by Beth Ciotta
The more Helen shared, the more Maya’s blood burned. “But he’s okay, physically, aside from the limp, as far as you know.”
Helen nodded, then narrowed her eyes. “Are you upset or angry? I can’t tell.”
“A little of both.”
“I should have broken it to you differently.”
“You shouldn’t have had to tell me at all, Helen.” Maya hugged the woman, then stalked toward the door. “It should have come from Zach.”
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this angry. She couldn’t remember anything before five minutes ago when Helen had said, Something happened to Zach.
Maya made a beeline for the kitchen by utilizing the back hall. She knew this house well—every room, every closet and hidey-hole. She knew how to get to Zach without having to pass within sight of the living room and partygoers. A blessing considering she would have blown off anyone who tried to say hello. Maya had tunnel vision. One thought, one goal. To get to Zach. To see for herself he was okay. She couldn’t think beyond that. Her brain had all but shut down.
Something happened to Zach.
Maya pushed through a side door and into the kitchen. Zach was leaning against the counter, swigging beer alongside another man. Sam, she guessed. Maya only had eyes for Zach, and at first glance, a swift glance, he did indeed look fine. He looked whole and healthy, and incredibly handsome in casual trousers, a suit jacket, and an open-necked oxford, his short blond hair sticking out every which way.
Seeing her, Zach set aside his longneck. “Maya?”
Her hearing buzzed. Her vision blurred. A million memories swirled, sucking her back to a time when they’d been as close as pine needles on a twig. Heart pounding, she ran across the room and threw herself into Zach’s arms. He felt warm and solid, and when he hugged her tighter she realized she was trembling. She clung, trying to find her voice, her wits. Her eyes burned. “Are you okay?” she croaked.
“Yes.”
“Truly?”
He gave her a reassuring squeeze, his own voice tight. “Absolutely.”
Blinking back tears, Maya pushed out of Zach’s arms, and as she focused on his fit form and the familiar surroundings the world righted. In that instant she regressed twenty years, vibrating with the same rage she’d felt when Zach had taken a spill off his skateboard and instead of bouncing back up had teased her by playing dead. Fuming, Maya punched him in the shoulder. “Bastard.”
“I think that’s my cue to leave,” another voice said.
Maya had forgotten about Sam. Normally she would have been embarrassed by her emotional display. But there was nothing normal about this moment. Her best friend had been severely injured, so much so, he’d spent months recuperating and he hadn’t reached out, hadn’t confided in family. In her.
Still, she’d been raised to be polite. Glaring at Zach, she jabbed a hand in greeting at Sam. “I’ve heard of you, but I don’t think we’ve met. Maya Templeton.”
“Sam McCloud.” He squeezed her hand in a brief, warm shake. “You live in Florida now, right?”
“Did your parents fly up, too?” Zach asked, holding her gaze but looking puzzled.
“No,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “My parents took a holiday cruise. Giselle came with me.”
Zach just stared.
Sam cleared his throat. “The Giselle?”
Maya flicked her gaze to the dark, rugged man, then back to Zach. “You told him about G?” She assumed by Sam’s tone that he knew about the sexy letters. Letters she’d had a part in writing. Which made Sam, a man she didn’t even know, privy to Maya’s sensual side. She wanted to die. She wanted to punch Zach’s other shoulder.
Zach shifted his weight, shrugged. “Giselle was a bright spot in a rough year.”
Maya’s cheeks burned and a weird feeling swirled in her gut. Something dangerously close to jealousy. “Well, your bright spot is only a few steps away, partying in the living room with the Cupcake Lovers. Feel free to bask in her effervescence.”
“Definitely my cue.” Sam stepped away and dropped his bottle in a recycle bin. “Nice meeting you, Maya.” He nodded. “Zach.” And then he was gone.
“We need to talk,” Zach said to Maya.
“You got that right.”
“Not here. Someplace private.”
“The pantry.” The place where they used to hide and sneak snacks, particularly filched cupcakes. No one would walk in on them there.
“Fine.” He reached over and nabbed a dark-colored stick that she hadn’t noticed before. A stick with a handle.
A walking aid.
Chest tight, Maya watched as the boy who’d raced her to the ice-cream stand, the man who’d provided reconnaissance and surveillance to an infantry battalion in a harsh, rugged land, hobbled toward the food pantry of his aunt and uncle’s home sweet home.
Chapter Three
Zach had never been fond of surprises. Especially those laced with danger. In the field, he responded on instinct. On training and experience. He relied on quick thinking and cool confidence, and he almost always mastered the moment.
Almost.
Three months and two weeks ago he’d been coldcocked by a sneak attack that had left him bloody and broken and his spotter (and close buddy) dead.
This day, Zach had been shocked by Maya, who’d breathed life into his comatose heart.
Dodging into the pantry appealed on multiple levels. It harked of simpler times, happier times with the girl who’d been his confidante and friend. A girl who, through e-mails and letters, had recently introduced him to her business partner, whose sexy photos and flirtatious notes had brightened several long and lonely nights. It also afforded him a chance to get his act together in private before rejoining the party. His reaction to seeing Maya, to holding her in his arms, had been unsettling. Even more so than the prospect of meeting Giselle in person.
After flicking on a dim light and shutting the door behind them, Zach followed Maya deeper into the expansive walk-in pantry. Nabbing a step stool and an oversized caramel-popcorn tin, they squeezed past crammed shelves of canned and baking goods and hunkered behind the ceiling-to-floor spice rack. Zach’s leg twinged with the effort, but he ignored the pain. Part of him felt ten years old again, without a care more serious than how he was going to earn enough money to buy that superrad mountain bike he’d seen at J. T. Monroe’s Department Store. Except the woman sitting across from him barely resembled the gangly-legged, freckle-faced kid he’d given rides to on the handlebars. She didn’t even remind him of the high-school junior who’d tutored him on those damned math exams. Or the young woman he’d grilled hamburgers with six years back, during a week when they’d both been back in Sugar Creek visiting family.
Maya’s hair was longer and blonder, her skin kissed by the Florida sun. She brushed aside her bangs as she huffed in frustration, and he noticed a slight crinkle in her forehead. A mark of someone who spent a lot of time in deep thought or fierce concentration. A year younger than Zach, Maya was twenty-nine. She’d matured physically in ways that appealed to him as a man. He was especially attracted to her lush mouth. He’d never noticed her lips in a sexual way. He was damn well noticing now. There was also a new edge, a harder edge, to her personality that intrigued and worried him at the same time.
“You called me a bastard,” he blurted.
“You’re scrutinizing my language?”
“I’ve never heard you swear.”
“I’ve never been so angry. Criminy, Zach. Why didn’t you tell me you were in the hospital? I would have visited.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“You didn’t want me to visit?” Her sweet face screwed up with confusion and hurt. “Why?”
“Remember that time we visited your grandpa at the hospital? How upset you were? How you puked after coming out of his room?”
“I was eleven, for goodness’ sake. And he was hooked up to all those tubes and machines. It was scary.�
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“What about the time we were building that tree fort and Davey Wilcox fell out of the maple and busted his leg? You puked then, too.”
“The bone was sticking out of his skin. Jeez, Zach.”
“What about the time—”
“Point made. I get queasy when I see people in pain. I can’t help that. I feel bad.”
Zach reached over and tucked a hank of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t want to put you through that. And before you protest, saying you would have managed, which I know, I didn’t want to put myself through that. I had enough on my plate without seeing the worry in your eyes or anyone one else’s. I didn’t want your pity or Uncle Dan’s tough love. I can’t explain exactly, and I don’t want to talk about it. Any of it. I just want to move on.”
“You’re not going to tell me what happened?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
“Why are you in Sugar Creek, Maya?”
“Your aunt thought you could use some cheering up.”
“Is that why you brought Giselle?”
“She sort of insisted. She’s smitten with you.”
“She’s hot for a soldier.”
“She’s hot for the man,” Maya snapped, getting fired up again. “What? You think she’ll be turned off because of your injury? Because of the cane? I’m not.”
Zach shifted his weight, rattled once again by a new twist in his relationship with Maya. Something that hadn’t been there before. Sexual awareness. He’d felt it in the kitchen when they’d hugged. He felt it now. It was stimulating … and unwelcome. With that carnal appeal came a sense of deep caring. This was Maya after all. Zach wasn’t ready to care for anyone like that. Not now. Maybe not ever. “We should join the party before someone comes looking. You want Aunt Helen to know about our secret snack hidey?”
“Like we’re going to sneak snacks at our age.”
Zach cocked his head and forced a playful smile. “You never know.”
“You’re not going to tell me how you got hurt, are you?”
He shook his head.
“Because you think I can’t take it?”
Images flashed in his brain. Memories. Feelings. “No one should have to take it.” Zach gripped the handle of his walking stick and pushed to his feet. Never saw it coming, Ben had said.
Zach felt the same way about Maya.
He held her green gaze a charged second before holding out his hand and then pulling her to her feet. “How about you introduce me to Giselle?”
Chapter Four
Maya had been to some parties from hell in her eight years as a party facilitator, but this one took the cupcake. Instead of enjoying the opportunity to catch up on everyone’s lives, she’d smiled and nodded, remembering to respond occasionally, wishing she were anywhere but here. Anyplace where she wouldn’t have to watch Zach and Giselle getting to know each other. He was sinfully handsome. She was knockout gorgeous. Physically they made a stunning pair. More than one person had commented to Maya on that fact.
How wonderful that your friends became pen pals.
You were sweet to fix them up.
How thoughtful to bring her along.
Now there’s a girl to put a hitch in Zach’s hitched step.
And from Daisy Monroe: Those two would make beautiful babies.
It’s not that Maya didn’t want Zach to be happy. It’s not that she doubted Giselle deserved someone as wonderful as Zach. It’s that Maya felt robbed.
Yes, it had been Giselle’s picture he’d drooled over. What man wouldn’t admire G’s exotic beauty and voluptuous curves? But the letters … those letters had been infused with Maya’s heart, wit, and affection and, at Giselle’s prodding, a couple of Maya’s sexual fantasies. If Zach was truly enamored with his “pen pal,” then Maya was at least half the reason.
“Your friend is as loveable as you are,” Helen said to Maya as Zach ushered the dark-haired bombshell out the front door. “I’m so glad you brought her along. She’s good for Zach.” The older woman squeezed Maya’s waist. “As are you. Why did you beg off when they invited you to join them for a drink?”
“Not keen on being a third wheel.”
“You could never be a third wheel with Zach.”
If Helen only knew about the “threesome” letters. “Are you sure about Giselle and me staying here?” Maya asked as a way of diverting the conversation. “I did book us a room at the Pine and Periwinkle.”
“We have plenty of space,” Helen said. “Even with Zach here. Don’t insult me, Maya.”
“Not in a million years. Of course we’ll stay. Thank you, Helen.” Maya hoped her smile looked sincere, because she was seriously faking it. She’d never been so confused in her life. Her insides had gone all squishy the moment she’d seen Zach. When he’d hugged her, she’d ached with ravenous desire. When they’d hidden in the pantry, even though she’d been angry with him she’d had some wicked inappropriate impulses. Inappropriate because she and Zach were friends. Longtime friends. Platonic friends. And because he and Giselle—who was also Maya’s friend—had a mutual thing for each other. Oh yeah. Maya was the third wheel big-time. Zach and Giselle were headed for the Sugar Shack. Sugar Creek’s most popular bar and restaurant. They’d slam back a few drinks, play a game of darts or pool. Zach could play parlor games with a bum leg, right? Right. As for Giselle … she’d be all over that. Liquor and competition. Bring on the adrenaline. Zach would respond to her charisma and beauty, her unabashed sexuality. They’d hook up in the bathroom or his rented car or, criminy, maybe back in his room. Or not. Maybe Maya’s imagination was running amok. But they were smoldering and inevitable and Maya wanted to stab a fork in her eye.
Okay. Maybe not anything that extreme, but Maya was definitely on edge. Nerves stretched. Festive spirits challenged. Desperate for distraction, she’d helped Helen clean up after the party. Then she’d sat in front of the cozy fireplace with Helen and Daniel, listening to Christmas carols while catching up on Sugar Creek gossip, then sharing her own latest adventures via Cupcakes & Dreamscapes. At long last they broached the topic uppermost in their minds.
Zach.
“All we know for certain,” Daniel said, “is that he’s been retired from the military for medical reasons.”
“And that he’s considering staying on here in Sugar Creek,” Helen said, “although I’m not sure what he’d do.”
“I think he should look into a position with the SCPD,” said Daniel. “He’s more than qualified to be a law official.”
“Won’t there be physical requirements?” Maya asked. “What about his limp?”
“He says he’s going to conquer it,” Helen said. “I’m more worried about his state of mind. He tries to hide it, but he’s broody.”
“Zach’s wrestling with something,” Daniel said. “That’s for sure.”
“Maybe if we contacted his spotter.” Ben and Zach had worked as a team for the last three years. Maya didn’t know Ben and had never corresponded with him, but she knew the two men were tight. “I’ll look into it,” she said, not wanting to put any more pressure on Helen and Daniel, especially since tomorrow was Christmas Eve.
Later that night, dressed down in loungewear and hunkered on her bed with her laptop, Maya was sick-to-her-stomach sorry she’d pried.
* * *
Zach returned to his aunt and uncle’s house just before eleven. The house was dark except for the Christmas tree lights that were set to go off at midnight via a timer. Helen and Dan usually crashed around ten, so Zach wasn’t surprised by their absence.
He was, however, shocked to find Maya in the downstairs bathroom hugging the porcelain throne. Concerned, he barged in even though she told him to go away. “What’s wrong?”
“Sick.”
“I can see that.” He shut the door behind him and ambled to the sink.
“Hello? Privacy?”
Her raspy voice echoed in the bowl and tugged at Zach’s heart. He soaked a washrag with c
old water, wrung it out, then swept aside her hair and pressed the cool compress to the back of her neck. She wretched once again and he smoothed a hand down her arched back. He’d seen her like this before and he had to wonder. “What upset you?”
“Food.”
“Something you ate?”
She nodded, flushed the toilet, then reached around and nabbed the rag, wiping it across her mouth. “This,” she croaked as she slumped back against him, “is mortifying.”
“I’ve seen you puke before.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
Zach held her steady while she caught her breath. Yeah. He’d seen her like this on various occasions, but almost all of those instances had been triggered by an emotional response to an ugly situation, not bad food. “Did you eat too much or was something tainted?”
“What is this? The Inquisition?”
“Not nearly as gruesome.”
She pushed away from him, then pushed to her feet. She swung to the sink and washed her face, brushed her teeth. She opened the medicine cabinet.
“What are you looking for?”
“Pepto? TUMS?”
Zach dipped into his jacket pocket and passed her a half-used roll of antacids. His own stomach had been giving him fits for weeks. “Want some ginger ale?” he asked as she popped two tabs of the chalky white stuff.
She shrugged. “Okay.”
“Meet me in the living room.”
Zach’s mind raced as he leaned on his walking stick and hurried (as much as he could) into the kitchen. There was nothing sexy about a woman hurling in the toilet. Yet he’d been more attracted to Maya in the last five minutes than he’d been to Giselle in the last five hours.
Giselle—exotic perfection.
Maya—a sweet mess.
As if life weren’t complicated enough, Zach was confused by his reaction to both women. He’d spent months lusting after Giselle, albeit long-distance. In person, there’d been no spark at all. Yet he was suddenly and intensely hot for Maya, his longtime platonic friend.
