder. “Whatcha need?”
“I was just telling Sara about our agreement.” Sara pastes a polite smile on her face and takes turns blinking at both of us. “By the way, Sara, I’d like to introduce you to Carl.”
“Carl?” she repeats dumbly.
“Yep. That’s the name. Everybody calls me Joe here at the pizza place though.”
Sara turns to me. “Why does he keep calling you ‘partner’?”
Joe slaps me on the back and explains, “Because this is my new partner! He walked in here this afternoon with some papers and a crazy idea. He helps pay to keep the place around and does the marketing for it, and I get to keep my job!”
“Thanks, Joe.” I nod at him. “I got it from here.”
“Sure thing,” he says and steps back behind the bar.
Sara’s hazel eyes are as wide as saucers. “You invested in Joe’s Pizza Place… But the pizza isn’t even that good!”
“Hey! I heard that, missy.” Joe points a finger at Sara.
“Sorry, Joe… Um, Carl. Sorry!” she replies.
Taking one of her hands, I bring her attention back to me. “It’s not about the pizza. It isn’t even about the money. It’s about preserving the thing that means more to me than anything in the world. Our relationship.”
“By buying a pizza place?” She still sounds skeptical, but I hear a tiny hint of hope in her voice.
“It’s not just a pizza place. Not to me. It’s a symbol of our friendship. The relationship we’ve had for so many years. I mean, we’ve been coming here every week, almost since the first time we met. Even when you were in school to become a librarian. Even when I was working eighty hours a week on my business. We still made time for this tradition.
“The thing is, I never knew it was so important to me until you canceled. That’s when I realized it’s not the tradition that I really love.”
Sara stares at my hand holding hers, my thumb brushing along the skin of her knuckles. With her head tilted, I can’t see her eyes, but her lush lower lip trembles as she asks, “What do you really love?”
“You, Sara. You’re the thing I really love. And not as a friend, but as the love of my life.”
Tears stream down her cheeks as she raises her gaze to mine. “Are you sure? Because you’ve never even hinted that you might think of me that way. And you were on a date with that blond not even two weeks ago.”
“Of course I’m sure, Sara.” I hate that she hesitates with me, probably because it’s deserved. “For so long, I’ve been focused on work, on making it, on proving to myself that I deserved to fit in with the biggest names in Oakwood City.
“When I finally made it, I wasn’t thinking about you. I wasn’t thinking about anyone but myself and how I looked. It was shallow. Trying to impress people who don’t even matter to me, and ignoring the people who’ve been with me since the beginning.
“It didn’t take long for me to realize that image isn’t everything, especially when it hurts the people I love.” Hopefully, she can feel my sincerity. “I only want to be with you.”
She pats at her tears with a paper napkin. I wait until she’s a little more composed before continuing. “Sara, um. I’m not sure how to ask this, but… How do you feel about me?”
Sara giggles, and I’m starting to get a little nervous. But then she scoots around the booth until we’re sitting side by side. “I’ve loved you for so long. I always hoped that you might—”
I cut her off with my lips on hers, unable to keep from kissing her any longer. Over a decade of friendship—countless movie marathons, birthdays with just the two of us, so many firsts it’s impossible to count—all of it comes together into this moment. This magical kiss with a woman who I trust with my life, desire with my body, and hold forever in my heart.
We come back to reality when Joe puts a cheesy love song through the speakers, “I swear, by the moon and the stars in the sky…”
I glance around the pizza place. There aren’t too many people here, but the dozen or so around us burst into applause. My cheeks heat, but Sara’s delightful giggle makes it all worth it.
“You want to get out of here?” At her nod, I scoot out of the booth and reach for her hand. It feels so right. I can’t wait to do everything I can to make Sara happy, starting tonight.
Chapter 7
Sara
Zach drives me to his home. Of course, I’ve been here dozens of times, but never like this. Never with this tension and sense of possibility. We park in his garage and he opens the car door for me. He’s never done tha
t before. I think I like it.
I like the dreamy way he kisses me and then leads me to his bedroom. I like the way he traces his fingers over my jaw and down my neck. I like the way his eyes burn with passion when he looks at my body and with love when he looks in my eyes.
He presses me gently onto the bed and lies beside me. His kisses are slow at first. Sweet. Soft lips move against mine and I breathe in his unique scent and delicious, musky aftershave. For a moment we pull apart, staring into each other’s eyes before he leans in again, pulling me closer, one hand on my ass, the other at the back of my neck. He holds me forcefully against his rock hard body.
Zach’s grip might leave marks on my skin, but his lack of control causes jolts of desire to unfurl through me. His passion fuels my own. I kiss the corner of his mouth, his chin, and the sharp line of his jaw. Impatiently, I unbutton his shirt and trace the tanned, sculptured body of the man I’ve dreamed of for years.
The tips of my fingers shake at the reality of his muscled arms, masculine nipples, and the small line of hair leading to his bulging arousal. The up and down movement of his chest and the growing erection clearly indicate how much he enjoys my touch.
“Damn,” he swears. Suddenly, he pins my hands behind my back, their exploration of his body cut short. “Babe, we don’t want this to end too soon.”
Once more, his mouth invades mine, his tongue teasing me with seductive, swirling movements. While he kisses me senseless, his skilled hands find the zipper of my dress, shoving it down my body until it falls to the floor.
“Zach, I need you.” A moan escapes my lips, followed by another. I shut my eyes tighter. Desire, fiery and furious, flows through my body straight to my center.
In a swift motion, he wraps my hips around his waist and gently lowering himself on top of me. Faintly, I feel him unclasp my bra. A sharp intake of breath follows.
“God, Sara. You are so fucking beautiful.” His gaze roams over my freckled breasts, one hand cupping my supple flesh. He squeezes me, bringing an aching tip to his mouth, licking, sucking, and savoring it while he pinches the other with his fingers.
