by Zoe York
“Are you a pilot?”
Zander laughed and glanced up at Faith, his eyes crinkling. But the smile got bigger than any she’d seen before, and then she realized, he had dimples, too. Damn, why did he have to have dimples? Although his were less boyishly-cute and more seriously-lethal. But her ovaries weren’t just aching because he was cute, but because her son brought it out in him. Zander likes kids. Her kid, to be exact. Like, more than adults, more than talking about warfare. Eric made him smile like this, up at her. The tip of his tongue darted out between his even white teeth as he laughed, a sound of pure happiness, and she just about had an instant orgasm. “The truth is going to be less cool, isn’t it?”
She joined him in his quiet chuckle and nodded by rote, although inside everything was still rioting. “‘Fraid so.”
She’d underestimated the Zander Effect. The height, the swagger, the incredibly sexy, encyclopaedic knowledge about weaponry…it all paled in comparison to watching this conversation, seeing Zander open up and give Eric little bits of himself without even thinking about it. Zander Minelli, you’re a dangerously kind man.
He turned his attention back to Eric. “I’m in the army, actually.”
Eric tipped his head to the side. “Maybe you can still go in the space shuttle.”
“I hope so.”
“Me too. I’m small. I’ll hide in your suitcase.”
As cute as this was, Faith couldn’t let her son think for a second that hiding in a stranger’s luggage was acceptable. “Eric, you’ve just Mr. Minelli. Ease up on the spy plans, okay?”
Her son sighed and leaned closer to Zander, echoing the grown man’s earlier action, right down to the lowered voice. “She doesn’t get it. But she’s cool in other ways.”
Zander laughed and tried to stop himself at the same time, making himself cough. Eric patiently waited for him to recover. Giant man, tiny boy. Instant friendship the likes of which Eric rarely had a chance to form.
Zander held out his hand again. “Eric, it was really a lot of fun meeting you today. Your mom is right about the escape plan—it’s not safe—but I like you, bud.”
Faith’s heart squeezed so tight she had to actually rub her chest to make the feeling go away…and still it lingered.
Eric shook right back with the fervency of a boy on a mission. Don’t count on this plan being dismissed, his little pumping arm said. But he knew when to re-group. “I’m going back to the playground.”
Zander stood and shoved his hands in his pockets as Faith watched her son scamper to the top of the climber. “He’s a great kid.”
“He’s fragile.” The warning tumbled out of her mouth before she realized she said it out loud.
“Okay.” His mouth tightened and his dark eyes searched her face. “I was just making conversation.”
“I know. And you didn’t say anything inappropriate. Actually, that was…really good. And thank you for backing me up on the safety thing. We’re edging into the age where he’s questioning everything I say.”
His lips turned up a bit and he nodded ruefully. “I remember the first time Tom told our mother she was wrong. It didn’t go well.”
Faith burst out laughing.
He shook his head. “I can still hear the wooden spoon splintering as she whacked it against the kitchen counter to make her point about how just not wrong she was, and just how grounded he was.”
That was…extreme. Her reaction couldn’t have been well-masked because Zander rocked forward on his heels and grinned at her.
“It was a different time?” he offered, his dimple making another appearance. “My mom takes the whole Italian passion thing quite literally.”
“Ah.”
“Your parents were different?”
She shrugged. Yes. A quiet academic father, lost in his thoughts most of the time, and when he blinked and realized he had a precocious child growing right in front of him, he’d just found her fascinating. And her mother had doted on both of them. “A bit, yeah.”
“Tell me more.”
“Why?”
“Haven’t you ever met someone and just wanted to know more about them?”
Yes. Again with that stupid tug deep in her belly. “I’m not that interesting.”
“I find that hard to believe.” His voice rumbled with barely restrained laughter.
“Mom!”
Saved by the child. She turned toward the climber and raised her voice. “Yes?”
“Will you push me on the swing?”
“Yep!” She started moving in that direction, walking backward so she could say goodbye to Zander. “Sorry, Mom duty calls.”
He didn’t take the hint. “That’s okay. I’ll join you. I’m not in any hurry.”
“Oh. I…” What? Wanted him to go away? That would be a bald-faced lie. Didn’t know how to handle his interest? That was certainly true, but not something she wanted to admit.
She blinked as he sauntered around her, coming close enough that his shoulder brushed hers as he passed. She pivoted on her heel, her breath shallow in her chest as she tried hard not to pant at the view of Zander’s ass encased in denim.
Ooooh, this was a mistake.
A beautiful, beautiful mistake.
He looked back at her, and the way the sun backlit him as he stood between her and the swing set made him look like a fallen angel. For a second she pictured him as Deacon. Dark, growly, full of attitude. Perfect.
She told her brain to remember every detail of this moment for when she got back to the computer.
The way her heart was pounding in her chest promised that wouldn’t be a problem.
He settled against one of the posts of the swing set as she gave Eric a gentle push.
“Higher, Mommy,” her son urged, and she made it so, because he didn’t call her that very often anymore. If he ever figured out that she’d give him almost anything when he did, she’d be screwed.
After the second push, she waved her hand in the space between her and her airborne son. “This is everything there is to know about me, Zander. Playgrounds and camps and packing lunches and wiping noses and kissing scraped knees. Bath time and story time and middle of the night cuddles because of nightmares. Nothing interesting.”
He just stood there, watching her, until Eric wiggled his feet and announced he was done. She wanted to follow him back to the climbers, wanted to escape Zander’s pinning gaze and swing on the monkey bars and sail down the slide.
Instead she just stood there and shared a long, silent, bittersweet moment with a man who would have been perfect for her a lifetime ago.
— —
Zander knew he should leave Faith alone.
Chemistry didn’t trump practicality, and she’d given him a bunch of reasons why being pursued didn’t thrill her—being a mom and dealing with grief, although she didn’t name that specifically.
But then they had shared looks like this, where her face was naked with longing and he thought, how is this beautiful woman all alone? How can I not pursue her? It was a raw, primal reaction that evaded logic and reason.
Eric’s strong little voice cut through their moment. “Mommy! I’m hungry!”
She nodded woodenly. “I’ve got snacks in my backpack, baby.”
Zander watched as she turned and jogged over to a bag sitting on a bench on the other side of the small park.
She had the sweetest legs. Long, curvy calves and soft, creamy thighs. This was the second time he’d seen her in cut-off jean shorts and a faded graphic tee, and that outfit was rapidly climbing his top-ten fantasy list. She made it look good. All curves and pale skin that made him wonder if it was even paler under the soft, clingy fabric.
And she had a tattoo on her ankle.
How had he missed that before?
He added it to the growing list of little details that made Faith special—the way her hair tumbled loose from her ponytail, the sparkly stud in her nose, how her blue eyes turned grey when she was thinking.
&nbs
p; That she was giggle snorting over a bathroom humour joke with Eric.
“Because it’s poo!” the kid yelled, and Zander watched as Faith wiped tears from the corners of her eyes.
He’d missed the setup, but it was still somehow funny.
Slowly he made his way over to them. She’d crossed her legs and the dark ink was now hidden, but he’d figure out what it was soon enough.
“Did I miss a funny joke?” he asked.
Eric giggled. “Knock knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“Touch mop.”
“Touch…” Touch mop who… Touch mah poo. Zander grinned. “Touch mop who?”
Eric cackled and Faith turned pink. “I’m sorry,” she whispered between hiccupping laughs. “It’s really inappropriate.”
Zander dropped into a squat so he could be eye-level with Eric. “That’s okay. Army guys like crude jokes.” He cleared his throat. “Not that I’m going to teach you any.”
“Teach me!” Eric bounced on the bench. His granola bar got caught in the excitement somehow and tumbled to the ground. The little boy’s face immediately fell, and Zander picked up the bar, but it was covered in dirt. Eric reached out with his fingers and gingerly brushed at the sticky mess. “My snack…”
“We’ve got more at home,” Faith said smoothly, standing up again.
That brought Zander eye-to-eye with her legs. Her knees. Her smooth skin and not far from where his hand was hanging, her ankle with it’s gorgeous quill tattoo.
A writer’s ink.
The quill curved around her ankle bone before exploding into a flock of birds. All her stories?
He wanted to tug her ankle into his lap and trace the outline of the tattoo, make her shiver and giggle until she told him all about it. When. Where. Why.
With who.
He wanted to know everything about her. More than just the surface details that made her fascinating enough already. He wanted to know what made her tick, what got her excited.
What turned her on.
“Let me buy you lunch,” he said abruptly, standing up again. He towered over Faith, and he liked it like that. Liked how she looked up at him with that what-are-you-doing expression on her face, and how she licked her lips.
Especially that part.
He wanted to chase the plump, shiny flesh with his own tongue and find out if she tasted as serious as she looked most of the time, or if she was secret laughter and sighs on the inside, too.
“We couldn’t…” she said, but her eyes held his. “I tried to explain Friday night…”
“Ah yes.” He gave her a reproachful look. “You led me to believe you were a taken woman.”
She laughed. “I’m sorry about that. That wasn’t fair.”
“Then make it up to me.” He grinned down at her. “I did make Eric drop his granola bar, after all.”
“I want fish and chips,” Eric interjected, standing on the bench beside them. He was almost as tall as his mother that way—an equal part of the conversation. “Please, Mommy?”
And thank God for that, because it was likely the reason Faith relented. “Fine. We can go and get some lunch.” She glanced back at Zander. “And if Mr. Minelli happens to go to Castaway Pete’s at the same time, that would be…nice.”
They were only a block from the tiny strip of restaurants that did a booming business in the summer, for the tourists getting on and off the ferry and area cottagers, too. Two more weeks, once school started and the summer season officially wrapped up, and Tobermory would be nearly a ghost town.
He’d come back at exactly the right time, because this was easy. Walking together, with Eric in the middle, slowly coasting along on his scooter. Grabbing one of the bright blue picnic tables.
Arguing over who should pay.
Faith got right in his face when he tried to treat them, waving a twenty at him. He nearly grabbed her wrist and pulled her tight against him, and from the spark in her eye, she didn’t miss what was on his mind.
Oh yeah, she was interested.
And this time, the confusion over how she felt about that fact seemed less vexing than before.
Progress, he told himself. Significant progress.
— SIX —
FISH and chips had never tasted so good.
Zander had disappeared inside with her twenty dollars, and returned with a single tray of food—and her twenty dollars.
“Your change,” he said with a wink. Then he turned to Eric before she could say anything. “Hey bud, I need help with the second tray. The pirates inside are holding it hostage. Do you have any gold?”
Eric laughed. “You mean, do ye have any gold.”
“Argh, me matey, I do indeed.” Zander held out a couple of loonies, and Eric took the one-dollar coins and led Zander back inside.
When they returned, Eric crowed about how he’d tipped the pirate behind the counter—the main reason to visit Castaway Pete’s—and they all dug into their lunch.
Eric filled the silence with excited chatter about the library program he was going to for the afternoon.
Zander nodded along, asking questions like how long it would be and how many days he’d take it, and Eric sat up taller and beamed brighter with each answer. But Faith felt like with each question, she was being stripped bare. Zander didn’t look her way and yet she felt his attention most keenly.
"And how about you, Faith? Working this afternoon?"
He knew she had the afternoon to herself—today and every day this week—thanks to her son, so she'd seen the question coming. But she still wasn't prepared for it. “I’m…” Done writing for the day. “Going to do laundry.”
His eyes leapt like amused, glittering chunks of coal. “Fun.”
Shrugging, she stole one of his French fries. “I told you, nothing about my life is fun.”
He dipped another fry in ketchup and held it out for her. “This is fun.”
Yes, it was, and admitting that—to him, to herself—was surprisingly easy. “Once or twice a year, maybe we go wild and have lunch out.”
He grinned. “So it is possible for Faith Davidson, serious writer extraordinaire, to have fun.”
“Possible, yes. Probable, no.” Her phone sounded from the pocket of her backpack. She pulled it out—the alarm reminder that Eric’s library program started in thirty minutes. “Finish up your lunch.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Zander said softly, his lips quirking as he looked down at his tray.
“I meant Eric,” she laughed.
“Right.” Zander turned to Eric. “You’ve got a busy afternoon ahead.”
Eric stared right back at him. “What are you going to do with my mom this afternoon?”
Faith enjoyed seeing Zander speechless, so she waited a beat before saving him. “I think we’ll take you over to the library, then Mr. Minelli might walk me home, where I will wash your soccer uniform so it’s shiny and clean for your game tomorrow night.”
Eric shrugged. “Boring.”
“Excuse me?”
“Thank you.”
“That’s better.” She handed over a napkin, then started to stack their trays.
“I’ll get these,” Zander said, his fingers brushing hers as they both reached for the pile of ketchup-smeared paper plates, crumpled napkins, and empty tartar sauce cups.
Faith froze.
So did the six-foot-something tattooed biker she couldn’t get out of her mind.
She didn’t know she’d been missing his touch. Not exactly. But the moment the contact was made, she knew she was in big trouble. Even though it was innocent, it didn’t feel innocent at all. Faith forced herself to keep breathing.
“Come on.” His voice strained to sound normal—or least that’s what she told herself she was hearing. It would be good to not be alone in this craziness. “Eric’s got a thing to get to, right bud?”
“That’s right!”
Faith blinked and pulled her hand away. She buried her burning face in her backpack, lo
oking for the smaller bag and water bottle that Eric would take with him to the afternoon program.
“And then you’re going to walk my mom home?”
Seriously, why was Eric so obsessed with what Zander was going to do to her that afternoon?
With. Not to.
She jerked the backpack closed and stood up, her hip banging against the picnic table. “Okay, let’s go.”
She managed not to look at Zander until they got to the library—damn small towns, everything being only a block apart barely gave her time to de-blush and try to restore her natural defences.
“You have a good time.” She kissed Eric on the forehead and smoothed her hand over his hair. “I’ll be back in three hours to pick you up.”
“With Zander?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“Awww!”
Zander leaned in and offered his fist to Eric, who solemnly bumped knuckles with his new friend.
Faith cleared her throat. “What do you say?”
“Thank you for laughing at my poop joke.”
“Eric!”
“And lunch.”
“That’s better. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
She watched as her little boy scampered off, high-fiving the program leader as he took his seat on the carpet alongside a handful of other children. Probably all the kids that would be in his class in two weeks—Tobermory didn’t have a huge population at the height of the summer. It dwindled to almost nothing over the winter.
When she turned around, Zander was watching her with a weird look on his face.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He stepped out of the way and gestured to the door. “Lead the way, laundry lady.”
“See? I’m no fun.”
Maybe if she hadn’t said that, he’d have let her pass him and step back out into the sunshine.
But she had, and as soon as it was out of her mouth, she’d known it was a mistake. His hand snapped out in front of her, touching her hip.
Zander’s fingers brushing against hers had been distracting. This?
This was mind-altering. His palm curved around her side, his forearm a steel bar across her waist. “I don’t believe that for a second,” he whispered before releasing her just as quickly as he’d stopped her.
