He paused. His shoulders heaved and dropped. He looked her way. “Neither of us wants a family. You want your own business. I want the house. I can offer you a lump sum that will help you financially meet your goal and accomplish your dream. You can help me save my house. And three months from now we can part, no harm, no foul.”
Tasha attempted to wrap her mind around his words. In three months she could have the money for her long-held dream. Another part of her brain still thought the idea was like some chaotic Lucille Ball–like scheme. She and her mother had loved old I Love Lucy reruns. Tasha never thought she might one day live out a Lucy-like outrageous idea.
“I assure you, I would be a perfect gentleman. Separate bedrooms. We both can even do the whole background check thing. So you’d know you’re safe.”
Tasha observed this man who, twenty-four hours ago, she hadn’t known existed. The wild thought hit her that she could actually live in the place she and her mother had dreamed of and loved since her childhood. She blinked hard, trying to clear her head of the roller coaster–like turn of events.
“Are you in, Tasha?”
She wrung her hands. “Zed, this is a lot to consider. I need some time.”
He collapsed against his chair like a deflated balloon. “I guess you’re right.” He exhaled hard. “However, here’s the thing—my aunt Zora set a time limit for me to marry, as well. I’ve dallied around, trying to figure out what to do. Now her deadline is looming.” He peered at her, apparently gauging her reaction.
Tasha considered his aunt’s plan. Whew. Girlfriend had serious control issues.
“I can make this very worth your time.” Zed took out a pen from his jacket, along with a mini notepad. He tore out a sheet of paper, scribbled on it and handed it to her.
Tasha nearly gasped at the numerical figure he’d written. It was more than enough to get her business off the ground, pay off her bills and leave her with a healthy savings account to boot.
Zed retrieved his wallet from his pants pocket and removed a crisp white card with a university emblem embossed on it. “Here’s my business card, with both my work and cell numbers. Text me your number. I need to know your answer within twenty-four hours.”
* * *
Later, as Tasha took the southwest exit from Denver to Vista Peak, she considered Zed’s proposition. She was still unsure how she would respond to him as she admired the first sight of her little town of Vista Peak, nestled just before the golden foothills.
She wound through downtown, past Avenue Parkway, until the ornate mansions turned into craftsman bungalows, then tiny modest homes. Finally, just before the small industrial section of town, she arrived at her neighborhood, a mixture of small apartment buildings and a mobile home park.
Her simple gray brick apartment building came into view. She parked and headed inside and up to her second-floor studio apartment. Milo, her cat, meowed loudly as she entered her place.
Tasha wiped her feet on the rubber grass-and-floral doormat, dropped her purse on her cherry-red chaise longue and searched for the cat.
She found him by his half-full silver bowl of food. His hazel eyes glared at her accusingly.
“What’s up, you big baby?” she said softly, as if speaking to a child. And then she remembered. She’d skipped her daily ritual of feeding Milo by hand. Although he was more than able to feed himself, and usually did, this little additional snack ritual had become their habit and what he expected.
Tasha walked across the hardwood floor to the cat. She bent down and nuzzled his pointed furry chin. “You’re spoiled rotten, you know that, right?”
Milo let out a half meow and rubbed against her black tights, leaving a layer of Day-Glo orange hair behind.
Tasha picked him up. “What am I going to do with you?” She reached into her mint-green kitchen cabinet for a paper towel and placed it by Milo’s bowl. Tasha poured the food into her hand. Milo required a portion of his food to be hand-fed separate from his bowl.
Milo immediately went to work on his snack, his little mouth tickling her hand as he ate.
She took off her coat, flipped on the TV for the noise and plopped on her emerald green sofa-bed couch. She thought of Zed’s proposition. “What am I going to do, Milo?”
Milo peered up at her from his feeding frenzy as if to say, “Me cat, you human. News flash, I don’t talk. If you don’t got that, we got worse problems.”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
His tail popped up and slowly swished, as if he’d been offended. Head lifted high, he sauntered past her like the King of Siam. Tasha could all but hear his thoughts. Bow down and worship, lowly peasant. He jumped onto a windowsill, his eyes fixed in a laser stare, like a predator who’d found something. She supposed he’d discovered a critter of some sort.
Tasha considered the day’s roller-coaster turn of events and Zed’s proposition. Was she really even entertaining such an idea? “Milo the Wonder Cat, maybe I am losing it?”
Milo dully observed her from the window before attacking what was probably a very unfortunate insect.
Zed’s idea was more than a little over-the-top. On the other hand, she’d be helping him save his beloved home—a place she loved, too. She’d also be able to pay off her massive debt and accomplish her business dreams. With her modest salary and huge debt, her dream was all but impossible.
But what would her mother have said? She’d had such an awe and reverence for the sanctity of marriage. Although her mother had never married, having become pregnant and abandoned as a teen, she’d always held the institution in high regard.
Would it be right for her to tarnish her mother’s ideals by making marriage nothing more than a business arrangement? She could only imagine what her mother would have thought of Zed’s scheme and of her living in their dream house.
Was she really considering marrying a stranger? Even if it was for just three months?
The marriage could help her in more ways than just financially. She’d been the singles’ pastor at her church for four years, and she’d also been the wedding planner for many of these same folks’ weddings. During her run, there had been more marriages than any other time in the history of the church. At her last meeting with the pastor and elders, they’d started by singing her accolades and noting her amazing accomplishments. She should have guessed it was the buildup before the letdown.
After their praise they brought up some concerns and gently challenged her. Apparently, others from the singles’ group had relayed her sometimes snarky, critical comments about marriage when it came to herself.
She hadn’t always been this way. But her heart had been mortally wounded on the battlefield of love. Whenever she’d loved someone and let her heart hope, her dreams had been cruelly dashed by unreciprocated love. Until she was just done with it all. So very done.
Tasha thought she’d disguised her less-than-stellar opinion about marriage for herself by veiling her comments in jokes. She’d evidently been wrong.
When she’d expressed her opinion to the pastors, they’d listened respectfully. She mentioned that regardless of her view on marriage for herself, she was a strong proponent of the institution for others.
After Tasha had finished speaking, Pastor Landry had looked at her with a mixture of affection and sympathy. Tasha, you know we love you. We want God’s best for you. We salute your amazing success in the singles’ ministry. And if we thought you had a healthy view of marriage, this would be a nonissue. We’d like to pose a question to you for serious consideration. Are you really happy being single or are you running from marriage, and perhaps God’s blessing for you, out of disappointment or fear? Only you can answer this question.
She’d cringed at his words. Unexpected tears had sprung to her eyes. She hated crying in front of others, and she hadn’t wanted them to believe her reaction proved their point.
Would she be denigrating marriage by considering Zed’s option? Could she be true to her clients and the singles’ group members, whom she encouraged to make a covenant commitment, by treating marriage so lightly?
Tasha shook her head, trying to clear the haze of confusion that clouded her mind. The one thing she did know was that she needed to make a decision—and fast. And what she decided could have a major impact on her life.
* * *
Zed unhooked his tie and twisted the key in the front door of his craftsman bungalow home. Before entering, he turned to admire the Vista Peak town square, just down the street. He could see the tops of a few of the early twentieth-century storefronts. The town view had sealed the deal for him on the place when he’d purchased it fifteen years ago. He liked that Vista Peak’s older neighborhoods remained mostly intact, untouched by time.
When he entered his house, he slipped off his shoes in the black-and-white tiled entryway and hung his sweater on the hallway coat hook.
Heading into the living room, he admired the sheaths of angled daylight shimmering through the generous living room windows. He wasn’t used to being home during the day.
Midmorning, he’d texted his secretary, Sheri, and let her know he was taking the afternoon off. Something he never did. He’d needed the time to go to Union Station.
Sheri had replied:
Excuse me. Is this an alternate universe? Has Zed Evans been captured by aliens and reprogrammed? Who are you and what have you done with my boss?
He texted her back:
Yeah. I know. It’s not all play, though. Will work a little bit on the university building task force project.
He’d put off the task, knowing how politically charged the task force would be. It was being created to propose a possible campus redesign that might mean razing a beloved historic building, Lincoln Hall, which had once been the social epicenter of the campus.
Zed opened the blinds fully. Generous sunlight poured in, along with an amazing view of the Rocky Mountains, just west of Vista Peak.
He gave the mountain range different names, depending on how they looked daily. Today their rocky crags were a bold, deep blue hue. He dubbed them “Sassy.”
Zed gazed around his place, pride bubbling in his chest. He’d had the home professionally decorated by one of Denver’s top interior decorators. The place looked like a magazine cover and was no doubt beautiful, but sometimes it seemed a little impersonal to him. He wondered if that said something about him as a person.
His phone pinged, and he slipped it from his pocket. It was Sheri.
Take a break. Don’t work 2 much on the task force stuff. Really take the day off. Smell the flowers.
In response, Zed punched in a smiley face.
Sheri’s suggestion to smell the flowers for some odd reason made him think of Tasha. Based on her wistful story about coming to Union Station as a holiday tradition, she must be someone who stopped to savor things. Such as smelling the flowers. He was more like a speeding freight train—no time to ponder, always straining toward some new achievement or goal.
He headed to the kitchen and got a bottle of sparkling water from the refrigerator. Tasha was sweet, quirky, thoughtful and intriguing. And now she held a major part of his life in her hands.
Wariness engulfed him, like an early alert warning system. He didn’t mind being friends with women, but that was all he wanted. In his experience, most women wanted more, even if they claimed to just want to be friends. Even when he gave them the 411 right up front, letting them know he wasn’t marriage material and would never be, women often took his declaration as a challenge. They figured they could change him. However, they hadn’t known his iron-clad stubbornness and determination.
If Tasha accepted his proposal, could she possibly have a change of heart after they were married? Could she become all clingy and hopeful that he’d want to be with her permanently?
He remembered the determined look in her eye when she proclaimed no interest in matrimony. It was a look he recognized—her steely resolve was similar to his own.
No. He was pretty sure she didn’t want an emotional entanglement, just as he didn’t.
His skin tingled under the sun blazing through the window, and he shook free of his reverie, laughing aloud at his thoughts.
He decided to follow his plan to get a little work done. Just as he opened the building task force folder and started to brainstorm potential faculty for the committee, his cell pinged.
Zed retrieved it and saw a text from Maya, his best friend Anton’s wife.
Hey there, third wheel.
Zed chuckled at Maya’s nickname for him. His usual lack of a plus-one often left him hanging out as a third wheel with Anton and Maya.
What up, what up? he texted back.
Anton got last-minute tickets 2 show at 7 at Red Rocks. Old-School Motown tribute. Thinking about dinner in Morrison B4 the show. Say about 5 p.m. Wanna come?
Zed flipped his thumb through the building task force files and figured he could finish a few objectives before joining his friends.
Sounds like a plan. As long as there isn’t some unexpected honey coming that you’re trying to set me up with.
He grinned even before Maya typed her response. He knew it would be funny.
Nope. Decided life 2 short to waste on worthless causes.
She’d added two smiley faces.
Smart girl.
Not 2 say that it isn’t a shame that u won’t let that rare diamond, known as your heart, be discovered.
He grimaced. Her kind words both surprised him and hit him like a brick.
He knew a lot of folks, but he was not known by many. Maya was one of the few people who had the uncanny ability to see past the walls he put up. Her discernment both excited and terrified him.
Thank you, Maya, he texted.
No. Thank u. 4 being u.
Because he knew Maya well, too, he heard the half snarky, half facetious tone behind the words, which the text couldn’t translate.
Ah. You got jokes... Text details. Meet you there.
His thumbs paused as he waited for a response.
Okay, third wheel. Lookin’ forward 2 rolling with u. C u soon.
Zed smiled to himself. He tried to imagine how his friends would react to the news he was getting married. Hopefully EMT services wouldn’t be needed before he could explain everything.
* * *
Anton had been blessed to find Maya, though Zed had been skeptical when his friend first mentioned feeling different about Maya than any woman he’d known. When Zed saw it was true, he’d had to squelch some sadness and a little bit of jealousy. Anton had always been available to chill on a moment’s notice. Until Maya.
But now the pair was like bread and butter. He was glad Maya had finally given up on finding butter for his bread. For the moment, anyway. Maya reminded him of the Energizer Bunny. She didn’t give up too easily.
If Tasha accepted his unusual proposal, he’d need to introduce her to Maya and Anton.
He grabbed his keys, headed to his truck and wound through town onto the rope of crisscrossed highway leading to Morrison. He checked his watch as he rolled into the restaurant parking lot. After pulling into a spot, Zed gave himself a few moments to strategize how to bring Tasha into the conversation with his best buds. When he felt assured of his game plan, he headed into the restaurant. Once inside, he squinted, adjusting to the low lights in the place.
“Playa!” Anton’s cry rose above the voices of the crowd. Zed grinned at the nickname his friend had dubbed him in college. It had been given more for his effect on the ladies than his technique with them. Though he could proudly admit he’d had game back then, too.
Zed followed the sound of his friend’s voice and caught Anton enthusiastically waving from a corner of the room.
Weaving a zigz
ag path in between the tables, Zed made his way to his friends. Maya, an enthusiastic hugger, popped up from her seat. She grabbed his shoulders and gave him a bear hug, then brushed his cheek with a kiss. “Hello, fine-as-wine-and-twice-as-nice,” she teased.
When he disengaged from Maya, Anton was waiting. They performed a half hug.
“Thanks for the invite, dude,” Zed said.
“No thanks needed, bro. Always happy to hang with my best bud and my lady.”
Zed slid into the booth seat across from his friends, and Anton let Maya slide in before he sat back down.
“We ordered appetizers—wings, blue cheese and fried cheese sticks.”
“Cool.” Zed grabbed a menu and reviewed it. He decided on an Angus burger and O-rings.
The waitress appeared, loaded down with baskets of appetizers. Zed noticed her name tag read Lisa Cho. She gave him a shy smile and her dark eyes sparkled. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Sweet tea, no ice,” he said.
Lisa nodded, as if making a mental note.
“I’m ready to order, if that’s okay,” he said.
“Sure.” Her midnight-black straight hair swayed like a curtain as she retrieved her pen and pad from her apron.
He ordered, and Lisa added a wider smile to her repertoire. When she left, he noticed his friends staring at him.
“What?”
Anton stretched out a fist for a pound. “Still got it, my brother,” he teased in a high falsetto voice.
Maya observed him with a quizzical look. “Is there something you want to tell us?”
Zed looked between the pair. “What?”
“I called your office first, to tell you about tonight. Your assistant said you’d taken the afternoon off,” Maya said. She gazed at him like an interrogating attorney.
“A guy takes a day off. So what?”
“You’re not most guys, Zedrick Evans. You’re a workaholic—on steroids,” Maya said. She always used his full name when she was trying to make a point. “Something’s fishy.” Her dark eyes narrowed.
Claiming His Christmas Inheritance Page 3