When We Met

by C J Marie

  Silky, smooth fabric fluttered around her curves. She wore T-shirts or jeans most days, but getting a peek at her buttery thighs, and the velvet skin on her exposed back, sent Zac’s heart pummeling against his chest like fists on a punching bag. The can lighting caught her silvery gleam when she peered over her shoulder. Jo nudged her head, urging him to join them.

  “I think you’re hooked, man,” Rafe said.

  Zac didn’t even bother denying it, his eyes locked over the heads of people bobbing and nodding in clusters. Jo rose on her toes, her neck craning to find him like a curious meerkat through the swarms of faces. Zac clapped Rafe on the shoulder and nodded through a final drink. Handing his cup over, Zac licked his lips and smiled. “I know, and I think I’m good with that.”

  Zac shoved through the bodies. He recognized some faces, waved and acknowledged several shouted happy birthdays before his palm splayed across Jo’s back. The pads of his fingers scorched with the brush of her bare skin beneath his hand. Jo’s shoulders hitched through a sharp breath, and although she never glanced behind, her taut figure leaned into him. Snaking his arm around her waist, his palm rested on her hip. Jo’s hair tickled the stubble on his face, and sent his head spinning like he’d stood too quickly when a breath of cinnamon wafted through his senses.

  “Took you long enough to come over,” she crooned, finally meeting his eyes. Those full lips drew a few tempting inches from his own, and Zac had the urge to kick every guest out except one. “I never knew how popular you were, Mr. Dawson.”

  “I don’t know most of these people,” he whispered against the side of her head, his hand caressing over her midsection. Zac could see Olive and Dot smirking out of the corner of his eyes. Let them tease him, the magnetic pull toward this woman was too powerful to ignore. Let everyone tease him. Jo’s athletic body pressed against his chest, her hips lined with his, was a flurry of sensation he could have every day and still never get enough.

  “You know, I’m a little embarrassed I need to ask, but…how old are you?” Jo asked.

  Zac scoffed. It seemed backward to know Jo’s burdened past before he even knew her favorite food or how old she was. “Uh, I’ll be twenty-four.”

  Jo took a drink with a sparkle in her eyes from her grin. “So young.”

  “You can’t be that much older than me.” He nudged her side.

  She shrugged. “Maybe I’m in a different decade.”

  “Maybe I like older women,” he whispered, enjoying the shudder that rippled through her body.

  She faced him and tilted her head. “Well that’s good news, because I turned twenty-six three months ago.”

  “Wow, you’re practically a different generation.”

  She shoved him and they laughed. As the night went on, Zac noticed they laughed a lot. The light and ease in Jo’s expression created a stark contrast from the first time Zac met her. Like a burdensome mask had lifted, he absorbed every ounce of her laughter with the people who mattered to him. Wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, Zac laughed with Will and Rafe as Jo and Jace tried to toss darts without spilling overly filled drinks. Jace stuck out her tongue in concentration, Jo shrieked when a wave slipped out of her cup as she tossed the dart. Jace gave Zac a new hole in the wall, while Jo’s made it one ring from the center. Jo flung her arms in the air, and accepted the tipsy applause from the spectators. Zac nearly toppled when she pounced in his arms, squeezing tight to his waist. Everyone laughed, and Will went on to torment Jace for her epic failure. Jo lifted her head from his shoulder, the corners of her full smiled fading a bit.

  “Who is that?” She nodded toward the corner of his kitchen.

  Zac glanced up, his arm resting around Jo’s shoulders. His throat dried, not because it mattered if she were there, more out of surprise she’d shown up. The slender brunette didn’t leave much time for Zac to respond before sauntering across the kitchen with her posse in tow.

  “Happy birthday, Zac.”

  He cleared his throat, his arm still around Jo’s shoulders though he could feel her peeling away from his side. “Thanks, Callie.” Zac didn’t like running into women he’d dated in the past, but Callie was even worse since they’d never ended things, more like he’d stopped answering her phone calls and texts until they faded into silence. Yeah, not the most mature way to stop dating. He wasn’t perfect.

  Callie lifted her penciled brow and smirked at Jo. “Who is this? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  Jo didn’t miss a beat, and stuck out her hand. “Jo Graham.” There was a giggle in her tone. Probably a good time to cut Miss Graham off for the night. “I’m the one who wrecked his shop.”

  She offered a true snicker, and buried her face against his shoulder to muffle the noise.

  Callie scoffed, her narrowed gaze locking on Zac like a hunter finding her target. “This is the one who tried to screw you over?”

  “I never screwed Zac,” Jo said. Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth, then snorted behind her hand. Zac’s skin started to heat in embarrassment, but he chuckled along with Jo when her cheeks reddened like the summer roses.

  “We’ve gotten to know each other better. She’s not so bad,” Zac said, and tugged Jo a few times against his side. She tilted her head, and offered a mock crooning noise while patting his cheek.

  Callie crossed her arms. “Yeah, I can see that.” The frosty blue of Callie’s eyes drew Jo’s buzzed attention from Zac’s shoulder. “Be warned, sweetie. This one bangs and runs. Don’t expect a phone call.”

  Jo staggered forward, her hand plopping on Callie’s shoulder. “Oh, no,” she gasped. “You poor thing, is that what he did?” Jo turned, and seethed toward Zac. His gaze bounced between Callie and Jo as he debated running for his life. “You, Zachariah, are…a jerk,” Jo said, giggling as she finished.

  Callie eased out of Jo’s grip, and nodded. “Yeah, well don’t say I didn’t warn you. Come on ladies, let’s get out of here.”

  Zac stood stunned as Jo flung her hand in a sloppy wave as Callie and the two women on her heels stomped toward his living room. Jo lowered her arm; her high-pitched giggle faded before she faced Zac again. “Well, she’s a peach.”

  Her slur was gone, and Zac rolled his eyes. “You know how to fake being drunk. I thought you were going to gut me and join the Callie brigade.” Zac reached out for her elbow, pulled her tight against his chest, and studied her gleaming eyes.

  Jo brushed her hands along his shoulders, lifting her chin so her tempting mouth taunted him with need. “Lucky for you, Dot and Olive already pointed out Lady Flawless tonight. According to Dot, Miss Callie attempted to change a perfectly good specimen to impress her parents.”

  Zac clicked his tongue. “Dot called me a perfect specimen did she?”

  “Is she wrong?”

  Zac brushed an auburn wave from Jo’s brow and smiled. “I’ll let you decide, Jo.” He glanced in the direction Callie had stormed away. “I didn’t handle it the best to be sure, but I promise I’m not a one-night stand sort of guy.”

  “I know Zac,” Jo whispered. “Trust me, I know my jerkoffs, and you’re not one of them.”

  Chapter 14

  The party crept past midnight. Zac laughed at Dot and Jace as they skipped behind Rafe and Olive. No driving for those two. Jo drifted toward the front door with her hands clasped around a small purse she’d brought. Her eyes darted around the front room as if she’d never seen his sparse walls before. Zac swallowed tension from his throat, and considered how he might convince her to stay.

  Once she stepped to his side, her lips parted, and he moved to protest any attempts to leave but stopped as Andy stumbled down the hallway. He still had a plastic cup in his hands, and tripped over the rug at the front door. Jo gasped when a splash of pungent drink dripped down the front of her dress.

  Zac shoved Andy’s shoulder so his idiotic employee tripped onto the front porch. “What do you think you’re doing?” Zac muttered and let out a shrill whistle. “Rafe!” H
e pointed to Andy’s head when his friend wheeled around. Andy leaned against the door frame, snickered, and tried to touch Jo’s face. She patted his hand, and made sure the drunken man wrapped his arm around Zac’s waist instead. “Take one more.”

  Rafe rolled his eyes. After Olive’s door was shut, he stomped across the lawn and reached for Andy. “Come on, idiot. I told you to slow down.”

  “It’s been a long time…long, long, time…since I went—hic—to a party…Rafe.”

  Jo snorted, and Rafe gripped Andy’s collar to lead him down the drive. “Yeah, we can tell. Night, Zac. Jo.”

  Zac shook his head, waved as Rafe pulled his buzzed passengers away, and slowly faced Jo. She dabbed at the splotchy mess staining the front of her dress, but she was smiling. “Sorry about Andy—he’s getting his head checked.”

  Jo shrugged, and gathered a few strewn cups and napkins. “He’s alright. It will come out with a good wash, but he should be scared since this is Dot’s dress.” She winked, and tossed the mess in the trashcan under the kitchen sink. Zac’s palms were clammy as he closed the front door and trapped the two of them inside. The slightest hum of pink crested Jo’s cheeks when she clapped her hands in front of her body and clicked her tongue. “Well, I should probably get going. Have a nice birthday with your mom tomorr…”

  Jo’s voice hitched in the back of her throat as Zac trapped her against the counter with his broader body. If he waited any longer to touch her, he’d lose his nerve, or combust. Her lashes fluttered, and her eyes bounced as she stared into his eyes. “Or,” he whispered near her ear. “You could stay a little longer.”

  Her racing pulse matched his own as her chest heaved in deep breaths. “I smell like beer,” she muttered, though her fingertips tickled along his forearms.

  Zac nuzzled his face against the velvety skin on her neck, and breathed deep. “You smell amazing.”

  Her hands fiddled with the collar of his shirt. “Zac…”

  His lips caressed the edge of her jaw. “Tell me to stop, Jo, and I’ll stop.”

  Jo’s body seemed to turn fluid as she melted against him, and her strong, urgent palms trapped his face. There was a moment, just a slight second, where they met gazes. Jo sucked in a sharp breath, and crushed her mouth against Zac’s lips. His arms curled around her curves, clutching her against his chest as though he planned to absorb her whole.

  The kiss had levels. Gentle, at first, like lapping waves on the shore, until a storm struck and torrent of thundering swells took hold. Jo’s mouth claimed him as if he gave her air. Zac tasted her skin until the sweetness was stamped on his brain forever. He cradled her in his arms. Jo smiled against his mouth as they stumbled, slammed against the wall, and laughed.

  Jo’s fingers tugged, threaded, and pulled in his hair. Zac cupped her face when the lights faded, and silence surrounded them. His heart throbbed between his ears, and he studied her fierce eyes for any sign he should stop. Zac accepted the slower, gentler touch when their lips met again. He took hold of the fiery intoxication he’d sought from a woman since…well, always.

  With Jo Graham in his grasp, Zac knew he’d found it.

  ***

  Jo winced against the white sun spilling around the edges of the shade in the kitchen. She yawned as she studied the marble upper body dancing around the coffee pot like a tanned Michelangelo sculpture.

  Jo splayed a palm over her chest to soothe the tromp of her rapid heart, and sunk her teeth in her bottom lip that wouldn’t stop grinning. Zac’s shoulders were impossible not to touch and so she did. The tips of her fingers traced each divot and ripple of his muscular arms—those arms and hands that worked hard each day, and loved gentler than Jo could have predicted. She held back a girlish squeal when he grinned over his shoulder. No wonder Miss Callie was miffed. She’d be forced to settle for second best from now on after someone like Zac Dawson.

  Zac had a small, jagged scar across his left bicep. Jo scooted closer, relishing the radiating warmth of his skin, and pressed her lips to the pink line. He turned and kissed her sweetly, and Jo’s skin surged in a delicious tremble.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “What’s this from?” Her fingers traced the scar.

  Zac peered onto his arm and chuckled. “Fishing trip when I was ten. Keith’s hook snagged me. My dad tried to take me to get stitches, but I was determined to catch something. So they duct taped it. Hick stitches.”

  Jo smacked his arm when he laughed. She tried to pull away, but Zac roped his arms around her body and smashed her against his bare chest. Jo brushed a feather of dark hair off his brow, and offered another kiss before she smiled. “Uncultured heathen.”

  Zac’s thumb traced the shape of her lips. He met her eye, no smile on his face, though there was a brightness in his countenance she could get used to, and became something she wanted to see every day.

  Jo scrunched masculine scented gel into her wet hair, hoping to call upon her natural curl. She grinned at her reflection. Her face wasn’t done—thankfully, Agatha supplied her son with totes of extra toiletries, so her mouth was clean—she stood clothed in a pair of Zac’s sweatpants and hoodie that was too big. But the way he eyed her from the sofa when she stepped out of the bathroom, she might as well have been primped for the red carpet. Zac handed her a second mug steaming with coffee, and opened his arm as an invitation to nestle close against his side.

  “Are you ready to admit that you’re glad I crashed into your stupid gas pump now?” Jo flicked her brows over her mug.

  Zac laughed, and shook his head. “If I’d known this was going to happen, I’d have let you pulverize the front lobby.”

  “I’m sort of glad you took me prisoner too.”

  Zac met her eye. There was pressure stacking between them that curled Jo’s toes. With a harsh release of the air in his lungs Zac set his mug on the carpet, and staked furious claim on her mouth again. Jo followed suit, abandoning her mug, and straddling his hips in two heartbeats. She sighed when his fingertips traced under the sweatshirt to her spine. She tugged at the hem of his shirt to sneak a peek at those sultry abdominals, but soon stopped. All at once her head shot up to the front window at the slam of a car door.

  “Your mom is here,” she gasped.

  Zac sucked in a few desperate breaths as though he’d been running a marathon. He peered over his shoulder and cursed. “Remember, I promised her breakfast—well, basically she claimed the entire day.” Jo tumbled from his hips, and thudded on the floor with a half-shriek, half-giggle, and started rushing toward his bedroom. “Stay. It’s fine, Jo.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she hissed around the corner. “I’ve basically met the woman once—I’m not going to let her catch me in her son’s house, in his clothes.”

  Zac muffled his taunting laugh as Agatha rapped on the door. “Jo…” he rasped, once she tore down the hall, and slammed the door behind her.

  Jo covered her mouth to keep the laugh knotting in her throat from bursting out when she heard Agatha enter the house.

  “Hey, mama,” Zac’s boom echoed down the hallway.

  “My baby boy—twenty-four. I can hardly believe it. Why aren’t you dressed? Get on now, before those Sunday brunchers fill up the place. And we know they’re skipping church to do it too.”

  Jo chuckled, and leaned against the door of Zac’s room, trying to ignore the tangled sheets so the heat in the pit of her stomach would simmer down.

  “Well, we aren’t anyone to judge,” Zac said, his voice sounding closer. He was coming.

  Jo scurried away from the door when it clicked open. His deep eyes were bright when he slipped off the old T-shirt. Jo groaned, and flopped back on the bed. Zac chuckled, and climbed over the mattress so his palms trapped either side of her head. “What was that noise?”

  She kissed him, and dug her fingernails down his back so he flattened his body over hers. Jo pulled back, and smirked. “I just like what I see.”

  “Come on. I want you to come with us
.”

  Jo shook her head. “No. Go with your mom, and I’ll do my walk of shame by calling Dot or Olive to pick me up. I don’t want to add a mother in the mix.”

  Zac suctioned a dramatic kiss to her neck before tugging a clean, solid blue T-shirt over his head and slipping on nice jeans. “There’s no shame on this side, Jo.”

  She hugged him from behind, and kissed the top of his shoulder. Jo couldn’t remember ever feeling so at ease with a man. Not even Emmitt. In the short weeks she’d gotten to know Zac, already Jo felt as though she understood him more than she knew her relationship of three years. “No shame here, either.”

  “Last chance,” Zac pressed as he inched toward the door.

  “Go away. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll still be here when you get back.”

  Zac clicked his tongue. “I like that idea. Don’t let me down, Jo. It’s my birthday.”

  She blew a kiss, and hugged one of his pillows as he abandoned his room, though he left the door cracked. Jo smiled at Agatha’s cheery voice, and wished she’d had a doting mother. “Ready to go?” she asked.

  “Ready,” Zac said, and Jo heard the storm door creak open.

  “Wait,” Agatha said. She cleared her throat loudly. “Josephine!” Jo’s blood drained from her face like an overflowing dam. “Aren’t you coming, girl?”

  Jo buried her face in the pillow to try and drown out the satisfied laughter of Zac Dawson.

  Chapter 15

  Pins collided and echoed over the furious thunder of rolling bulldozers on laminate. Olive shrieked, and scooted her feet about in flitty dance. She sauntered back to the bench like a classy debutante before Rafe clapped her hands and stole a quick kiss. Jo laughed since there were still six pins standing at the end of the lane.

  “I’m getting better, I’d say,” Olive said as she brushed a lock of auburn hair off her brow, and plopped onto the creaking bench. Zac and Rafe stood shoulder to shoulder, challenge in their eyes as they lunged in unison toward the barrier lines on the double lanes. Dot jeered, and Jace made fun of Rafe when his ball clanged to the gutter. “Better than my husband at least.”