Zane (7 Brides for 7 Soldiers Book 3)

by Christie Ridgway

  “You should take a rest,” he suggested. “Walk for a while.”

  “No.” She might have wanted to add that he could move it along and leave her alone, but she didn’t have the breath for it.

  “We’re going to have to talk about that kiss.”

  “No. I’m busy.”

  “Busy killing yourself. You won’t be able to move tomorrow.”

  “I’ll manage.”

  “My house is on this road…a quarter mile from here,” he said.

  She grunted, the only response she could make.

  “I bet you can’t make it there…that you’ll have to quit before you reach my front door.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him. “Not…quitting.” Pride made her take the next step, and then the next, and then another.

  “If you make it to my front door, I’ll share my Chinese take-out. Get you a cold beer, too.”

  Cold beer. She didn’t often drink beer, but this one she could see. Almost taste. “If. I. Don’t?”

  “Make it, you mean?”

  She nodded.

  “Then you’ll let me kiss you again.”

  Of course, Harper dragged herself to Zane’s front door.

  As he stepped out of his truck, he was shaking his head. “Honey, you look wiped.”

  Half-bent, she had her palms on her knees, struggling to catch her breath. “I like Chinese.” I need to avoid more kissing from you.

  They didn’t get to the contents of the white paper bag he carried right away though. First he insisted on getting her a fleece sweatshirt of his and directing her toward the downstairs bathroom of his A-frame cabin. “You don’t want to catch a chill with sweat against your skin. Take off your top, your bra. Tights too, this shirt of mine will keep you decent.”

  Award-winning runner girls would not blush when a man mentioned the word “bra,” she reminded herself, and entered the spacious tiled space. Quickly she stripped off the damp garments, used a washcloth to freshen up, then pulled his fuzzy garment over her head.

  It draped her to her knees and smelled like him.

  She brought the too-long sleeve to her nose, inhaled deeply, and then quickly let her arm drop, feeling a spurt of shame.

  At least she didn’t snoop in the medicine cabinet, she thought, and walked back out to the expansive main room, trying to feel “decent” despite wearing only a pair of panties and his oversized garment. From the other end of the space, by the kitchen, Gambler’s head shot up. Then he came loping toward her, his sweeping tail knocking remotes off a table, as well as sending sections of a piled newspaper flying into the air. She shrank back against the bathroom door, unable to prevent herself from cowering before the dog’s oncoming assault.

  Out of nowhere, Zane appeared and grabbed the dog by the collar. “That’s no way to put a lady at her ease,” he said to the animal.

  “I think he wants to eat me.”

  “Nah, I just fed him dinner while you were in the bathroom.” He marched the Lab forward and had him sit near her feet. “He’s only eager to say hello again.”

  Harper stared down at the dog. “Hello,” she said.

  “He’s had a bad day,” Zane shared. “Some teenagers in the parking lot at A To Z were on skateboards and bikes, towing each other around with ski ropes. When I wouldn’t let him run for the trees, he cowered under my desk all day.”

  The story made her take a second look. Perhaps the dog didn’t look so much ravenous as misunderstood. With a tentative hand, she patted the top of his head, the fur soft as a bunny’s. “Poor Gambler.”

  “I’ve got your beer ready and waiting,” Zane said now.

  She looked up, saw the way his gaze had settled on her face, and had the sudden thought that maybe it was he who wanted to eat her up. A Red Riding Hood-shiver worked its way down her spine. “Um, perhaps I should go on home.”

  “I’ll drive you—after the beer, after you eat.”

  Already she felt an oncoming soreness and stiffening in her muscles. On a sigh, she acquiesced. At a small table between the kitchen area and the living room space, they dished out food—chow mein, sweet and sour, egg rolls. Harper found she was famished and hardly noticed that Gambler had camped himself at her side, his chin resting on her bare foot.

  “We should talk about the kiss,” Zane said again, as they polished off the final bites of their meal.

  Stubborn man. Instead of saying so, she lifted her chin and glanced around the room with its wood-paneled walls and wide windows. “You don’t have any deer heads.” Then she aimed her gaze to the polished wood floors. “Where are the bear rugs?”

  He was grinning at her, as if her comments amused him. “I don’t hunt much anymore. I lost my taste for shooting things.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “I was in the Army,” he explained. “Ten years, until I hurt my shoulder and decided it was time to get out and get back to Eagle’s Ridge.”

  “I’ve met more than one person in town with a military service record.”

  “It’s a tradition around here. The area was settled by four World War II vets, Grandpa Max included, and a lot of the young men—and some of the young women—follow in those footsteps.”

  Harper frowned. “You were hurt?” She ran her gaze over his wide shoulders, trying to see through his shirt to any damage that might linger. She hated that he might have some residual pain.

  “In the past, honey, so you don’t have to wear that sad expression because of me. I’m good.”

  But he’d lost his taste for shooting things. Maybe not as good as he thought, and then she recalled what Jane said, that some woman had “done a number on him.”

  But Harper had to forget all that, as it was none of her business, leopard and dust bunny prohibiting it from being so. “I’m not wearing a sad expression,” she said, probably lying, but she wasn’t anywhere near a mirror.

  He smiled once more, humor written all over his face. “Okay.”

  “Okay.” She put her hands to the table, intending to push up and then get him to take her home. She only made it halfway before her muscles protested and she sank back to her chair. “Ouch,” she said.

  In a moment, Zane was up and on his knees beside her, shouldering Gambler out the way and shifting the chair so he could get his hands on one of her legs. Then long fingers began to massage the bare skin from mid-thigh to calf.

  Heaven. She bit back a moan, caught between embarrassment and relief. “You don’t need to do that.”

  “Would you rather I kiss it and make it better?”

  “Not funny.” She frowned at him, all the while biting back another moan. “I don’t need any more kissing. I’m a runner now.” It probably wouldn’t make any sense to him.

  Obviously not, because he wore another grin. “Since when are you a runner?”

  “Since today, as you’ve probably figured out. The only thing I truly need now is the will to continue running so I’m in good enough shape to finish the mud run at the end of the month.”

  “I can help you with that,” he said instantly.

  “Huh?”

  “I’ll act as your trainer,” Zane offered.

  She stared. “Why would you?”

  “To pay you back, Harper. You did me a favor at the diner the other night and while you might not fully understand it yet, the whole town believes we’re a couple. Might as well take advantage of that and let me help you prepare for the mud run.”

  Panic fluttered in her belly. “Can’t you tell the townspeople they’re mistaken?”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “We could have a big public break-up then,” she said, brightening. “In the diner. You can loudly tell me that I’m not right for you. Too bookish.”

  “I couldn’t do that. I like books.”

  Argh. He was so frustrating. She knew deliberately obtuse when she heard it. “Say I’m bland and boring then.” They were Geoffrey’s words, but she managed to get them out
anyway. “They’ll all believe it.”

  Zane’s eyes narrowed. “If this is about leopards and dust bunnies again, I really will have to kiss you.”

  Holding up her hand, Harper pressed back in her chair. “Please, Zane.”

  With one big palm on each knee, he studied her face, then sighed. “What am I going to do with you, Harper Grace?”

  Before she could answer, he did so himself. “Be your trainer until the end of the month. As well as your friend.”

  Chapter 5

  With Gambler leashed at his side, Zane strode up the path to the library entrance. It was a pleasing one-story building, nestled in trees, with dark gray-shingled siding, a deep porch, and double doors painted bright red. Around the back, he knew, was a patio with benches then a rolling stretch of grass that was often used by patrons in the summer.

  Today, the cloudless sky promised that particular season might actually arrive soon. Zane took the blue overhead and the warmth of the sun on his shoulders as a good omen. There was going to be a way out of the corner he’d backed himself into with Harper.

  He only needed to turn off his stupid switch.

  It had been flipped to the On position one other time, when he was training in Fort Knox, Kentucky. A beautiful Southern belle had led him around by the nose for a time, and he’d been smitten by Lucy’s soft drawl, her fancy high heels, even the way she complained about his big hands creasing her dress or messing with her hairstyle when they necked in her daddy’s front parlor.

  He’d bought her gifts he couldn’t afford and arranged lavish dates that she’d seemed to enjoy—and think her due. Looking back, she hadn’t so much played hard to get, but hard to get to know, and his dumb young self had been hooked by the feminine mystery of her, big time.

  After an intense couple of months, knowing deployment was in the offing, he’d gone down on one knee with a ring in his hand.

  That’s when he found out that while he was good enough to date, to kiss, to accept presents from, he was also too big, too loud, and too rough for her to consider as husband material.

  Really, she’d said, for any woman to consider husband material.

  A lady wanted a gentleman who had a finer side.

  Pushing away the unpleasant memory, Zane slid his hand into his pocket. The bookmark was there, that little thing he’d never quite managed to get back to Harper yet. But so was a tube of liniment.

  A friend would provide that, because he guessed that today her muscles had to be stiff and sore.

  Though he didn’t know what he was going to do about that rash promise to be her trainer, which would mean way too much togetherness, today’s friendly gesture he could make—and hope any second now his smart switch would flip.

  As he and his dog reached the entrance, an older lady stepped out. He almost groaned aloud, but instead pasted on a smile. “Hi, Hildie.”

  The silver-haired woman lifted both arms in welcome, causing the sleeves of her striped caftan to flare out like bat wings. Gambler instantly dove between Zane’s legs, his ninety pounds cowering there.

  Add another item to the Terror List—Hildie’s wacky wardrobe.

  “Zane,” she said now, completely ignoring the dog who was emitting tiny whines and hiding his face against his owner’s jeans. “I’ve just met the pretty new librarian.”

  Yeah, and since she didn’t have any books in hand, he figured Eagle Ridge’s biggest gossip had gone into the building for just that very purpose.

  Hildie Fontana owned and operated “Hildie’s House,” a pink cottage filled with white elephants—at least that’s what the knickknacks and “antiques” appeared to be in Zane’s eyes. Mostly she used it as a place from which she held court, dispensing chocolate chip cookies all day long as well as giving out and taking in the local gossip.

  “I hear you and Harper are an item,” Hildie continued.

  He stifled another groan. “We’re, uh, just friends.”

  The old woman tittered, as he’d known she would, proving true what he’d told Harper the day before—Eagle’s Ridge had coupled them up and demurs and denials wouldn’t do a lick of good.

  Despite the fact that he was no good for the pretty new librarian.

  “She seems very nice,” Hildie said. “I think you’ll do well together.”

  We broke up. The three words gathered on his tongue, prompted by the suggestion Harper had made the day before. But for the life of him, he couldn’t push them out. Damn.

  Hildie grasped her skirts in each hand and lifted her hem to continue on her way. “You should come by the shop, dear boy, I have a fresh batch of cookies in the jar.”

  “The last time I stopped in, I broke a vase and the chair I sat in collapsed underneath me.”

  She laughed. “Your handsome company’s worth much more than a few broken things.”

  Touched, Zane turned to kiss her cheek as she passed. “Maybe you could be my girl.”

  On another little giggle, she pushed at his chest. “You’ve already got one of those,” she said, her gaze shifting over his shoulder.

  He turned back to see Harper standing in the open doorway, and his optimistic mood fled.

  There was no cloudless sky, no sunshine on his shoulders.

  Summer was a long, long way off.

  Because looking at her, instantly feeling that pull she had over him, he knew he was stuck on stupid. Maybe indefinitely.

  Today, she wore a soft sweater set, like girls from the 1950s or something, in a pale blue with pearl buttons. On the bottom was a full black skirt and little black flats. Her hair was pulled from her face and clipped at the back of her neck.

  She looked proper and tidy and his hands itched to mess her up.

  And not in a friendly sort of way.

  Her hand lifted in a small wave. “Hi, Zane.”

  “Hey, buddy,” he said, trying to look at her like a pal instead of like Gambler at a steak bone. “I, uh, brought you something.”

  Her head tilted. “A present for me?”

  And screw him, how he wished he had flowers or candy or some little trinket for her, something to warrant that pleased expression on her face. “Yeah,” he said gruffly, withdrawing the tube from his pocket. “Liniment for your muscles.”

  “Oh.” Her pleased expression didn’t drop. She moved forward, taking it from his hand.

  “It’s odorless,” he said. “I wouldn’t get you the stinky kind.”

  I wouldn’t get you the stinky kind. Good God, could he sound more graceless?

  But she beamed at him anyway. “That’s nice of you. I did wake up a little sore this morning.”

  “Yeah, and it will only get worse until you go on another run.”

  “Good advice. I’ll go out again tomorrow afternoon.”

  “There’s a nice jogging trail in the park at the east end of Sentinel Bridge.” He didn’t offer to partner on that, and she didn’t seem to notice.

  Instead, her head remained bent over the liniment, so her eyes were hidden by her long, feathery lashes. “This is so sweet and thoughtful.”

  Nice. Sweet. Thoughtful.

  Hell. She could not get the wrong idea about him. That just wouldn’t do.

  He gritted his teeth, then forced his jaw to relax. “Buddy.”

  She glanced up.

  “Buddy,” he said again. “I’m not sweet. Or nice. Or thoughtful.”

  Her head did that cute tilt again.

  “I’m a guy. A rough-around-the-edges, sometimes ill-mannered, belching kind of guy.”

  Her mouth pursed as if she was holding back a laugh. “I don’t think you belch.”

  “I did when I was twelve. The entire alphabet.” When she truly laughed this time, he gazed on her with some exasperation. “What I’m trying to say is…is…maybe I am a leopard. And leopards don’t change their spots.”

  “Are you trying to tell me you could still burp the alphabet?”

  “If I wanted to.” And why that came out surly, he didn’t know.
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br />   “Well, anyway, I have to get back to work,” Harper said. Coming closer, close enough that he could smell the fragrance of her hair, she popped onto her tiptoes.

  Her lips brushed his cheek.

  And even at that delicate touch, lust surged. “Harper,” he groaned, his hands flexing.

  Then the distinctive whirr of a skateboard’s wheels on asphalt sounded and Gambler, forgotten during his owner’s conversation with the pretty, distracting, tempting librarian, bolted, his leash slipping from Zane’s loosened hold.

  “Gambler!” he yelled, lunging after the fleeing animal. “Gambler, get back here!”

  The dog’s scamper didn’t slow as he rounded the corner of the library building.

  “Oh, no,” Harper called from behind him. They were both in hot pursuit now. “There are kids back there.”

  Bad. Very bad. Zane didn’t think the canine would actually bite anyone, but he might easily knock a child over or scare someone into a stroke. Pumping his arms, he sped around the side of the library.

  On the patio, on the grass. Kids.

  Kids…and more dogs?

  He stopped, his breath moving harshly in and out of his lungs, and stared. Harper came up beside him, she was panting too, but he didn’t look at her.

  The sight in front of him was impossible to look away from.

  On a patch of grass, shaded by a tree, a little girl stood in pink tights, a pink-and-blue polka dot dress, with miniscule sneakers on her feet. And at them sat a very calm, very alert yellow Lab.

  “Is that someone else’s dog?” he wondered aloud.

  “I think he’s yours,” Harper said, her voice low.

  Zane began to move forward again, back in rescue mode, but she caught his arm. “Don’t rush.”

  “What’s going on?” he asked, glancing over at her.

  “This is our Kids Reading to Dogs program,” she whispered.

  Of course it was, because about a dozen small kids sat about, with about an equal number of attentive canines beside them—though one kid had a rabbit in a basket. All the animals seemed content to be read to from the books in the children’s hands.