Zero to Sixty

by Marie Harte

  He closeted them in their dad’s study, noting the pictures of his father with different Marines and sailors throughout the years. Always wearing a smile. Always handling his business with a laugh to hide the pain, apparently. Respect for his old man had always been high, but it went way up with his dad’s confession.

  Hope shook her head. “I never thought about Dad hurting. He always seemed so happy in his pictures. And he’s the most easygoing person I know. Now I feel bad.”

  “Don’t. Dad’s at peace with his time in the service.” Someday I hope I’ll be. For all the heartache Landon too had seen, for all the bad that was out there, he missed his brothers-in-arms. Some days he ached with the knowledge of what he’d really lost because of one lousy gunshot. The camaraderie, the hard work and sacrifice, the sense he was doing something for the greater good…

  Greater good.

  That idea he’d had. Hmm. He glanced at Hope and stilled. “What’s that on your arm?”

  She glanced down. “Huh?”

  “Is that a bruise?” His blood pressure shot through the roof at what that might mean. When she flushed, he had to force himself not to drag her closer and ask what the fuck she thought she was doing with her life. Then he said screw it and slowly, distinctly, asked, “What the fuck are you doing with your life?”

  Chapter 3

  He’d asked in the calmest voice he’d ever used with his sister. Because he didn’t want to scare her. He wanted to scare the asshole who’d been manhandling her.

  “Oh, please. That tone won’t work with me. Save it for Gavin.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder, and she rounded on him. “Don’t you dare hit me, you big bully.”

  “Jesus, Hope.” He scowled. “Don’t be stupid. I’m not going to hit you. Now tell me how you got that.”

  She pulled away and crossed her arms over her chest in the same pose of militant rebellion she’d always used to get her way. Now no longer a cute little towhead with dimples, she’d grown into a beautiful young woman—with dimples.

  “It’s not your business.” In a less lofty tone, she added, “For your information, Greg and I are done.”

  “I thought you ended with him last week.”

  She sighed. “So did I. But apparently our breakup was confusing to him. We had words.” She rubbed the small blue mark on her forearm. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “He left a bruise on your arm.” Landon planned to shove Greg’s fat head up his ass.

  “But that’s all he left.” She frowned. “Trust me. I’m not going to let some guy punch me and get away with it.”

  “He punched you?”

  “No, no.” She hurriedly slapped a hand over his mouth. “Would you shut up before Mom or Dad come in here? I’m fine, Landon. I solved this problem all on my own. And for the last time, Greg wasn’t physically abusive.”

  He caught her slight emphasis on physically and tugged her hand away. “So he was emotionally abusive?” Totally going to maul the guy.

  “Controlling, more like. I ended it with him. Happy?”

  “No. He was one in a long line of Gregs. Damn, Hope. I’ve been back for eight months, and in that time, this is the fourth dickwad you’ve dated. You’re beautiful, kind, intelligent. What gives?” Tears swam in her eyes, and he felt like a heel. “Hell. Don’t cry.”

  “You think I don’t know I’m messed up? I have no idea why I’m attracting such losers. Maybe it’s my d-dating p-profile.” She hiccupped. “I know. Let’s ask Mom. She can tell you exactly what’s wrong with me.”

  Totally not going there. He blew out a breath. “Look. You want me out of your business?”

  “Yes.”

  That idea he’d been toying with firmed in his mind, especially in light of Hope’s loser exes, then overhearing that sexy brunette at the gym talking about some handsy guy. “I’ll keep out of your business if you learn how to defend yourself.”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to give self-defense lessons.” At the gym if Jameson was on board. And this was totally something he could see the guy getting behind. “You promise to take them. I’ll stay out of your love life.”

  “What love life?” she muttered, then seemed to consider the idea. “I don’t know…”

  “You don’t take the lessons, I’ll personally grill every single guy you even look sideways at. And I have nothing but time.” He smiled through his teeth. “I’m a civilian now, remember?”

  “As if I could forget,” she snapped. Then she frowned, biting her lip like she used to do as a kid.

  He thought her adorable but knew smiling at her would only get her angrier. So he waited.

  “Okay, fine. I take your stupid class—you keep out of my life.” She waved at the door. “You want to fix someone else? Go fix Theo. He’s thinking about joining Dad in pharmaceutical sales. Theo—stuck behind a desk, selling things.” Pause. “With Dad.”

  For their hyper-ass brother, probably not a good fit. Theo’s relationship with their father resembled the one Hope had with their mother. Contentious, but in a weird, laid-back way. Only their father could argue while calmly smiling. “Oh boy.”

  “Yeah.” Hope kissed him on the cheek, then gave him a purple nurple, twisting his nipple.

  He shoved her hand away. “Ow. Cut it out. That hurts.”

  “Sure thing, big brother.” She laughed at him before dancing out of the office.

  Friggin’ family. He rubbed his chest, annoyed yet amused. Then he bellowed for Theo.

  * * *

  Sunday evening, Ava sat in the crowded restaurant with Charles and smiled. So far so good. They’d grabbed the last two seats at the bar, but the low conversation and background music made it surprisingly easy to hear. He’d waited for her to order her own wine, then ordered his based on her opinion, since he was more of a beer man. He worked in finance downtown but hadn’t bragged about himself or the sporty, expensive convertible she’d seen him exit before entering the bar.

  “It’s so nice to meet someone who can carry a conversation.” He smiled and toyed with his wineglass, keeping eye contact.

  How refreshing to talk with a man who liked to converse, and who stared at more than her breasts. Ava had worn a light green sweater with a collar that brushed her neck, so no cleavage to give the wrong impression of wanting sex on the first date. Not that cleavage should mean that, but she’d found with a few of her dates that dressing sexy didn’t seem to end well.

  She’d also worn jeans and cute black boots to keep her look casual.

  Charles had shown up looking, well, dapper. Dark jeans, a light blue button-down shirt, and a tan sport coat. He had styled, short black hair and nice brown eyes. Nice. The perfect word to describe him.

  He finished a story about dealing with his neighbor’s feral cat, which made her laugh. She added funny next to nice and dapper.

  “So no cats for you?” she asked him.

  “I have an older tabby. Rex is comfortable being king of my castle.” Charles grinned.

  She liked that he preferred Charles to Chuck or Charlie. A bit of formality never hurt anyone. Ava continued to enjoy her date, excited that she seemed to have found someone compatible for friendship at least.

  “How about you?” he asked.

  “Oh, no pets for me. Not yet.”

  “I keep thinking about getting a dog, but I don’t feel like I’m home enough to give it enough attention. Rex likes me best when I’ve fed him, then let him be.” Charles chuckled. “Say, would you like to get anything to eat?”

  They ordered a cheese and fruit plate to share, then he asked, “So what’s it like being a psychologist on the dating scene? I’d think it’s difficult not to overanalyze everything.” He gave a self-deprecating smile. “Like me talking about the financial market with my sister over family breakfast. I have to do my best not to tell her
and her husband how to invest. I drove my brother-in-law nuts before Shelly told me to stop. Oh, and he’s in banking, by the way.” He chuckled. “Took us all a while to get along.”

  She smiled. “It’s not easy, especially if you love your job.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I keep telling myself to just relax and not read into things.”

  “Like?”

  “Just because a man compliments himself does not mean he’s a closet narcissist.” Except for Matt, who she’d swear was. “It might just mean he’s confident in his abilities. And confidence is a good thing to have.”

  “I see your point.” He paused. “Trying to remember if I said I liked myself or not.”

  She laughed with him, then froze when she locked gazes with a man who stood directly behind him. The bossy giant from the gym. Hell.

  His eyes narrowed. He glanced from her to Charles, then he smiled and settled onto his stool—right next to Charles.

  “Problem?” Charles asked, not looking at Bossy Guy because he was turned toward her.

  Since the restaurant had been filled with oenophiles eager for an extended happy hour before they’d arrived, they’d seated themselves at the only spot available. The place hadn’t emptied since, and with nowhere else to sit, she and Charles had to remain in place, now next to a nosy, bossy, sexy—strike that—giant.

  “Not at all,” she said smoothly. “Just thought I saw someone annoying from my gym. But it wasn’t her.” Deliberately not giving Muscle Man any importance to my night. Nope. Not looking at him at all.

  “Oh? Where do you work out?”

  “Jameson’s Gym. It’s near my office in Green Lake.”

  “Nice. I go to a gym across the street. It suits my needs, and it’s close to home.” Which answered the question of where he lived. Queen Anne. Another good point in Charles’s favor.

  “Is it too forward to ask where you call home?” He grinned. “Don’t feel like you have to give me an exact address. I’m hoping for a general area. You are from Seattle, yes?”

  She nodded. “And you’re asking because…?”

  He sighed. “Online dating is hard. I once thought I’d hit it off with a wonderful woman, and it turned out she lived in Idaho. Mind you, we’d already gone out a few times and she’d never mentioned it. She was in town for a vacation and wanted to find someone to fill her down time, apparently.”

  “Not me. I’m never on vacation.” They both laughed. “I’m definitely from Seattle. I live in Queen Anne too, as a matter of fact.” Nothing dangerous about sharing that. A lot of people lived in Queen Anne.

  “Something else we have in common.” He lifted his glass, and she met it with her own. “Queen Anne and a love of conversation.” They both sipped outstanding local wine. “Now how do you feel about architecture?” he teased.

  She smiled. What a lovely—drat. Bossy giant gave her a funny look over Charles’s shoulder. She deliberately ignored him, though it wasn’t easy. “I can learn to love architecture.”

  After a surprisingly interesting talk about the Ballard Library and Chapel of St. Ignatius, she dug into the cheese plate the waiter delivered, surprised to find herself hungry.

  They discussed different cheeses as well. “Fan of the creamy or nutty ones?” he asked as they devoured the plate.

  “Both. I love Manchego, but I’m a Brie fan too. I didn’t care for it when I was younger, though. My cousins are big foodies and like to host a monthly cheese and wine party.” Well, Sadie had done it once then ditched the idea, but Elliot liked to charm new conquests with his knowledge of food and wine pairing. Said it made him look more sophisticated. “So you like cheese. What do you do for fun?”

  The blond guy rolled his eyes.

  What? The question wasn’t creative enough for him? She focused on Charles’s answer.

  “I’m kind of boring.”

  Behind him, the blond guy nodded. She wished he wasn’t so much taller than Charles. Then she might not be able to see him.

  “…about reading.” Focus, Ava. Charles continued, “And I’m a sucker for a quarterly prospective on my stocks.” He laughed, and she joined him, though she secretly started to think Charles was kind of boring.

  As the night wore on, she found she liked Charles because he seemed bland, safe. He acted polite, nice, and kind. But nothing about him made her want to jump his bones. A suitable candidate for life partner to a professional like herself. He knew how to make small talk, seemed comfortable in public, and didn’t try to assert his authority over her. So far so good.

  She took a surreptitious glance at the annoying yet attractive man drinking beer just behind him. Why did she continue to find herself interested in someone obviously wrong for her?

  She thought about asking Sadie about her feelings, then thought the better of it. Sadie remained in her man-hating phase, despite her protests to the contrary. And Elliot had never met a man he didn’t love. She wasn’t sure she should ask him.

  She took another hard look at Charles as he insisted on paying the bill. He fit all her physical requirements—to a T. He stood maybe an inch taller than her own five foot six, had a slender build but a manly feel. Nothing wussy about Charles. His confidence and sense of self-worth had been clearly evident all night without verging on arrogance.

  All in all, a perfect late evening companion. Or he would have been, if the blond giant hadn’t been making odd gestures behind Charles’s back, causing her to wonder if she should look deeper into her date than the surface perfection he’d presented.

  “I hate to leave, but work tomorrow, you know.” Charles shrugged.

  “I know what you mean.” She smiled. “I had a wonderful time, Charles.”

  He brightened. “Me too. Would you consider dinner some evening when you’re free?” He handed her a business card. “You have my email, but here’s my number.” He gave a sheepish grin. “I confess I wrote my cell on the back earlier, hoping you’d be as lovely in person as you are online. You totally are.”

  “How sweet.” She was touched.

  Blond Guy sounded like he was choking on something. If only.

  “Dinner sounds great.” She pumped enthusiasm into her tone, because she meant it. Charles had fit all her criteria. No reason for her to feel let down by her night with him. She inwardly gave the blond giant a scowl while still smiling at Charles. No, no reason at all.

  “Can I kiss you good night?” Charles asked. A gentleman to his bones.

  “Please.” She met his kiss on her cheek and blushed. “I look forward to our dinner.”

  “Me too.” He looked flushed and brushed back a strand of hair that slipped over his forehead. “Can I walk you to your car?”

  “I’m parked right next to yours.” Which sat directly out front thanks to the timely departure of two couples earlier. “But I need to use the facilities before I leave. Go on without me. I’ll call you later in the week.”

  He nodded. “Sounds great. Have a good day tomorrow, Ava.”

  “You too.” She watched him leave, ignored the blond guy staring at her with what seemed to be a smirk, then searched for the ladies’ room. Once finished, she had every intention of leaving and not looking back.

  But she paused next to the blond guy and, noting the still-open seat, she sat.

  “You.” She glared at him.

  “Ava, huh? Pretty name.” He turned in his seat and grinned down at her while guzzling a beer.

  “And you are?”

  “Landon.” His grin nearly did her in, because his whole face lit up with joy, making it seem as if he’d brought the sun into the darkened restaurant. “But I’m sure there are a few other names you’d like to call me.”

  “What is your problem?”

  “Me? I’m good.” Before she could lay into him, he added, “But you’re not.”

  She blin
ked. “What’s my problem, besides you?”

  “You and Boring Guy.”

  She frowned. “That’s not a nice thing to say.”

  “Yeah, I’m not known for nice. But I’m honest. Honey, Charles is not the guy for you.”

  “Excuse me, but Charles was a perfect gentleman.”

  A jazz band started playing in the corner, making it harder to hear, so he leaned closer. Unfortunately, she got a good whiff of his cologne, and it went straight to her head. Just her luck Landon smelled like a dream.

  She cleared her throat. “And my name is not ‘honey.’ It’s Ava.” She would have added Dr. Ava Rosenthal in a haughty tone, except Landon’s breath brushed her ear, and her entire body locked up. Tight.

  “Ava, you need someone who makes you hot. Boring is no good. Not for someone like you.”

  She’d swear his lips touched her, and her system seemed to go haywire. Her breasts tightened, she got a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she clenched her thighs together, feeling a lower torso shiver from out of nowhere.

  “Like me?” She felt weak and slowly pulled back.

  Except that put her at eye level with the man a breath away. He was so close she saw gold flecks in the irises surrounding pinpoints of focus, directed at her. His cheekbones were high, his nose straight, arrogant, his chin square. Manly. His firm lips parted when he inhaled, as if breathing her in.

  “Like you.” He leaned closer and kissed her with the softest press of his lips, then pulled back as if he’d never been there. “Damn.” He drained the rest of his beer then asked for his tab. After taking a deep breath, he let it out and turned to her once more. Landon stared at her mouth, then at her top, still visible because she hadn’t yet zipped up her coat.

  Despite the sweater that covered her from neck to waist, she felt almost naked as his gaze roamed her breasts before lazily working back up to her face. “When you come back to the gym, ask for me.”

  “Wh-what?” She put a finger over her tingling lips. “Why?”