by Em Petrova
“You spent the night with him?” the older woman asked.
“Yes, but it was very respectable,” she shot back.
“Honey, you are holding out on us.” Natalie wagged a finger at her.
“There’s nothing to tell!” More flustered than she should be, she bit down on her lower lip and stole another look at the closed door.
“Those Moons are no good, but they’re gorgeous.” This from Allison.
She whirled to pierce the woman in her stare. “Why are they no good?”
“Their daddy was the town drunk. Held down a barstool more than he was ever at home raising those boys.”
Esme’s heart gave a small squeeze of sympathy for Zayden and the brothers she knew little of.
“I heard from Deputy Shawn Dickinson that he pulled Zayden Moon over as soon as he rolled into town and he…” she pitched her voice low, “has a record.”
Esme blinked. “For what?” she heard herself ask.
“If it’s too bad, he won’t be given a loan. We’re about to find out.”
What could Zayden have done to get a criminal record? A host of crimes rumbled through her mind, but she couldn’t picture the man who’d rescued her committing armed robbery or murdering anyone.
The ladies were discussing this now in hushed tones.
She shook her head and broke into the conversation. “He wouldn’t do those things.”
“How do you know?” Natalie asked.
“Because he’s not that sort of person.” At most, Zayden would get into a bar fight.
“Maybe it was a fight,” Natalie said as she thought it. “Would he get into a fight? A man with muscles like that could do some real damage.”
“He did offer to break Owen’s legs if I want him to,” she said to herself. But the ladies latched right onto that, and soon she was thwarting the threat before it became a rumor.
Relief filled her when a couple customers entered, and they were all occupied for the time being. She continued to toss inconspicuous glances toward her boss’s door. Long minutes passed, and just when she was beginning to wonder if Zayden might have leaped out the window instead of using the door like everyone else, the door opened.
Both tellers whipped around to look, and Esme struggled to appear more nonchalant.
“Oh. My. God.”
Here they go again, she thought of her flippant coworkers. But as soon as Zayden lifted his head and met her gaze, a spike of attraction hit her.
Breathing faster, she tried for a smile and threw him a wave.
When he sauntered forward, he might as well be a celebrity for all the attention he was garnering. And in worn jeans, scuffed boots, that sexy-as-sin hat, a plain black T-shirt and a flannel, no wonder. Walking sin.
“Shhh!” one of the girls said from behind her, but Esme ignored everyone as Zayden approached.
He paused in front of her station and gave her a crooked smile. “How you feelin’?”
Either Natalie or Allison swallowed a giggle. Hell, at this point, it could be Roberta.
Esme struggled for composure. Looking up at Zayden now, she wondered how she had the guts to curl up against him, let alone sleep in his arms. That night remained a haze of fear and pain, and she had nothing to be embarrassed about, but that didn’t stop the flush from creeping up her throat.
“I’m fine now, thank you,” she managed.
“Glad to hear it,” he drawled out, his gaze darting upward to her hair. Today she’d wrangled all her curls into a big barrette on the back of her head but the wayward strands had a horrible habit of escaping. God, she hoped she didn’t look like Bozo the Clown right now.
Reaching up, she smoothed a hand over her head, but didn’t feel anything coming loose.
“Good to see you in here,” she said stupidly. If she could bite off her own tongue or tramp on her own foot, she’d do it.
“Just talkin’ to the manager.” His brows tipped down in the center, but the scowl made him sexier.
More rustling noises came from behind her, and she glanced back to see Natalie holding a sheaf of papers over her face as she spoke to Allison.
She spun forward again. Zayden also took notice of what was happening behind her. He didn’t appear to be surprised—he probably saw this behavior every time he walked out of the house.
“Well, I’d best be going. I’ve got more errands to run.” He looked right into Esme’s eyes and smiled, and her heart took off pattering even faster.
He made it as far as the door before she called out to the others, “I’m taking my break!” and ran for the exit.
She caught up to Zayden on the sidewalk out front. “Zayden, wait a moment!”
He stopped and studied her with that slow perusal that reminded her of their time on the mountain, squashed together into the saddle…and in bed.
“I…um…wanted to thank you again.”
“Sweetheart, no need. I said so before.” He latched his gaze onto her lips and then slowly dropped it over the length of her body, leaving her feeling like a hot dog on a skewer held to the campfire. She burned with instant awareness of this impossible connection they’d somehow forged that day.
“All right,” she said, lifting a hand to her hair as she often did when nerves kicked in. “Well, I wondered if I might get your phone number.”
The corner of his lips tipped up, and she went weak in the knees. Thank God the other girls weren’t out here to see it. She wouldn’t put it past Allison to fall flat on her face and make a scene.
“Why? You need rescued again?” His words washed over her like a lover’s caress. Soft words she could barely focus on the meaning of, because the sound of them reminded her of pure seduction.
“I might.” Hers came out breathless.
“You got your phone on you?”
She didn’t. What an idiot.
“I’m not allowed to have my phone while I’m working. Um…just recite your number to me and I’ll remember it.”
He arched a brow as if he didn’t buy her line. The ten digits he spoke shouldn’t sound dirty to her ears, but they did. Somehow, she managed to commit them all to memory and in the right order—at least she hoped so.
“Thanks. Well, I’ll see you around maybe. Good luck with your loan, Zayden.”
He gave a nod and without another word, continued down the sidewalk and crossed the lot to his old truck.
She stood rooted in place a moment, watching him, admiring his long strides and the way his ass filled out those jeans so well.
A shiver ran through her, reminding her she was outside without a coat, and it was February.
Since she was still on her break, she figured it was time to stop being a weenie and actually call out Owen for what he’d done and went back inside. At least nobody sat in the breakroom pummeling her with questions about Zayden when she made the phone call. Owen picked up on the third ring with a sheepish tone to his voice.
“Esme.”
“Owen, I—”
“Look, I’m so sorry, Esme. I was a huge idiot that day, and I’ve thought about what I did a lot over the past few days. I never should have done it. I panicked and I want to make it up to you.”
Fat chance of that, when her heart was already in another country as far as he was concerned. However, she did want to hear his side just to have closure on the entire ordeal.
“Let me take you out tonight. You deserve to be treated to something fancy. That new steakhouse is open, and it’s a packed house every night from what I hear, but one of my buddies knows the owner, and I can get us in.”
There it was—the Owen she knew. She wouldn’t fall for his sweet-talk anymore. But going out with him meant she would hear his reasons for abandoning her on a mountain during a storm. What was the worst that could happen? She’d go to a swanky steakhouse with her ex and end up paying for her own dinner?
“Seven o’clock.” Her tone was no-nonsense.
“I’ll pick you up at your place.”
�
�No. I’ll meet you there, Owen.”
He sighed into her ear. “I really am sorry, Esme. I screwed things up.”
A weight bore down on her. Things had been good between them at one time. Up until the moment she realized he’d left her at the cabin without transportation, she hadn’t suspected anything was amiss.
No, this was not a date. They were not getting back together. She only needed closure. She didn’t want him back, no more than she wanted that bum she’d followed to Stokes back. She was a strong woman who could stand on her own—she didn’t need a man.
She ended the call, already planning the killer dress and heels she’d wear to prove her ex had made one heck of a bad decision in dumping her. She also had a deadly speech written in her mind, and she would tell him off in front of the whole restaurant.
Or…maybe she’d put in that call to Zayden and have him come down and break his legs.
* * * * *
Zayden looked around the barn. Making this ranch turn a profit would be a longshot. But if he did have a dose of the Moon charm, then he hoped it worked on that manager at the credit union.
The guy didn’t seem very impressed with Zayden’s plans to expand by purchasing fifty head of cattle to start or provide a small wage to Mimi’s great-nephew for working there, but both those things were valid when it came to ranchin’.
He wandered across the yard to the house and sank to the porch step. The land snoozed. It was too early for night animals, but as a kid he always loved sitting in this very spot and trying to spot the critters. Those times he’d spend dreaming of getting the hell out of Stokes and far away from his father.
With his father buried up the road and the ranch passing into his hands as soon as the paperwork finished filing, he considered how his dreams had changed.
Would he be able to find any peace in this work? He’d failed to locate that elusive dream even after he escaped and struck out on his own, but he didn’t have anything to lose either.
The cold from the wood seeped into his backside, and a gust of wind sent snowflakes dancing faster in the air, but he dragged icy breaths into his lungs and relished the taste on his tongue.
Mountain air… Nothin’ like it.
When his phone buzzed, he started and reached back to grab it from his pocket. He glanced at the screen at an unfamiliar number but answered it anyway.
“Moon.”
“Um…Zayden?” The feminine voice had him leaping to his feet.
“Esme?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” Was she crying? He recognized that tightness in her tone and took off walking to his truck immediately.
“I was just calling to say I’m not lost on the mountain.”
A groan lodged in his throat, unreleased. Something else was wrong—he could tell.
She continued, “I’m at the new steakhouse in town and I wondered if you’d like to join me.”
Motherfucker. He yanked open his truck door. “What’s going on?”
“Well, I’m standing here in a new dress and high heels, and I could use a date.”
He slid into the truck and twisted the key in the ignition. “You’re all dressed up and got no one to dance with?”
“Something like that.”
“I’ll be there in twenty.”
Without waiting for her response, he ended the call and dropped his phone into the cup holder. Dammit. He’d bet everything he had left in the world that she’d been stood up by the same jerk who’d left her on the mountain. He pictured her now, standing in her new dress on the sidewalk out front of the steakhouse, waiting for a man who didn’t deserve her time or attention.
He was getting ahead of himself. He didn’t know it was the same guy—she could be dating again. But unlikely if she’d been expecting a ring from the asshole.
If Zayden knew anything about women, it was how stubborn they could be when they found someone they believed was the one. Whether or not Esme fit into this box he wasn’t certain, but she’d called him for help, and he had to go.
Minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of the new steakhouse. The place once served as a slummy takeout joint, but they’d renovated the building, upgrading it with a log siding exterior, and the sign spoke of high-priced steaks that probably weren’t worth what they charged for them.
He spotted her immediately, huddled in a long red coat that reached her slender calves. Below that, she balanced on heels that no woman could navigate the streets of Stokes wearing in February.
God, she’d gotten all dolled up for some asshole?
When his boots hit the sidewalk leading to the entry, she took a few steps toward him in her heels.
He raised a hand. “I’ll come to you. You’re liable to break your neck on this icy walkway.” He hurried forward, gaze latched onto her face.
Her hair swirled in the breeze that wasn’t as wild down here in town. As he approached, she gave him a smile full of false bravado.
“Thanks for meeting me on short notice. I’ve got a reservation for two.” She turned to glance at the big doors carved with wilderness scenes of mountains and forest animals.
“You’ve got to be freezing, waiting out here.” Drawing closer, he noticed the pink tinge to her nose and cheeks.
She buried her face in her coat collar. “I went inside and warmed up a couple times. Are you ready to go in?”
“Esme. What really happened?” No point in pretending everything was all right. He never was one to hide facts beneath a rainbow and call it gold—that was always Asher’s job growing up.
She met his gaze, and he saw the pain glowing in those green eyes.
“You were meeting him, weren’t you?” His voice came out gruff.
She nodded. “He said he wanted to take me out for a nice meal, that I deserved it. And he was going to explain his actions on Valentine’s Day.”
Jesus Christ. He hadn’t believed her to be one of those ditzy chicks, but clearly he’d been wrong. “You bought that?”
She recoiled and drew herself up stiffly. “No. I did not buy that. I agreed to meet because I deserve some answers and an apology.” He liked spunk in a woman—too much, in fact.
“You’ll never get an apology from a prick like that.”
“I see that now. But I do have dinner reservations, and I am wearing this new dress. So will you let me buy you a steak?”
He didn’t have much money left in his pocket, and he still needed to give some of the earnings from the sale of the horse to the veterinarian, and somehow rustle up the cash to pay the fine he’d racked up. But he couldn’t allow her to treat him to dinner either. He also didn’t tell her he’d eaten hours ago, at Mimi’s kitchen table.
He looked at her closely, seeing her worrying her lower lip with her teeth. “Do you really want to go in there now?”
She blinked. “What do you have in mind?”
He jerked his head. “Place down the road that’s more my speed. Beer and pizza.”
“I’m a little overdressed.”
“You’ll be perfect. What do ya say?” He waited for her to say no.
A soft smile spread over her lips and lit her eyes. She nodded. “Okay.”
“Can you walk to my truck without falling on your face?”
“Of course.” He heard a bit more strength in her voice.
As he led her to his vehicle, he couldn’t help but try to puzzle out this woman, who put her blind trust into the wrong man twice but who had enough backbone to wander a mountain alone in a storm.
He opened the passenger door for her, and she looked up at him.
Hell. He didn’t like that look. Actually, he did, but it was all wrong. “Yeah, I feel it too, but it isn’t a date. It’s two friends going out for pizza, all right?” He waved a hand for her to get in.
“Yes, exactly. Two friends.” She climbed into his truck, and he closed the door.
When he settled beside her, he noted how she bundled the coat around her legs and wondered what was hidden beneath it. A
short dress that would show off the curve of her ass?
He pulled out into the street and a couple minutes later, they were bumping into the parking lot of Pub Pizza.
“I can feel the bass of the music from here,” she said.
He shot her a sideways grin. “Hope you can dance in those heels too.”
“I’ll take that challenge.” Her wide smile lit her entire face, and damn if he didn’t feel the aftereffects as he followed her out of the truck and up to the building.
The bass thumped, hitting deep in his chest. He opened the door for her. “I haven’t torn up the town in a long time,” he said.
She laughed. “Me either.”
Inside, he glanced around for the best place to sit and have a drink, but it was a packed house. On the far side of the room, more than a dozen people danced to the fast tune, and he anticipated he knew more than one person in the joint. He only hoped they all steered clear of him.
“Moon.”
Hell.
He glanced around to see a balding guy with a beer in each hand and the same snide expression he’d worn back in their high school days.
Zayden ignored him and closed his fingers around Esme’s elbow. “Let’s head up to the bar. Seems like the only place to sit.”
She nodded and followed him. Behind him, he heard his name echoed again, this time from someone else. Great—the last thing he wanted were more fake-ass condolences over his father’s demise, or any trouble either. And trouble seemed to follow him to places like this. What had he been thinking?
At the bar, he waited while Esme worked open the line of buttons on her coat. When the cloth parted to expose the sliver of a low neckline and the little black number, as well as her plump thighs, he battled no fewer than a dozen dirty ideas for how to wipe that ex of hers from her mind forever.
First, he’d set her on the bar and wrap those curls of hers around his fist, tipping her head back for his kiss, his tongue working down the dainty point of her jaw to her tantalizing cleavage…
Oblivious to the ravishing he was giving her in his mind, she removed her coat and folded it. Half the guys at the bar had twisted to stare at her. No wonder—she was the hottest thing in here, and those fuck-me shoes weren’t helping a bit.