Zane would have liked to say it was none of his twin’s business, but the fact was…twin. It came with the territory that he had to string a few words together to make an answer that filled in what his brother hadn’t already intuited. Zane sighed. Opened his mouth.
And realized he didn’t know what the hell to say.
Because he didn’t know exactly what was up with him and the librarian. He wanted to say nothing was up, or at the very least, only that they were friends, but they’d had sex last night and then he’d left her to wake up alone. That wasn’t nothing. Nor was it particularly friendly.
And it meant what he really didn’t know was, what was up with Harper this morning. How she might be feeling now about…just, well, anything. Everything.
Hell. Feelings again.
Something had to be done. There was no doubt about it.
He squeezed shut his eyes then opened them to return his attention to the computer screen and the day’s schedule. “I’m slated for a kayaking class at three,” he said.
“I’ve got it covered for you,” his brother replied. “No problem.”
Proving the twin thing. Zane didn’t have to even ask. His brother understood without words being spoken that he’d just assigned himself a pressing task.
Just as Zane understood that he couldn’t get the woman out of his head until they had a short talk and came to a mutual grasp of what last night had meant…and what it didn’t mean for the future.
In that, there was no future for the two of them.
To make that happen, at around 3:30 he was skulking at the park trying hard not to look as if he was skulking at the park. He had running shoes on his feet, workout pants and a T-shirt covering the rest of him, Gambler on the end of a leash. It was only speculation that she’d come to run here as he’d suggested, but as everyone knew, he was a gambling man.
Which this time, as it so often did, paid off.
Earbuds in her ear, her attention on the phone in her hand, Harper came jogging along the trail, wearing navy-blue running tights and a matching jacket. Her hair, worn in a high ponytail, swung side-to-side with each step.
He stood on the edge of the path, Gambler pressed to his knees. When Harper registered Zane’s presence, he saw her jolt. Her feet halted and her gaze jumped to his.
“Hey, Harper,” he said.
“Hey,” she returned, in that toneless, almost-too loud voice people used when their ears were plugged.
Reaching out, he snagged the pink cord and popped out one of the devices. “Care for some company?”
“Um…” Her glance returned to her phone, but it didn’t hide the flush that was crawling up her cheeks. “I’ve got an audio book to pass the time.”
He put the bud to his own ear, listened, then grimaced. “Someone is getting brutally murdered. I must be better company than that.”
Gambler chose that moment to leap at Harper. Zane managed to rein him in, but instead of exhibiting panic, she laughed at the dog and bent over to pet him. “I’ve got your number, you big, silly softie,” she said, kissing the dog’s head. “You’re no threat to me at all.”
“So you’ll let us run with you?”
Instead of answering, she retrieved her earbud from Zane, bundled the cord, and stuffed it and the phone into the pocket of her stretchy hoodie. Then she glanced at him, as if having second and third thoughts.
“If you start lagging,” he said, “I promise Gambler and I will go all Butcher of Eagle’s Ridge on you.”
It made her laugh again, and then without another word she started off, nice and easy.
He thought it said something that she hadn’t flat-out refused him, so he kept to her pace in silence for a few minutes. But more needed to be communicated.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Great,” she replied, not yet breathless.
Zane searched his mind for the best way to bring up matters. It was mostly a first for him. Women he bedded knew him, knew the score. Spelling out that what they’d done didn’t signal a relationship or a future—God, not that—had never been an issue.
He mentally tried out a couple of conversation-starters.
That was fun, but you have to know…
I really enjoyed myself, however…
He opened his mouth, hoping something along those lines would fall out. But instead, he heard himself ask, “Geoffrey?”
She glanced over. Wisps of dark honey hair had already worked its way free of her thick ponytail and fell around her face. Her small hand brushed them back.
So damn pretty, he thought, distracted from his own question.
“Geoffrey?”
The ugly ex. “How the hell did you get near-hitched to some dumbass cheater?” Zane demanded, startling himself with the heat in his voice. “Did you love him?”
Another glance, this one accompanied by a glare. “Of course not.”
“Then why were you engaged to him?”
“Our mothers introduced us. They serve on a couple of charity committees together.”
Cold washed over Zane.
“You’re a society girl,” he said, feeling stupid that he hadn’t realized it sooner. Hadn’t he been down this road before? She was the kind of woman who wanted—
“He’s a corporate attorney.”
Yep, Zane was right. She was the kind of woman whose people wanted her to marry an attorney, and not one that worked for truth and justice out of some cramped, dusty office, but a corporate type who worked to make a shit ton of cash and find a high perch in the great ladder of life.
Her people, just like Lucy’s, would see Zane as the opposite of that. He wasn’t even a Ryder Westbrook, the golden boy from the moneyed side of Eagle’s Ridge. He was an ex-soldier, a man who had calluses and not papercuts on his hands. A man who wanted to spend his life on the river and in the mountains as opposed to wasting time in ballrooms and corporate retreats.
They wouldn’t think him good enough for Harper.
They’d expect her to be with a gentleman.
Like the one who’d cheated on her.
“Did you love him?” Zane demanded again.
“No. I told you.”
“So then—”
“I couldn’t love a man who would do that, step out on me over and over with a succession of women. So whoever I thought I fell in love with…it wasn’t Geoffrey.”
“Just like the Butcher of Eagle’s Ridge.” Now Zane got it. “You made up in your head the Prince Charming of Harper Grace’s life.”
“I hope I wasn’t that dumb,” she said. “But I was dumb enough not to realize that a man shouldn’t say he doesn’t care about setting a wedding date. He shouldn’t say that his fiancée should go ahead and do that whenever.”
Whenever. Shithead.
“A man who really wants to marry someone should want to settle on a date right away.”
Yeah. Zane couldn’t imagine Ryder or Adam, once they popped the question, letting that detail go unresolved. Certainly not for as long as two years.
“So because I was that dumb or naïve or whatever you want to call it, he got to live his life, making his mother happy with an engagement to the right woman, without foregoing his exciting succession of one-night stands.”
How Zane detested the jerk, he thought, fuming. And yeah, it didn’t escape him that he’d experienced his own single-night flings, but he’d never been promised to marry anyone either.
The trail turned right and their footsteps thumped over a footbridge that crossed a narrow creek. Suddenly, there came a soft splash. Gambler yanked on the leash just as Zane saw a fat frog leap from the water and onto the bank. Lost in a mood over Harper and this Geoffrey character, Zane was unprepared for the dog’s abrupt bolt and the lead slipped from his hold.
The Lab fled, going off-path and through the trees. Zane followed, of course, cursing and panting and sliding on wet leaves and patches of mud. Finally, executing a mad leg lunge, he managed to get his shoe on the trailing end
of the leash. But then his sole slipped on more mud and he went flying up, only to land on his back in a graceless heap of pissed-off man.
Next Harper skidded up, just as Gambler turned around and rushed back to hover over his owner like he was a loyal canine overcome with concern and not a crazy, gigantic ball of fur with an absurd fear of amphibians. On a frustrated sigh, Zane struggled to a sitting position.
Female laughter rang through the trees.
He glanced up. Harper stood over him, her hands on her hips, her face alight with amusement. “You should have seen…” she said, then broke off to laugh some more. “That was q-quite the fall.”
He tried quelling her with a glare, but found himself reluctantly laughing too, despite the ache in his bones. “Don’t ever say I don’t know how to show a woman a good time.”
“I would never say that,” she said, then with one small finger made a cross over her heart. She was still grinning.
And something shifted inside Zane. Maybe it was the limb-jarring fall. Or her expression. Or her eyes, their arresting gray trained on him and still alight with humor.
“I showed you a good time,” he said.
Her face sobered. She knew he didn’t mean just now.
“What we did was exciting,” Zane continued. “Last night.”
“Um…” She bit her bottom lip, her natural flush from the exercise turning to a much brighter pink. “Yes.”
“I don’t want to be tit,” Zane declared, because that was the damn truth.
Harper blinked. “Um…what?”
“For tat.” He got to his feet, his gaze focused on her. “I don’t want to be a tit for tat.”
Harper was all big eyes and now-moistened lips. “What do you mean?”
“What we had…it wasn’t a one-night stand.” Though that was exactly what he’d thought to make clear when he sought her out this afternoon. But his intention had shifted, for whatever reasons he chose not to examine at the moment. “I don’t want to be payback to your cheating ex.”
As if he’d slapped her, she jerked. “Zane…”
“It wasn’t a one-night stand,” he said, firmly.
Her hands flew to her hips and she pressed those moist lips together. “You don’t have to try to save my pride. Maybe I was dumb and naïve then but don’t think I am now. Just because we were together last night, I don’t expect—”
“Yeah.” He didn’t expect either. He didn’t expect to be so certain about this. But the fact was, he didn’t want to walk away like he had so many times before. Not from Harper. Not yet. “You can have a say in this, of course, but I’d like to see you again.”
Her head tilted. “For another…run?”
He knew what that question meant. And it pissed him off that he’d made her feel like someone he only wanted to take to bed. But he couldn’t blame her, could he? Yet he wanted to make clear he wasn’t hoping to set her up as some sort of regular booty call.
He slowly bent for Gambler’s leash, then straightened again and pinned her gaze with his.
“I want to take you to dinner,” he said. “Tomorrow night.”
Not two years from now. Not effing two days from now.
Her mouth dropped in surprise.
He held his breath.
And when she said “yes,” Zane wasn’t sure which of the pair of them was more surprised. Or pleased.
Or worried as hell, because this was new territory and he couldn’t figure out what he thought or felt about anything. Damn. Feelings again.
Brother, for God’s sake, just because you don’t like to talk about your feelings doesn’t mean I believe for a second you don’t have any.
Harper had the day off and she had an emergency.
She didn’t know how to get out of a date gracefully. Especially one that in her heart of hearts she wanted to go on more than anything.
This dilemma required coffee and the kind of breakfast served at No Man’s Land.
So she took a brisk walk there from her condo, ignoring the muscle twinges from her second training run, and peered through the diner front windows. It was past the usual breakfast hour and before the lunch crowd would hit. There wasn’t any member of the Tucker family that she could see, only a few customers occupying tables and Mandy, the young waitress, moving about the floor.
Harper slipped inside, found a seat at the table in the corner, and contemplated her choices. It had to be French toast or the cheese and bacon omelet. But coffee, for certain. Nothing fancy, just a big, thick mug of the stuff that she could doctor with real cream, a taste she’d developed during late night cram sessions in college.
Mandy arrived and Harper ordered her beverage and was vacillating between her food choices when Hildie Fontana sailed by, her caftan fluttering, and said, “French toast for the librarian, Mandy. Make sure that the maple syrup served with it is heated.”
Harper nodded at the waitress as the older woman took a seat at the next table.
“Um, thanks for the recommendation,” Harper ventured when Mandy headed for the kitchen. Then she pulled her e-reader out of her purse.
Hildie leaned closer. “Don’t bother, girl,” she said. “No need to bury your nose in a book when I’m going to talk your ear off no matter what.”
Oh, boy. Harper had heard the owner of the local antique shop was a shameless gossip and had experienced it for herself the first and second times she’d shown up at the library and peppered her with questions about her past, present, and future. But she thought she’d given the woman all the information she was comfortable providing outside of her shoe size and the make and model of her first car.
“That boy,” Hildie said now, shaking her head. Her silvery eyebrows moved up and down in a dance all their own. “Good boy. First of those soldier boys of his generation to come back home.”
“Um…do you mean Zane?”
“You two have a thing, right? Everybody’s saying the librarian is looking at Zane Tucker and he’s looking back. I may have heard about some kissing on the sidewalk.”
Harper’s face burned. “Um…”
“Though he told me you’re just friends.”
Oh. Deep disappointment cooled her skin. Definitely not going out on the date, Harper thought. Not when he’d just put her in the friend zone. That way led to disaster and heartbreak. She could already write the tragic ending to the story in her head.
“But Zane isn’t really the friends-with-women type,” Hildie continued.
“What type is he?” Harper asked, before she could stop herself.
“Not to say he isn’t friendly to ladies and even with most of them that he’s, well, you know.” Hildie’s expressive eyebrows got another workout. “He’s just never bothered to make such a declaration about a single eligible woman, as far as I know.”
And Hildie, Eagle’s Ridge busybody, would know a lot.
But Harper just didn’t know what it meant.
Hildie continued talking even as Mandy slid coffees in front of both of them and a small steaming pitcher of maple syrup in front of Harper. “In any case, I’m glad he got back safely and was able to work himself through his injuries.”
“Injuries?” Mandy now put a fragrant plate of waffles in front of Harper, but even that couldn’t distract her from what the older lady had just said. She remembered Zane telling her his shoulder had been hurt, but there’d been no detail beyond him not wanting her to be sad about it.
“They thought he might not move his shoulder or arm again. And he’d lost enough weight that you could see in him that skinny little boy he’d once been.”
Harper put her hand over her mouth.
“But he worked at it. Not once did he give into the pain it must have caused him to rehabilitate that shoulder every day on the river and every night at the local gym.”
“He looks…well now.” Fit. Ripped. Strong. Muscled in a way that made her feminine core melt.
“He is.” Hildie nodded, then nodded again to Mandy when she placed before
her a plate holding a toasted English muffin and a packet of grape jelly. “He’s safely home, with a business he built and with a brother back who has helped him build it into something more. Now he just needs the right woman to make his life complete.”
Harper didn’t let that last sentence stick. Being Zane’s right woman to make his life complete didn’t concern her. Tonight did. Because the fact was you couldn’t break a date with a once seriously injured Army veteran—no matter how strong he might seem now. Instead you needed to be the prettiest you could be when you sat across the table from him.
Right?
Harper thought about her hair that hadn’t been with a stylist since her move to Eagle’s Ridge and her closet that didn’t have one date-worthy outfit in it.
An outfit worthy of Zane, anyway.
Or worthy of Stella, either. Because tonight she definitely needed to bring out that more confident, colorful alter-ego.
“Hildie,” Harper said, her gaze trained on her plate as she sank her knife into the squishy goodness of the waffle. “Which is the best hair salon in town? And is there a women’s clothing boutique you’d recommend?”
“A salon?” A new voice piped up and Harper looked over to see that Jane McAllen was threading through the tables, presumably on her way to the counter. Now she switched directions and came to stand by Harper’s table. “And you’re looking for a local boutique?”
“I could use some new clothes,” Harper confessed, then her hand went to the ends of her hair. “And this stuff grows fast but I haven’t found anyone yet to take care of it.”
Jane rubbed her hands together. “I’m not the clotheshorse I used to be, but if you want company, I’m your girl. I still love fashion. Not to mention, I do know a great local salon.”
“Sure, company would be great.” Harper smiled at the other woman who still appeared so together, even in dark jeans and a simple shirt. Her shiny hair framed a face that wasn’t heavily made up, but had just enough enhancement to polish her appearance. “And maybe you could help me pick out some new mascara and lip color?”
Jane’s smile only brightened. “Oh, boy, could I! And your hair’s so pretty, I can’t wait to see what the stylists at Rosalie’s will do with it.”
Zane (7 Brides for 7 Soldiers Book 3) Page 12
