Since when had he shown any inclination to secure a missus anyway?
Never.
A long time ago he’d come to the realization that a woman looking for a long-term man would want one with less hard muscle and more softness inside. Less raw power and more gentle romance. That was not him.
He bypassed the kitchen where Brenda and his dad were taking a quick breather between the breakfast and lunch rush. His dog, Gambler, waited in the storeroom, where a full water dish and a cushioned bed were always available for his visits.
The yellow Lab jumped to his feet when Zane opened the door, rushing to greet him as if they’d been parted for months instead of less than an hour. Going down on one knee, he set aside the boots and rubbed his hands over the dog’s warm and wiggling body. Gambler’s sweeping tail knocked a plastic-wrapped stack of paper napkins off a shelf and when Zane reached over to retrieve it, his own elbow tumbled a second stack.
Chuckling, he put both back into place, then clipped the dog’s leash onto his collar. “We’ll always have each other, won’t we, boy? Birds of a feather.”
As he led the dog toward the rear door, Brenda wandered out of the kitchen. “Leaving already? You didn’t have more than coffee.”
“I’m good, thanks, Bren.” The concerned kindness on her face and in her green eyes made him hunch his shoulders. After their mother took off for the bright lights of Hollywood, she’d been a warm presence for all the Tucker siblings, but right now he thought she might be about to offer him some of that unwelcome concern for his babe-less—as Smerkman had put it—state.
Tugging on Gambler’s leash, he edged closer to the door. “I’ll see you later.”
“You know,” she said, “it’s okay if you feel a bit out of sorts. Anyone would feel a little lost with this new shift in the family dynamics.”
Out of sorts? Lost? Frustration, embarrassment, and exasperation roiled in his belly. Did he really seem so doleful? “Brenda—”
“Maybe if I fixed you up with someone,” she continued, in a voice soft with compassion. “There’s a woman in my photography class who has a daughter…”
That was it. It. He drew the line when sympathy turned to talk of fix-ups. To escape a renewed urge to knock something over, Zane managed to force out some non-committal noise and shoved open the door.
Apparently energized by the fresh air and his owner’s distraction, Gambler took a sudden leap, the leash yanking from Zane’s loosened hold. The dog took off, splashing through the rain puddles in the parking area in the direction of the front entrance. Zane followed, cursing the animal, himself, and the whole world.
Maybe he did deserve to be pitied.
Then, in horror, he watched as Gambler did exactly what his master had been itching to do. The dog knocked something over.
Someone.
And the person who truly warranted a hefty dose of pity was a delicate-looking woman with dark blonde hair who now lay flat on her back on the sidewalk, books, purse, and various personal belongings scattered around her.
About the Author
Published since 2003, Roxanne St. Claire is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of fifty romance and suspense novels. She has written several popular series, including The Dogfather, Barefoot Bay, the Guardian Angelinos, and the Bullet Catchers.
In addition to being an eight-time nominee and one-time winner of the prestigious RITA™ Award for the best in romance writing, Roxanne’s novels have won the National Readers’ Choice Award for best romantic suspense three times, as well as the Maggie, the Daphne du Maurier Award, the HOLT Medallion, Booksellers Best, Book Buyers Best, the Award of Excellence, and many others.
She lives in Florida with her husband, and still attempts to run the lives of her teenage daughter and twenty-something son. She loves dogs, books, chocolate, and wine, especially all at the same time.
www.roxannestclaire.com
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Adam (7 Brides for 7 Soldiers Book 2) Page 21
