by Kim Law
“I can’t help it that I’m a grown man and my mother is still overprotective,” he explained. “But you’re going to have to stop laughing at me.” He didn’t mean it. He was already thinking of stories he could tell that would get her going again.
“Not going to happen.” She swiped at her eyes. He’d brought her to giggling tears. He smiled at her in the dark. She studied him, her mouth curved with ease, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I like your mother,” she said. “I think it’s cute that she worries about you.”
“Ouch.” Cute? He put one hand to his heart and shook his head in disgust. “Nothing about me is cute.”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
She sat up straighter now, putting a bit of distance between them as she looked him over. “You seem to have this aversion to being casual, which is charmingly cute.”
He had no idea what she was talking about. “How do you mean?”
“Ever heard of jeans?”
Ah, yes. He had picked up on the fact that he’d been the only one there tonight not in jeans. Except for the women who’d worn dresses.
“That’s one you might have to get used to,” he admitted. The fact was, he didn’t own any. He hadn’t since high school. “What else?”
Normally he wouldn’t ask someone to pick him apart, but he liked to hear her talk.
“You have this stern, hard look,” she said. “You like to scare people with it, but I think it’s cute too.”
He brought out that stern, hard look, adding in a lifted brow and a dangerous tilt to his head. “This is not cute. This is scary.”
Giggles filled the car. “Only for people who don’t look past it.”
“Ah. You don’t believe the look is real?”
She shook her head.
“Then what do you see behind it?” He found that he really wanted to know. Because most of the time it was fake. But he’d never had anyone point that out to him.
Her smile dropped, and she lifted one hand to draw a finger lightly down his cheek. The touch sent a jolt through him. She didn’t say anything at first. Just deliberated. Her eyes moved over every inch of his face, and he found himself growing uncomfortably warm under her scrutiny.
Then she let her hand drop back to her lap.
“I see a lot of the same thing I see when I look in the mirror.”
Even though he’d asked the question, he suddenly didn’t want to go serious. “You see bright lipstick and too much eye makeup?”
“Hey,” she said, “what’s wrong with my makeup?”
“You hide behind it.”
He didn’t know where that had come from, but he knew the words were true. “You barely had any on this morning,” he told her, “and I couldn’t look away from you. I was seeing you.”
The tip of her tongue appeared a second before she pulled her top lip between her teeth.
“That’s what you need to do to get a man’s attention,” he said. “You’re pretty with the makeup, but sometimes less is more. Tone it down and the men around here won’t know what hit them.”
She shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I look like a kid without the makeup. And anyway, you don’t even like my shoes.”
“What?” Her subject change gave him whiplash.
“Every day you make a face when you see my shoes.”
“They don’t match your clothes.”
“I know.”
“So you’re not color-blind?”
She laughed again, and they both leaned their heads back against their headrests, faces toward each other. “No,” she said, still chuckling. “I see colors perfectly. I just want to . . .”
When she trailed off, he thought about what he knew about her. She was the youngest. He’d seen that in a family photo hanging in the house. And she was the only girl.
She was content to live in Sugar Springs, yet she didn’t seem especially happy with her options.
She didn’t have a real career, and didn’t appear to be chasing one. She merely filled in.
And then he got it. She was fading into the background.
“You want to be seen,” he stated. “Stand out from the crowd.”
Eyes that he knew to be green stared at him across the space. She didn’t blink. “I just want people to see me,” she whispered. “Instead of the little Marshall girl.”
He nodded. He could understand that. He’d been Dr. Winston’s son throughout his early years. It wasn’t the same as with her, but even then, he’d begun to resent that he was seen as the good doctor’s son instead of his own person.
“So you wear weird shoes to get noticed?” he asked.
“They aren’t weird.”
He didn’t reply. Because yes, they were weird. But they fit her. Perfectly.
“I’m right about the makeup, though.” His voice came out more gentle than he’d intended, but he couldn’t help it. He was picturing her as she’d been that morning. Fresh-faced. And those shorts. “Trust me.”
His gaze dipped to her lips. The red that had been bright earlier had faded, and he found himself once again wanting to close the distance to touch them.
Instead of following his urge, he dragged his eyes back up. She was watching him. He wondered if she’d been able to read the lust in his eyes. Hopefully it was too dark. He didn’t want her to know that he was attracted to her.
He’d rather have her as a friend. He didn’t have enough of those.
“I see loneliness,” she whispered.
“When?”
“When I look at you.” She brought her hand up again, and caressed her fingers over his cheek. “The same thing I see when I look in the mirror each morning. Loneliness.”
His chin lifted.
He wasn’t lonely. He could get any woman he wanted. Hadn’t Shelley been calling him just that morning? He had colleagues who would do dinner, drinks, golf. Whenever he tossed out the suggestion. No, she had it wrong.
He shook his head. “You’re seeing the wrong thing there, sweetheart.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well.” He returned to sitting forward in his seat and looking out over the water. “I’m telling you, you’re wrong. I’m perfectly happy. I don’t need anyone.”
A picture of him as a kid flashed to mind. Maybe he had been lonely at one point, but he wasn’t now.
“I’m fine,” he repeated.
She remained silent until he looked at her. It was as if her mere presence had pulled his face around to hers. When their eyes met, there was sadness in hers. “You need to start by apologizing,” she said.
He understood that she was talking about Cody and Nick. “I know.”
He should have called them up weeks ago and done just that.
“My mother isn’t the only reason I’m here,” he confessed.
She watched him, and he knew that she got it. He’d wanted to know about his brothers too. He’d wanted to see if there was a place in their world for him. If they really wanted to let him in.
Even though he was terrified the answer would be no.
“Your father too?” she asked with a teasing smile. “Did he threaten to club you over the head as well?” She was giving him the chance to back off the fact he’d just revealed. That he was vulnerable.
He shook his head. “My father passed away three years ago.”
She sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry, Zack. I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay.” He reached for her hand again, and she slipped her fingers between his. “I miss him, but Mom and I are doing well.” The fact was, he’d looked up to his father his whole life, and with him gone, there was a hole left in Zack’s heart. His mother wasn’t any better. “He went out the way he would have wanted. On the golf course. A stroke and he was simply gone.”
Holly squeezed his hand in hers and they sat in silence.
“We’ll start in the morning,” she said after several minutes. “Only, one brother at a time this time. Nick first. He’ll be the easier one.”
Zack didn’t think anything about this was going to be easy. But he did want to get to know his brothers. And he did owe them an apology.
He nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
Chapter Seven
Holly paused at the stove as she felt Zack enter the room behind her. She’d gotten up early that morning to see to the chores, then she’d readied the quad for them. She was taking him to the cabins being built on her family’s property. Nick was contracted for the job, and she wanted to get there the fun way.
She turned, as she had the day before, to find Zack once again standing in the doorway. And just like yesterday, her breath caught. The man was way too handsome. And he darn near took up the full space of the doorway.
“Breakfast?” she asked. Her voice had a nervous croak to it, and she was quickly reminded of the way he’d looked at her the night before. He’d made her feel nervous then too.
It had been a brief glance, but his gaze had lingered on her mouth, and she’d had the very real thought that he’d been about to kiss her.
Which would have been a mistake. She didn’t do casual. He was leaving in two weeks.
These things she had to keep in mind.
But his look most certainly had made her wonder what his kiss would be like.
His gaze flickered over her now, and she found herself standing there as if on display. She was wearing her normal summer, around-the-house attire of shorts and a T-shirt. Royal blue was the color scheme for the day. But this time, she’d paired it with work boots that came up above her ankles. The boots were purple and studded, and the tongue was done in a cow pattern.
Poking out the top of them were retro tube socks with gold horizontal stripes circling just below her knees.
“Nice boots,” Zack said. He didn’t even try to hold back the sarcasm.
She smirked. “Nice pants.”
His pants weren’t the standard dress pants of the last few days, but he still looked like he belonged in the middle of a roomful of suits instead of a construction site. Navy chinos and a short-sleeve button-down were not what he needed to show up wearing if he wanted to connect with his brother.
Plus . . . construction site. Duh.
Turning her back to him, she flipped the pancakes. She also used the moment to not look at Zack. Because she was finding that every time she looked at him, she got a little further away from remembering he wasn’t her type.
“You’ll need jeans today,” she told him. “You have time to change before your breakfast is ready.”
He didn’t reply for a few seconds, and then he admitted, “I didn’t bring jeans.”
She felt him step up behind her as much as heard him, and then he peered over her shoulder. She held her breath. He kept getting in her space like that. It made things inside her all fluttery.
“You aren’t seriously thinking of serving me pancakes with chocolate chips in them, are you?”
God, he smelled good. What kind of soap did the man use, anyway?
She drew a deep breath in through her nose, just to tease herself with the expensive smell, before pointing out the whiteboard on the opposite wall. “I could stick with my mother’s plan and serve you eggs and grits if you prefer.”
He made a face. “Grits?” He said the word as if she’d just asked him to eat raw liver for breakfast.
“It’s what everyone else got.”
“Why would you serve that to people?”
“Because we’re in the South, sweetie. And because people like grits.” She waved her spatula at him. “So choose. Grits or pancakes?”
He glanced at the stove. “And I have to have them with something in them?”
“They aren’t something, they’re chocolate chips. They’re good.”
“Why would you ruin a perfectly good pancake with chocolate chips?”
“Because they’re fun.”
He went silent. His dark gaze once again studied her, this time concentrating on her face and hair. She had her hair pulled back in a French braid running down the middle of her back, and she’d worn less makeup today. Only a hint of lip gloss, and just a brush of mascara. But not because of what he’d said last night about being unable to look away from her when she wore less.
She just didn’t need it today. After she dropped him at the cabins, she planned to put in a few hours of work.
Makeup wasn’t needed when she intended to spend the day by herself.
“You look nice today.” His words were easy. Her knees went weak.
What the hell was wrong with her?
They’d had a good time after they left the park last night. But that was all. They’d talked. They were becoming friends. She liked him.
But not liked him.
He was Cody and Nick’s brother, for crying out loud.
Her friends who were now ticked at her for springing Zack on them to begin with.
Getting weak-kneed over the man was out of the question.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “You do too. But I still think you’re wrong about the makeup. Less is not always more.” And she had no idea why he thought she hid behind it. She had nothing to hide from.
“No, I’m not.”
She pointed a finger at him. “I’ll prove it,” she declared.
His gaze narrowed on her, and she stood there in front of him as if on trial. She wanted to know what he was thinking when he looked at her. Did he really have a hard time looking away?
The thought did more for her cardiovascular system than a jog into town and back.
“What did you have in mind?” he finally asked.
She had to rewind the conversation in her mind to remember what she’d even said. Oh yes, makeup. She intended to prove him wrong. “I’ll pick the perfect time, and I’ll wear even more than I normally do.” She gave him a haughty look. “And you’ll admit you’re wrong.”
“But I’m not wrong.”
The man did not lack in confidence.
She held out a hand. “Deal, or not?”
“What are we playing for?”
She ran a couple of ideas through her mind, tossing out the more lewd ones, and then smiled. “Pancakes.” Before he could respond, she added, “You’ll eat them however I serve them.”
He grew silent, as if giving serious contemplation to the terms. “And if I win?” he asked.
Excitement winged its way through her at the thought of the prizes he might request if he won. None of which were appropriate between friends.
“What do you want?” she asked. Her voice dropped to a near whisper.
He once again took his time deciding. As he did, his gaze skimmed over her body. When it landed on her feet, she grew nervous. Surely he wouldn’t suggest she wear shoes that made sense to him. She liked the shoes she wore.
His gaze traveled back up. She wet her lips when he lingered briefly on her mouth. He made her too antsy. At long last, his eyes once again met hers. The seriousness in them took her by surprise.
“If I win,” he started, “then you consider chasing something other than marriage.”
The back room of her studio came to mind. Then Chicago.
Then the crush of failure.
But she knew she would win this bet, so it didn’t matter. She closed her fingers around his outstretched hand. “Deal.”
They didn’t shake their hands up and down. They just stood there. Palm to palm. She could feel the rougher toughness of his fingers against her smoother, softer skin. It wasn’t a calloused kind of rough. Just a manly rough. And big.
His hand was very big.
Her mind hit the gutter.
“Today I want pancakes without chocolate chips,” he said. It wasn’t a demand. Exactly. It was more of a plea. In a no-nonsense, I’m-in-charge-here sort of way.
Her chest moved up and down with her breaths, and they stared at each other. Once again she was reminded of last night. They’d had a staring match over him putting the convertible top down when they’d left the park. She’d won that round, but something told her that had been rare. She didn’t think she could take this match.
Looking away, she grunted in frustration. “Fine,” she muttered.
He laughed softly beside her. The sound feathered over her ear and slid down her neck.
“But I’m going to find you a pair of jeans to wear,” she tacked on.
His laughter shut off.
She peeked at him. “There are some clothes of Sean’s here. My youngest brother. He leaves a few things for when he comes home.”
“I’m not wearing someone else’s clothes.”
“You can’t wear those,” she pointed out. “I’m taking you to the cabins your brother is building. It’s messy out there. Plus, I thought if things go well, you could hang out with him for a while.” She jabbed her spatula toward his pants. “You can’t stay there all day looking like that.”
Twenty minutes later, Zack was in another man’s jeans and someone else’s work boots.
He was on the back of a four-wheeler, his fingers digging into Holly’s sides as if he were a scared little girl, and they were blasting across the green fields of Marshall property.
At least he’d gotten pancakes without chocolate chips in them.
But still. What the hell was happening to his life?
Normally he’d be on his third or fourth meeting of the day. He’d be seeking out a case that would win him a partnership. And he’d be readying for lunch with someone who could get him somewhere.
Instead, he was laughing in the wind as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Holly continued to amaze him. When she’d turned around that morning and he’d first caught sight of her, he’d known that the rest of his two weeks there were going to be a challenge.
