by Toni Blake
She thought about walking down to the inn, knocking on the door, telling Meg everything. Just ripping the Band-Aid off the secrets she’d been keeping from her friend.
But I told Zack I’d be back in an hour. And I need to go to the market. So today wasn’t the right day. I’ll do it soon, promise. Though she wasn’t even sure who she was promising. Meg? Dahlia? God? Herself? Maybe all of the above.
After a couple of days with dreary, overcast skies and on-and-off snow, this was another of those bright, cheerful ones that drew at least a few folks out of their cozy nests and into the sun. She said hello to Bob and Audrey Fisher, who were heading into the Skipper’s Wheel for lunch—and randomly wished she could somehow bring Zack out for something as simple as a meal and a little sunshine. But Great Lakes island life in winter truly came with limitations. If they lived on the mainland and got around by car and shoveled their walkways, he could likely be out and about on his crutches. But going out on them here in the deep snow? Unimaginable.
Josh Callen waved to her from the window of the Cozy Coffee and Tea Shop and then opened the door to call, “I heard about Zack. How’s he doing?”
She had no idea how many people knew about his injury, but she supposed word was gradually spreading. “He’s doing really well,” she said from the street with a smile. “Better than expected.”
“That’s great to hear,” Josh said. Younger than both her and Zack, he was a personable guy with a wife and daughter—so personable that now he tilted his head to say, “Just so you know, I think you’re a saint. I’ve worked with Zack—and I, uh, know he can be...”
Yep, Josh had been forced to help Zack with the town Christmas tree lights last month, which couldn’t have been pleasant. Now, though, she simply leaned her head back and laughed. “Actually, he’s...mellowed. Or something. We’re getting along fine.”
At this, Josh flinched in surprise. “Wow. You must have the magic touch.”
His choice of words froze her in place, her cheeks heating despite the cold February temperatures. She only hoped she hadn’t looked too caught-at-something as she pasted back on a smile and said, “I’ll tell him you said hello.”
The market bustled with upward of ten customers when she walked in—a veritable stampede for this time of year. Waving to Anson Tate, currently at the checkout, she grabbed up a shopping basket and headed to the deli counter for lunch meat and cheese. After picking up some ground beef and a whole chicken to fry, she was on her way to the baking aisle—Zack had requested more brownies—when she turned a corner and ran into Trent and Allie.
After exchanging hellos, Trent asked, “How’s Zack doing?” He’d been another of Zack’s unwitting victims on the tree-lighting crew.
Just as when Josh inquired, the question made her smile. “Really good, actually. It’s still a very challenging situation, but he’s showing a lot of improvement—he even has some sensation back in his leg.”
Both of their faces brightened at the news. “That’s amazing,” Allie said.
“It truly is,” Suzanne agreed, still smiling. Was she smiling too much, in fact? Did she sound too happy about taking care of a guy who’d been viewed as the town grump since splitting with Meg last summer? But it’s natural you’d be happy about his progress. Quit overthinking.
“We wondered if you guys had considered having him airlifted to the mainland,” Allie suggested. Then added cautiously, “But maybe that’s not necessary now?”
The snow and clouds that often prevailed here in winter had kept Zack from getting to the mainland after becoming paralyzed, but indeed days had come—like this one—when the skies were clear. Yet Suzanne had never pushed it—partly because of the expense and Zack’s lack of insurance, and partly because of his steady progress. “At this point, it probably makes more sense to wait until the ice melts, especially since he’s doing better than expected.”
“I hope he’s not giving you too hard of a time,” Trent said with a sympathetic grin.
She shook her head, perhaps too emphatically. And started to say how wonderfully they were getting along, but then bit her tongue. Her new affection for Zack somehow compelled her to defend his honor, but it suddenly seemed safer not to. So she played down her answer. “He’s not so bad. We get along...fine.” But she was still probably smiling too much.
“That’s...good to hear,” Trent replied in a way that made her fear she’d tipped her hand. But she was probably imagining that—she wasn’t used to keeping secrets.
“Tell Zack we wish him well,” Allie said, reaching out to squeeze Suzanne’s hand.
“And hey, tell him if there’s anything he needs, or even if he just wants to hang out, to give me a call,” Trent offered. “And I mean that.”
“I’ll let him know,” Suzanne said. Of course, Zack might think of it as pity, but if Trent was nice enough to make the gesture after having dealt with Zack’s worst self over the holidays, she would pass it on. Reminding him he had more than just her and Dahlia to lean on sounded like a good idea.
But not Meg, of course, even though she’d certainly offered to visit, too. Because that was different, even Dahlia had agreed. You really have to come clean with her, though. Every new thought of her began to eat Suzanne alive with guilt.
“Hey, will I see you at the knitting bee Thursday night?” Allie asked.
It reminded her of the invitation that had come from Lila through Meg. “I’d love to,” she said, “but I don’t like leaving Zack alone for that long.” She’d hate to come home and find his spirits dashed by another fall.
But Trent shrugged. “Tell him to invite me over for a beer. We can find a basketball game on TV or something.”
She had no idea if Zack would be willing to let anyone else see him unable to get around freely, dragging his leg behind the crutches—but she said, “I’ll run it by him and we’ll see.”
After the friendly couple walked away, she turned her attention to the brownie mixes, and as she added one to the basket looped over her arm, she heard a smooth, deep voice say, “Hello, Suzanne.”
And she turned to find Beck Grainger, the breathtakingly handsome man who’d recently decimated her heart. All the air drained from her lungs at the mere sight of him.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” he said in his deliciously deep voice, “but I overheard you talking, and I just want to say I know you’re in a tough position and hope you’re doing okay.”
Suzanne forced herself to look up at him, and realized...oh. She was. She really was.
Yes, he was still the tallest, hottest, most handsome drink of water she’d ever seen, but...she no longer pined for him. She’d been taken aback by his arrival—but it had been old embarrassment more than anything else. Her heart no longer went pitter-patter when she peered into his eyes. And now she was actually able to do that—peer into his eyes—without feeling overwhelmed, so she did, saying, “I’m doing fine, thanks—truly.”
He smiled. A winning smile for sure, but one that no longer made her skin ripple with longing. “I’m glad to hear that.”
She said the next right-seeming thing. “Congratulations on your engagement.”
She hadn’t intended to make him feel sheepish, but suddenly that was how he looked. “Thanks. I, uh, never planned for anything like that to happen so quickly—it just...did.”
But she simply smiled, meaning it when she told him, “I’m truly happy for you and Lila. You make a great couple.”
“Thank you, Suzanne,” he said, his expression saying he thought she was a class act. Which felt like a nice switch from a couple of months ago when she was pretty sure she’d behaved like a lovesick lunatic.
“Well,” she said pleasantly, “I’d better get back to Zack. I promised him brownies and a game of checkers before his afternoon exercises.”
At this, Beck tilted his head. “Oh, that’s...great. I thought you di
dn’t get along with him.” Hmm, she must have shared that at some point, or maybe Meg had mentioned it.
“Well, I didn’t,” she said. “Before. But now I do. I mean, it’s complicated. But we’re good, he and I. Very good.” She was nodding, repeatedly, and probably talking too fast now.
And so Beck nodded, too. “Well, that’s...good news.”
“Have a good...February,” she said awkwardly, then rushed away, toward the registers.
Okay, she might have marred her “class act” vibe just a bit there. Have a good February? Why did she never shut up with him? She’d always had a babbling problem with him, and even now that she’d gotten over him, apparently it still persisted.
Well, at least it had been good to clear the air. And good to find out she was over him, and really fine with his engagement. She didn’t give him another thought as she checked out, ready to head back to her patient with plans for baking brownies, battling him to the death at checkers, and later tonight, pushing him back onto that sofa bed and climbing on top of him.
* * *
ZACK LAY WITH Suzanne nuzzled against his chest, one arm wrapped around her, his free hand gently caressing her arm where it rested across his stomach. No sound in the room, just the soft ticking of a clock on the mantel that he’d long since gotten used to. He even liked it during those quiet times when he was alone—something about the forward movement of time reminded him he was still alive and things were always changing.
Of course, it wasn’t always that easy. Sometimes, when she wasn’t around, he got depressed—even now that things looked more positive than he’d expected. Mainly when he thought of the water—the hardworking days of summer, just him and the whitefish of Lake Huron being hauled up in his nets. Because no matter how much better his leg got, that life was gone now. Now, his grand goal was the idea of walking. He didn’t even know if that was feasible, but it was what he dared to fall back on when he felt helpless.
He didn’t let his mind float down that despairing river often, though. Hell, he didn’t have time to—because the woman in his arms right now kept him so damn busy. Whether it was exercising or eating, watching a movie or playing a game, having sex or...this, just lying here soaking each other up without any words.
Meg had always liked to cuddle—Zack not so much. But this felt different. In his head, he joked that it was because Suzanne had a captive audience in him—that he didn’t have the freedom to just get up and walk away. But the truth he knew deep inside was...he just liked it.
Maybe because it simply felt so much better than lying there alone, alone in a way no person with two good legs could ever understand. Or maybe timing was everything. He hadn’t appreciated Meg as he should have. All she’d ever done was try to love him—and all he’d ever done was keep her at arm’s length, put up a wall around himself that she couldn’t penetrate. But he appreciated Suzanne. Because now he knew what it was to need someone, to have no choice in it, to just need them.
He had no idea what she felt for him, if she was dipping into that place where Meg had gone—love. But he didn’t worry about it, because it just didn’t sound as smothering or possessive as it had with Meg. That hadn’t been Meg’s fault—she’d given him his freedom. But back then, freedom had been something he could never have enough of. He’d chased it, like a boat sailing toward the unreachable horizon. Now freedom seemed like a smaller, more concrete thing. Freedom was being able to go to the bathroom by himself, dress himself. Freedom would be maybe eventually leaving the cottage when the snow melted.
“Did you give any thought to Trent coming over tomorrow night?” Suzanne asked.
He glanced down at her, having thought she was asleep. As for Trent, he’d been trying to dodge the subject, hoping it wouldn’t come up again after she’d mentioned it a couple of days ago. “Aw, I don’t know, Suzie Q.”
“Might be a nice change of pace,” she suggested hopefully. Always so hopeful, this one. Which he’d actually come to love about her—except for when it worked against him, like now.
“Look,” he said, avoiding eye contact, “You can go to your knitting party without worrying about me—I’ll take care of myself and keep my phone handy. But...”
“Listen, I get it,” she said softly.
The simple statement drew his eyes unwittingly to hers. Which were rich and blue as a north woods lake, and filled with an understanding that told him: she really did get it. Even without him giving one word of explanation.
“Once upon a time,” she said, “you weren’t comfortable with me, the way things are now.” She chose her words carefully when they talked about this, a small kindness that made him value her even more. “But Trent’s a good guy, and I think he just wants to get out, spend some time with a buddy.”
“I barely know him,” Zack said dryly.
Yet she ignored that and went on. “I realize it feels like a big deal to you—but people really will understand, and it’ll be okay. And, well, when the snow melts and we all start going outside again—”
“I’ll probably stay inside anyway,” he interrupted her a bit grimly.
But she playfully patted his chest. “No, you won’t. You’ll go out. Because you’ll want to be outside more than you’ll want people not to see you. And you’ll quit feeling weird about it.” Adding a succinct nod, she concluded with confidence, “And having Trent over will be like...training for that. And I’ll feel better going if I know you’re not here alone and bored.”
Another thoughtful choice of words. Since she really meant “not here alone getting yourself into a situation you can’t get out of.” But she had a way of making all this feel more normal than it was.
And she had him pegged—he didn’t really want Trent, the handsome lawyer who had everything going for him, to see him this way. Zack had always found the younger guy a little too accomplished and good-looking for his own good. But he actually liked him, despite having yelled at his ineptness during the Christmas tree lighting. Being inept wasn’t a reason not to like someone—Zack found most people inept. And everything Suzanne had just said was true—so finally he relented. “Okay, he can come over. On one condition.”
“Hooray.” She smiled. “What’s the condition? Anything you want.”
In response, he shifted their bodies until she lay on her back with him angled over her, and he leaned to whisper in her ear, “I want to be on top.”
When he pulled back, her look bordered between amused and confused. And maybe a little aroused. “That’s fine with me. I just thought...”
“I know what you thought,” he told her. “And you were right. But I think maybe now I can...have my way with you.” He ended with a playfully lecherous grin.
Which drew from her a cute and sexy smile, followed by, “Do your worst.”
“Oh, I plan to,” he promised—and even if he wasn’t certain he could maneuver himself the way he wanted, he was damn ready and willing to try. Not that he didn’t like Suzanne on top of him. But he wanted to give her more than what might be starting to feel like the same old thing. And he wanted some control. And he also wanted to show her body the appreciation it deserved. So he didn’t plan to rush this.
Unbuttoning her pajama top, he kissed his way down her luscious breasts, framing them with his hands, suckling the peaks, loving her little gasps and sighs. Gliding his palms down the curve of her waist, he kissed her stomach—not the stomach of a young girl, he realized, but he didn’t want the stomach of a young girl. Suzanne was real, solid, with some meat on her bones that was far nicer to squeeze and hold on to than if she’d been skinny. His mouth passed over two tiny scars he’d learned were from gallbladder removal, and a host of freckles and “age spots,” she’d once called them. He didn’t like the name—he thought experience spots might be better. He wouldn’t have changed a thing.
Together they removed her pajama bottoms and undies, him all the while dro
pping kisses across the contours of her hips and the rise of her pelvis—until he parted her legs, licking and kissing until she toppled into a bliss that felt thick and replete as it spilled over him. Or maybe he was the one who felt replete in having delivered it.
Mostly he favored the left side of his body as he moved and shifted, letting his left leg do the work of both. He used it to position himself back up over her, liking when her hands closed over his ass to help drag him upward—without saying a word about why. She made it so simple.
“You have a nice butt,” she whispered.
He gave her a grin. She wasn’t one to engage in sexy talk, so much so that this struck him as bold. “So do you,” he told her. “Especially when you’re dancing.”
She laughed, confused. “What?”
“That’s when I first...you know...started getting attracted to you. Watching your ass sway to ‘Suzie Q.’”
And as Zack’s erection pressed rigidly against the juncture of her thighs, he knew the moment of truth had come. She couldn’t help him do this. He prayed his body could muster whatever it would take to let him drive into her the way he ached to.
Gazing into welcoming crystalline eyes, he focused on the wanting. The way he wanted to pleasure her, the way he wanted to pleasure himself, the way he wanted to be the man he used to be—strong, sturdy, capable. Gripping her hips, he thrust, felt the tight entry, heard her soft cry of pleasure. And then he gave himself over to it without thought, plunging into her, over and over, being that man for her, the man he wanted to be. He lost himself in every slick stroke into her warmth—and it wasn’t long before bliss stole him away, too.
He collapsed gently atop her soft body, burying his face in the curve of her neck, drinking in her feminine scent, and feeling...happy. He’d possessed more control than he’d believed possible.
A thought compelled him to roll off her sooner than he wanted to—but he needed to look at something, look at his leg. Lying next to her in the low light of her living room, he peered down the length of his naked body and tried to move his right leg.