“Hiya.”
“Nice legs,” she added, her gaze falling to his bare legs still clad in long gym shorts. “At the gym?”
He nodded, raised a hand in hello-goodbye and continued to the shed. She beeped again and then pulled away. Christ. Too many bored housewives lived here while their husbands commuted to jobs in cities over the mountains, leaving before the sun rose and pulling back inside the gates long after it had set.
Inside the small but neatly organized building, Zane dropped his shorts, pulled on his jeans and took a whizz before checking the clipboard hanging by the door. Tools and supplies of all kinds lined the shelves, and lawn and repair equipment filled the adjacent room. He flipped on the small TV sitting next to the coffee maker and tuned in the weather.
“Looks like no snow for at least another week,” the reporter was saying. “Temperatures will hover around twenty during the day and drop down into the single digits at night.”
He turned the TV off again. What he wouldn’t do for some good old-fashioned snow. He wouldn’t have guessed it, but living in Georgia for almost eight years had made him miss the seasons. He swapped his sneakers for work boots and pulled on a pair of leather gloves. He hadn’t seen the stray dog in a couple of days, but they’d gotten two calls that morning about it. He scowled and unlocked the gun safe hidden inside a closet next to the bathroom. Maybe it had taken off a while ago—part of why he’d taken his time at the gym. Dealing with scared or potentially rabid animals was so not in his area of expertise. He took his pistol just in case he came across anything dangerous. A guy one town over had been bitten by a rabid skunk just that fall.
Back outside, he followed the main road straight to the back of the complex. Streetlights above him cast down weak yellow light, and he shivered in the cold.
“Hi, Zane!” Gloria Hanson yanked open her front door as he passed. Looked like she was wearing some kind of flimsy red bathrobe and not much else.
He raised his chin in hello and kept walking.
At the next corner, he turned. Kelly Turner and Liv Yedziniak had both called in sightings of the dog. In front of the Turner house, he stopped and looked around. A few pieces of garbage lay on the driveway, but the can itself had been righted and pulled near the door. He walked over and knocked.
Kelly opened it a fraction of an inch, eyes big in her head. She looked about eighteen.
“Hi there,” Zane said. “Heard you saw that stray again?”
She rolled her eyes and opened the door all the way. “Yes. Twice this morning.” She wore a tight-fitting T-shirt and baggy jeans. “I yelled at it, but it didn’t even move. It just growled at me.” She touched his arm. “I have a newborn,” she went on. “I can’t have, you know, a dog like that outside. It might attack Carter or something.”
Zane doubted that, considering she carried the child everywhere she went, but he kept his mouth shut. She hadn’t let go of his arm. “Dennis has his phone turned off when he’s in meetings, so I couldn’t call him.” But the way she was looking up at Zane, he wondered if she would have bothered contacting her husband.
“All right,” he said, backing away. “I’ll look around.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze dropped to his groin, then back to his face. “I appreciate it.”
“Uh huh.” Back outside, he followed a few paw prints in the dusting of snow along the curb, but they soon faded. He strode through the Yedziniak’s lawn, which backed up to a pine grove. No more houses on this end of the complex, though more development was scheduled for the spring, and all these trees would eventually come down. Zane walked over to the tree line and peered inside. At five o’clock, darkness had already descended, and the streetlights didn’t permeate the tightly packed pines. Probably lives back in there. Then he saw movement, a quick flash of brown beneath the green. His hand tightened on his pistol.
A moment later, a long, dirty snout emerged, followed by a painfully thin body and bright yellow eyes.
“Well, there you are, you scavenger.”
“Hey!”
The dog vanished into the trees. Zane whipped around.
A figure dressed in a red ski coat and jeans marched toward him. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her arms pumped, and her breath came out in long white ribbons. As she neared him, he could see a long blonde ponytail under a red wool cap and mismatched mittens on her hands—one blue and one black.
“I’m taking care of my property,” he retorted, royally pissed. He’d almost squeezed off a shot, she’d startled him so. “Who the hell are you?”
She walked straight to him, and only when she looked up and met his gaze did the iron in her stance falter. “Zane?”
He stared. She looked a little familiar, and under other circumstances she might be cute, but— “Sorry. Do I know you?”
“Becca Ericksen. As of last night, I’m the manager of Pine Point Paws.”
“The animal shelter?”
“Yes.” She glanced at the trees. “Someone called me about a homeless dog out here.”
He waved in the general direction he’d seen it disappear. “You didn’t need to come out. I can take care of it.”
She looked at his face, then the trees, then the gun in his hand. “Take care of it? You know shooting a domestic animal is—”
“Whoa.” He held up his palm. “Stop right there, sweetheart.”
Her face turned two shades of pink.
“I wasn’t going to shoot it.”
“You’re holding a gun.”
“It’s a pistol I carry for the security job. It’s registered to me and fully legal.”
“You know the law says you can’t discharge a firearm within five hundred yards of a residence.” She turned and pointed, as if he was a child. “Looks to me like that’s a residence.” She pointed in the opposite direction. “And that. And that over there too.”
“I don’t need you to tell me what the gun laws are.”
She dropped her arm. “Fine.” She walked closer to the trees. “Could you tell if it was hurt?” she asked over her shoulder.
Just what he needed. A bleeding-heart animal lover. He huffed out a breath and walked over to join her. “No. It didn’t look hurt. Just skinny.”
She nodded and rubbed her arms as if to warm herself. “I’ll bring one of the guys from the shelter out here tomorrow, see if we can catch it.”
Her nose had turned pink, but bright blue eyes blinked up at him. He had no idea what her figure looked like under all those clothes, but the parts he could make out looked pretty damn cute. “Will you need any help?” he asked before he could stop himself. Walk away. Last thing you need is a hard-on for the local crazy do-gooder.
“No,” she answered, taking care of his wishy-washy thoughts. “In fact, it might be better if you weren’t here at all.” And with that, Becca Ericksen turned on her heel and left, taking her perky ass and attitude with her.
Chapter Three
“Aren’t you ready yet?” Ella stood at the bathroom door, tapping the toe of one stiletto brown suede boot.
Becca yanked a brush through her curls with one hand and tried to apply mascara with the other. “Five minutes.”
“You said that five minutes ago. And five minutes before that.”
“Relax. It’s not like we’re going to the Oscars. Last time I checked, there wasn’t a limo waiting downstairs.” Becca dropped the mascara and the brush at the same time. Whatever look she had going on now would have to be good enough.
“No, but it’s also not like there are actual parties in Pine Point on a regular basis either.”
Ella had a point there. Becca scurried into her bedroom and stared into her closet. “What should I wear?”
Ella followed her. “Something that doesn’t look like you’ve been mucking stalls all day.”
“Mucking—” Becca shook her head. “The
re aren’t any horses at the shelter, El.”
Her sister waved a hand. “Whatever. You know what I mean. Something sexy.” She rifled through the hangers.
“We need to go into your closet for that.”
Ella strutted into her adjoining room. “Yes, we do,” she called over her shoulder. Thirty seconds later, she reappeared holding something that looked like black lace and a bikini and not much else.
“What is that?”
Ella laid the outfit on Becca’s bed, shooing away Laurel and Hardy. “Leggings and a bustier. Put a camisole underneath and you’re good to go.”
“A bustier? It’s like five degrees outside!” Her fingers had only begun to thaw about an hour ago, after cleaning cages and dog runs all day and walking back and forth between the outside kennels and the warmth of her office. “Forget it.” She pulled clean jeans out of her bottom drawer.
“You are not wearing jeans to a Christmas party.” Ella wrestled them away from her.
“It’s at a gym,” Becca pointed out. “Don’t you think you’ll be a little overdressed?”
“It’s still a party.”
“Fine,” Becca said. “I’ll compromise.” Instead of the bustier or leggings, she pulled on the jeans but added a low-cut black sweater. The necklace she rarely took off, a silver paw print, dangled against her bare skin. She added large silver hoop earrings and a pair of black boots—not stilettos, but with a manageable yet stylish two-inch heel. Then she turned in a circle. “There. Acceptable enough?”
Ella bounced up. “Yes. How you got those boobs when I’m flat as a pancake, I will never understand,” she said as she walked out into the hall.
Becca wouldn’t either, but she wasn’t about to complain. She fed her rabbit, checked on the sleeping gerbil and then followed her sister. She wasn’t the party type, but she had to admit, after two ten-hour days at Pine Point Paws, it was kind of nice to be wearing something other than work clothes.
Twenty minutes later, they swung Ella’s two-door Honda into a parking spot at the very end of Main Street. “See?” Ella said as they hurried down the sidewalk. The wind cut through the buildings and took Becca’s breath away. She pulled her coat around her neck and wished she’d worn a hat. “I told you there’d be a lot of people here.”
They pulled open the steamed-over front door of Springer’s Fitness. Rock music, animated conversation and the smell of spicy, tangy foods washed over them.
“Hello, welcome, thanks for coming!” Mike Springer, a guy of about thirty, squeezed his way through the crowd. He kissed Ella’s cheek and nodded at Becca. “You can put your coats over there—” he pointed at long racks set up near the locker rooms, “—and help yourself to food down by the aerobics room.” He gestured at the far side of the gym. “Good to see you!” he boomed over the music.
Becca smiled in response. They’d met once or twice, though she’d never held a conversation with the man. He had enormous arms and shoulders, a square jaw, blond crew cut, and looked like the perfect person to own a gym. Rumors held that he’d run into trouble while living down south somewhere, and that he’d come back to Pine Point looking for a clean slate, but Becca didn’t put much stock in rumors. Anyway, he’d made a success for himself, so it looked as though he’d found that clean slate after all.
Ella wriggled through the crowd and disappeared at once. Becca sighed. Of course. She hung up her coat and looked around for familiar faces. Even though she’d been back from college almost two years, most of her friends from high school had left Pine Point, moved on to bigger or warmer locales. Her only close friend still here in town was home with the flu and a cranky one-year-old.
Becca straightened her sweater and ran a hand over her hair to smooth it. Cat Hunter was standing behind the DJ table, flirting with one of the Hadley sisters. A few girls she recognized from high school milled around the food table. Balloons hung from the ceiling, and streamers ran through the rails of the treadmills and elliptical trainers. The place was nice, clean and efficient-looking.
Might as well get some food. The last thing she’d eaten was a slice of cold pizza around two o’clock. She walked past a group of teenagers writhing in place to the music and wondered how the four kittens were doing that had arrived at the shelter that morning. Found under the porch of an abandoned house, they looked to be three or four weeks old. No mother in sight. She’d gotten them set up in the quarantine wing, tended to them all day, and Shirley was coming in at eight to bottle-feed them again, but Becca still worried.
A dark, broad back rose up in front of her, and she ran into it before she had a chance to stop herself. “Uff!” Her jaw clamped down hard, and she pin wheeled backwards.
The owner of the back turned, reached out a hand and grabbed her arm to right her. A minute later, Becca realized she was looking up into the face of Zane Andrews. Piercing, dark brown eyes met hers.
“Sorry. You all right?”
Her face grew hot. “I’m fine. I should probably apologize to you. I wasn’t looking.” Typical. Head in the clouds, mind on her animals, she had blinders on when it came to the real world around her. For just an instant, she got lost in his gaze, a curious mix of interest and appreciation as he took in her outfit. He wore a tight-fitting black T-shirt with a denim shirt open over it and faded jeans. Didn’t show much skin, but he didn’t have to. Muscles were evident on every single inch of this man’s body. Five o’clock shadow, mussed black hair and a faint dimple that punctuated his half-smile, and Becca knew instantly why every red-blooded woman in Pine Point wanted to jump into bed with this guy.
“Well, sorry,” she said again, and went to walk past him.
But he didn’t move. “Where do I know you from?”
Oh, God. He didn’t remember? She clenched her hands into fists at the thought of what had happened two days earlier. Of course he didn’t. She’d been bundled up against the elements, and it had been dark outside.
“I was at Mountain Glen the other night trying to find a stray dog.”
His eyes widened. “That was you?” He leaned closer. “Ah. The blue eyes. Now I see it.”
She took a step back. Zane Andrews didn’t need to be looking at her eyes. Or any other part of her. Self-conscious, she crossed her arms over her chest at the same time his cologne teased her nostrils. Oh, this man smelled yummy. “Have you seen it again?” she asked to distract herself. “The dog?”
“Nope. But it gets into the residents’ garbage all the time. I’m sure it’ll turn up.”
“Please don’t shoot it.”
His eyes widened. “Hell, I’m not an animal killer. I wouldn’t do a thing like that.”
Her shoulders scrunched up to her ears. “Sorry. There are some pretty cruel people out there. You’d be surprised.”
“Actually, I probably wouldn’t be. But you don’t have to worry. I’m not gonna take it home and adopt it, but unless it comes after my jugular, I’ll leave it alone.”
“Next time you see it, just give us a call,” she said, looking up—way up. How tall was this guy, anyway? “We have a couple guys who can come take care of things like that.”
Zane gave her a half-grin. “I like to take care of things myself.”
She bet he did. Desire rushed through her again.
“Anyway, nice seeing you.” He winked. “Enjoy the party.”
Face still flushed from their exchange, she made her way to the food as her mind vacillated between admiration at the way Zane filled out a pair of jeans and worry over the dog finding a way to stay warm in the freezing temperatures. She piled a plate with mozzarella sticks and potato skins. She thought a minute and then added some carrot and celery sticks for an effort at nutrition. Finding a space by the aerobics room, she leaned against the wall and surveyed the crowd. Cat had switched to holiday tunes, and now a large group of people swayed to “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” in the
middle of the gym. Near the women’s locker room, she could make out her sister’s teased blonde hair. Ella pointed above her to a swatch of mistletoe and then laughed as her ex-boyfriend, Derek, leaned over for a kiss.
A wave of nostalgia came over Becca. She’d always liked Derek, and though Ella had broken up with him half a dozen times in the last year, he always came back. Truly, Christmas made the world seem more magical; despite the sadness and cruelty she saw all year long, the crisp air of December, carols on the radio and people’s genuine good cheer made up for the rest of the year. She smiled and tapped her toe to the music. It wouldn’t matter that she didn’t have someone to kiss under the mistletoe. She had all her fur babies, both at home and at the shelter, and they were enough to keep her warm and happy.
“Having a good time?” Out of nowhere, Zane materialized beside her. Becca almost dropped her plate in surprise.
He held out a plastic cup. “Punch?”
She eyed it suspiciously. “What’s in it?”
He chuckled, and her insides almost came apart at the warm, sensual sound. “I’m not sure. Knowing Springer, some kind of protein mix and all-natural fruit puree. No alcohol.” He winked. “Though I’m sure we could get some if you wanted.”
Dear God, was this man flirting with her? Becca took the cup and tried to steady her hand. “No, I’m good,” she lied. Actually, a shot of vodka was just what she needed right now. Her pulse spiked as Zane leaned against the wall beside her.
“Haven’t seen you around town much.”
She took a sip of the punch. “Wow, do you use that line on everyone?” Then she bit her bottom lip. Too snarky, Bec.
But he just smiled. “Not everyone. Just people I haven’t seen around town much.”
She smiled. “I’m at the shelter most of the time.”
“Ah.” He drank his own punch and looked at the crowd. “You ever take time off?”
Why? Was he going to ask her out? Her heart rate continued to skyrocket. No. Of course he wasn’t. Zane Andrews could have his pick of any woman in town. He was probably just making polite conversation. Or Ella had sent him over to keep her company.
Winter's Wonder: Pine Point, Book 2 Page 2
