It Had to Be Fate (An It Had to Be Novel Book 3)

by Tamra Baumann

  When she rounded the bend, looking forward to a big glass of wine to go with her cake, she nearly ran into Zane. Too exhausted to care that she was dressed in something she’d never leave her house wearing, she said, “Oh, hi. I thought you’d gone up to your room.”

  “I got hungry again.” He stuffed his mouth with cake from the plate he held. “I think that thing about the mountain air is really true.”

  “Yeah, but if that was the last piece, you’re a dead man.”

  “Nope. Your kids warned me about my personal safety if I got between you and your Death by Chocolate cake.” He grinned and then leaned against the counter. Making himself right at home.

  “I’ve trained them well,” she replied as she grabbed the biggest wineglass she owned. After selecting a good bottle of red from the rack, she found the opener in the drawer and then laid them both on the countertop. She’d wanted a few minutes alone, to put up her tired feet and enjoy her cake and wine in peace, but after Zane had been nice enough to ask the kids to clean up she didn’t have the heart to shoo him away.

  She reached for a second glass. “Would you like some wine?”

  “Nope.” He lifted his glass of milk from the counter behind him. “This is my preferred pairing with cake.”

  “Suit yourself.” She cut herself a humongous piece of yumminess, justifying every single calorie because of her missed dinner. When she reached for the wine opener, Zane’s calloused fingers covered hers.

  “I’ll do it.” He made quick work of the cork and then poured the wine into her oversize glass. “Say when.”

  She let the wine pouring go on so long that it wasn’t until he reached the top and had to stop that she said, “When.”

  He chuckled. “That bad a day, huh? Was it the plumbing problem, the guy who came to fix it, or having me here?”

  She sipped her wine as she debated just how honest to be with him. “Why would you think I have a problem with the guy who came to fix the plumbing?”

  Zane finished off his cake and then rinsed his plate and loaded it into the dishwasher. “Because Beau stopped by here looking for you while we were still eating. He pulled me aside and made sure I knew you belonged to him.”

  Casey sputtered in her wine. “First off, I don’t belong to anyone, especially not a cheater like him. And second—”

  Her phone rang, cutting her off. When she glanced at the screen she nearly lost it. What else could go wrong in a single day? “Excuse me. It’s the boys’ father. I have to take this.” She grabbed her wine for fortitude and then said into the phone, “Hang on a second, Tomas. I need to step outside.”

  She made sure the French doors closed tightly behind her in case Caleb was still awake. The cool, soft grass felt good on her tired feet as she walked down the hill to their private dock. She took a long drink for courage as she settled on the end, reminding herself that no matter what, she needed to remain calm. Her ex was a charming master manipulator. She couldn’t let on that he’d rattled her with that letter from his lawyer.

  With her bare feet dangling over the water, she took one more slug of wine for good measure and then said, “It’s late. So I know it’s me you want to talk to, not the boys. But I seriously can’t think of a single thing we need to discuss.”

  Using the thick French accent that used to charm her clothes right off, he said, “Maybe I just miss hearing your deep, sexy voice, ma chérie. It still makes me want you every time I hear it.”

  Now his attempts to use his foreign charm—all fake, because Tomas was capable of speaking perfect English after having dual citizenship in the United States and France for twenty years—just grated on her last nerve.

  Thank God she’d brought her wine outside with her. Too bad she hadn’t thought to grab the bottle too.

  Zane wasn’t sure if he should stay or go. Casey had been interrupted midsentence by the call, but she seemed to want to make a point. And he wanted to know the deal with her and Beau.

  So he opened his laptop at the kitchen table and answered all the e-mails that needed his attention. Next he Googled his name to see what the media was saying about his current situation. Kip had called earlier and said they were trying to get the bar owner and the guy Nick punched to drop their charges, but if they agreed, it’d cost a boatload of cash. After they’d posted bail, his lawyers promised the judge they’d send Nick to rehab while they figured everything out. It’d be nice to come out of this mess without any formal charges, but he could only hope for the best at this point.

  When there wasn’t any new information about the case, Zane closed his laptop and then wandered to the glass doors that overlooked the lake. Casey was at the end of a small dock, pacing back and forth as she talked to her ex.

  He should probably go.

  Just as he turned to leave, Caleb appeared. “Dad told me he was going to call Mom tonight. Now that I’m ten and might have a say, my dad wants me to tell the judge that I’d like to live with him instead. Dad said maybe it’d make our mom move from this tiny Podunk town to France so we could see both of them more often. But I’m not sure what to do.”

  Holy crap. What was he supposed to say to that?

  He wished he’d left five minutes earlier. He wasn’t equipped for deep family stuff with kids. But Caleb’s dad putting him in the middle like that was just . . . wrong. “That must be . . . I mean, that has to be a hard . . .”

  Caleb’s eyes widened. “She just hung up. And I think she’s headed this way. See you!” Caleb took off down the hall, leaving Zane standing there like he’d been spying on Casey. Which he sort of had been, but not in the way she’d probably think.

  Casey started up the hill, but then turned around and headed to the end of the dock again. Probably a good time to slip out before she got back.

  But then she sat down, took a huge hit from her wineglass, and dropped her head into her hands. It looked like she was crying, dammit.

  Of course she was crying. Her ex had just told her he wanted to take her kids away.

  He couldn’t leave her like that. He had to do something. But what?

  Cake. That was what she’d need. No one could cry when chocolate cake was involved. He grabbed the piece she’d cut for herself and then found a fork and a napkin before he headed outside.

  The loud chirp of crickets serenaded him as he worked up the courage to comfort an upset woman. Something he’d never been much good at.

  His footsteps, muted by the grass, became louder when he hit the wood on the end of the dock. Casey quickly sat up and straightened her shoulders. He walked slowly, hoping to give her time to pull it together before he got there.

  Tears scared the crap out of him.

  When he got close, he said, “I almost caved and ate your piece of cake too, but then I realized you have a passkey to every room. I was afraid you’d spike me in the heart while I slept.” He lowered the plate beside her, ready to make a fast retreat to his room.

  “Smart man.” She wiped away her tears and smiled at him. “Thank you.”

  He stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, not quite sure what to do next. The way she’d finally genuinely smiled at him, like he’d seen her do to others, made him want to stay. But there was always the possibility for more tears, so maybe it’d be best to go.

  “Okay, so I’ll just . . .” He threw his thumb over his shoulder.

  “Wait. Can I ask you a question?”

  Looked like he was staying.

  Resigned, he sat next to her on the side of the dock. “Sure. Shoot.”

  “Caleb said you were raised by a single mother. Were your parents divorced too?”

  “No. My dad died when I was twelve.”

  “I’m sorry. My mom died when I was a kid too. It’s harder to grow up with one parent. But I don’t know if I’m just being selfish wanting my boys to be with me rather than their father. Especially after they reach a certain age. Do they need a man’s daily influence? My father didn’t pay much attention to us kids
. But I don’t know what we’d have done without my grandmother.”

  As she went back to frowning while she ate her cake, he leaned closer and gave her a soft shoulder bump. “I was going to say I turned out just fine being raised by my mom since middle school, but then I realized you might not agree with that.”

  She met his gaze for a moment before she turned her attention back to her plate. “You don’t match what the public sees on TV. I’ll give you that. But the jury’s still out on you, Zane Steele.”

  “So noted. You going to be all right?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Thanks for asking the boys to clean up earlier. That was . . . very considerate of you.” She sent him another brief smile.

  “Least I could do in return for an awesome spaghetti dinner. I don’t get many of those these days.”

  “Neither do my kids. Their father is a chef, and they grew up eating gourmet meals. Until he left, they’d never had the simple food I know how to cook. We mostly let Dax feed us now because I’m so busy taking care of the hotel, but it was important to me that the boys see what normal kids eat. I try to make the boys’ life as normal as it can be growing up in a hotel with the most famous people in the world as guests. So every Thursday I cook something simple for them here at home. With just us. You were our first guest. I’m sorry I had to run out on you guys like that.”

  Their first guest? So Beau Bailey, the handyman/plumber or whatever he was hadn’t ever been invited to eat with them? Nice.

  “No worries. I had fun. Goodnight.”

  “Night.”

  He started to walk away but stopped. “For the record, I don’t think you’re being selfish to want the boys to live with you. From what I’ve seen, you’re a great mom. Your kids are lucky to have you.”

  Casey’s brows shot up. “Thank you.”

  Pleased he’d surprised her once again, he said, “Welcome.” Then he forced a grin to lighten the mood. “Can I take another piece of cake for the road?”

  “Just one, pal. The rest has my name on it tonight.”

  “Understood.” He sent her a snappy salute and then headed up the hill. The mountain air made him hungry all right, but for a whole lot more than just cake. How could Casey be even more attractive to him barefoot, in sweats, and with black smudges under her eyes than when dressed in her sleek, tidy work clothes?

  He loved that Casey didn’t seem to care what he thought of her. And that she’d made it clear she wouldn’t take any crap from him. She wasn’t out to impress him, unlike his past girlfriends who were all agreeable to the point of nauseating. He could do no wrong with them, and it bored him to death.

  But when they figured out he had very little free time because he took his music so seriously, and that he didn’t live a particularly extravagant lifestyle, they tended to quietly drift away to their next victim. No tears or tantrums, because they’d never really cared about him in the first place. It was his money and the fame they’d been after.

  He stepped inside Casey’s house, cut himself another piece of cake, then, changing his mind about saving it for later, he leaned against the counter to eat it. Meeting Casey had made him realize what a cynic he’d become about women. And about most of the people in his life now. Seemed everyone had an agenda, and they didn’t give a damn about him.

  Had that been why his mother said love and family are all that mattered? Had she been talking about more than just taking care of Nick?

  He finished his cake, cleaned up the dishes, then gathered up his laptop and headed out the door. One thing was for sure. There was nothing boring about Casey. She was an intriguing woman with a complicated life and he wanted to explore being another complication in it.

  On Friday morning, Casey glanced up from her paperwork just as Zane plunked himself in the guest chair across from her desk. He wore a baseball cap and dark glasses, complete with his usual happy grin. “Morning, Casey. They said I’d find you here.”

  “Good morning. What can I help you with?” She hoped her cheeks weren’t turning red from embarrassment. She hated that he’d seen her crying. But it had been nice he pretended not to notice when he brought her cake. And that he’d said she was a good mom.

  “I wanted to talk to you about breakfast.”

  “Was there something special you want Dax to make for you?”

  “No, it’s not that. You say the people in Anderson Butte are good about ignoring celebrities, but I’m not sure I can trust the teenaged guests.”

  “Our guests come to Anderson Butte for the privacy and would never mention others at the hotel—it’s an unspoken code amongst the wealthy and famous—but I can see your point.” While certainly their parents would warn against it, she couldn’t guarantee one of their visiting kids wouldn’t sneak a picture on their phone and send it out on social media.

  He said, “Would you mind if I ate in the kitchen instead of the dining room with the other guests?”

  “No, of course not. You can eat wherever it best suits you.” Crap. That meant Zane would be eating his meals with her and the boys. So much for trying to keep her boys away from Zane. Maybe she’d get lucky and he’d be so worried about someone seeing him that he’d eat a majority of his meals in his room.

  “Thanks, Casey.” He stood and cleared his throat. But didn’t leave.

  “Was there something else you needed?”

  His cheerful grin slowly faded. “Are you doing all right? I mean after the phone call last night and all?”

  “I’m still trying to figure out what the best thing is to do for the boys.”

  “Yeah. That makes sense.” His lips slowly tilted into a cute smile again. “Did you eat the rest of the cake?”

  “I did. And I enjoyed every bite.” She lifted her chin, daring him to make fun of her for it.

  He laughed. “Good for you. Have a nice day.”

  “You too.”

  After he left, she smiled and got back to work. What was it about Zane? He was so different from any other man she’d ever met. Not that she’d really known that many men, living in their tiny town her whole life. Sure, she’d met some powerful and famous ones, but they were just guests. By far, Zane was the most handsome and charming. But then, Tomas had been charming at first too.

  Later that afternoon, the beeping of a backing-up semitruck made Casey glance up from the registration desk. They weren’t due for any deliveries until Monday. She crossed the lobby and pushed at the swinging door to the kitchen. Zane sat at the island, deep into answering texts on his phone.

  Casey passed through the warehouse to the delivery dock. She waited as the truck driver got out and then opened the back door of the semi. The interior was packed with electronic gear. A curvy blonde appeared from the passenger side of the truck, talking on a cell phone. When she noticed Casey, she quickly ended the call. “Hi. I’m Mandy. Zane’s assistant. Kip said to ask for Casey.”

  His “assistant” looked like a Victoria’s Secret model—naturally. “I’m Casey. What is all this?”

  The blonde slipped her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. Her pants were so tight it amazed Casey there was room for the cell too. “Zane’s equipment. Where should we set up?”

  Set up? “Hang on. Let’s go talk to Zane, please.”

  Mandy lifted a finger at the driver, signaling him to wait, then walked beside Casey back to the kitchen. Zane was still busy with his phone. When Mandy saw Zane her face lit up. “Hey, fugitive. I’m here with your stuff.”

  Fugitive? Wasn’t he out on bail?

  Zane cleared his throat, not seeming to find her joke funny. “Hey, Mandy.”

  Casey said, “It looks like an electronics store exploded in the back of that truck. I’m not sure we’ll have space for all that, especially because we’ll be moving you from room to room periodically. Are you sure you need all of it?”

  Before Zane could answer, Mandy said, “Hello? Zane went to Juilliard. He’s like one of the most acclaimed musicians in the world! Of course he needs all th
at.”

  Casey was tempted to tell Mandy to relax and to not get her panties in a twist, but Mandy probably wasn’t wearing any.

  Zane said, “Mandy, no need for the ’tude, please.” He slowly rose from the barstool. “Casey, it takes more than a guitar and a piece of paper these days. Is there a space nearby I could use if not here in the hotel?”

  Mandy crossed her arms under her impressive cleavage. “That’d be too inconvenient. You know how late we work sometimes.”

  We work? “Does that mean you’re staying too, Mandy?” Another headache began brewing at the base of Casey’s skull.

  “Only for a day or two to get the equipment fine-tuned. Longer, if Zane needs me. If you don’t have a room, I guess I can always bunk with Zane.” Mandy beamed a big smile at Zane.

  Casey raised a brow, waiting for Zane to tell her what he wanted. It’d be hard to make moves on her with Mandy sleeping beside him. Maybe Mandy showing up was just the thing Casey needed to ensure Zane had someone other than her to pass the time with.

  Zane’s eyes locked with hers. “Mandy was kidding. She’s my employee. We don’t share hotel rooms, Casey. If there’s no room for her, I’ll get along without her.”

  Mandy hadn’t been joking, but it was none of Casey’s business.

  With Mandy’s hopes of sleeping in Zane’s bed thwarted, she quietly asked, “So is there a room or not?”

  “If it’s just for a few nights, then yes, Mandy. We’re happy to have you.” Casey ran through the options in her head and an idea struck her. “Let’s go next door. My grandmother has a guesthouse. If you think it’s big enough for all your gear, we can ask her if she’ll let you use it.”

  Zane slipped beside Casey as they walked out the back door and down to the sandy shoreline. “So, this is the same grandmother who shoots people, right? The one I met yesterday?”