“Look, Zac, the bells are in the shape of hearts.”
“Is there anything in Marietta that doesn’t get covered in hearts over Valentine’s Day?”
Lacey shook her head. “No. We like our holidays.”
“I’ve noticed. So what about you, Lacey? Would you say you’re a flash mob kind of girl or would you prefer poetry?”
She wrinkled her nose as she thought. “I’m comfortable in front of a camera or a crowd, you know that. But to me a proposal is something private, intimate. I know these big, public proposals are a lot of work and effort and that’s really sweet but I would rather something small and from the heart. To be on a walk or just hanging out and it being kind of spontaneous and right rather than planned. How about you?”
“I think it’s highly unlikely I’ll ever be part of a flash mob,” Zac admitted and Lacey’s peal of laughter outdid the sleigh bells.
“I can’t see that either. A spreadsheet of pros and cons though.”
“Absolutely. And a fully costed breakdown.”
“Nothing says romance like a breakdown of costs.”
The sleigh took the same route through the woods he and Lacey had walked just over a week ago. The walk when they had agreed to be friends. She stilled as they passed the spot where he had almost kissed her and he knew she was remembering that walk too.
“Regretting our bargain?”
“Maybe a little,” she admitted honestly.
Zac slid his gloves off and reached out to take her hand, removing her glove as he did so. It was a curiously intimate gesture, pulling at each fingertip before slipping the glove off. He swallowed, his heart thumping as her hand was bared and he entwined her fingers in his. No wonder the Victorians had set such store by gloved hands. “Me too.”
“What do we do about it?” She stared down at their entwined hands.
“Do? We’re on a date, aren’t we? I’m no expert but that seems like the right place to start to me.”
Lacey peeped up at him, her eyes huge in the starlight. “Yes, you’re probably right.”
They didn’t speak for the rest of the ride, nor did they separate their hands. Zac sat back in his seat aware of little more than the feel of her soft hand in his, of the pressure of her fingers, of the way every nerve in his body seemed to be pulling him toward her. Her lips were slightly parted, and all he wanted to do was lean in and capture that lush mouth under his. But whatever this was, it wasn’t a fast seduction. It was a courtship, a wooing. And it was a two-way thing. He needed to let her show him her town. He needed to know if there was space for him in her life and if so if he would be comfortable fitting in there.
But either way, at some point tonight, he vowed, he would kiss her. Even if it was just once he had to know what it would feel like, how she would taste. He’d allow himself that at least.
*
“You are a skate shark,” Lacey said indignantly. “A skate shark and a ski shark. What other hidden talents have you kept from me?”
Zac skated a loose, relaxed curve, testing each blade as he did so before fetching up alongside Lacey with a stylish turn that made her blink in envy.
“I played hockey up to junior high,” he admitted. “And one of my jobs was at the local rink so I got plenty of ice time even when I couldn’t afford to play.”
She put her hands on her hips. “So when I was confiding my icecapade dreams to you, you could skate like this all along and didn’t think to mention it?”
He put his hands up, laughing. “Hey, I just like to skate. I’ve never dreamed about spangles and medals. I don’t need music and emotive choreography. Besides, you said you wanted someone to go skating with and here I am. Much more fun than trying to hold up a nervous newbie, isn’t it?”
Lacey couldn’t stop the responsive smile curving her mouth. Zac was right. She’d fully expected to have a slow, painful session, towing a reluctant Zac behind her. Not that she hadn’t expected him to pick it up quickly, as a surfer and snowboarder he understood balance, but it would have been frustratingly slow on her only ice time this season. Instead he’d strapped his skates on, stepped confidently onto the ice, and had soared off in a fast, graceful arc while Lacey was still fastening her boots. “You’re right. It’s just I would like to be better than you at one thing.”
“You are.” He took the hand she held out as she stepped onto the ice and waited for her to get her balance.
“Yeah? Because you beat me at skiing and baking and you are an amazing skater…”
“I can’t sing or play an instrument. I couldn’t talk a stranger into committing to a three-week public baking competition. I couldn’t cajole a bunch of people online into donating to a cause far from their homes. I couldn’t switch on a microphone and make every listener feel like a valued friend…” He paused and she tugged his hand.
“Go on.”
“I think I’ll save some for later. Wouldn’t want you to get vain.”
Lacey’s heart stopped for a second. What did he mean by that? She didn’t have time to think because Zac began to skate, pulling her along at a great speed, away from the tumbling kids and the cautious learners, out to where the ice was clean and there was plenty of glorious space. All she knew was the exhilaration of the cold night air as they sped along, the clasp of Zac’s hand in hers and the sheer joy of speed.
Zac slowed as they reached the center of the safe skating area, twirling Lacey around as he did so. It was almost deserted, as if they were alone under the velvet black sky punctuated by a kaleidoscope of stars. “You know how to ice dance after all,” Lacey said breathlessly as she came to a stop.
“No lifts,” he warned her and she looked down at her jeans and bulky jacket and smiled.
“I’m not dressed for it anyway.”
“You’d be cold out here in your lycra and spangles.”
“True. But it would be worth it.” She skated backward, enjoying the way her body fell into the fluid movement and opening her arms as she turned. “I love how free skating makes me feel. You know?”
“Yes. I know.”
He’d caught up with her and she touched his arm with one gloved hand. “Tag,” she said and then skated away with as much of a burst of speed as she could manage, leaving him standing confused for a second before his eyes lit up and he was after her at an impossible pace. Laughing, Lacey wove around the ice, trying to escape Zac, but he was inexorable, anticipating her every move before she even knew she was making it.
Her head start gave her barely any leeway. Closer and closer to the edge of the lake she skated with no obvious way past him… Breathing fast she feinted to the left before dodging right and sprinting as fast as her skates could carry her but Zac had read her move and he was on her, pulling her close, dictating their direction as he towed her right to the edge of the lake where the trees shadowed the water.
“Got you.”
“I guess so.” Lacey looked up, laughter trembling, only for all desire to laugh to melt away as she saw the heat and determination in his face. She swallowed nervously, all too aware that his hand was in hers, his arm around her waist, and they were standing so close that barely an inch separated them. “You have.”
“Have I?”
“If that’s what you want.”
Desire blazed in his eyes and Lacey didn’t know whether to back away—or whether to step forward. All she knew was that she would fall without him to hold her. “If that’s what I want,” he repeated softly and she shivered. “I used to know what I wanted, Lacey, but it seems like nothing’s clear anymore.”
“Me too.”
“And here we are.”
“Looks like it.”
His hand slipped from hers leaving her achingly cold for one brief moment, only to burn as he ran a gloved finger down her cheek. “I like you, Lacey Hathaway.”
“I’m very likeable.”
He gave her a ghost of a smile and her knees weakened at the sweetness in it. “I don’t want to hurt you. I promised
you I’d stay away.” His eyes searched her face looking for answers.
“You did and you have. But I think I was wrong. I was playing safe as usual. Maybe it’s time I took some risks.”
He tilted her chin and stared into her eyes for one long moment, the blood roaring in Lacey’s ears as she looked boldly back, every fiber in her screaming at him to just kiss her already. He groaned, as if the sound were torn from him and then, in one abrupt move, pulled her closer so that chest was against chest, leg against leg, and the arm round her waist was the only thing anchoring her to the ice, to the world. And as his head slowly bent toward hers and his mouth finally, finally touched hers, Lacey knew that she had finally come home and it was everything she had always wanted it to be.
*
“So what now?”
Lacey stole a nervous glance at Zac. How could he sound so normal? How could he stride along as if everything were the same as it had been before, as if they hadn’t spent five minutes locked in each other’s arms lost to the world. If that group of kids hadn’t skated noisily by they might be there still. She ran her tongue over her lips, rejoicing at the slight swell in them, shivering at the sensory memory of his kiss.
Whatever happened she would never regret those five minutes. Never had she felt so alive, so desirable. And yet it had been the chastest of kisses, separated by layers of thermal and wool, in public, balancing on skates. The chastest and the most mind-blowing kiss imaginable.
“Food?” she ventured. After all, this was a date. “Dinner and a movie?”
“I like it, old school.”
“I am an old-fashioned girl,” she told him.
“That you are.” It sounded very much like a compliment.
“Where would you like to eat?”
“Not the diner,” Zac said wryly. “I’m going to get pastry-making flashbacks every time I set foot in there. Where else do people eat in this town?”
“There’s Graff’s but—” she looked down at their denim-clad legs “—we’re not really dressed for somewhere so fancy.” Plus Graff’s was a formal date kind of place. A dress up and go out for dinner, hushed conversation and expectation kind of place. It was lovely but not what Lacey wanted for this night of discovery. She wanted something as sweet and as simple as skating on a lake. Something that didn’t scream commitment.
“Rocco’s! You do like Italian, don’t you?”
“Love it. What’s Rocco’s?”
“It’s the embodiment of every Italian restaurant cliché but the food is wonderful, the welcome genuine, and there’s something really charming about it.”
“It sounds perfect.”
It was. Big plates of pasta, a small glass of red wine for Lacey and water for Zac, a warm welcome and a little table in the corner—not too obviously romantic but tucked away enough for Lacey to feel that Zac and she were the only people in the world. Almost groaning with gluttony they then padded slowly through the lamp-lit streets till they reached the cinema where Lacey refused popcorn for the first time in her life and sank into the wide, comfortable seats feeling like a boa constrictor who had swallowed a goat and needed at least a week to digest it.
Friday night was classics night in the smallest screen and to Lacey’s delight Zac had needed little persuading to agree to Cary Grant and Deborah Carr rather than the shoot them up alien invasion blockbuster in the main screen.
“Is this a chick’s film?” he asked as he folded himself next to her and she shook her head indignantly.
“It’s a romantic classic.”
“Chick’s film,” he confirmed with a nod. He peered past her and his eyebrows rose. “Why has that woman over there got a whole box of tissues?”
“It’s emotional. It’s about two people who love each other and misunderstandings and destiny and sacrifice and oh! You are just going to have to see for yourself.”
“At least the seats are comfortable in case I need to sleep,” he said and she glared at him.
“I’ll poke you awake if you as much as close one eye.”
There was no need for her to keep an eye on him. As soon as the lights went down Zac took her hand as if they were teens on a first date, his hand cool and possessive, his thumb tracing circles over her palm that had her dizzy with desire. It took Lacey a while to settle into the film, distracted by Zac’s touch, his knee warm against hers, the strength in the thigh alongside hers, the scent of pastry and ginger and warm food and something else uniquely Zac enveloping her, making it hard to concentrate.
But slowly she settled down, enjoying the intimacy of his touch and able to follow the plot as Deborah Carr and Cary Grant swapped witticisms and tried—and failed—to deny their growing attraction.
She laughed at one moment and felt the vibration of Zac’s mirrored amusement and had that sense of rightness when two people find themselves in complete harmony. And then she was swept away, into a world of dressing for dinner and disapproving gossip, of gorgeous islands and a timeless New York where the protagonists tried to become the person they felt they needed to be to deserve a happy ever after.
“That was wonderful,” she choked out as the credits finally rolled and catapulted her back to present-day Marietta. Zac passed her another tissue and Lacey took it gratefully, mopping up the last stray tears. “Did you enjoy it?” She peered up at him, looking for any trace of emotion.
“I did. But, do you think…” He paused.
“Think what?”
“That they would work out in the end? Do you think people can change for love? Or do they go back to being who they really are? The first argument about money and Cary Grant finds himself smoothly seducing another heiress and Deborah Carr decides picturesque poverty isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and bags her millionaire after all.”
“I don’t know.” Lacey wasn’t sure if this was a critique of the film or something else, something fundamentally more meaningful. “I guess it depends on the love, doesn’t it? I mean, it can make some people selfish, jealous, and controlling, but I think real love means wanting what’s best for the other person regardless of the cost to you, don’t you? Of wanting to be a better person, a braver person because of them. I like to think they made it work and they loved each other more because they had to work at it and compromise, because it wasn’t easy.” She paused, embarrassed she’d said too much.
“I like your interpretation better.” Zac got to his feet and held out his hand. “Come on, let me walk you home.”
“Very convenient that it’s on your way,” Lacey teased him.
“Isn’t it?”
“Zac?” She paused, searching for the right words. “I have had a really lovely time, thank you.”
“No, thank you. You picked the itinerary.”
She took his hand, marveling at how natural that gesture had become. Part of her wanted to suggest they did this again some time really soon, another to beg him not to come near her again because she was liking his company far too much. But, she didn’t want to spoil this perfect evening with emotions, or worries about the future. If this was all they had then she needed to savor every second. So she said nothing as they fell into step together, as if they had been walking side by side their whole lives long.
Chapter Fifteen
“Evening!” Lacey half danced into the kitchen, scooping Patchwork up off the kitchen chair nearest the stove and pressing a kiss onto his furry head as she did so. “What’s for supper? I am starving. It’s been good though. I got loads of footage of the Monroes, talking about Harry and touring the house. It’s going to be really powerful.”
She’d had half a mind to cancel, not sure if Zac would want to spend the Sunday with her after such an amazing Saturday evening but she’d had a stern word with herself. She had made promises and she had to keep them. Zac would understand. She was looking forward to seeing him tonight though…
“Meatloaf is in the oven keeping warm,” Aunt Patty called from the pantry. She came out, wiping her hand on a tea towel. “Your A
unt Priscilla is out keeping Celia Evans company so that Harold can go to Grey’s and have a drink with his buddies for the first time in far too many months and young Ty can relax and not feel responsible for the whole world. I’m modeling for the advanced art class, this evening. In a toga I believe, which is not exactly correct. I don’t think women wore togas but apparently the drapes are challenging to draw. And of course they don’t do life drawing on a Sunday, especially as we use the church hall. You’ll be okay on your own won’t you, dear?”
“Sure.” Lacey’s breath hitched. No aunts. That meant she and Zac would be alone. She loved her aunts dearly but for the first time she was seeing the downside of living with two elderly chaperones—chaperones who could read her like an open book with very large print. “I’ll just serve up for me and Zac then…”
“Zac?” Her aunt turned and Lacey’s stomach dropped at the mingled pity and curiosity on her aunt’s face. “He’s not here, Lacey. He got a call this morning and has had to head back to San Francisco for a few days. I thought he would have told you.”
Lacey would have thought that too. She stared at her aunt. “Gone? But what about the Bake-Off?” She managed to swallow back the next plaintive cry: what about me?
“He’ll be back Wednesday or Thursday. I know that means he barely has time to practice but it can’t be helped. He has a job and a life elsewhere; it was good of him to spare us the time.” Was that a warning in her aunt’s voice? Don’t get too close. He doesn’t belong here with us.
She shouldn’t have needed that warning. Right up till last night she’d been telling herself the same thing but then he’d taken her on that date and everything had changed. At least she thought it had. But he hadn’t texted her or called or left her any kind of message. He’d just left. As if he were nothing but her aunt’s lodger.
“What about his work here? Doesn’t he have commitments? A contract?”
“He’s ahead of schedule even with all the time he’s put into baking. It sounded like a genuine emergency, Lacey.” Aunt Patty sounded sympathetic and Lacey bit her lip. She didn’t want to be the target of anybody’s sympathy, not even a beloved aunt’s.
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