The flopping feet halted, followed by the creak of the bathroom door. The sound heightened over the tile floor of the bathroom, no more than a layer of sheetrock between them. Relaxing against the door, she tried to slow her pulse.
Instead of pulling on his swim shorts, Zane set them on top of the dryer and closed the narrow distance between them, his bare skin an inch from hers. It took about every bit of restraint she was capable of to not plaster herself against him, her breasts heavy as she craved more of his touch. As much as her brain understood where that would lead, again, her nipples tightened and pulled her toward him. Dammit, her body knew pheromones, and didn’t give a shit about annulments.
Whispering in her ear, his breath against her skin reminding her of how clever that mouth was, he said, “Was that closer to handholding or consummating?”
A silent chuckle escaped her lips, their eyes meeting in the dim room, both sporting devious grins. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I happened to have bumped into you while doing my laundry.”
The sink through the wall turned on, their unwelcome neighbor washing their hands. Stepping back, he grabbed her bag and handed it to her before finally pulling on his swim shorts. Freya slipped on the black bikini.
The bathroom door swung open and closed again, a few quick flip-flops, then a soft knock at the door stopped Freya’s heart entirely. Pippa’s voice echoed through the door, “Freya?”
“Yes?” she managed to answer, her voice crackling as the panic started to ease that it wasn’t either of her parents or her aunt or uncle.
“If you’re hungry, we’re dishing up. Is Zane upstairs? I’ll go let him know.”
“I, uh, I’ve about got the washer figured out. I’ll tell him.”
“I forgot they bought a new machine. Need a hand in there?”
“Nope. I’ve got all the hands I need,” she stifled a chuckle as very, very capable hands traced down her sternum, then scooped under her swimsuit top and grasped her breasts in his palms, simultaneously tweaking her taut nipples until she lost her voice. She flashed him a glare; not easy to appear convincing as she leaned into his grip, her breath caught in her throat as she was already primed to react to his touch and halfway to another orgasm.
“Okay. Well, again, I’m really sorry about the champagne. I’ve got an extra change of clothes if yours aren’t done in time.”
More footsteps walked toward them as Pippa continued her painfully long conversation, Zane driving her out of her mind as he massaged.
Asher’s voice echoed through the door, “Zane? Quit ruining your annulment with my cousin and get your ass out here. Dinner’s ready.”
Slipping his hands out of her top, Zane placed a lingering kiss on the upper curve of her breast as he checked that she was tucked back in properly, then swung the door open. “Cockblock,” he muttered at Asher as he headed out.
As they walked away, Asher corrected, “Wingman.”
While Pippa stood shellshocked in the hall, Freya dumped in the laundry soap and turned on the washing machine. Finally, she bit her lip to hide her smile and acknowledged Pippa. “Not a word,” she raised her eyebrows.
“Of course not,” Pippa shrugged dramatically. “Come on. How many times did you cover for me when I’d sneak out to Lincoln’s?”
Freya’s head tipped back as laughter bubbled up from her throat. “Once. Your graduation night when you finally gave Lincoln your virginity.” She turned and pulled her sundress from her bag.
“That’s it? Sophie’s right. I should have gotten into more trouble.”
“Or not. Look where it’s gotten me? Three broken engagements and a drunk wedding I’m going to blow the annulment for because every time I’m with the man, we end up fooling around. You couldn’t handle breaking the rules, and I can’t resist quality pheromones.”
“Maybe this time they’re right.”
“Doesn’t matter. Do you know the last time I painted anything?”
Pippa’s eyebrows dropped. They halted before going out the front door. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I have artist’s block. Zane is a distraction I don’t need.”
“You’ve only been home a few weeks. It’s probably more the stress of the move than Zane. Be patient, it’ll come back.”
“You sound like me.”
“See? I’m not a hopeless case.” Pippa grinned and waved Freya ahead. “You’re right. Sometimes you should go with the flow.”
Dinner was relaxed; burgers in the shade, the sun glinting off the pool, not a sound but the easy conversation of her favorite people on the planet. Swallowing her last bite of burger, she walked to the garbage bag that hung over the edge of the fence.
Tammy followed close behind and dashed to catch up while Freya held the trash bag open. “Thanks,” she smiled. “You look relaxed.”
“I guess I am. It’s really good to be home,” she curled her toes on the rough concrete, eyeing the pool and counting the minutes until she could climb in.
Halting before they rejoined the others, Tammy twiddled her thumbs awkwardly.
“What’s up, Mom?” Freya nodded to Tammy’s restless hands and crossed her arms.
“There’s a rumor floating around. About you. And Zane.”
Oh shit. Freya’s pulse thundered in her ears as she accepted that at least some of the hundreds of people had probably witnessed her stupidity. “Okay.”
“You know your Aunt Clara. She says that after leaving the party, you two headed across the street and had a romantic dinner, then wandered into the wedding chapel across from the hotel and came out laughing and smiling and kissing and… married.”
Freya kicked her foot against the patio. Grimacing as a sharp pebble jabbed into her skin, she hissed, “Aunt Clara is a busybody. That doesn’t sound like a coincidence, it sounds like spying.”
“Well, yes, that’s why I unfriended her on Facebook. But tell me…” Tammy stared into Freya, the maternal-worried-frown extracting the tears she poorly attempted to blink away. “Wait. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up here. Can I come visit you Wednesday? Better yet, let me take you out to breakfast.”
Keeping her lips pursed tight, she nodded.
Clearing her throat, Tammy said, “Wasn’t Lulu’s gown awful? I could see her butt crack.”
A tickle of laughter released Freya’s throat. “It was terrible. What was she thinking, wearing a red thong with a white dress?”
“Oh, and you’ll love this. After you left, Aunt Del came over and asked where your special friend had gone. Kept saying how she’d hoped to rope him in for a dance so she could pinch that butt.”
The tickle turned into a riotous chortle. “She implied as much when she met him. Was she always so inappropriate?”
“To an extent. I talked to Gloria, and she said it’s worse since her divorce; she’s been trying to start an affair with some hot young thing. Gloria has tried to reign her in, letting her know she could, and should, get in serious trouble for that sort of behavior.”
“I can’t even tell Zane; he’d be so horrified.”
Tammy bit her lips together, then whispered, “I like him. And I think he likes you a lot.”
“Thought we weren’t talking about it.”
“Sorry. Sorry. We’ll talk Wednesday.”
“Thanks.” Freya tugged her dress over her head and set it on the back of a chair, then slipped into the pool. Warm as the Mediterranean, she put her head under so only her own thoughts could get to her.
After crossing the length of the pool, she turned to see Pippa chuck a ball to her with a half-assed heads up. Fortunately, she had terrible aim and the ball didn’t even make it halfway to Freya. Her quiet swim rapidly morphed into a rambunctious game of water basketball. Once her fingers were entirely pruned, her muscles heavy from the workout, she climbed the ladder and wrapped herself in a plush towel, still warm from the setting sun.
She dried off her feet on the doormat again and walked through the hou
se to the laundry room. Denise had moved their clothes along while they goofed off in the pool like a bunch of rowdy kids, all overdue for the release after the last few months. Between Pippa and Lincoln’s wedding, everyone moving, new jobs… eloping… it had been a hell of a time for all of them.
Closing the door, she slipped off her swimsuit and pulled on her luxuriously warm panties fresh from the dryer. Her bra was hung neatly from a hook, so she tucked it in the bag with her wet swim stuff. Just as toasty from the sun, her dress brushed over her bare breasts, sensitized as she relived her earlier venture into the laundry room.
This time they’d been smart. Zane waited outside while she got changed. After watching him swim like he’d been born to the water, her imagination was running wild enough. Water basketball hadn’t been much safer, as man-to-man defense was so much more fun when the man was so damn sexy, and she could tug him by the waistband to get around him, whisper naked ideas in his ear to distract him… but torture of the worst sort when all she wanted to do was strip off her top and… shaking her head, she tried to focus on the laundry.
She folded Zane’s shorts and t-shirt, neatly tucking them in his bag. Checking the dryer to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, her hand brushed over something metal, a soft scraping sound as it spun on the metal wall of the dryer. Grabbing it, she realized Zane’s ring must have been in his pocket.
Sliding it onto her thumb, she walked out with their things. Zane was already on the way in and froze when he saw her. The corner of his mouth quirked up, and he resumed his progress toward her, his plush towel wrapped around his waist. Standing inches apart, his voice hoarse, he asked, “You about ready?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Sophie riding home with Asher?”
“Yeah. They’re staying at your place tonight.”
“K. I’ll meet you at the truck?” She handed him his clean clothes.
He nodded and dug his keys from his bag, handing them to her. “Go ahead. I’ll be just a minute.”
Lying wide awake in bed, Zane gave up on sleep. At least it hadn’t been nightmares, as he couldn’t even get to sleep to begin with. He’d calculated adjustments to favorite beer recipes, considered the possibility of opening his own brewhouse, maybe even have some food on the menu but small scale. When that didn’t work, he resorted to reciting architectural principles to bore himself to sleep, but that pissed him off, remembering his parents would be arriving soon and would do their utmost to get him interested in architecture again.
He lumbered to the bathroom and took a long shower, but the soap Freya had bought him reminded him of how good she always smelled. Earthy, spicy, refreshing, as complex as she was. When even the glass of hot milk he’d resorted to didn’t work, he gave up.
He’d already spent all damn day and the night before reliving his stolen moment with Freya. What had he been thinking, doing what he’d done with her in the laundry room in the middle of a family party? And, fuck, she’d been so damn hot, tasted so damn good, her response so genuine. Yeah, they weren’t supposed to be fooling around, but the moment had been so natural, like their weekend before the damn wedding.
No doubt about it, they couldn’t see each other anymore. At least not until the annulment hearing was over and they were free to be free again.
Maybe he’d walk over there, sneak in, and if she was awake, he’d make sure she was okay with everything that had happened; she’d been so quiet on the drive home. He given her space, but it was killing him.
And if she was asleep? Even better. It wasn’t cohabitating if he stole a few hours snuggle. And she’d have to sleep over when his parents got there anyway.
He opened the closet to grab his shoes, only to find they’d landed on Jack, a muddy shoeprint tarnishing his stainless-steel case in his isolated corner.
Fucking shit, Jack. Lowering to his knees, he tried to brush away the crusted dirt, a few fine scratches already etched into the side.
You couldn’t have waited two more days? Staring at the lifeless box, he was roped into the mental trap he’d been avoiding. Two fucking days, that’s it. Maybe he could have…
Nope. Not doing it. It was past time.
Rising to his feet, he stalked back to the bedroom. He picked up the phone and put it back down again. Asher didn’t deserve his night ruined by Zane waking him to demand they set a time to scatter Jack.
He couldn’t have said why he did it, but hell, he did. Before he could second guess himself, he hit send. Answering before the first ring even finished, Freya’s bleary voice soothed the ache in his chest, “Zane? Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he exhaled.
“Okay. Good.” She paused, waiting for him to speak.
His mouth opened to say something, anything, but no sound came out. Burning in his chest, a million notions refused to emerge as anything coherent. “Sorry I woke you.”
“I’ll come over.”
“No. That’s okay. Just… talk to me.”
“Okay. Um, I painted all day. It felt amazing.”
“That’s great. I know you hadn’t been feeling it lately.” His breath came easier, lighter as he shifted his focus.
“I hadn’t, but something clicked. It felt… better than ever.”
“Can I see it? Tomorrow?”
“Anytime.”
“I’d say right now. I couldn’t sleep and was on my way over, but… anyway. Tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.” He could hear her smile on the other end, coated with those nerves he knew she couldn’t hide when it came to sharing her work. So damn confident in all things, but so vulnerable when she shared something so personal.
“I set up an Instagram account.”
“I’m sorry. You hate social media.”
“I really, really do. But I really love being home again, so it’s a necessary evil.”
“What are you going to post?”
“I have no idea. I think I’ll follow a few interesting people first, you know, get a feel for things first.”
“I let Jack die,” he blurted out, the words having been waiting until he wasn’t holding them back.
“What? No you didn’t. You were there when he died. They couldn’t revive him.”
“Before that. I knew something was up. But we left him.”
“You couldn’t have known what would happen.”
“Logically, I know you’re right. By some miracle, he made it out of there. But he never got over it. Never walked again. So damn many surgeries. I should have been there with him. I was trying to hurry my ass out of the Navy and get out of the shitshow it had become without Asher and Jack… and I watched him slip away. Too many pain pills. Then harder stuff when he couldn’t make the pain go away.”
“He was a lucky guy.”
What?
“To have you worry about him. To regret that you couldn’t save him. I know you left the Navy to take care of him. He knew you were coming for him.”
“I wasn’t fast enough.”
“He would have held on if he could. He waited for you and Asher in the end. He didn't die alone.”
Rubbing a hand over his face Zane let the image of Jack lying motionless in the hospital bed, so many tubes and wires. His ears still rang with the flatline alarm.
“What would he say, if he saw you in this holding pattern, refusing to move on? It’s not that you don’t have a dream, it’s that you won’t let yourself.”
He chuckled under his breath, a burning behind his eyes at the absurdity, “Jack didn’t like to word things pretty. He’d tell me to shit or get off the pot.”
Her smile resonated in her voice, “He’s lucky to have friends that will be sure he’s remembered. Tell me something crazy about him.”
Dropping back on the bed, his throat threatened to close at the barrage of memories flooding in. “He was afraid of heights.”
“Seriously? He was a Navy SEAL.”
“I know, right? He’d get to the door of the plane, and he’d grip the sides and whisper so the
other guys couldn’t hear, ‘I can’t. Just push me out before I start bawling like a baby.’”
“Did you?”
“Fuck yeah. Kept his trap shut the entire fall, but the second we hit the water, he was the first to the surface so he could dunk me the moment I came up for air and promise to kick my ass if we survived the op.”
“And when you got home?”
“By then he was thankful. Until Asher and I took him on a surprise trip to the Grand Canyon.”
“You guys had some good times.”
“Yeah, yeah we did.”
“Sounds like a good friend. Would he blame you?”
Shit. “Of course not. It’s the job. Always a risk.”
“I wish I’d known about you while you were in. I was already worrying about Asher; I could have worried about you too.”
“And sent me care packages? His parents would send me the best stuff. Fancy chocolate and magazines with sports updates and Paul even snuck in a Playboy when Asher hinted that we were going stir-crazy overseas.”
“Maybe I would have sent you some naked pics.”
Laughter bubbled up and loosened the damn frog in his throat. “Tell me exactly in detail how you would have posed for those.”
She laughed out loud; he closed his eyes and pictured those rosy lips turned up in whole-hearted amusement.
“Phone sex isn’t cohabitating or consummating.” He grinned, shifting the pillow under his head to get comfy. “Although, video-chatting would be way better, then you can show me exactly what you’d be wearing, or not, for my dirty pics.”
“As much as I would love to accommodate you, especially after our laundry room adventure, I’m going to pass tonight.”
“Tomorrow then?”
“We’ll see. Goodnight, Zane.”
“’Night, Freya. Thanks.”
“Anytime. Seriously.”
Closing his eyes, he indulged in the what-ifs.
16
FUBARed
Fuck. Nothing was going the way it was supposed to. Having no plan had seemed brilliant. What better way to let the last few years fade?
Zane stared into the closet at his muddy black running shoes, teetering against Jack again. Biting his cheek, he forced air in and out before the fucking waterworks started. Not that he was some macho ass that refused to cry. Hell, if anyone deserved to have someone down on their knees, screaming at the sky and furiously crying rageful tears of life’s-not-fucking-fair, it was Jack.
The Next Day (Foothills Book 2) Page 15