The Next Day (Foothills Book 2)

by Carrie Thorne

  She’d taken a few online classes on the business end of things. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t as fun as the actual painting part. But with her brain such a cluster, she wasn’t feeling capable of creativity. Soon, she’d need to, as her stock was waning as fast as her checking account.

  Grabbing her iPad from her bedside table, she fired it up, then shut it back off. Not going to be enough. Pulling out her phone, she called Sophie.

  She answered on the second ring, “I’m not bringing home pizza again.”

  Rolling her eyes, she shook her head, “I didn’t ask. Besides, if I’m going to fit into that slinky dress of yours again, I’ve got to lay off the comfort carbs.”

  “I still don’t see how you fit your boobs into any of my tops.”

  “Should I be offended here?” Looking down, she rolled her eyes. She loved stealing Sophie’s clothes, and they were definitely a bit snugger in the bust, but, well, play up your assets. Sophie played up those mile-long legs and athletic figure. Freya accented the curves.

  “No. I’m jealous. I’ve got nothing, but you’re built. Don’t lose those curves. They’re too pretty. Besides, I catch Zane checking them out often.”

  “Not helpful. I’m trying to repel Zane right now.”

  “I know you want the annulment, but really? Not even a someday when all this is over, even just for fun?”

  “No. My judgment, apparently, is shit around that man. All I can think about is getting him naked, which is why I’m calling.”

  “Pretty sure you can walk next door and ask. My assistance is not required.”

  She threw her head back and laughed out loud. “No. I mean, I’ve had enough distractions since getting home. And my finances are at risk because of it.”

  “I’ll be happy to help; sort of what I do for a living.”

  “I know. And I will probably beg to take advantage of you later. But, I actually have a very simple request. Do you have a computer around here somewhere that I can borrow?”

  “Sorry. My laptop broke in the move. Never transport it with the charger attached. And never let Pippa carry anything fragile.”

  Snorting, Freya pulled a protein bar out of the cupboard and tore into it. See? The man was even distracting her stomach. She’d missed breakfast by a few hours. Swallowing a sticky bite before she’d ground up all the crunchy bits, she choked down a few sharp pieces before responding, “I’d forgotten that tidbit about my endearing cousin. Crap. I think I need to invest in a computer.”

  “You could go ask our neighbor. Asher and Zane play online games together sometimes.”

  Her throat now hurt from the chunk that may or may not still be wedged back there. “Not as fun as asking him to get naked. But as it’s down to risking my annulment, my career, or my pathetic savings, well, it’s no contest. I’ll head over and beg.” Down on her knees if she had to. Closing her eyes and shaking her head at herself, a wicked grin on her face, Freya indulged in the visual. Imagine how much fun this situation could be if she hadn’t messed it up by marrying the best sex she’d ever had?

  Crossing the driveway, she hesitated with each step, hating that she was already breaking their pact to keep their distance, but this was business, not pleasure… sadly. Raising her hand to the door, she went for it.

  The door eased open, and Zane wordlessly leaned against the door. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile that made her want to strip down on the spot and wrap her body around his. Were those biceps so… edible last time she’d seen him? She stood and blushed, her train of thought having set sail the moment those forest green eyes landed on her.

  Finally, he said, “Hi.”

  “Hi,” she said, practically swaying her hips and blushing like a virgin bride at the sight of him. Catching herself, she cleared her throat and focused. “Hi. I was wondering if you had a laptop I could borrow.”

  “Sorry, no laptop. I’ve got a desktop that you’re free to come over and use whenever you want.”

  “You wouldn’t mind? I have a lot of work to do, and I need to get my own computer, but I want to wait until I get paid again.”

  “I don’t mind. I mean, you’ll have to deal with me puttering around while you work, but have at it.”

  When did the word puttering become sexy? When Zane said it, maybe it was that deep resonance in his voice, but it sounded like an inuendo. Or maybe that was because her imagination spent all day, every day reliving their weekend. The good parts, anyway.

  Waving her in, he sat down at the desk he’d set up in the corner since she’d been here last. He’d really fixed the place up nicely. A few new throw pillows were on the couch that now faced the picture window and a TV. A leather ottoman with a tray on it took the place of a traditional coffee table. The kitchen was tidy without being sparse. Stainless steel containers of differing sizes were nestled in the corner, and matching white ceramic olive oil and vinegar, together with a few jars of spices, were nestled on a tray next to the stove.

  While she unsubtly perused the apartment, he booted up the computer. The corner desk could have looked intrusive in the clean space, but the rustic walnut wood with steel pipes holding it together gave it an industrial look. Rather than a typical ergonomic desk chair on wheels, he used one of the dining chairs with a tan cushion.

  At the unlock screen, he turned to her. “You said you get paid quarterly, right? Like you might need to use this for a few months?”

  She nodded, feeling insecure as she confessed her finances were tighter than she cared to admit.

  “Don’t get me wrong, you can come over whenever you’d like. If it were only for a day or two, I’d sign you on to my profile. Since you may need full access, I’ll set up your own so you don’t have to wade through all my stuff.”

  “I didn’t know you knew anything about computers.”

  “Not by choice. In college, a lot of the designs were digital, then getting back from a mission, when my brain and body were toast, gaming was a nice way to unwind. More recently, I’ve started keeping track of recipes, ideas for new brews.”

  With a few quick keystrokes, he had her all set and hopped out of the seat. She brushed past, a little closer than necessary, but she was undoubtedly the moth to his flame. Fisting her hand at the last second, she resisted grazing her hand over his.

  She hated computers, but had known this was coming. Although she'd counted the tiresome hours of her digital design course until she could pick up a brush again in art school, she was glad she'd wouldn't have to learn quite so much on the fly.

  “You good?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  He headed to the kitchen and started pulling out some odd-looking contraptions, a few more canisters from the shelf in the dining room, plus a huge stockpot. Organizing his gear, his brow furrowed as he focused on each step, jotting down a few notes as he worked, he looked like quite the chemist. Smiling softly, she turned back to her own work.

  Where did she even start? Well, she needed a home base. She’d already done most of the research, now it was a matter of making it happen. Pulling out her credit card, she bit the bullet and bought a memorable domain name. Then a fancy email. A newsletter service. Ugh. This added up quickly.

  She hadn’t even started to build her portfolio when the shadows stretched long across the apartment. Her brain throbbed as she imagined her next steps, and the utter insanity of attempting to set up a retail page, wondering if it were possible to link to some of the major galleries and online sellers. Checking the time, she realized she’d completely missed lunch and dinner was about to be a lost cause. As her belly grumbled at her, she caught the scent of garlic sautéing.

  Turning around in the chair, she saw Zane had long since packed up his beer making supplies, a few dozen bottles capped and tucked into the corner. On the stove, he was stirring something yummy. His hair was long past the tight military fade he’d had when they first met and was now downright scruffy. Nor had he shaved since Tahoe. His cargo sho
rts rode low on his hips, his white t-shirt teasing at giving her a glimpse of skin.

  Shoes already on the floor under the desk, as she’d slipped them off long ago, she walked barefoot into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around his waist while he tended to the stove. Unsurprised, or at least, not breaking stride, he rested his hand over hers and kept stirring.

  His voice rumbled through her like a full body massage, “Get a good start?”

  She nodded, her hair brushing against the cotton of his shirt. “I officially have an online presence. Not that there’s anything to see yet, besides an under-construction memo. The content will have to wait for another day.”

  “Come back as often as you need. Otherwise that thing’s a giant dust collector.”

  “Thanks.” She ought to move. “Smells good in here.” And not just the garlic. Breathing him in, like his voice, his scent affected her, a breeze through the forest on a midsummer day.

  “Want some?”

  “Yes please,” she smiled against him.

  Still holding her against him, he added chopped butternut squash and walnuts to the pan. On the counter, a wooden bowl was filled with mixed salad greens, two plates already waiting next to it.

  Detaching herself, she opened the cabinet next to him and pulled out a pair of glasses, filling both with water. At the square wooden dining table, rustic-meets-industrial like the computer desk, she pulled two circular placements from the center, cloth napkins from the basket and set the table. A few moments later, he scooped the savory mixture over the salad. Like a seasoned chef, he sprinkled goat cheese over the top and drizzled olive oil and balsamic, then a few grinds of cracked pepper.

  With a fork and spoon, he tossed the mixture, then loaded up both of their plates. Her stomach growled as he carried the plates to the table.

  “You always eat like this?” she asked.

  “Like what?”

  “This is really good,” she said as she scooped in her second bite.

  “You watched. It took a grand total of ten minutes. I’m lazy. This is one of my go-tos, or some variation of it, whatever I've got on hand.” He tilted his head with an easy smile as he took another bite. “If you had been home all day, what would you be eating right now?”

  “Similar, actually. I assumed you were another steak and potatoes guy like Asher.” She took a sip of her water, then gestured with her fork, “I’ve never understood the appeal. Standing in front of a blazing hot open flame on a hot day so I can eat a hot meal? No thank you.”

  “And there are very few forms of potato worth eating.”

  “Be careful, or I may come over to mooch dinner more often.”

  He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “As long as it’s not considered cohabitating.”

  She grimaced. “Oh yeah. I forgot about that.” Looking down at her ring, she bit her lips together and pulled the pretty thing off, holding out for him to take. Without it, her finger looked drab now.

  His expression fell, probably from the reminder that they had been so stupid. After a pause, he took it and stuffed it in his pocket. He went to pull off his ring, but she stopped him. “No, keep it. See what you can get for it. I owe you a lot more than that for footing the rest of the bill.”

  “You don’t owe me anything. Really, I think it was my idea.”

  “Oh, I can easily imagine my drunken-self thinking what a brilliant plan it was.”

  13

  Outside the Little Sailor’s Room

  Flicking the water out of his hair, Zane cringed as he realized how scruffy he’d gotten. He reached out of the shower and grabbed his towel, drying loosely and lumbering into his bedroom. Still on the charger, his phone flashed blue.

  Tapping the screen, he saw he’d missed a call from his father, a voicemail waiting. Nope. Probably asking when they can come visit. Not ready for that.

  Grumbling to himself, he finished drying and pulled on cargo shorts and a t-shirt, stuffing the phone into his pocket. In the kitchen, he glared at his coffeepot, wanting one of Freya’s fancy instant espressos. Probably shouldn’t.

  They’d agreed they were friends. Friends bummed coffee off each other. Didn’t mean they were cohabitating.

  Over the dining table, one of Freya’s paintings really dressed the place up. Felt like he was overlooking a flourishing vineyard in the Loire valley. The corner of his mouth quirked up as he recalled Freya stopping by last night, right as he’d been getting ready for bed.

  She’d stuttered over her words, suddenly shy. A thank you gift, she’d said.

  For what? He’d asked.

  Well, lots of things. Let’s just say it’s for letting me use your computer, as I’m going be using it a lot over the next few weeks until I get my own. And for dinner. And as payment for our wedding. Passing it across, she’d left as quickly as she’d come.

  Pulling on his shoes, he strolled down the stairs and crossed over to Freya’s place. Sophie’s car was gone, reminding him it was still the work week. Damn, he didn’t even know what day it was anymore. Not that he was complaining, but it was weird.

  An alpine breeze had circled around the mountains, bringing cool air to the valley. The lawn was getting long. It was sort of his too, so he’d make a point to mow it this afternoon.

  Not that he’d ever mowed a lawn. Freya mowed last, but it had taken all day with the massive park-like front and back lawns, and she had so much else on her plate right now. If it were his place, he’d wipe out most of the lawn with hardscaping and low maintenance gardens, maybe a water feature with natural boulders, intricately branched evergreens, and colorful trailing florals…

  Shit. He shook his head. He’d taken a few landscaping classes, as the building can be stunning, but without a coordinating surround, it didn’t matter how good your design. May as well use what he knew; he’d draw up some schematics for Asher and Sophie and see what they thought. Hell, he may as well do some mock-ups for the house while he was at it. They had a contractor coming out soon anyway. They may not own it yet, but they were already making it their own.

  He might as well accept that growing up with obsessive architects and studying it himself for four years shaped how his brain worked. Not that he wanted anything in common with his parents, and not that he would ever let them know it, but he did have a knack for design. Didn’t mean he wanted to do it for a living; hearing his parents’ monotonous lectures had been even more boring than his college courses on flying buttresses and curved versus angled arches, ancient quarries and brick making. It had sounded cool on the course description, but he still recited some of those slideshows when he couldn’t sleep.

  Hopping up the steps to the front porch, he raised his hand to knock, then backed up a step. Dammit, he was going to blow this annulment if he kept nosing around. Bad enough they’d had dinner together. A standing coffee date was pushing it.

  The door swung open. Freya leaned against the open door, smiling with that confidence that couldn’t be tamed… and he’d throttle anyone that tried, fuming at the thought of those asshole fiancés that had come close. Pushing down the temper boiling in his gut, he let his gaze fall on her irresistible blue eyes.

  His breath caught in his throat, the air around him spinning as he tried to keep his feet anchored to the ground beneath him. Her amused grin taunted him, lighting her up even brighter, her curls sleek like how she’d worn them at the wedding, and she was dressed in the hottest sundress that begged for a picnic under a shady oak tree… the kind where he’d get to untie those shoulder straps and…

  Blinking, he stopped the thought in its tracks. Annulment. No sex. Not even fooling around, even if no one else would know. “Hey, sorry to bug you. You on your way somewhere?”

  She shook her head. “Sometimes I need to feel pretty.”

  “I know what you mean,” he teased. Folding his arms over his chest, he restrained himself from closing the distance between them and tugging her against him, seeing if she smelled as refreshing as she looked.

&
nbsp; “I saw you wavering outside, deciding whether or not to knock.”

  He tilted his head with a lazy shrug.

  “How about this? No knocking, just come on in. You are my husband, after all, so there should be some perks until we get this marriage erased, like getting to lay eyes on a handsome man first thing in the morning,” she grinned and raised an eyebrow in jest, biting the corner of her mouth with something much more sultry.

  The corner of his mouth quirked up of its own accord, his imagination running wild, wondering just how much they could stretch things and still get that annulment. They’d agreed handholding was likely acceptable. What about kissing? They were damn good at that. What might the judge ask; have you had sex since you’ve been married, have you cohabitated? Unlikely to ask if they’d rounded the bases a bit, staying shy of home plate…

  Shaking his head, he closed his eyes and swallowed the wicked wanderings of his awakened libido. Coming over on a regular basis was a terrible idea; easy access without even needing to work up the nerve to knock? Self-inflicted torture really wasn’t his thing.

  “What brings you here this morning?” She stepped back to let him in.

  Keeping his arms crossed, he wandered in. “Coffee. I like yours better than mine.”

  She grinned. “Have a seat.”

  While he waited at the island, she practically danced as she moved. Had she always seemed so vibrant? “Thanks for that painting. It looks amazing in my apartment, like it should be in a high-end gallery or something. Why don’t you sell it?”

  She scowled, her posture stiffening and blue eyes boiling. Shit. He’d pissed her off again. At least she didn’t pace or shout this time. Instead, she kept her tone measured, as if teaching a foolish student. “I should make this clear right now. Yes, I paint to make a living. But more, I’m happiest when I can give a piece away to someone that I know will appreciate it. I keep a record of everything I’ve done, well, that’s worth keeping anyway, and list it in my portfolio. So even if I won’t make money on that one, once I get my website up and going and can promote my portfolio, it will show potential buyers my range.”