The Next Day (Foothills Book 2)

by Carrie Thorne

  Leaning in, he rode her thrill, her fairy dust coating them together as their lips met fluidly. Familiar, irresistible, he felt the zing prickle over his skin, his pulse kick up in a steady rhythm to match hers. His hand splayed over her low back as hers laced around the back of his neck, fingers teasing in his short hair.

  Footsteps behind him shattered what was a pretty epic moment, each footfall crushing the words he wished he’d said when he had the chance.

  Pulling away, he let go and walked to the window. Overlooking the park, he watched a trio of kids playing tag, young lovers gazing into each other’s eyes on their picnic blanket, elderly sisters strolling arm-in-arm down the gravel path, and the old man feeding the birds.

  “This building is lovely,” his mom began hopefully. He couldn’t turn his back, knowing exactly the expression she wore. It wasn’t flattering to either of them. He should have kept on driving instead of sharing this with them.

  His father added, “I’ll look forward to seeing your mockups for the final designs.”

  No fucking way.

  And his mom’s turn. “This room is nice, but impractical for what you need. You should knock out these walls and create a formal meeting space for rent.”

  And his dad. “I suppose you’ll be brewing onsite. No one will want to see those ugly tanks, so I can help with a façade to hide them.”

  He muttered under his breath, “No thanks.” He’d envisioned letting folks see the industrial look of it, feeling like they were part of the process.

  “Zane, honey. This is a lovely project for you. We just want to help.”

  Turning, he glared, “Why?”

  His father’s cheek raised with shock, “Why? We’re your parents. We love you.”

  Whatever pang, whatever new rhythm his pulse had been settling into, was masked by searing hot blood boiling under his skin. “Sure.” He gritted his teeth, refusing to say more.

  Striding past, he checked his pace and walked out of the unfinished room.

  Freya’s voice was laced with an edge he hadn’t heard, cutting through the hollow building. “Why did you come?”

  Uppity as fuck, his mother huffed, “To see our son. To meet the wife that we’d never even heard of.”

  “Right. Of course. Because you’d hate for him to make the wrong choice. To decide what he wants for himself.”

  “That’s not–” His father tried to interrupt.

  Freya was a hurricane that wouldn’t be stopped. “No. That is what’s happened. How many times was he out on a mission, and you didn’t even know your son was risking his life? For his country? For innocents that couldn’t defend themselves? For his friends? Because it was the right thing to do. Because he wanted to challenge himself. Because that was his dream.”

  Zane leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed as he watched his furious wife. She was a sight to be seen, livid on fire on his behalf. Did she really think all that? Aching, filling with a hope he hadn’t known, he let the corners of his mouth quirk up as she said all the words he’d swallowed for too damn long.

  “And where were you when he lost his best friend? When he decided to leave the Navy because he had lost himself? And when he’s finally found something he enjoys and wants to make a career out of it, found a hometown he wants to settle in… and a wife that thinks his dreams are beautiful?” She crossed her arms over her chest, smoke billowing from the top of her head.

  His parents fell silent, but not for long enough. His mom found her voice, hissing, “Who do you think you are–”

  “I am his wife. In the short time I’ve known him, I know that he’s so much more than you give him credit for. If you paid attention for half a damn minute, you’d see the promise of this place. The beauty of something new.”

  Blood beyond boiling, reaching volcanic levels as Freya defended him, his parents clearly not getting the point, Zane’s fists clenched at his sides, molars ground to nothing, he opened his mouth to speak. To stand up for his wife that stood up for him.

  His mother gulped a bubble of air, “Well, I… I think I need some fresh air.” She turned and nearly ran into Zane.

  He let out the breath he’d been holding. “Freya’s right. This is what I want. I…” Just get it over with. He couldn’t unclench his teeth, his raw cheek wedged between his molars the only thing warding off a broken jaw. “I’m sorry I’ve always been such a disappointment for you. Blaire didn’t get it any more than either of you. I won’t bother describing the last twelve years of my life to you. But I’ve known so much loss, yet lived to the limits. And now? I’ve got this incredible wife that will fight for my dreams, and I hope to hell she’ll let me fight for hers.”

  Craig let out a heavy exhale. “I’ve got to say, it was tough, watching you push yourself, saying you wanted to be a damn Navy SEAL. What were we supposed to do? Let you risk your life on a dream that probably wouldn’t come true? When you agreed to give the architecture program a try, then married a woman whose ideals aligned so perfectly with those we’d taught you?”

  Shaking her head, Susan crossed to Craig and leaned into him. “It’s hard to watch your son risk everything when you don’t understand why. It was easier to be patient and hope you’d come back one day.”

  Continuing where she left off, Craig nodded. “And now you’ve married some artist you never mentioned, suddenly want to start some brewery, and live in this remote town? I guess we don’t know how to respond.”

  Zane backed out of the doorway, catching Freya’s eye. “Let’s go.”

  20

  Walk in the Park

  Dinner was… well, awkward would be putting it lightly. Freya had worked at Zane’s side in the kitchen, tossing together the salad base while he shredded and heated the chicken, garlic, and almonds. Nothing fancy, as he was too crabby to bake the salmon he’d planned. Craig had complimented the beer over dinner, the food, and he and Susan were both pleasantly surprised by the understated gourmet meal.

  After watching a generic movie in a darkened living room until it was late enough to call it a night without looking rude, Freya dragged Zane to bed. He hadn’t said much. Nobody had said much. Nothing like the verbose Marks family meals.

  Sliding into the cool sheets, the crisp moon illuminating the room, Freya reached across and smoothed the thick line between Zane’s eyebrows.

  Taking her wrist, he kissed the base of her palm. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Everything.”

  “I understand why you don’t talk about your family much. That must have been hard to grow up with, not feeling supported.”

  “Know what?” his voice was laced with gravel like he was suffering from back-to-back red-eye jetlag. “I don’t really want to talk about them right now either.”

  His arm laced around her middle and pulled her closer. Pasting her body against his, entwining their legs, she didn’t argue.

  Warm and pliant, his lips contrasted the hardness of his body, still tense from the day. Savoring, he tasted and explored. Like their first kiss, zings of thrill fired through her veins. Slow and easy, he trailed his thumb over her jaw and cradled her against him.

  A soft sigh passed her lips. Heat licked through her, her breasts aching for him to touch her, kiss her again. Needing more, she pressed her hips against his and rocked against him.

  “Uh-uh,” he murmured. “Only a few more days.”

  A chuckle bubbled up from her throat. “We must be the first people in history waiting until we’re not married to have sex.”

  Still kissing her, he grinned. “One weekend wasn’t enough for me. But a lifetime is more than we planned. So just a few more days, and then, I say we make up for the last few weeks.”

  She pulled his tongue into her mouth and tugged before releasing him. “Think you could explain your plan to celebrate our annulment in precise detail? It might hold me over.”

  One last kiss and he drew back to the edge of the bed. “This could take all night.”

>   “I’m not going anywhere.” Freya lay facing him, letting the strap of her top fall off her shoulder.

  Inhaling sharply, he groaned. “First, I’m going to…”

  Closing her eyes, Freya listened to him talk for longer and with more detail than he had since she’d met him. His descriptions were explicit, his voice hungry as he described exactly what he had in mind, and the laundry room romp was nothing by comparison as he sent her soaring with nothing more than his words.

  After a sleepless night, Freya awoke entangled in Zane. Sitting up, she caught him watching her with a sleepy smile, his eyes still unfocused and heavy, sleepy as he’d kept her up all night.

  Consequences be damned, she leaned in and stole a languorous kiss. Skin warm and smooth against hers, he slipped on top and grazed his lips along the curve of her neck. In a trail of pure ecstasy, he circled her breast with his hands, his mouth, sucking until she cried out.

  Whispering a teasing, “Shhh,” he lowered and pressed his mouth to her core. Laving, he gave her a taste of what he’d teased at last night. Her breath came faster, heat blazing over her skin, she came again and again.

  Propping up to his elbows, he kissed her thigh and grinned. “So,” he croaked, “Breakfast?”

  She scowled. “We’d better hurry before your mother tries to cook again.”

  He bolted upright, “Fuck, I forgot they were here. Let’s grab a quick shower and then I’ll fry up some sausage to go with your scrambled eggs?”

  “Is that code?”

  “Ha. No.”

  “At least say you meant to shower together?”

  “It’s going to involve more than handholding.”

  “It’s a date.”

  During their not-short shower, Freya was convinced she might spontaneously combust. How much more could she take? There had been handholding. Among other… things. She’d demonstrated some of what she had planned for their post-annulment celebration. Showering and nonpenetrative intercourse wasn’t consummating. Probably. She definitely wasn’t calling Grady to ask for details on the semantics.

  After a quiet breakfast, with actually not unpleasant small talk about the area, the weather, and even a few stories of Zane as a child, they agreed a local hike would be perfect. Freya scooped in her last bite of eggs and rose to clear her plate. “Riverside Trail is a lazy walk along the river. My grandparents and I used to walk along the main road and hop on the trail at the bridge.”

  Susan smiled with an extra buoyancy, “Of course. That sounds wonderful. We’ll get ready to go.”

  Zane rose from the table and cleared the remaining plates, even though his father still hadn’t finished. “Know what? It’s a really gentle hike. You’re perfect in what you’re wearing. Grab some shoes and we can get going so we beat the weekend crowds.”

  “Oh, of course.” Susan smoothed her khaki shorts and scuttled into the bathroom.

  Craig looked to be working at jumping on board but hadn’t quite gotten there yet, but Susan maintained the overly accommodating attitude. He fumbled his phone in his hands. “I’ll uh, just fire off a text to… I’ll let work know we’ll be unavailable for the day.”

  Quickly tossing on her sneakers, Freya zipped into the kitchen to at least get the breakfast pan soaking and dishes rinsed. She barely had time to wipe down the countertops when Zane’s parents were pulling their shoes on and heading to the door. Impressive.

  She tossed the rag next to the sink and followed them out the door. A few steps behind, Zane’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked the screen and held up his hand, “It’s Grady. I’ll catch up.”

  Snagging a quick kiss as he put the phone to his ear, Zane flashed her a sizzling wink before answering. Bouncing down the steps like gravity wasn’t a thing, Freya joined Susan and Craig as they waited at the base of the stairs, studying the main house.

  Pointing to the awning, Susan nodded knowingly, “Excellent color choices, and I can see where the shutters have been updated.”

  Craig considered, then added, “Sharper of an angled roof for a craftsman than is typical. Must be handy if there’s a heavy snow.”

  Braving the topic, keeping her voice light, Freya said, “My grandfather was quite particular about that. He wanted to build a home that would stand for generations.”

  “That’s right, your grandparents owned this,” Craig nodded. Freya resisted snorting. Maybe they should have their memories checked. Or their attention span.

  Tires crunched the gravel in the distance, an engine growling at too high of a speed for a low gear. Instinct sent adrenaline coursing deep under Freya’s skin, setting her gut rumbling in protest at the sound. No one friendly drove up that fast.

  “Go,” she motioned for her in-laws to head up the stairs.

  “What? Um, okay,” the slow-pokes began to meander up the steps.

  Too late. Stranded at the base of the steps, Freya turned as the truck came into view.

  No longer shiny, chunks of dried mud dropped off the wheel wells as the truck slammed on the brakes, sending loose gravel splaying in all directions. Arms crossed, Freya stood tall.

  Toby flung open the driver’s side door and stomped out. “Where is he?” Eyes bloodshot, greasy hair plastered flat to his scalp, he growled and scanned the property.

  “What?” Not good. Freya could smell the liquor through the dust that hung in the air.

  “That cheating husband of yours.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She forced her voice steady, hating the underlying waver.

  “You ought to be as pissed as I am. He’s been fucking my wife behind both our backs.”

  Toby stormed closer, his arms stiff at his sides, a snarl on his teeth.

  Freya stood her ground, her pulse thundering, breath coming fast as panic set in. If Zane came out now? She held her ground, dreading what he had planned for Zane.

  As Toby neared, he reached to shove her out of the way. “Don’t protect that two-timing piece of shit.”

  Creaking on its hinges, the apartment door swung open. Dammit, Zane. Freya anchored her feet, whipping her head toward the open door. “Don’t you fucking touch her,” Zane roared.

  Sneering, Toby growled, “’Bout time you show your face. Although, tit for tat, Freya here can come on with me and I’ll show her the good time you showed my wife.”

  Rather than the shove she’d been anticipating, Toby grabbed her arm and yanked her against him.

  “Don’t touch me,” she tried to rip free, but his grip was iron. Trying to swing her body to throw her hip into him and drop using some strategies she’d learned in self-defense class, she froze when he reached behind his back with his free hand.

  Spitting in his face, she bought more time before he could take aim.

  “Bitch,” Toby let the spit stream down his face as he drew the gun.

  From the corner of her vision, she saw Zane’s parents still frozen on the steps. Bypassing the statues they’d become, Zane leaped over the rail and landed on the gravel, his feet moving before he even hit the ground, taking off at a furious sprint toward them.

  As Zane closed in, Toby swung the gun and aimed directly at Zane.

  Stopping on a dime, Zane raised his arms and Zane froze in place. “She has nothing to do with it. Let her go.”

  “But she does. I heard about you sweet talking Sienna while she was at work, thinking word wouldn’t get back to me. Bitch didn’t even deny it. So, Freya and I are going for a little drive so I can show her what being fucked by a real man looks like.”

  “In your dreams,” she roared. Straining at his grip, she tried to get him to look away, to lower the gun, something, but he didn’t move his eyes or the gun from Zane.

  Never taking an eye off of Zane, Toby tugged at Freya, dragging her toward his truck. Her arm throbbed from his tight hold.

  “Don’t think you’re going to be able to get her into the truck without losing your grip on that gun,” Zane nodded, his expression remarkably calm.
>
  “You’re right,” he sneered. “Get in the truck or he’s dead.” Her gut hollowed as she realized she was out of options. Didn’t matter if she could get away, his finger was already twitching over the trigger. One wrong move, and Zane was dead.

  At the open driver’s side door, Freya stepped onto the side runner.

  A sputtering engine rattled down the driveway.

  Toby blinked and hissed, “Move it.” His eyes darted as he was tempted to look down the driveway, but he caught his waver and lengthened his arm, then took a testing squeeze at the trigger.

  Dashing down the steps, Craig hollered and ran for his son. Susan stood and held her hands over her face. Zane held up his hand to still his dad and whispered something Freya couldn’t hear. Craig froze.

  Zane stood stone still, his arms relaxed at his sides. If it weren’t for the tension in his jaw, Freya would have thought he wasn’t even fazed.

  Sienna’s ancient sedan flew down the driveway, the chassis rocking, gravel flying as she came to an abrupt stop. “Toby, let her go,” she cried as she slammed out of the car. Her left eye was sealed shut from swelling, shiny with dark purple. She held an arm braced around her ribs, wincing with each movement as she hobbled closer.

  Toby glanced to Sienna.

  Freya sprinted full out into the carport and dove to the ground next to Zane’s truck. From her post, she pulled out her phone and called 911.

  Taking advantage of the interruption, Zane was on the move as she was.

  Closing the distance in a flash, Zane didn’t hesitate.

  Toby turned back and realized his aim had shifted.

  Movements swift and calculated, Zane knocked Toby’s wrist with one hand, ejecting the gun with his other.

  Disarmed, Toby swung with a brick-like fist.

  Dodging the blow by no more than a whisper, Zane twisted his arm around Toby’s and tugged him closer while his other hand balled into a fist. Throwing a solid punch, he cracked Toby’s nose, the crunch audible from Freya’s hiding spot.

  Recoiling as he held his broken nose, Toby threw rapid, wild punches at Zane.

  Juking, Zane dodged another hit and nailed him with an uppercut in the beer belly. Solid steel underneath, Toby doubled over but didn’t fall.