by Seton, Cora
She grabbed them both a mug of coffee and then settled in on a bar stool by the kitchen counter, digging into the box because this conversation deserved carbs. And sugar. Jelly? Check. Sugar glaze? Check and check. She took a bite. If Joey really wanted to talk, he could start. She was going to prioritize chewing and swallowing.
Joey grabbed a doughnut and stared at it like pastry was terra incognita. Given his SEALs physique, it might be. Fine. More for her.
He looked at her and inhaled. Here it came. “So. You and Zack, huh?”
“We’re married, Joey. It’s that simple.”
He took a second breath, so deep she thought his lungs might explode. “No. It’s not.”
The expression on Joey’s face screamed protective big brother. It was sweet and, on another day, she probably would have appreciated it. “It is. We’ve been married for the last three-plus years and that’s not changing.”
The kitten climbed down from her shoulder and she set it on the floor. No point in teaching it bad habits like prancing around her kitchen counter. Being male, it would undoubtedly figure out the misbehaving thing all on its own.
“Yours?” Joey offered the kitten a sugar-covered fingertip.
“Yep.” The kitten. Zack. Shoot, she was claiming things left and right. Spurning Joey’s offering, the kitten tried to scrabble back up her leg, so she plucked it off her pajama bottoms and set it on her lap where it mewed happily, loving on her. Winning its way into her heart.
“I know why you got married,” Zack said.
Being responsible was nothing to be ashamed of, she reminded herself. Sure, she would have preferred the white dress fantasy, would have preferred that Zack went down on bended knee because he loved her and he’d though it over, couldn’t imagine living without her. She’d wanted to take that walk down the aisle under other circumstances.
“You do?” Please say you don’t.
Joey stared at his coffee cup intently. The serious look was spoiled by her elegant choice of mugs. As the mug heated up, the grumpy face painted on the side became a happy face. Silly, but she liked it.
“Broken condom,” he muttered, really fast. “Laura told me.”
So okay. He did know. She wasn’t going to hide her face in her hands. She really, really wasn’t.
“We were responsible.” She loved her brother, she really did, but some discussion topics were off-limits. Like her sex life. From the pained look on Joey’s face as he took a sip of his coffee, he felt the same way.
“Responsible is good,” he agreed.
“So why do I hear a but?”
“Because the broken condom is in your past,” he said gently. “And it wasn’t a whole lot to base a marriage on anyhow, particularly when the breakage turned out to be a non-issue.”
He wasn’t wrong, but…she’d hoped. And she’d written and maybe done some dreaming as well. And Zack had come back. Granted, it had taken him a full thirty-six months, so he clearly hadn’t been in any kind of a hurry, but he was here in Strong now and he’d said he wanted a chance.
At her.
Maybe she was naïve, but she didn’t think he meant just at having a sexual relationship, although after last night she had every intention of taking advantage of him that way. Having sex would complicate things. She was no lawyer, but even she knew that an unconsummated marriage had to be easier to dissolve than one where the partners were boinking like rabbits. If she was lucky.
“The condom broke,” she said. “That doesn’t have to mean that we’re broken.”
Joey gave her a look she couldn’t interpret. “Zack’s a good guy.”
“I hear another but.”
He shrugged and took a bite of doughnut. Made a face. “Jesus. That’s sweet. Maybe because he never dated, I never pictured Zack settling down and going all white picket fence on me.”
“That’s okay.” She finished her doughnut and assessed the box. The maple-glazed was definitely next on her to do list. “He didn’t marry you, Zack. He married me. He’s not doing anything with you.”
Joey shoved his doughnut wreckage away. “I just want you to be happy. Bottom line.”
God. Her brother could be sweet. She hoped Sheriff Hernandez realized how lucky she was to have Joey chasing after her. Maybe the woman would stop arresting her brother long enough to realize that. Or not. Because it wasn’t Bree’s problem to deal with anymore than her relationship with Zack was Joey’s business.
“If Zack is the guy for you, then great.” Joey stood up and pulled her into his side. “You keep him.”
“I don’t know,” she told him, because he deserved the truth. “But I want to find out. I know that much. Next time you stop by, knock on the door first.”
*
Zack’s wife apparently worked at A Hot Mess. The antiques store was tucked away on Strong’s Main Street. Or only big street. He’d forgotten how small the place was, barely a blip on the GPS although it seemed larger than life sometimes.
According to his rusty Google-fu, the next day of Christmas was two turtledoves, whatever the hell turtledoves were. Birds of some kind and definitely not locally available. Whatever. Since Bree was already one up in the pet department thanks to last night’s kitten delivery, he figured she didn’t want him adding birds to her menagerie.
Instead, he had two yellow Peeps in slightly dusty shrink-wrap. The bright yellow candy might be fossilized, but it was chicken-shaped. Bird-shaped. Again, whatever. He poked one with a finger but there was still some give in the chick’s marshmallow side. He’d found it in firehouse kitchen, proving that a) there were some things men simply wouldn’t eat and that b) the candy would probably survive a nuclear apocalypse since he was pretty certain the Peeps were an Easter leftover and it was now December.
Zack shoved open the store’s front door before he could chicken out. Fortunately, she appeared to be the only person in the place. She also looked good enough to eat. She wore an old, soft T-shirt that clung to her boobs, another skirt, and the pink cowboy boots. Her hair was piled up on top of her head in a messy bun and skewered in place with two pencils and a chopstick. A couple of diamond bobby pin thingies bristle at odd angles where she’d shored the whole edifice up. She looked sweet and chaotic and sparkly. He wanted to undo her on the spot.
She looked wary too, another thing he wanted to fix.
“You want to buy something?”
He wanted to say you, but that sounded downright pornographic and he really wasn’t an asshole. Plus, even he, relationship virgin that he was, knew that wasn’t how these things worked. Either Bree chose to give herself to him—or she didn’t.
“I brought you your second present,” he said instead.
Now she looked interested and he could totally work with that. He pulled the Peeps out of his pocket, trying to pretend they were gift-wrapped in something swank and gold rather than banged-up plastic, and handed it over.
She examined her treat and then looked up, grinning. “Wow. You really know how to treat a girl.”
“It’s the second day of Christmas,” he said gruffly. “Two turtledoves. Or as close as I could get.”
Her grin got wider.
Off-balance, he looked around the store. The antiques shop was full to the rafters of old things. Broken things. Dust and junk. She’d have loved the souks in Morocco because her house was the same kind of treasure trove place, full of interesting bits and pieces.
She tightened her fingers on the Peeps and plastic crinkled. “Thank you. Your kitten already did a fine imitation of a partridge in a pear tree this morning.”
He moved in, his leg brushing against hers. He could smell her shampoo, although he preferred his memories of the scent of her when he’d been kissing her sweet pussy. Yeah. Definitely one of his all-time favorite memories. Her breathing hitched a little, like maybe she was thinking about what they’d done together last night.
“Whiskey Tango belongs to you.”
“Whiskey Tango being the kitten?” There wa
s laughter in her voice.
“Absolutely. Cat needs a name. And he was almost a complete lost cause. One of the firefighters pulled him out of a smoking woodpile.”
She stared at him. “But that’s a terrible name.”
He shrugged. “It’s a cat. It’s not like he’s going to answer to it anyhow.”
He smiled at her. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Shook her head.
“W.T. has an appointment with the vet to get his boy parts adjusted. Nothing but safe sex for him from here on out.”
Ouch.
He hadn’t come over here to discuss her new cat. “You going to let me come over when you get off work today?”
Her brow crinkled and she got a death-hold on the Peeps. Good thing they were already past their sell-by date and not for eating, because they were going to be squashed beyond all recognition. He should bring her chocolates. She’d had a fantasy about that…him feeding her chocolates. Painting her nipples with the sweet stuff and licking it off one careful lick at a time. Yeah…
She looked at him strangely and he realized he’d let out a hoarse groan. Better to say nothing because, honestly, how did he explain that what he really wanted was to strip her down and paint her body with chocolate?
She gave him another glance and he gave her back his best smile.
“If this is the second day of Christmas, is tomorrow the third?”
“Absolutely,” he said. He had all the days scrawled on his forearm in ballpoint pen. That could get awkward if he managed to finally get her naked, but he’d take the chance. “Three French hens coming right up.”
He looked around the shop, hoping against hope that she had a convenient display of weird foreign poultry for sale. He was going to need a lifeline on this one.
“Okay.” She nodded her head like they’d just settled an important matter of state.
“Okay…what?”
“Are we…dating?”
“I got to third base last night.” He grinned at her. “Does that mean yes?”
And…she blushed. He loved how she could write him the sexiest, raunchiest letters and then be embarrassed to talk about the actual sex out loud.
“If you mention last night again, I’m going to kill you,” she muttered. “Joey already came by and wanted details.”
“Have dinner with me tonight?” Yeah, he probably could have done a smoother job asking, but he was out of practice. Years out of practice.
She narrowed her eyes. The bell on the front door rang as a customer came in. “Be right with you,” she called, not shifting her focus from him.
“Are you asking me out on a date, Zack Medina?”
“I thought we were past that point.”
Her gaze met his, searching. Looking for something. Whatever it was, he wanted to give it to her because his answer was yes. He wanted to date Bree. Hell, he wanted to hold her, to fuck her senseless, to…love her. Not something he’d planned on, this love thing. He wasn’t Mr. Introspective, but when he looked at her, he saw home. He wanted her. Wanted a chance for them to be husband and wife in every sense of the word. They’d rushed things years ago and, if she wanted to slow their pace down some, he was her man. Whatever she wanted, she got.
Because what he wanted? Was her.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I’m asking you out on a date.”
“I get off work at six,” she said. “Pick me up then.”
Chapter Six
‡
Seven hours left until six o’clock. Not that Zack was counting or anything. Working the Donovan Brothers’ flight hangar felt right. He’d taken the truck out to their airstrip, a short, hard stretch of asphalt that dead-ended in Ponderosa pine. Overshoot the landing and you’d come to a stop all right—hung up in two hundred feet of unforgiving wood. The runway’s current occupants included the DC-3 they’d be taking up today and a rebuilt military chopper that he wouldn’t mind taking a closer look at later.
He went inside the hangar, following the rumble of male voices. Despite the volume and the number of trucks and Harleys parked outside, there were only six men inside. Joey introduced him around as a former military teammate and that would have to do for now. At least the other man hadn’t hauled off and punched him. Zack might not have any sisters of his own, but he could imagine how he’d feel if he caught some guy going down on his and Bree’s daughter.
A pregnancy hadn’t happened and that was probably for the best—neither of them had been ready to become parents—but he was back now, years older and wiser. If Bree were up for it, he wouldn’t mind becoming a daddy.
“You want to jump for us?” Jack Donovan was a big, dark-haired man who moved like former military. He clearly ran a no-bullshit operation, because he cut straight to the chase. Zack liked that. He was betting he’d like this man too, when he’d run a few missions with him.
So he didn’t have to think about it anymore. He did.
Jack slapped him on the back and nodded, which was apparently the man’s version of a written job offer. “We’ll get your feet wet now, so you get a sense of the team and what we do. The state of California and the Forestry Department run a good rookie school, and we’d want to send you there to make sure all the basics are covered. You’d officially start in April and get six good weeks under your belt before fire season hits.”
Training was a good deal. Zack had jumped plenty as a U.S. Navy SEAL, but under vastly different circumstances. He’d almost died on his last jump for Uncle Sam because they’d taken hostile fire as soon as their boots had hit ground. After that, a forest fire seemed simpler. Not necessarily less dangerous—underestimating Mother Nature, especially when she had her back up, was plain stupid—but more straightforward. A forest fire wasn’t personal and it damned sure wasn’t about politics or power. He was looking forward to firefight having a whole new meaning.
Jack wrapped up his explanations and welcome-aboard speech. “We’re going up for practice jumps. Come along. Joey can get you suited up.”
Just like that, he was part of the team. He suited up, following Joey’s lead and checking his chute. When the DC-3 finally rumbled down the runway thirty minutes later, there was a full complement of smoke jumpers sprawled out in the stripped down interior. Barebones transport was also familiar from his Uncle Sam days. Zack got his back to the wall, stretching his legs out in front of him and letting the vibrations from the plane wash through him.
He’d also scored the first class row because he had a straight shot out the open door. Plenty of places were decorated for Christmas and there was a lot selling trees. He wondered if that was where Bree had gotten hers. Another year, if she kept him, he’d take her to one of those farms where you went all Charlie Brown and chopped down your own tree. He bet she’d like that.
“You get the free Christmas tour.” Joey dropped down beside him.
Maybe his being married to Bree wouldn’t come between them. He hoped not, although he’d made his choice. Bree came first. “I’m going to make this work with your sister. We’ve got a date tonight.”
Joey shuddered. “TMI, my man. I already saw far more than I ever wanted to see. I’m sending you my therapist bills.”
Yeah. He’d seen how Joey did therapy. “Who goes by the name of Sam Adams?”
Joey flashed him a grin. “You bet. You’re paying for all twelve cold ones.”
“Deal.”
The plane banked hard and turned, mountainside flashing in the open bay door. He took a deep breath of cold air, pulling it deep into his lungs. Released it. It felt good to be doing something. He’d never been one for sitting around, which was probably why he was after Bree and grinning like a dog with two tails.
The day’s spotter hooked himself onto the protective webbing on the plane’s wall and moved into the open bay, leaning out. Happy with whatever he saw, he flashed two thumbs up at the jumpers and dropped the streamers.
“You keep your eye on the tissue paper. If it lands good, you land good.” Joey promptly ignore
d his own advice and closed his own eyes, leaning back against the wall.
That was a pretty fucking flimsy piece of paper to be pinning your life and your landing on. On the other hand, there was no fire beneath them today, so overshooting wouldn’t scorch his ass. Learn now. Live later. The ribbons arced out of the bay, hung in the air for a moment and then unfurled, catching the wind. Yeah. Red or not, those streamers would make a mighty small target on the ground.
The plane made a slow, lazy circle around the jump site. The pilot barked coordinates over the headset at Jack. When the plane leveled out again, the spotter dropped the second set of streamers. Apparently, the first weren’t looking so good.
“You be good to her,” Joey said, eyes still closed.
Why did everyone think he wouldn’t be? “She’ll be my everything,” he said and it had to be the altitude and the winter-fresh air whipping through the plane that made him sound gruff.
Joey opened his eyes, stared at him for a moment and then slapped him on the shoulder, harder than necessary. “Okay then. Welcome to the family, man. We’re first to jump today.”
Zack jammed his sunglasses on, yanked his helmet into place. “That easy?”
Joey motion for Zack to move into the open door and grinned. “This is the part that makes it all worthwhile. If you freeze in the door, I get to push your ass out.”
Fair enough.
Chapter Seven
‡
Three French hens. Fuck if Zack had any idea what that Day of Christmas meant. Google had suggested pictures, but the hens looked pretty much like chickens to Zack, although he was admittedly no chicken expert by any stretch of the imagination. Thank God. Rather than diving into poultry keeping, he’d settled for picking up chicken nuggets at a local drive-through on his way to Bree’s house. With French fries, just to hedge his bets some. If had the word French in the title and it touched the chicken-parts-in-a-box…he was golden.