by Cat Johnson
All put together, it looked damn good . . . not that he was inclined to tell her that.
Inspiration struck and Zach headed back to the garage where he’d spotted one of his grandmother’s lamps. He carried the brass lamp back inside and set it on the night table.
He didn’t know what Gabby had planned but his addition didn’t look half bad. It might look even better with a new shade . . .
Inspired, he went back out to look for more stuff he could move in.
He found a box of his grandmother’s books. He carried that inside and started setting them back on the freshly painted bookshelves, where they’d been since he’d visited her as a child.
Then he decided to find his golf ball and scorecard since he didn’t trust Gabby not to have lost them.
That led to him searching for some other things he’d accumulated over the years but had never unpacked when he’d moved in.
The bible his grandmother had given him, embossed with his name and the date that he’d graduated from boot camp.
The bullet—in a clear plastic box for preservation—that Nitro had dug out of him on the transport during the exfil from a mission he’d never be able to talk about with anyone besides the team, but would never forget.
The tiny ship in a bottle Amanda had given him one year for Christmas. He set it all on the shelves, his adult memories intermingled with those of his childhood.
By the time he was done moving things around he was down to the last beer in the six-pack.
He glanced at the time and was shocked at how late it was. What was wrong with him? Decorating. Jeesh. One day in the proximity of that girl and he’d lost his mind.
Good thing the team couldn’t see him. He’d never hear the end of the teasing.
TWELVE
Gabby snuck in through the front door just as she had the day before, except this time everything was different. In the early morning light streaming in she could see that clearly.
There were books and accessories on the bookshelves in the living room. And in front of it was the old La-Z-Boy chair she’d been planning on tossing once Zach gave her permission to.
Just to the right of the eyesore of the worn recliner, plugged into the wall was her charging station.
Frowning she resisted the urge to flip on all the lights to see what else Zach had done to her carefully laid out plans while she wasn’t looking.
“Good morning.” His voice came from the kitchen, followed by the sound of the garage door slamming.
She spun and saw Zach holding the old coffee table she’d also been hoping to ditch in the yard sale she still had yet to pitch to Zach.
Judging by how he was carrying it into the living room, she had a feeling the item was going to be staying.
“Good morning,” she finally said. “I, uh, see you were busy last night.”
He grinned, an actual happy expression, which threw her further off kilter. “Yeah. It was kind of fun arranging everything. And don’t tell my sister that or I’ll just deny it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Damn, this was one contingency she hadn’t planned on—Zach being into decorating and having his own plan that ran counter to hers.
She drew in a breath and was just trying to figure out how to deal with this when he plopped the coffee table down next to the armchair, where it was much too low to function as a side table and turned to her.
“Come into the bedroom.”
All those years she’d wished Zach would say exactly those words to her as her school girl self drooled over the thought of him . . . Now that he’d finally said them she was dreading what she’d find in there.
What havoc had he wreaked with her design plan in the master bedroom? She couldn’t even imagine.
She followed behind as Zach swung the door wide.
Holding her breath she stepped inside and let it out in a whoosh. He’d brought in the headboard and the little white side table she’d painted.
The one place he’d gone rogue was adding a brass lamp to the table, but she actually liked it.
The rich shine of the brass somehow complimented the airy white and blue décor. And the heavy item gave the room a masculine feel. With a new shade, it would look perfect.
He said, “I figure I’ll pick up a lampshade somewhere.”
Gabby whipped her head to stare at Zach as he voiced the exact thought she’d been having. “Um, yeah. I agree.”
“Where should I go to buy one of those?” he asked. “A lampshade.”
Now he wanted to go shopping? What had happened?
Wherever he’d been recently, he must have gotten hit on the head. Or had some sort of near death experience, because this man was nothing like the Zach she’d known for years.
He was still watching her, waiting for an answer. What was the question again? Oh, yeah. A lampshade.
“I can pick one up for you.”
He shook his head. “That’s okay. I don’t mind going.”
“Okay. The lighting stores all have them, but so do any of the big chain superstores. Even Home Depot has a lighting aisle, if you want to check there first. They’ve got some nice options.”
He nodded, looking intrigued with his impending shopping trip to Home Depot for lampshades.
She glanced back at the bed, neatly made as if it wasn’t the crack of dawn and most people would be lolling around under the covers still.
This must be SEAL training because it certainly wasn’t nature or nurture. Gabby had been Amanda’s roommate for four years in college and she could count the number of times that girl had made her bed on two hands.
She shot Zach a glance. Since he was being so agreeable she decided to push her luck. “So, I guess you like the headboard then?”
He cocked a brow high. “Fishing for a compliment?”
Her cheeks warmed. How could such an oaf be so perceptive? “No. Looking for feedback as a design professional.”
He sniffed out a laugh at her distinction. “Yeah, I like it. It’s cool.”
Wow. They’d come a long way for him to admit he liked something she did.
He must have seen in her expression how excited she was because he leveled a glare on her and said, “Don’t get too cocky. I know you were planning on tossing my favorite chair.”
No, she wasn’t. At least not without asking first.
“What makes you think that?” she asked, feigning as much innocence as she could muster.
“The sticky note that said ‘toss’ on it.”
Shit, she’d forgotten about that. So much for trying to be extra organized. All it did was come back to bite her in the butt.
“I believe I put a question mark after that word. And if it is your favorite chair, then you definitely should keep it,” she said.
“Even though you hate it.” He watched her, waiting.
“Yes. Even though I really do.” She couldn’t help but admit the truth. “But it’s your house and it needs to reflect you.”
“I wouldn’t have said that foo-foo wine crates turned into charging stations and tiny white tables reflected me, but now that it’s all in here, I actually don’t mind it.”
Pride warmed her. And hope. If she could please Zach, who they had to treat as a hostile client, she really had a shot of making a go in this profession.
“But—” His single word had her hopes and dreams screeching to a halt. She waited until he finally said, “Please, for the love of God, do not get the rest of my furniture from out of a dumpster.”
Her eyes flew wide. “You know about that?”
Had Amanda told him? That little—grrr. That was the last time she confided a secret in her.
“Yes, I know about that. And it would have been nice if you’d told me the truth, instead of me having to read it on your blog.”
“What?” Her eyes widened.
As realization hit a smile threatened to break out wide.
Sometime last night in between his foray into decorating, Zachary Brown, the m
an she’d had a crush on for all of her adult life, had googled her. And he’d taken the time to read her blog.
“Stop.” There was warning in his tone. “It’s no big deal. I stumbled upon it accidentally.”
He might be trying to act casual, but he looked as if he was sorry he’d ever brought it up.
“Mmm, hmm.” Her smile finally broke free.
He sighed. “I’m having coffee. If you want some I suggest you stop grinning like a fool and come to the kitchen.”
Somehow even his gruff rudeness took on a whole new light this morning.
A new day had dawned, in more ways than one. It kind of made her sad this job was almost over.
A few paintings to put back on the walls. The guest room furniture still had to come back in from the garage—if Zach hadn’t already done that during his insomniac decorating—and then as soon as the sofa was back from the reupholster she’d be done.
That was probably for the best.
Besides her needing to get far away from Zach before her hormones took over, she had to get the coffee shop done so she could get paid for it. Tile—gorgeous and hand painted and a bargain price—awaited her in Tijuana.
Zach planting the mug of coffee in front of her brought her out of her own head. “With milk and sugar, just how you like it.”
He’d fixed her coffee for her. How could a man be such an ass sometimes, and at others be so . . . perfect?
Surprised, and feeling the warmth and excitement spreading through her, she said, “Thanks.”
Her crush was back in full force. And her eighteen-year old girl feelings for him, combined with the desire of a twenty-nine year old woman who hadn’t had sex in forever, made for a dangerous combination.
“Let me get that out of the way.” Zach leaned forward to reach past her and grab for the empty beer bottle on the counter at the same time Gabby reached for the coffee mug.
The clunk of their foreheads was only avoided because of Zach’s quick reflexes.
She felt the weight of his hand on her shoulder just before cranial impact. But even though they didn’t collide, they were still just a breath away.
“Sorry.” He exhaled and the warmth of his breath brushed across her cheek.
He smelled of minty toothpaste and somewhere in the back of her mind a voice—maybe more than one voice—chanted, kiss him, kiss him, kiss him.
Maybe she needed therapy. Hearing voices in her head couldn’t be good. And, admittedly, wanting to kiss the man who had loathed her since college was also a problem.
Loathe at first sight. That about covered his feelings for her since that first meeting in the dorms.
Gabby swallowed and leaned back, out of the danger zone where Zach’s tempting mouth remained.
“My fault. I’m the klutz between us. You’re—” Where was she going to go with this sentence? Uh, oh.
His green and gold-flecked eyes remained focused on her. “I’m what?”
A big gorgeous SEAL with reflexes like a panther and a body like Adonis and . . . She cleared her throat.
“And you’re clearly not a klutz.” She snatched her mug off the counter and leaned back farther, adding for good measure, “I’ve seen Amanda trip over her own feet so it must be all that military training you’ve had.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up in a crooked smile. “Must be.”
THIRTEEN
“Thanks for inviting me.” Zach stepped into Amanda’s house, a bottle of wine in his hand—his contribution since she was having him over for dinner.
He was no heathen thanks to his grandmother’s impeccably good manners that she somehow had managed to instill in him over the years.
Did he intend on drinking the wine? Fuck, no.
Was he counting on his brother-in-law having beer in the house? Hell, yes.
Jasper had better have a stocked fridge because Zach had a feeling he was going to need a couple brews to get through tonight. For the time being—and he sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be for long—Gabby was still staying here at Amanda’s. That meant dinner with Amanda and Jasper would most certainly include Gabby.
Yes, over the past few days Gabby had gone from a thorn in his side to more of a splinter in his finger. But a splinter was still plenty annoying.
And even more annoying was how she’d come over yesterday in some sort of obscene stretchy pants and a tight little T-shirt, neither of which covered nearly enough in his opinion.
If he were her brother, he’d have given her a lecture about how to dress in public. But he wasn’t, and thank God for that, because even though he was trying not to read anything into it, something had happened last night.
Something he would never admit aloud. Something he didn’t even want to admit to himself.
He’d dreamed about her.
Worse than that. He’d dreamed about them. Together. And they’d been doing—things. Hot, sweaty things.
Crap.
Zach pushed the memory away and thrust the wine toward his sister.
Amanda turned the bottle in her hand and inspected the label.
“Nice. This one didn’t even come from the grocery store.” She grinned, as she always did when she tried to piss him off.
The woman truly was a sadist, except this time, he wasn’t going to rise to her baiting him.
He was too relaxed, on leave with nowhere to go and nothing to do.
Well, almost nothing. But the fact that the sum total of his To Do list today had consisted of buying a lampshade, rather than the usual, he was a happy man.
“I love you too, sis.” Zach forced a smile, his plan to kill Amanda with kindness—or at least maim her a little. “Want me to open that bottle for you?”
“Uh. No. That’s okay.”
He frowned. “Why not? You love wine.”
“I do. But I don’t feel like having any right now.”
Zach shrugged. “Okay. Your choice.” He realized they were alone in the kitchen. “Where is everybody?”
“Jasper is out back putting the chicken on the grill.”
Zach nodded and waited. When she didn’t continue, he prompted, “And Gabby?”
Amanda’s brow shot high before her lips curved into a smile.
He realized his mistake right away. Now, because Amanda was Amanda and loved nothing more than to imagine intrigue where there was none, she was going to make a big deal out of his question.
“Why?” she asked. “Were you hoping to see her?”
“No.”
Not really.
Maybe a little . . . and it had nothing to do with the dream either.
He wasn’t going to admit he was a little disappointed when she didn’t show up this morning. That was just because he’d come to expect her. Nothing more.
Tonight, he’d kind of wanted to tell her about his new lampshade. Prove to her even he was capable of making a good design choice . . . and even just saying that made him want to turn around, drive to the nearest range, and shoot a couple of hundred rounds before they revoked his man card.
He cleared his throat. “But I did want to ask her if she was done and I can have my spare key back. She didn’t show up today so I figured she must be finished.”
“First of all it’s my key to your place so when she is done she’ll be returning it to me,” Amanda said over her shoulder as she stood at the fridge.
“Yeah, well since you’ve proven you can’t be trusted with a key to my place, I’m going to have to revisit my decision to give you one.”
She planted the wine bottle inside the fridge and turned to stick her tongue out at him. The juvenile act had him laughing and shaking his head at the same time.
“And,” Amanda continued. “Gabby didn’t show up at your place today because she was doing something for her other client.”
He lifted a brow. “She has more than one client?”
“Yes.” Amanda scowled at him, but still reached down on one of the shelves and took out a beer.
When s
he held it up in offering, he nodded and walked over to take it from her. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Amanda’s eyes narrowed as she glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. “I actually thought she’d be back by now. I hope everything is okay.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” he asked. Then he remembered the dumpster.
Was it illegal to steal trash? Had she been arrested? Or maybe she’d gotten cut and was worried about tetanus, or even rabies for that matter, depending on what was inside, so she was at the hospital.
All for a cheap decorating find. The chick really was a lunatic.
“She’s in Tijuana,” Amanda answered.
“Jesus, I’d forgotten about that. She actually went? And by herself?” Zach was more concerned about that than he should be considering he had no connection to Gabby other than Amanda, and she was standing here safe and sound. “What is she doing there?”
“Buying tile for the other job.”
He frowned. “Why didn’t she just buy it at Home Depot?”
Amanda’s deep scowl was the only answer to his question. Though he couldn’t figure out why. They had really nice tile there.
Buying stock tile from a nice safe, conveniently located store must have been too easy for Gabrielle Lee Interiors and More.
Not special and unique enough for the woman whose decorating concept included words like found beauty and upcycling, he supposed. And yes, he had read more of her blog before falling asleep last night.
He wouldn’t do that again. It was probably what led to that dream.
“That’s not illegal, is it?” Amanda asked. “Transporting tile back across the border?”
It was a hell of a time for Amanda to worry about that, after her best friend had already gone to do it.
“It might be,” he answered. “If she doesn’t declare what she bought at the border and pay the duty on it, and they search the vehicle and find it, maybe she could get in trouble. Or they’ll just make her pay the duty before they let her across. I’m not sure. Would it be over eight hundred dollars worth?