The Next Day (Foothills Book 2)

by Carrie Thorne

  He stepped closer and added softly, so his voice wouldn’t carry through the open window, “I, uh, just got back from the Navy. SEAL buddy of mine recommended Foothills; he just got hired on with the police department. So, you know, I’ve got a lot of time on my hands while I settle in. Like if you need any help fixing the gutter or anything like that.”

  Sienna bit her lips together and nodded. “That’s good to know. Thank you.” She backed up a few steps. Whatever she gleaned from the conversation, at least she knew she wasn’t alone.

  A thundering growl sniped from inside the house. “Sienna? Where the hell you at? Late for work, aren’t you?”

  She cringed, then pasted on a phony smile. “Our new neighbors brought pie,” she said as he slammed the front door open and stepped onto the porch.

  Clearly, the guy used to be quite the athlete, with a tall, muscular build that had become soft with beer and inactivity. Nodding, he smirked appreciatively at Zane’s truck. “Wasn’t that nice of them,” he was suddenly all politeness. Passing right by Freya, he extended his hand to Zane, “Toby. Which place is yours?”

  Nodding toward the house, Zane didn’t bother clarifying he was just renting the place over the garage until he figured out what the hell he wanted, “Zane.” He accepted the handshake, resisting the urge to roll the asshole’s knuckles, but squeezed just shy of causing injury.

  “Whoa, firm shake there,” he pulled his hand back and shook his fingers dramatically, a charming smile on his face.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Zane added an extra flex with the movement for a number of reasons, none friendly. Backing up a few steps, he said, “We’ll get out of your hair.”

  Once Freya was in the truck, he climbed in the driver’s seat, never turning his back on the neighbors. He flipped on the engine and got the hell out of there. Fists clenched tight on the steering wheel, he forced his breath in and out.

  Glancing over, he saw Freya wasn’t any calmer. Her eyes were glazed over, cheeks pulled tight. Her dimple no longer the exclamation point to her vivid smile, but instead the hyphen that said she wasn’t finished yet. “Thanks for coming with me.”

  He nodded, “I just hope she gets help before it’s too late.”

  “Me too. You weren’t exactly subtle,” her lips turned up in a feisty smile. Shit, she was downright bloodthirsty when she wanted to be.

  “Can’t believe that asshole. The money he spent on that truck could have fixed up the house and bought her a decent car.”

  Freya raised an eyebrow, “How do you know it’s not her truck?”

  “Just a guess.”

  She sighed and leaned her seat back a click. “I’ve never been able to imagine how a person ends up in such an awful situation.”

  “You don’t always know what you’re getting into when you say I do.”

  “That’s why a long engagement is a good thing. Gives you plenty of time to back out of it.”

  “You sound like you speak from experience.”

  “So do you.” She rotated in her seat to face him.

  Back on the main road, he took the next turn toward their place. “Married the first girl I slept with.”

  “High school sweetheart? Sounds romantic.”

  He snorted, “Late bloomer. College sweetheart. Not as romantic as it sounds. Huge wedding after our second year. We rented this incredible apartment she and my parents had picked out, an architect’s dream, so I worked full time and paid on the overpriced high rise with my student loans.”

  “What about her student loans? Didn’t she work?”

  “She was trying to pull a double major, so she didn’t have time to work. And with my income and loans, she didn’t need to borrow more than tuition.”

  “You’re an architect? How did you end up in the Navy?”

  “By the time we graduated, I was so deep in debt, realized that I didn’t give a shit about architecture, and my marriage was not everything I’d hoped. Blaire was out late partying every night, claiming she was networking and that I should do the same. So, I said fuck it, I was done living somebody else’s dream, and decided to do what I always wanted.”

  “And you wanted to be a Navy SEAL?”

  “All my life. Was one of those kids that played too many video games, decided I wanted to be a genuine badass, so I took up swimming and football and track, kept my grades up.”

  “What happened that you didn’t do it right away?”

  “I knew I needed a degree anyway, so I played the game and majored in architecture to make my parents happy. Chances were slim of making the cut anyway, so at some point I realized joining the SEALs was probably a pipedream anyway. And then I met Blaire, and she hated anything military. She wasn’t thrilled when I came home one day and let her know I’d signed on to join the Navy.”

  “Without asking?”

  “Not going to say I wasn’t looking for her to bail, and I didn’t have the balls to say it out loud.”

  “I know this isn’t a happy ever after.”

  “Things were pretty tense, and I’d start looking forward to getting shot at. Safer anyway. About a year in, I was called away on an op. Last minute, deep cover, no contact with home. By the time I got back, she’d already packed. Decided she didn’t fit the patiently-waiting-at-home role. Needed a man to have her back, not the other way around, this isn’t the 1950s.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too. No way some woman’s dragging me down another damn aisle for some superficial vows that don’t mean shit.”

  And the sympathy was wiped out by that fury again. She scoffed and sat up in her seat. “Some woman? Blaire didn’t understand you, that’s pretty clear. But because one woman refused to share in your dreams, all women are selfish and out to dig their claws into you and not support you?”

  Slowing, he pulled into the carport, his jaw clenching tight as he shut off the engine. Holding steady, he climbed out and closed the door with a click so he wouldn’t slam it and show just how easy it would be to let his temper take over. “Not what I meant,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

  “No? What did you mean?”

  “Dammit, Freya. I’ve got two friends in this world. Your cousin, who’s seen me at my worst and I’ve seen him at his worst and we know when to leave well enough alone. And the other is ground to dust in a tin can in my fucking closet. That’s it. Because I’m always doing or saying something stupid.” He hesitated at the base of the steps to his apartment. “Hell, my foot’s in my mouth more often than not. So I try to just keep my damn mouth shut.”

  She reached into the truck and grabbed the bag with his breakfast that had gone cold long ago. A soft smile on her face, she stopped inches in front of him. Those fierce blue eyes danced with that mystery he just couldn’t place.

  Stepping close, her hand burned into his chest as she anchored him. Holding his breath, his skin prickled in anticipation. She brushed her lips over his and pulled away before he could kiss her back.

  “I’m sorry I got defensive. I’ve been that some woman and latched on to someone that didn’t want me. More than once. Asher was right to bring you here. Give it another month, then tell me how many friends you have, and how many people have your back.”

  She flashed him a sultry smile, handed him his food, then turned away. An extra swing in her hips, her skirt swaying with each confident step, she seemed intent on tormenting him. What was that kiss all about?

  Unsatisfied, craving more, he resisted the urge to run over and drag her back against him and taste her again. Yep, that had been her precise intent. His temper dissolved and nothing but lust was left buzzing in his veins.

  The corners of his mouth turning up, he didn’t fight the smile.

  5

  Virgin Alarm

  Freya chucked the charcoal over the hillside, the stubby thing disappearing into the shrubs like a frightened bunny. She’d just managed to whip together a moody sketch for the damn wedding, but had spent the rest of the day
madly sketching and resketching until she was satisfied.

  Growling under her breath, she glared at the easel in front of her. Coming up from behind her, an unmarked beer bottle covered her vision. Sophie laughed, “Getting frustrated?” Settling onto the bench next to Freya, Sophie nodded to the sketch.

  Taking a swig, Freya scowled. “Yes.”

  “I think it’s a great portrait. What don’t you like about it?”

  Gesturing to the sketch that didn’t quite capture the restrained fury that Zane worked so hard to keep in check, Freya bitched, “Look at him. He’s all rugged SEAL meets Norse god meets Italian model.”

  Sophie leaned back and took a sip of her own unmarked brew. “He is a looker, I’ll give you that. But he seems really nice. Quiet, but decent.”

  Snorting, Freya leaned back, keeping her eyes on her sketch. Why couldn’t she get that face out of her brain? Those earthy green eyes were so haunted, lips so freaking savory and generous. And that jawline. “I have to go to my cousin’s wedding.”

  “Which one? Asher didn’t mention anything about a wedding.”

  “My dad’s side of the family. At Lake Tahoe.”

  “Is it Zane or the wedding eating at you?”

  Taking another gulp of the hoppy brew, she looked into the glass, trying to figure out what the spicy undertone was. “Both. My mom thinks I should bring a date, since I haven’t seen Dad’s family since I left Randy at the altar when I was my cousin Lulu’s age. You know, make it look like I’m not lonely and desperate.”

  “Are you lonely and desperate?”

  “No, but I would really like to make my parents proud. In a massive family of strait-laced normal people, I am too often the oddball that everyone gossips about.”

  “I would never have pegged you as an outsider when I saw you with your parents and your extended family at Pippa’s wedding.”

  “That’s the good side of the family; we’re all oddballs.”

  “And a date would make you look normal?”

  “Sort of. I just want to give my parents some bragging rights. Instead of, Freya broke off another engagement and got homesick so she’s renting out a bedroom in her cousin’s girlfriend’s house and hoping her career doesn’t tank, I’m going for, Freya’s art is being sold all over the world, and she’s happy and successful.”

  “You know? I’ve never had to worry about that.”

  Freya’s heart stumbled as she realized she’d been ranting about the woes of pleasing parents and impressing a huge extended family, when Sophie only had one horrible aunt and had lost her parents and grandparents as a kid. “I’m such a bitch. I’m sorry, Sophie.”

  Sophie leaned into Freya. “It’s okay. I now have Asher, and soon, my best friend for a sister, fierce parents in Denise and Paul, and,” she tipped her head against Freya’s, “you for a cousin.”

  “Damn right. I’ll just be me at this stupid wedding. They can see the Freya that will tell them to fuck off if they don’t approve.”

  Laughing, Sophie took a drink of her beer and nodded to the picture, “And what about Zane?”

  Stepping back a few paces, Freya slumped onto the bench and took a long, long pull on the beer, letting the bubbles ping and pop in her mouth before speaking. “I like him.”

  “And the problem is?” Sophie joined her and leaned back.

  The sun was beginning to lower in the sky, and Freya’s stomach rumbled, reminding her she’d skipped lunch and was well on her way to missing dinner. Nearly done with the beer, she was already feeling the buzz on her empty stomach. “I don’t want to like him that way. I’d love to fool around with him, as, well, he’s gorgeous and is comprised completely of Freya-friendly pheromones. But, well, I’ve been there, done that, bought the freaking t-shirt, and I’m not going down that road again.”

  Sophie laughed under her breath. “I guess you’ll need to catch me up a bit.”

  Sometimes Freya forgot she’d only known Sophie a few weeks. They’d instantly hit it off in the weeks before Pippa’s wedding, and Freya had been grateful when Sophie had asked her to be her roommate while Freya settled back in the States and Sophie tried to not jump headfirst into things with Asher.

  “I’ve been engaged three times.”

  Sophie winced. “Oh my.”

  “You know I’m a sucker for good chemistry. So much so, that, well, I get caught up in the romance of it all. And then I realize there’s nothing more than good sex and end up disappointed when the rest doesn’t follow and he wasn’t what I thought he was and I’ve lost a little more of myself.”

  “I see. So you’re looking for someone you don’t have good chemistry with?”

  “Exactly. Like a long-term friend with benefits that I can settle down with and we can have babies together and joint checking accounts… but without that intensity that is too easy to lose yourself in.”

  “But you just met Zane, what, a week ago?”

  “We’re beyond the met stage already. Once when we helped him with his boxes. Then Asher sent him to save me from the scary gunshots and, well, within twenty minutes of seeing him up close for the first time, I was already making out with him. We’ve had our first fight, and our second, and kissed and made up.”

  “Wow, you do move fast.”

  “Only when the chemistry is so freaking overwhelming. Whenever I’m within a ten-foot radius of that man, I can’t keep my mouth off him.”

  “Dinner tonight should be interesting then,” Sophie snickered, sporting a wicked grin.

  “You didn’t.”

  “You’ll have chaperones. Asher and I will be there.” Before Freya could whimper and whine, Sophie changed the subject.

  Freya filled her in about the neighbors. Sophie seethed like she did, throwing out suggestions on how they could smuggle the woman out of there. Shaking her head, Freya said, “She has to figure it out on her own. Zane pretty much offered to kick his ass whenever she is ready, and I let her know I’m a nice person that would be happy to help.” She drained the last of the beer. “I’ve never been in anything even close to what our neighbor woman is going through, but I understand getting lost in someone, and no one can tell you what a mistake you're making.”

  Rising from the bench, Sophie turned and pulled Freya up. “So you are preemptively avoiding Zane because you are too attracted to him.”

  “Yes. He’s even got that brooding thing down, and I’ve always wanted to explore the tortured hero type.” She found herself grinning at the absurdity of it. Sophie took her empty bottle while Freya gathered her completed work and the easel.

  As they wandered back into the house, Freya was welcomed by the scent of roasted vegetables and sausage keeping warm in the oven. She nearly drooled at the scent. “Remind me again how I got so lucky as to live here with you?”

  Sophie grinned as she pulled a serving dish from the cupboard. “Because if you didn’t live here, Asher would, and we’re not ready for that.”

  She quickly stashed her art supplies in her bedroom, then hopped on a stool and considered that one for a moment. “We can be mutual buffers then. You keep me from sleeping with our garage neighbor, and I’ll keep you from moving too fast with Asher?”

  “Like a virgin alarm from Spaceballs? Or you could get a chastity belt. That Mel Brooks was on to something,” Sophie chuckled as she got another round of beers out of the fridge.

  “I’d use the words virgin or chaste lightly.” Just as the words were out of her mouth, the front door swung open and Asher and Zane strolled in. Zane faltered as he saw her, his gaze darkening, but the corner of his lips turned up somewhere between a dare and smug satisfaction.

  A foolish flutter zinged through her, vibrating until the rush of warmth flooded everywhere, including her cheeks. Hopping up, she grabbed another pair of beers and glasses from the cupboard.

  Asher didn’t pause, heading straight for Sophie and pinning her against the cabinets, lips locked before they even said a word to each other.

  Turning awa
y, Freya tried to give them a little privacy. After all, they hadn’t seen each other in at least twelve hours. She grinned at their joy, indulging in the niggling jealousy that teased in her belly.

  Moving to her side, Zane popped the tops of the beers and started pouring. As Freya took the first sip, already buzzed from the beer she’d downed a little too quickly on a pouty and empty stomach, she let out a soft moan as the suds coated her throat.

  Zane took a testing sip from his glass, watching her reaction over the rim. “Good?”

  She nodded. “Really good. I’m trying to figure out where Sophie got these.”

  While Zane seemed to ignore her, that mysterious smile resting on his face as he wandered to look out the window, Asher reached around her and snagged the beer she’d poured for him. He took a big sip and raved, “Damn, Zane. This might be my new favorite.”

  Freya watched Zane’s reaction. “You made this?”

  He nodded. She wanted to flick him on the forehead to get him to use his words.

  Asher answered for him, “We got really bored one weekend a few years ago, so the three of us decided to see who could brew the best beer.”

  “Zane won?” Sophie asked as she set dinner on the table. Freya grabbed a stack of plates to pitch in.

  Zane shrugged, “We messed up the first batch and were all too chickenshit to try it, convinced we’d poison ourselves. The other two slackers were too lazy to try again, but we had so much material left over, plus we’d spent a fortune on supplies, so, well, I made use of it.”

  Despite the lightness of the conversation, the easy friendship between Asher and Zane, Freya felt the missing part of their trio tugging at her, her breath a little heavy as she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around Zane and ask if he was okay.

  Shoveling in the last bite of rosemary roasted veggies, Zane popped up and cleared his plate. Having spent the last half hour sitting inches away from Freya, he needed space. His leg still burned from the moments he’d accidentally relax and bump into her. An odd aching sensation filled his fingers as he’d spent the whole damn dinner resisting the strangest urge to hold hands with her. What the hell was wrong with him? Since when did the idea of holding a woman’s hand turn him on?