by Cate Cameron
“Why do you think?”
“Because you’ve always had a secret interest in it?” he said with hope but not much true optimism.
“No. Although I’m finding it less objectionable than I’d feared.”
“You’re doing it to spy on Zara?”
“I don’t think I’d use the word ‘spy.’ But, yes, I did think it was a good opportunity to learn a bit more about her. To see her in her natural habitat, as it were.”
“She’s not an exotic animal. Her habitat is the same as everyone else’s.”
“So if she’s not rare and exotic, what is it that you find so intriguing about her?”
“Pure carnal lust,” Cal lied.
His mother’d had work done on her face over the years, but the lift of her eyebrow made it clear she hadn’t bothered with Botox. “I don’t think so. Not that she isn’t a very attractive young woman. But there’s more to it, isn’t there?”
“Why are we having this conversation?”
She smiled. “Because your father and your brother are becoming tedious in their objections, and I want this nonsense to stop. If your interest in the young woman is temporary, it will be easiest for me to convince them of that and tell them to let it go. But if your interest is more long-term, I’ll need to take a firmer hand with them and override their objections.” Her calm expression made it clear that she had no doubt of her ability to succeed via either path, and he knew better than to challenge her. “So which is it? Temporary infatuation best ignored, or longer-term interest that should be recognized?”
“If it’s up to me, longer-term interest,” he said firmly. “But I can’t guarantee that she feels the same way.”
“Is that right?” His mother’s smile was genuine, but still somehow fierce. “Good. It’s about time you dated someone who made you work a little.”
“She’s making me work a lot.”
“That’ll be good exercise for you. After all, it’s the trying that makes you strong.”
He was pretty sure she was referring to something beyond their current conversation, but didn’t bother to try to follow the thread. “Okay, well, I’ll keep working at it.”
“Excellent. And I’ll work on Michael and your father.” She rose gracefully and smiled at him. “I think I’ve got the easier task.” Then she swept out, and Cal leaned back in his chair to process it all.
He wanted to call Zara. Wanted to set something up, make a plan, do something to cast another tiny thread between them, fastening them together, however loosely.
He checked his watch. After a bit of badgering the night before, she’d admitted that her doctor’s appointment was in the early afternoon, in the city, but he hadn’t been able to get an exact time from her. Still, he knew she’d be on her way down there now. So he shouldn’t call, shouldn’t distract her while she was driving. It wasn’t like she didn’t have enough on her mind.
He called Zane instead. Zara had insisted on setting her brother up with a cell phone and he was getting better about carrying it with him, but Cal was still a bit surprised when Zane picked up. He’d been prepared to leave a message, rather than actually have the conversation right then and there.
“What’s up?” Zane asked.
“Uh, not much. You at work?”
“No, I’m working afternoons and evenings.”
After the kids were out of school. Cal knew that. “So I guess you don’t want to get a beer tonight?”
“We can if you want. I’m off work at nine.”
Well, Cal had kind of been hoping to be with Zara by that time, but really, this was more important. Well, not more important, but it had to be done. “Yeah, okay.”
“You planning to sit me down and tell me about you and Zara?” Zane asked.
Cal froze for a moment, then said, “Uh . . . yeah, actually. You already know? She told you?” That didn’t seem likely somehow.
“Zara? Hell, no. But about ten other people have. You guys aren’t exactly sneaking around.”
“I didn’t know you knew ten other people.”
“I grew up here. I know people. And when they think they can get some gossip out of me, all of a sudden they all remember that they know me, too.”
“Sorry,” Cal said. “You should have heard about it from me or Zara.”
“So it’s a thing? Like, it’s something serious?”
Cal snorted. “No idea. I’d like it to be, I think. But Zara’s not exactly predictable, or tractable—I have no idea if she’s going to let it happen.”
Zane was quiet for long enough that Cal was about to pull his phone away from his ear to be sure the call was still connected. Then quietly, Zane said, “I think it could be good. For both of you. You know, if it got more serious. I’d be okay with it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. But you know, at the same time, standard big brother warnings apply, okay? You need to treat her right, and if you hurt her, I break your legs. That sort of thing.”
“Both legs?”
“Maybe your arms, too.”
“Okay. Good to have the clarity. But trust me, man. Zara is not the one you need to worry about getting hurt in this thing.”
“Don’t be so sure about that. She’s not as tough as she acts.”
“Yeah.” Cal knew that about her. He loved that about her. But it was good to be reminded of it all the same. “Okay. Yes. I hurt her, you hurt me. Got it.”
“And see what you can do to keep her from hurting herself, too.”
“Damn, Zane. That one’s a lot tougher.”
“Important stuff always is.”
“Since when are you so philosophical?”
“I’ve had a bit of time to do some thinking about things,” Zane replied dryly.
After they hung up, Cal sat for a while, looking out the window at the lake and thinking about Zara. It wasn’t what he’d planned when he’d manipulated her into coming back to Lake Sullivan, but he sure wasn’t disappointed that it was happening.
Yeah, he was hooked. He just had no idea whether Zara was going to reel him in or cut the line and let him swim off, bleeding and dazed.
Fifteen
ZARA DIDN’T RETURN Cal’s phone calls that night. She supposed she was being cowardly, but then she talked herself into it being a mark of independence. She wasn’t at his beck and call, dropping everything to answer his questions at his convenience. Yeah, it was a lot easier to think like that than to examine why she didn’t want to talk to him.
The next morning, she met Ashley for breakfast at the town’s only café, which was also its only bakery. They found seats at one of the small outside tables. The air was cool, but the sun was warm and they were out of the wind. “They cleared me to start training again,” Zara said. It felt strange to announce it, as if it hadn’t been official until just then.
“That’s fantastic!” Ashley made a bit of a face. “For you. Too bad for me, ’cause I’ll miss you, but congratulations, really!”
“You won’t miss me,” Zara said. She’d thought about it, had spoken to Terry the day before, and it was all figured out. “Not right away, at least. I haven’t talked to the center yet, but I think they’ll be okay with me dropping down to part time. I could still do the classes—the stuff that I’m kind of good at—and that would give me enough time to train.”
“And you can train here, in Lake Sullivan?”
“When they put me on a card—set a fight date—I’ll need to kick it into gear a little, and probably go back to the city. I’ll need to spar and grapple with people who can really test me, you know? But while I’m just working on strength and endurance? I can do that here. I talked to my trainer and he says he can come up one day a week, so if I go down one day a week, that’ll be enough for him to keep an eye on what I’m doing. I mean, it’s not like I’m trying anything new. I know t
he drill.”
“Excellent. You’ll be around for the next stitch and bitch.” Ashley took a nibble of her egg white omelet, then said, “And this is all because of your passion for teaching MMA to children and housewives? Nothing to do with any tall, blond, and handsome men in the area?”
Zara shook her head. “No. Nothing to do with Cal.” She meant it. Cal was . . . a complication. A distraction. He was an argument for her getting the hell out of Lake Sullivan, not for staying there.
But she’d made a commitment to Zane, and to the community center. There were the technical requirements of Zane’s parole, that he live with her, but there was something more nebulous as well. They’d been kept apart for too long, and somehow, even though they were living together now, there was still distance between them, and she wanted to sort that out. And the classes at the community center?
“I’m just getting my ladies’ class whipped into shape. I don’t want to leave until Mrs. Ryerson kicks Mrs. Montgomery in the chest. And until Anna and Melanie will spar with someone besides each other—they are not a good matchup. And I want to see you get a really solid armlock on somebody—you’re not committing to it yet, but once you do, it’ll be great.”
“I’m going to kick ass,” Ashley agreed. “So you and Cal are on? Off? I was thinking about inviting the two of you out for dinner sometime, but would that be too couple-y?”
Zara scrunched up her face. “I have no idea. Yeah, it feels too couple-y. I mean, we’re temporary, at best. No point in getting too comfortable with it.”
Yeah, she’d be moving on, getting back to normal; there was barely even going to be a delay in her usual fight schedule. She couldn’t explain why she felt a bit deflated about all of it, so she chose to ignore the sensation.
So when Ashley headed into the café for more napkins, Zara pulled out her phone. She owed Cal a call . . . or maybe she could go back to her old tricks. Not e-mail, this time, but texting. Excellent. She typed:
Hi. Dr was fine. Everything’s good. Thx for calling.
She sent the message and then kept the phone on the table for the rest of the meal, trying to keep her mind on the conversation with Ashley, waiting for him to text back. But he didn’t. Damn it. She sat there at the end of the meal, staring at the phone, willing it to make a noise. But it sat completely silent.
Ashley gave her a strange look. “What are you doing?”
“Practicing my psychic powers.”
“Oh. Is that part of your training?”
Zara stopped staring at the phone and looked at Ashley instead. “You’ve known me for a while now. I know we’re not, like, old friends, but you’ve got the basic idea, right?”
“I guess.”
“Would you say I’m completely psycho, or just partly?”
“Uh . . . partly? Or maybe not at all. What are you talking about?”
“I think I have the emotional maturity of a preteen boy.”
“Is this about Cal?”
Zara sighed. Damn, she was pathetic. Practically begging Ashley to ask her about it, just so she could say . . . what exactly? “These things seem simpler for other people. Like, they relate to each other as normal human adults, not whatever the hell I’m acting like.”
“Preteen boy, I thought you said.”
“I’m not sure that’s right, though. I think it may be a bit unfair to the preteen boys out there.”
Ashley looked at her watch, then settled back into her chair. “I’ve got five more minutes. Give it to me quick.”
Zara knew it was weak, but she wanted a little . . . something. Not sympathy. Understanding? Maybe that. “I like him,” she admitted, and it felt good to say the words out loud.
“No kidding. You’ve been making out with him all over town.”
“No, not just . . . he’s not just hot. I like him.”
“Okay?”
“So that’s it, I think. I like him. It’s freaking me out. That’s all.”
“Well, why is it freaking you out?” Ashley sounded amused, but as though she could quickly tip over into being impatient if Zara didn’t start making a bit more sense.
“I don’t know. Isn’t that scary? When you like somebody? I mean, obviously it won’t work out. I’m not going to, like, marry Calvin Montgomery and get old with him. I mean, Zara Hale and Calvin Montgomery? No. That’s not real, not in this universe. So it’s going to end, right? And what if it’s not me who ends it? What if it’s him? What if he dumps me? He’d be nice about it, I’m sure, but that would just kind of make it worse, you know? Because I wouldn’t even be able to hate him.”
Ashley shook her head. “Yeah, okay. Maybe not a preteen boy, but not quite a functioning adult, either.”
“But I’m right, aren’t I? I mean, all that stuff’s true, isn’t it?”
“Well, I think theoretically you could marry him and get old together. That’s not impossible, and certainly it’s not because you and Cal aren’t ‘real’ together. But sure, it’s probably not going to happen. We don’t get married to most people we date. So you probably will break up, and it probably will suck. But too bad. That’s just the way life is. You have to live, right?”
“I don’t like taking chances. Not at all. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Ashley frowned thoughtfully. “You don’t like taking chances? Your whole life—your career, at least—that must have involved taking chances.”
“No. Not really. I mean, I minimize the risk. I work my ass off to make sure I’m strong and ready for every bout. I watch tape on my opponents and analyze how to beat them. I guess there’s a chance of me losing every time I fight, but it’s a small chance. I’m really good and I’m really prepared.”
“And everything else, like coming here—you weren’t taking a chance?”
“No, I was minimizing risk. I wanted to make sure Zane would be okay, so I came back here to keep an eye on him. That’s all.”
“So essentially, you’re a great big chicken. You want something and you’re afraid to go after it because it might hurt.” Ashley shook her head. “I don’t know what to tell you. Suck it up? I mean, there’s not much else to say, really. Love is scary, but—”
“Slow down! Nobody’s talking about love here.”
“Okay, fine. ‘Like’ is scary. Is that better? More in keeping with your preteen feelings?”
“It is scary,” Zara said slowly. “I don’t like it.”
“Great, that’s easy!” Ashley stood up. “Cal seems like a good guy, so you should probably tell him to his face, but whatever, that won’t kill you. Just say you’re not into it, and you’re done.”
Zara groaned. “But then I don’t get what I want!”
“What do you want? A risk-free relationship? The ability to care about someone without the chance of getting hurt? Honey, you can’t get what you want because what you want doesn’t exist.”
“‘Honey’?” Zara asked, glad of the distraction.
“I thought I’d try it out. Did I sound sassy?”
“You sounded weird. I don’t think ‘honey’ works for you.”
“Well. Disappointing. I tried something, but it didn’t work. What a shame. But somehow, I will continue with my life.” Ashley beamed beatifically, then nodded toward her watch. “I’ve got to go. I’m meeting with the contractors for the new house. The house I’m building with the guy I love, who I ended up with because I was brave enough to take chances. Stupid chances, in my case, but still, it all worked out. Sometimes things do all work out.”
“Yeah,” Zara said flatly. She supposed they did, for some people. But her pity-party guest was leaving, so she needed to snap out of it. “Good luck with the contractors.”
“Good luck to you, too. Honey.” And with that, Ashley was gone.
Zara sat and stared at her phone, which still wasn’t making any sounds
. She couldn’t have what she wanted because it didn’t exist. Fair enough. But what was she going to do instead?
She had no idea. She stood abruptly and headed for the community center. She’d talk to them about going part time, work out, and then she was supposed to be helping with a preschool gymnastics class. Until they found a replacement for her, she’d better stick to her old schedule. And maybe if she stayed busy enough, she’d be able to stop thinking about Cal Montgomery.
Not likely. But it was her best bet, at least temporarily.
* * *
CAL got the text just as he was packing up to leave the office for the weekend. He saw it was from Zara and braced himself for another brush-off like the one he’d received that morning. Instead he read:
Do u want to do something tonight?
A moment later, while he was still recovering from his surprise, his phone beeped again.
You’ve probably got plans already. Don’t worry about it.
Damn it, she’d changed her mind in the space of five seconds. That had to be some sort of record. But at least she’d made an effort. After that dismissive morning text, he’d told himself he needed to give up on her, or at least back way the hell off and give her a lot of space. Apparently that technique had worked fairly well, and more quickly than he’d expected.
No plans, he texted. It was more or less true. He’d been going to meet up with some guys at Woody’s, but they wouldn’t miss him. Want me to cook you dinner?
Do u mind? Should I cook?
CAN you cook?
Not really.
I’ll cook. I have to get groceries. Be at my place any time after six.
OK.
He left for the grocery store, wondering whether she was actually going to show up, and how many times she’d have changed her mind in the interim. Even with the doubts, though, he felt good. Excited. Things were happening. He was tying another thread between them.
Maggie, the middle-aged daughter of the grocery store owners, was behind the till when he checked out, and she ran a professional eye over the items he unloaded onto the conveyer belt. “Hot date?” she asked.
