Job. Blakely. Tornadoes.
How sad of a mantra was that?
Her fingers brushed against his accidentally, and she nearly had a damn heart attack. One would think that wouldn’t be so sensitive a move after last night’s dirty dancing, but it still was. When everything in her wanted to grab on, evidently it still was. Once upon a time, she’d walked by his side all the time. She’d held his hand and gone with him anywhere. She’d planned to spend the rest of her life with this man. And now she was fighting the awkwardness of trying to keep from touching him.
The house came into view just around a curve, and Maddi slowed her steps, feeling her jaw drop. Zach had said he’d built a house. She thought okay, he built a house. He didn’t say he built a house.
It was beautiful. With deep, rich wood and glass and strategic lighting that was just coming on in the dusky light, it lived among the trees. Truly lived among the trees. As if he’d planned it that way, so not to interrupt them. A porch, much like his mother’s, wrapped around the front, and beautiful inset windows sat on either side of a gorgeous solid wooden door.
“Holy shit, Zach,” Maddi whispered.
He turned back where she had stopped, pride in his eyes. “You like it?”
“I love it,” she said, walking slowly again. “You—you made this? All by yourself?”
“Most of it,” he said. “I mean, I had contractors out for the things I couldn’t do. Electrical and plumbing and stuff, but yeah,” he said. “I drew it up and built it.”
Maddi stared at him and shrugged. “You just built it?” Zach laughed. “Just like that?”
“Okay, it took a while,” he said. “Almost a year.”
“You should be doing this!” she exclaimed. “You can do this, and you’re—”
“Running around chasing storms?” he finished, a smile pulling at his mouth. “Why can’t I have both?”
“You said no one knows, but—”
Zach laughed, relaxing. Happy. Kicking her in the gut. Job. Blakely—
“Yes, obviously they know I have a house,” he said. “They just don’t know I did it myself.”
He stepped onto the porch and gestured for her to come in. Following the devil to hell. She passed a beautiful porch swing that she wanted to curl up in. Safer there. Looking around as she walked in, however, she was instantly warmed. It was homey, like his mom’s house. Comfortable and lived in. Rich wood framed everything. Exposed beams in the ceiling gave it a manly feel, but the warm colors of the walls softened it up. Leather furniture, but the soft buttery kind. A roughly hewn mantle over a fireplace made of delicate slate. He knew more than just how to drive a nail. He knew how to balance. How to make it a home.
“Wow,” she said.
“Hannah probably thinks I sold sex to pay for it,” he said, yanking Maddi’s thoughts back. “Simon thinks I conned a contracting company. Eli—” Zach shrugged. “Eli doesn’t really care. Levi hasn’t been home since I built it. Mom and Gran think it’s wonderful and such a cool hobby,” he finished with a wry smile.
“A hobby?” Maddi said. “This could—” She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “Wait, did you sell sex to pay for it? A kidney? This wood alone is crazy expensive.”
Zach’s old cocky grin spread across his face. “Thank you, but I’m not quite that good.”
Maddi went hot from scalp to toes, remembering otherwise. “Ha ha,” she said, laughing nervously.
“See that table?” he said, pointing to an entryway table made of cedar. “That shelf under the bar? The benches next to the fireplace? The end tables, those chairs . . .” He stopped. “I made all that. The furniture in my bedroom. The swing outside. They are all duplicates of pieces I’ve sold.”
Maddi’s eyes grew wide. “Sold?”
“Many times over.”
“Zach!” she said in awe. “You have a business?”
He visibly cringed at the word. “Not yet.”
“Not yet? You’re selling your work, that’s a business,” she said. “You—paid for this house by selling your furniture?”
He nodded. “Mostly. Gran pitched in for a safe room she wanted one of us to have—like a storm room. She bought the thing and I built around it.”
“Holy shit, Zach,” Maddi said. “Why don’t you tell them? Why—why aren’t you advertising? Why aren’t you online? You could get a website set up and ship all over the place, oh, my God, you could—”
“I know,” he said, smiling, walking closer, holding up his hands. Too close. Too good. “And I will one day. Just not yet.”
Maddi narrowed her gaze. “You’d rather let your family think you do nothing?” she said. “I saw your reaction to what Woodbriar said. Why do you let people think that?”
Zach averted his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe I just want to shock everyone with it one day.”
“You just shocked the hell out of me,” Maddi said. “I think you’re ready.”
Zach looked back at her, and her stomach begged for mercy as it plummeted. That look again. That old look, like when they were—
“What—” Maddi began, having to clear her throat. “What about your customers?” Maddi said. “Don’t they spread the word?”
Zach leaned a side table back and pointed at the underside where a scripted Z was burned into the wood.
“For furniture by some guy named Z?” Zach said with a grin. “Sure. But they aren’t local. They don’t know me.” He stepped closer again, as if he couldn’t help himself. “No one knows it’s me.”
Maddi tilted her head. “You’re a little bit crazy, you know that?”
He smiled. “I’ve heard that.”
Her girly parts were on high alert already after last night, and he was too close. Maddi backed up a step, and her eye caught something behind him.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” she whispered.
Goosebumps covered her skin as she walked around him, not even bothering to keep from brushing against him. She walked right up to where they stood together like soldiers. They were soldiers. They’d seen battle.
Maddi’s eyes filled with hot tears as she touched the wood, the still-splintered places on the sides. The gouges across the front of one of the shelves.
“My bookshelves,” she said. More to herself than to Zach, but he heard her. She felt him before he spoke.
“Couldn’t get rid of them,” he said, his voice sounding odd to her ears.
She blinked the tears free and whisked them away before turning around. “All you can do, and you left them like this?” she said. “Why didn’t you fix them? Make them beautiful again?”
Something dark and heavy went through his eyes as he looked at her, then dragged them to the tops of the shelves. She followed his gaze to the tops where the damage was worst. Where they’d slammed into each other, forming a protective A-frame over her body, taking on the brunt of a collapsing building.
“They’re reminders,” he said, nearly inaudibly as the first raindrops started tapping on the windows.
“Reminders?” she echoed. “Of the worst day ever?”
His eyes came back down to hers. “Of the day they saved your life.”
Chapter Eighteen
Seeing her in his house was killing him. He loved it, there was no denying that. He was enjoying talking to her, telling her about his furniture business, eating up the fact that she was there, but it was beating the living crap out of him.
And it was going to be worse after she left. There was a reason he didn’t bring women there.
And now she was crying. Fuck.
“They fought the fight, Maddi,” he said, turning away. “They have the scars. Want some water?”
He knew it was a whiplashing subject change, but he needed it. They’d gone down that path yesterday, and he didn’t need to do it again.
“Yeah, that’d
be good,” she said, wiping at her face. “Zach, I’m sorry.”
“No need to be,” he said.
“No, I mean for yesterday,” she said, stopping him in his tracks.
“What?”
“Yesterday,” she repeated. “Saying all that—” She flushed and averted her eyes. “In front of everyone.” She took a deep breath and he walked backward to the kitchen, not wanting to miss anything. “And not just yesterday. For—back then. For leaving like I did.”
Thank God he was at the fridge, because his feet would have stopped anyway. He reached in for two bottles of water and made the slow trek back, watching her face.
“You know, I never believed that it was forever,” Zach said. “I always thought you’d come back.” He widened his eyes and laughed to himself. “Damn, I’ve never said that out loud before.”
Maddi pressed a hand to her stomach and blinked rapidly as she smiled. “And I kept thinking you’d—”
She stopped, and the universe filled it in. She thought he’d go after her, like his mom said. Bam. Fuck if that didn’t kick him in the balls. His lungs deflated as he stood there.
“Would it have done any good?” he asked.
She shook her head and gave a little shrug. “I don’t know.”
“It’s the past,” he managed, swallowing that down past the boulder in his stomach. “Things happened like they were supposed to.”
“I guess,” she said.
The pause as their eyes locked had weight. Like if he didn’t keep talking it would sink them both.
“Good to see Monroe,” he said, clearing his throat.
“Yeah,” she said, looking at him sideways. “Was he nice?”
Zach tilted his head. “He didn’t punch me, so I guess that was him being nice.”
“Ha ha,” she said, socking him in the chest, and then gasping when he caught her hand.
It was an automatic move, but he didn’t want to let go. He looked down at it and squeezed. “See?” he said. “We can be friends.”
He didn’t buy it for a second.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come back,” she said, her words trailing off, staring at their hands, too. It was safer. “I just—didn’t—I guess I didn’t know back then how to say what I needed. How to tell you that I needed to come first.”
His free hand came up before he could stop it, touching her cheek, making her breathing quicken again.
“You did come first,” he whispered, feeling the pull. Needing to pull her into him more than he needed to breathe. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you didn’t.”
She closed her eyes and reached up to take his hand away, but ended up pressing her face into it instead, as if letting go would hurt. It was Zach’s turn to suck in a sharp breath as he watched her. The sound of steady rain washing down the house filled his ears as everything he kept pushing down was pushing back.
But then she started shaking her head, mumbling words he couldn’t understand.
“What?” he asked, still transfixed by her hands on him.
“This is why we can’t be alone together,” she said, laughing as her voice shook. “This.” She pulled his hand from her face but didn’t let it go. “We clearly can’t be trusted.” She laughed again and chanced a glance up at him. “I clearly can’t be trusted.”
“Maddi.”
She let go, and pasted a smile on her face that he knew was bullshit. If her insides were doing half the shit his were—
“I’m weak when it comes to you,” she said. “We’re—friends enough again that I can admit that. But I’m not gonna be like the other women you parade through here. We have a history—”
Zach’s head finally caught up to her words. “Wait—what?” he said, pulling his hand free.
“I have a job to do, and we have too much history for me to just become another Blakely on your list,” she said.
“Another Blakely?” he said, his mind reeling, trying to connect the dots. “What the hell is a Blakely?” Although it sounded familiar. Why did it sound familiar?
Maddi’s eyebrow shot up. “Come on, Zach. You don’t even remember her name?”
“Whose name?” he said, holding up his palms. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“The receptionist at Infinity,” Maddi said, her tone going acidic. “The one you screwed on the stairwell after you left the meeting.”
Zach’s mind backpedaled, flipping through the memories of that day. Everything featured Maddi, in the white dress. Maddi with the angry blue eyes. Maddi, Maddi, Maddi—and leaving by the stairs—and oh, yeah. Blakely. The crazy name with the sexy hair and the coochie-showing skirt that followed him down the stairs.
He started to chuckle and rubbed at his eyes as he sank onto the back of his couch.
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Shit.”
He crossed his arms and met her now iced-over glaze. Those blue eyes could go so cold when they wanted to. But it was why they’d gone cold that squeezed at his heart.
“Is that what she said?” Zach said.
Maddi’s brows dipped down in surprise. “What she said?” she asked. “No, Zach, I didn’t play twenty questions with her. She’s known for that. She followed you out, and came up all—” Her mouth moved like she couldn’t bear to finish the sentence.
“And you just assume that’s what I did?” he said.
Maddi blinked. “You kind of have a reputation.”
He laughed and looked around the room. “Yeah, I kind of have a reputation for being a screw-off and a lazy bum that lives off my grandmother’s money, too.” His eyes turned serious as he looked back at Maddi.
Her gaze turned wary, questioning, doubting. Second-guessing. “You saying you didn’t?” she asked slowly.
“First I’m asking why it matters,” he said softly, pinning her with his gaze, willing her not to look away.
She swallowed and picked up the forgotten sweating water bottle he’d placed on a nearby table. “It doesn’t,” she said, inhaling deeply and letting it go. “It didn’t. Except it did.”
“You were jealous,” he said.
“I was hurt,” she fired back, the angry blue heat shooting from her eyes again. “I had no right or reason to be,” she said, deflating a little. “But I was. So there.”
Zach pushed off the couch and took a step toward her, and she responded with half a step back.
“What would that say about me, Maddi,” he said, his voice low, his heart slamming against his ribs, “if I banged some stranger on the stairs five seconds after seeing you again?”
“Kinda my thoughts,” she said under her breath.
He took another step forward, and she didn’t move. “First of all, I’m not really that guy. Just so you know.”
“What guy?”
“The idiot who would have sex with the receptionist—a place he’s trying to do business with—on the stairs. Where people can walk out. And there are probably cameras. I’m not that stupid.”
“Okay,” she said, putting the unopened bottle back on the table again.
“Second,” he said, risking another step. “Since we’re being honest. She offered. I said no.”
Maddi gave him a look. “You turned her down.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“I just told you,” he said softly.
Her eyes burned into him. “And?”
Damn it, she knew there was an and.
“Because I’d just seen the love of my life after seven years, and she wasn’t it.”
That was a sentence that required armor and shields and walls and gates and at the very least more clothing. Maddi crossed her arms over herself and focused on keeping a neutral expression and on holding the burn inside. God help her, he hadn’t just said that.
/> He hadn’t just said that.
He didn’t screw Blakely.
Because of her. Well, and morals, which was refreshing to hear he still had. But that—love of my life thing. Jesus God.
“And for the record,” he said, thankfully, saving her from having to form words, “there is no parade.”
Her head was spinning a little too much for that to hit any kind of recognition. “What?”
“The parade of women through here?” he said. “Never has been.”
She let go of the air trapped in her chest. Okay, come on, she wasn’t naive. Love of her life or not.
“Please,” she said.
He shrugged and picked up his bottle, opening and draining it in two gulps. “Believe what you want.”
“I don’t believe you haven’t had women, Zach,” she said, chuckling. “I mean, even I’ve had relationships.”
“I never said I was celibate,” he said. “I said it wasn’t here.” He walked back to the kitchen, and Maddi took the chance to breathe normally as she watched him at a safer distance. “And I don’t do relationships.”
“At all?” she said, morbidly needing to hear that.
“At all,” he said, gesturing around him. “This is my haven from everything crazy in my world. I don’t need memories here. I don’t need to look around and see the ghost of someone I loved in every corner.”
And yet he’d invited her in. Her heart contracted almost painfully at the thought. Girly parts contracted in a whole different way.
“I should get back,” she said, her voice coming out wobbly and weak. “Before the rain gets worse.”
He looked out the window and raised an eyebrow. “It’s pretty bad.” Looking down at her feet. “Especially in flip-flops.”
Loving the Chase (Heart of the Storm #1) Page 20
