Zane (7 Brides for 7 Soldiers Book 3) Page 14

  “I’m going to have to diet after this meal,” Harper said on a sigh, as she set down her knife and fork. “Carrot and celery sticks are in my immediate future.”

  “Don’t you dare do one thing to compromise that beautiful ass of yours,” Zane instantly said, then just as instantly wanted to punch himself for sounding so…uncivilized. Beautiful ass. It was true, of course, but he could have put it more politely.

  She was staring at him, round-eyed.

  “It’s that little skirt,” he muttered. “Okay? It’s making me kind of crazy.”

  “Oh.” A smile flirted with the corners of her mouth.

  It eased some of his tension. Maybe the librarian hadn’t taken offense.

  He figured he was right about that after another few minutes when she excused herself for the ladies’ room. Because as she walked away, she took a quick glance over her shoulder, saw he was watching, and added a decided swing to her hips.

  Zane didn’t even try to fight off his grin.

  It died when a pair of arms wrapped around his neck from behind. “Hey, handsome.”

  He turned his head to meet the velvet brown gaze of Marla Hopper. They’d gone out a few times before she’d had to temporarily move to Oregon to care for her mother after back surgery. “How are you?” he asked the tall, buxom brunette. “How’s your mom?”

  “I’m good. In the area again now that my mother can take care of herself.”

  “Great news,” he said, and as she loosened her hold, he shifted his chair to converse more easily.

  Marla took it as an invitation to slip into his lap.

  Shit. “Uh…” He had no idea where to put his hands and wondered how to make clear he was on a date.

  Before an answer presented itself, Harper returned to their table. Taking in the scene, her eyebrows rose toward her hairline.

  “Uh…” he said again, and got to his feet at the same moment that Marla jumped to hers.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, looking at the librarian. “I didn’t realize…”

  “No problem.” In a practiced, polite move, Harper held out her hand and introduced herself.

  Marla reciprocated, then added, “I’ve been out of the area for a couple of months. With my mom as she recuperated from surgery.”

  “You probably haven’t heard then,” Harper said kindly. “Zane and I…well, we’re an item.”

  He stared at her. That gossip was all over Eagle’s Ridge and its environs, of course, but to hear her claim it…damn, but it made a contented warmth settle in his chest. Dumbfounded by the feeling, he stood silently watching as the two women continued to chat.

  Two such different women. Marla was a female version of himself, a lively person who liked to drink beer, shoot pool, and was the best dart player in two counties.

  Harper, on the other hand, had a much quieter presence. But for some reason it only leant an intriguing bit of mystery to her, and challenged him to peel back her layers. He wanted to do things to test that reserve of hers—to make her spontaneously smile, laugh, sigh, and then shatter any and every one of her inhibitions.

  “I’ll see you around,” Marla said now to Zane, brushed her lips against his cheek, then smiled a little. “I’d tell you to call me, but…”

  He glanced at Harper. “I’m going to be pretty busy.”

  As the brunette wandered back to the bar, he unearthed his best manners and held out Harper’s chair for her. She glanced up at him as she lowered into it, smiled, and that warmth bloomed in his chest again.

  “Dessert,” he said, as he settled into his own seat. “We’ll share.”

  The waitress only brought one fork and he didn’t ask for another. Leaning across the table, he fed bites of chocolate molten lava cake to Harper, fascinated by the soft look on her face and the tidy way she patted her napkin to her lips.

  Still, she missed a spot, and he didn’t hesitate to touch his forefinger to the corner of her mouth, then dragged it slowly across her bottom lip. Her breath caught, and he saw her eyes dilate.

  Zane’s own muscles tightened and his free hand shot up to flag the waitress. “I think I need to get you home,” he said, his voice gruff.

  Before he went full caveman on her and dragged her across the table linens and fancy dishes to get a taste of the librarian.

  Once outside, he held her hand while they crossed the parking lot toward his truck. The cool air did nothing to lessen the heat of his blood and the thrum of anticipation in his body. “It was a lovely meal,” Harper said, her small fingers curled trustingly in his. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” A lovely meal, a lovely woman, a lovely date. He’d managed not to blow it, despite a few lapses here and there. Maybe he had a domesticated side after all.

  Then a muffled shout from the opposite corner of the parking lot caught his attention. He glanced that way and saw three men scuffling with one another.

  It took a second moment to recognize that one of the scufflers was Denver, the ranch hand whose cowboy boots now sat in Zane’s closet. He recognized the other pair as river guides for the North Snake Adventures outfit. Hell.

  “Stay here,” he told Harper, and took off at a run toward the fracas. Once closer to the trio, he deduced that Denver had wrested car keys away from the obviously drunken North Snake guys—and they strenuously objected to the precaution. Both seemed to believe that either one of them was capable of driving home.

  Even sober, Zane didn’t think much of the guides, but overserved they were beyond stupid and bordering on nasty. Into their eff-bomb laden diatribe, Zane boomed a question.

  “Got a problem, Denver?”

  The younger man looked grateful as he came to stand by his side. “You know these guys, Zane? Tonight they shouldn’t be driving.”

  “I know them.” And why the hell they’d been at this nice dinner house and how the hell they’d managed to hide from the bartender they were drunk as skunks, he couldn’t say. “Boys, why don’t we call you a car service? Safer for everyone.”

  “Safer my ass,” one slurred. “Now gimme my keys.”

  Zane took them from Denver and shoved them deep in his pocket. “Not a good idea. What I think—”

  A fist came up and rammed into Denver’s face. He buckled, his hands going to his nose.

  Shit. Zane moved in front of him. “Now—”

  The boxer took another swing. Zane couldn’t duck, that would expose Denver again, so he caught the guy’s wrist. “Hey—”

  Then pain exploded in his face as the second guy’s fist made contact with it.

  Now it was he who dropped an eff bomb as the two river guides went nuts, letting fly with the insults and with their arms. Denver stepped from behind Zane and grunted as he took another blow to the face.

  “Damn it, get back,” Zane said to his smaller friend, as he shoved Drunk One away. The guy stumbled back, tripping over his own feet to fall on his ass. Drunk Two took offense on his buddy’s behalf, and with a Viking cry, launched himself at Zane. His forehead thumped into Zane’s nose, causing sparks to fly in his vision. But he managed to wrap the skinny dude in a bear hug before getting head-butted a second time.

  “Shit!” Zane lifted the fighter off his feet, and then flung him away. The man stumbled around, weaving like the drunk he was, and hadn’t regained his balance when a sheriff’s cruiser pulled up.

  The situation was quickly managed—river guides in the back of the cruiser, statements given by Denver and Zane—and then the manager of the restaurant came running out with paper napkins to staunch the blood dripping from Denver’s nose.

  And from Zane’s.

  Shit. Hell. Damn. He looked at Harper hovering nearby, the lights from the sheriff’s car illuminating her wide eyes and alarmed expression. Then he glanced down at his heavily stained shirt and the wad of bloody tissues in his hand.

  The poor woman looked freaked out.

  Over a parking lot brawl, that was not, by any means, Zane’s first.

 
He sighed, the earlier warmth in his chest displaced by a sharp pain that ran parallel to the aching throb coming from his face.

  He was no gentleman. Not any kind of man for the pretty lady librarian.

  Chapter 8

  Harper let three days pass. Three days without hearing from Zane or seeing him. The morning after their dinner, she’d sent him a quick text thanking him again for the meal and asking how he fared after the clash in the parking lot. He’d responded with “You’re welcome” and “I’m good” but nothing more.

  She didn’t know what was on his mind. After the sheriff said they could leave, Zane had driven her home and walked her to her door in silence. When she’d offered a bag of peas from her freezer, he’d claimed to have one at home and had taken off after a single quick squeeze of her shoulder.

  Then, she’d figured he wanted to get out of his bloody clothes.

  Now, she wondered if he’d wanted to get away from her.

  But the date had been great up until those moments in the parking lot. Had she been wrong about that?

  Tired of debating the subject with herself, Harper took a chance and walked to No Man’s Land during her morning break. There, she counted luck on her side because she found Jane at the counter, sipping hot tea, with Brenda on the other side, her own mug in hand. Only two other patrons were in the diner, each at their own corner and engrossed in their food and phones.

  “I was just going to head to the library and check out a book,” Jane said as Harper slid onto the stool beside hers.

  “Which book are you interested in?” Harper asked.

  “The Book of What Happened Monday Night.” The other young woman sent a sly smile toward the diner manager. “Our friend here is keeping the cover on hers stubbornly closed. I only asked for a summary and she won’t even provide that.”

  Brenda’s eyes slid in the direction of the kitchen. “Jane! I can’t let my boss hear me gossiping—”

  “Especially about him,” Jane said, with another cheeky smile. “I get it. That’s why Harper must satisfy my prurient interest.”

  “I have nothing salacious to report,” Harper admitted.

  Jane’s eyes widened. “But…but…your hair, your outfit. All fabulous. I was sure his tongue would unroll to his toes.”

  “It kind of did,” Harper said, feeling a smile grow as she remembered the wowed expression on Zane’s face. “And he said he didn’t want other men to look at me.” At the comment, her ego had soared, and the defection of Geoffrey had instantly receded a quarter-mile farther in her personal rearview mirror.

  Jane clapped. “After that…”

  “Well, after we finished our entrées, I went to the restroom and when I came out another woman was sitting on his lap.”

  “What hussy was this?” Brenda demanded.

  “Her name was Marla and she was actually nice. I think she was embarrassed by the situation. I know Zane was. Then I made it clear to her that he was taken.” She paused. “By me.”

  Jane’s smile dazzled. “You rock.”

  “I kind of did.” Harper returned the grin. “I didn’t know I was going to say it, but I did, and then she went away and then Zane and I shared a dessert, and then…” A shiver worked its way down her spine as she recalled his finger running along her bottom lip and the heat in his eyes as he called for the check.

  “Then?” Brenda prompted.

  “Then in the parking lot we ran into some drunk guys and Zane tried to help his friend. Punches were thrown, blood was shed, and a sheriff’s deputy arrived.” She shrugged. “I guess the altercation kind of killed the mood.”

  Which she’d accepted at the time, but now couldn’t they pick up where they’d left off?

  “Outside of a brief exchange of text messages, he hasn’t contacted me since,” she told the other women, then sighed. “I really don’t know what to think or do now.”

  “Sometimes we Tuckers can be a little slow on the uptake,” a new voice said.

  Harper looked over to see Sam framed by the pass-through.

  Brenda’s lips twitched. “You can say that again.”

  He grinned at her. “Sometimes we Tuckers can be a little slow on the uptake.” He let a beat pass. “Then we more than make up for it, don’t we, Bren?”

  The older woman blushed. “Sam,” she scolded. “Enough of that.”

  Harper recalled Monday afternoon and the way Zane’s father had taken charge of the stalled situation with the diner manager. Once he’d declared he was done fighting against their connection, Brenda’s resistance had melted. Tilting her head, Harper considered a similar action. Evidence suggested Zane had been pleased when she’d been direct with Marla at the restaurant.

  Maybe Harper needed to be direct with the man himself now.

  Though she’d lost her nerve that day in the library a while back and shied away from asking him out, couldn’t she show some backbone now and ask him for, well, more?

  She looked to Jane. “Do you know anything about this afternoon’s schedule at A To Z?”

  “I know that I can conspire with Adam to make Zane free, even if he isn’t,” the other woman said promptly.

  “Do it.” Harper jumped off her stool. “I plan to show up there at four o’clock.”

  At 3:59, she stood in front of A To Z Watersports, which was housed in what must have once been a big family residence. Though the sky was overcast, the balmy temperature was probably the reason only a screen door covered the front entrance, and she looked curiously at the misshapen bulge in the bottom half of the wire mesh. Then, shrugging, she let herself inside, obeying the “Come On In” sign hanging from the door’s handle.

  Indoors, music played, something with a bluegrass flavor. It smelled like old wood and dark coffee, and she breathed in the comforting mingled scents. To her right was a room that probably had once been a parlor, but now looked like a reception area. Zane sat on the edge of the desk there, one hand on the keyboard of a laptop, his attention split between that device and his cell phone.

  He hadn’t heard her come in, so she took a moment to catalog his features.

  A little soundless sigh escaped her lips. He was so, so…man. From the dark unruly hair on the top of his head to the black running shoes on his feet. He wore workout pants and a skin-tight, short-sleeved shirt and it looked like he hadn’t shaved since their Monday night date.

  Even his whiskers were manly, bristles dark and uncompromising, and they served to accentuate the soft looking curves of his lips.

  His kiss would taste hot and sweet, but be edged by that rough, exciting stubble.

  Harper’s inner thighs clenched. She wanted more of him all right.

  Suddenly, his head shot up. “Harper.” His expression registered surprise followed swiftly by wariness.

  She remained still under his regard, glad she’d donned bright white running tights splashed with purple and turquoise and a purple top that fit snug to her hips. Both were new. Both didn’t hide a single curve.

  Don’t you dare do one thing to compromise that beautiful ass of yours.

  The memory gave her the confidence to move forward, with not quite a swagger, and maybe not quite a saunter, but with real purpose. “Hello, Zane.”

  He eyed her approach. “Um…”

  “I’m here,” she said.

  “I see that,” he replied, definitely wary.

  “Because you owe me.”

  His mouth turned down in a grimace. “You’re right. Before now I should have called or come by with an apology.”

  It was her turn for surprise. “An apology for what?”

  “Monday night, of course. You certainly didn’t say yes to going out with me expecting to end the evening in violence and bloodshed.”

  She blinked. “I had a great time Monday night…well, I didn’t like seeing you getting hit in the face, but before that I enjoyed myself immensely. And to be honest…”

  “Yes?”

  “I thought the fight was a little exciting,”
she confessed. “I knew you had things under control.”

  He stared at her.

  She half-shrugged.

  With a shake of his head, he straightened from his seat on the edge of his desk and put both feet on the scarred hardwood floor. “Okay, then.”

  There was dismissal in his voice. He thought he was going to get rid of her now? Um, no.

  She put her hand on her hip. “What you owe me is a training run, Zane. I’m dressed for it. You’re dressed for it. Let’s go.”

  “Right now? But I—”

  “Have no excuse. Jane told me Adam is covering your afternoon kayak class.”

  His brows drew together. “My brother said he wanted to get out on the water to clear his head.”

  “Which frees you,” she pointed at him, “to take me,” her thumb hit her chest, “out for some training.”

  When he didn’t immediately refuse, she sidled closer and put her hand on his arm. His head bent to stare at it, and she felt his muscles harden under her touch.

  “Please?”

  He growled something under his breath, and then he cleared his throat. “You’re still determined to compete in the event?”

  “Of course,” she said. “Even if I have to crawl across the finish line. But I’d prefer to do it upright, so…”

  “All right, all right,” he said begrudgingly, then moved away from her hand. “Let me get us each a bottle of water.”

  This time, Zane opted to leave Gambler behind and the dog barely looked up from his snooze on a massive pet bed in the old kitchen that appeared to be used as a breakroom for the business. Then they slipped out the back door, stretching for a few minutes before taking off at an easy pace on a path leading into the surrounding forest.

  The pace was easy enough to make conversation possible, but twenty minutes in, she could tell that conversation was something Zane planned to avoid.

  Too bad, Harper thought.