by Zoe York
She nodded, not trusting herself to not flood him with a TMI answer again.
He didn’t let her off the hook that easily. “So this would be… book two?”
“Four.” The look he gave her made her all warm and fuzzy inside. Danger, danger, danger. “And I had another trilogy before this series.”
“Oh yeah?” He tapped his thumb on the table. “And your author name…”
Oh God. She swallowed, hard, and made herself cough.
“Is it a secret?”
She shook her head. It would be easier to tell him if it was a secret pen name. “Faith Davidson. On the covers it just says F. Davidson, you know, for the cross-over appeal to male readers, but you can search for me by my name. Not that you should search for me. You shouldn’t.”
“I shouldn’t?” Another tap of his thumb, another amused twist of his lips. “Okay.”
“We should talk about something else.” She was all off-kilter now.
“Like throwing stars?”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes please.”
— —
In the time it had taken Zander to get refills on their coffee, Faith had gone from interested to wary. Both understatements, really. They’d both dove headfirst into the conversation, and when was the last time that had happened to him? But now she had a new, nervous look in her eye, and she’d pulled back.
But she wasn’t sprinting out the door, so he supposed that was something.
“The thing to know about shuriken is that they’re not killing weapons—at least not by design. You want your characters to use them when they’re still in hiding, or as they storm in. Aim for exposed skin. Weaker opponents will be distracted by the sting of a surface wound.”
“And stronger opponents?” She double-blinked at him, her hand furiously writing again.
Zander bit back the urge to show off and tell her about his own hand-to-hand combat experience. But real life wasn’t like a novel, and he wasn’t much of a hero. He was just a guy who did a job. He did it well, but it would be wrong to use that to make those stars in her eyes any bigger. Not when she didn’t want them there, either. “You learn to ignore it. The guys who don’t stop coming at her—those are the ones she’ll have the sword fight with.”
In his pocket, his phone vibrated. Probably his brother, wondering where the hell he was, since he’d messaged more than an hour ago that he was getting off the ferry, and it was only a thirty minute drive to Pine Harbour.
It was time for him to go. Not because of his family, but because he wanted to see Faith again, and he didn’t want to overstay his welcome—she was skittish and he didn’t want to spook her. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and thumbed through it, looking for the business card he’d stuck in there a year earlier. He never had any use for them, so he only carried the one and…
Shit. He was nervous to give it to her. The idea she might not want to meet up again bothered him. Or even just stay in touch.
“Listen,” he said, finally sliding his card across the table. “I’m not exactly local, but I’ll be in the area for the rest of the week. If you need any other questions answered.”
He wanted her to take it from his hand. Wanted her fingers to slide against his. Instead, she just looked at the card as he slowly drew back across the centre line of the table. Then up at his face.
Then back at the card.
She was killing him.
“All right, humour me,” he said gruffly. “This might be the most interesting conversation I’ve ever had.”
“Says the guy who seems to have firsthand knowledge of a disturbing array of weaponry.” She curved one eyebrow high on her forehead, doubt written all over her face, and he laughed as he pointed at the card. She picked it up, upside down at first, but once she turned it the right side up her mouth fell open. “Oh.”
“Did you think I was a hired gun or something?”
Her cheeks turned pink again. He found that rush of nerves adorable every time. “Um…maybe.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
She laughed at that, a slow, rolling sound that wormed straight into his chest. Sighing, she read the rest of the card between glances across the table, each one more relaxed than the last. “Canadian Forces Base Wainwright. So you live in Alberta?”
For the next six months. “Yep.”
“But you know Greta.”
Why did he feel like he’d just been busted in a lie? His pulse thumped heavy in his neck. “Yes.”
She nodded slowly, then tucked his card into a paper pocket on the inside cover of her notebook. “I really do need to go.”
Had he just made it worse? Honesty was the best policy, but damn, he wish he hadn’t talked to Greta up at the counter. He wanted every chance he could grab to get to know Faith better, and he had the sneaking suspicion there were already a lot of barriers to that. Him being local apparently one of them. “Same. It’s been a long day of riding.”
She glanced out the window at his bike. “So you’re not the president of a motorcycle club, eh? I guess this means I can’t cross off coffee with an assassin from my bucket list, then.”
The unexpected tease made him laugh. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“You should.” She gave him a slow, warm look that made his breath catch in his throat, then they shared a nervous laugh as neither moved. Nervous wasn’t quite the right word, though, because the feeling wasn’t bad. Skittish, yes. Possibly fleeting—there was a solid chance he’d never see her again.
He’d hate that, but sometimes life dealt bum hands. If all he had was one night of coffee and conversation with Faith, he’d be grateful for it.
She finally looked away and slowly started packing up her bag.
“Thank you,” she said, glancing at him through lowered eyelashes. “For your help tonight.”
“My pleasure.” He meant it. He’d never wanted a conversation to continue quite as strongly in his entire life. “Good luck with your writing.”
He stood first, but waited for her to slide out and hook her backpack over her shoulder. He wanted to press his hand to the small of her back, but what would that touch look like to the curious observers behind them? If she came here often, they’d know her. They definitely knew him. The black sheep of the Minelli family in some ways. The one who ran away, who didn’t love living on the peninsula.
Walking next to her was a reasonable compromise, and when they got to the door, he reached past her to open it. At her car, he shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from touching her. By the time she pulled out of the lot, his knuckles were stiff and white, and he needed to flex his hands to get the blood flowing again.
He walked slowly to his bike, and even after he pulled out his phone to text his family and reassure them he hadn’t hit a wild animal and skidded off the road or something, he just stood there.
Meeting a pretty woman—an interesting, smart, funny woman—had never felt like this before. He was a little dazed.
And he was pretty sure he was in a lot of trouble.
Ponytail Girl had him all a-flutter.
It didn’t feel half bad.
— THREE —
THE next morning, Zander stared at his baby sister across her breakfast bar and shook his head. “What part of I came to your house to hide from people don’t you understand?”
Dani stared right back, completely unaffected by his bluster. “You don’t mean people, you mean Mom. And if you hadn’t taken two hours to drive from Tobermory to home last night, she wouldn’t be all up in your grill like that.”
He just blinked at her.
“I can’t pull that off, can I?”
“No. Leave the cool lingo to the kids and accept that you’re an old lady now.” He sighed. “Why can’t I stay here while you go to this barbeque?”
“Because Hope Creswell could be a good customer for your new business.”
“I already have client interviews lined up this week, and I’m not
even opening shop for another six months. I don’t need new customers.”
“Of course you do. And good ones. You have the farm implement store and a bunch of Jake’s reno customers. Hope is a celebrity. She knows people who need bodyguards.”
“I’m not going to be a bodyguard. I’m starting a security firm to do something a bit better —”
“Than the basic install and monitoring package offered by the national chains. Blah blah blah. That sounds boring. You know what sounds fun? Being a bodyguard to a movie star. Also sounds like it might pay better and let you travel to more interesting places than the other side of Highway 6.”
He got off the bar stool and peered toward the stove. “Are you making me an omelette or lecturing me on my career choices?”
“Both?” She shrieked as he rounded the kitchen island. Grabbing her spatula, she waved it in his direction. “I’m warning you…”
He laughed. It was good to be home, especially hanging out with Dani like this. She’d been a kid when he left, and to see her as a grown woman, in her own home…even if she was a nosy Parker, he didn’t care.
Grabbing another spatula from the crock on the counter, he just shrugged. “I’ll finish it myself, then. Pass me the cheese.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t change the subject. You should come with us to the party.”
“You should get me some cheddar,” he said blandly, not rising to the challenge. “And I’ll think about it.”
“Think about what?” Dani’s fiancé, Jake Foster, wandered in and poured himself a cup of coffee before offering Zander his hand. “Hey, man.”
They shook while Dani filled Jake in on her crazy plans to introduce Zander to the new local celebrity. Jake just shrugged at him, like, “what are you going to do?”
Whipped. The man was whipped.
“I’m just going to eat this without cheese,” Zander muttered, edging the spatula under the almost-done eggs.
“Oh, shut up and stop whining about cheese when I’m just trying to help you,” Dani snapped, tossing the block of cheddar at his head with enough force to be concerning.
“Okay…thank you for your loving and gentle support?”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
He turned his attention back to Jake. “Are you seriously marrying this brat?”
Jake just grinned.
So whipped.
Zander turned back to making himself breakfast.
— —
No biggie, Faith told herself. She was just going to hang out with one of Hollywood’s most talented actresses. Hope Creswell was the peninsula’s newest resident, because she’d fallen in love with a local man, Ryan Howard, and his three young children.
Ryan’s family had been through an awful, traumatic year, and it felt like a miracle they’d found someone like Hope—who was known by her real name, Holly, to Ryan and the kids, because that’s how she’d first met them. When she’d arrived early to film a movie, Ryan had mistaken her for an intern, and she’d let him carry on with that assumption. She’d given him her real name instead of her stage name, although Faith still thought of her as Hope.
Faith didn’t know much more of the story than that. She was friendly with Ryan, who she’d met through her bereavement group, but as her mother had pointed out, she hadn’t gone out of her way to forge real friendships in the last four years.
Maybe she’d change that soon. That’s one of the reasons she’d torn herself away from the computer to come to this party, after all.
She took one last look at the driveway, lined with pickup trucks. Ryan had told her that Hope wanted to have his friends over for a casual barbeque, and it seemed like they’d all turned out. So, there you go. Lots of friend potential.
She was such a dork to be worried. She’d already met Hope once, had fangirled hard, and they’d still invited her.
Maybe it was the weird week getting to her. The stress of a deadline approaching, and she’d stayed up late the night before writing. Woken up early to do more of the same, too. It was a minor miracle she’d gotten showered and dressed and made her way to Pine Harbour on time.
But she hadn’t had time to talk herself through being normal.
She wasn’t prepared for this, and kind of wanted to go back home and keep writing about Zander.
You mean Deacon.
She shook her head. Really, she meant neither of them, but that wasn’t what kept spilling out of her fingers.
So she’d made a deal with herself. She’d indulge the flight of fancy inspired by the stranger at Greta’s Bakery, and then get back to the actual work of writing her series. The one that paid the bills and made her fans happy.
The front door of the house swung open, and Ryan almost stepped into her before he realized she was standing there.
“Faith!” He gave her a surprised smile. “Did you knock? We didn’t hear it.”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Everything okay?”
“Would you believe I was composing myself?”
He laughed. “Yes. Will it make you feel better if I tell you that Holly was stressed out about messing up the taco dip?”
“No!” Faith laughed.
“Come on in, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” He glanced around. “You didn’t bring Eric?”
Their kids had met twice at play dates over the summer, and Eric liked Maya and her brothers well enough. But when she’d asked her son if he’d wanted to come to the barbeque—where lots of people would be—he’d given her an alarmed look and insisted he had a Lego fortress to finish instead. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree with that one. “Not tonight,” she said without elaborating.
“Ah, okay.” He stepped back, swinging the door wider so she could join him in the spacious, modern foyer.
Technically a cottage, the year-round house was more than big enough for Ryan and his kids to move in with Hope, but Faith knew they hadn’t officially made that step yet—their relationship was still new and Ryan, a widower who’d met Faith through the bereavement group she coordinated, was very protective of his children.
All in good time, he’d said. But the way that he and Hope loved each other, fiercely and just as protectively as they did the kids, she figured it would be sooner than later that they’d make their new family dynamic official.
Not for the first time, Faith reflected on the curious fact that she could see and support a new relationship as being best for Ryan, but not be ready for it yet herself.
She heard it every day from her mother, as well. She wasn’t sure what was holding her back, but she’d learned early in the days after Greg’s death to trust her gut, and right now, her instincts were telling her to wait.
Wait for the right guy, because life was too fragile to take risks.
“You remember Faith, sweetheart?” Ryan lifted his arm and his beautiful girlfriend folded herself into his side.
“Hi Faith,” Hope said with a twinkling grin. “Did Ryan tell you I bought one of your books?”
“No!” She didn’t care if her squeal was weird or high-pitched. “Wow, thank you!”
Hope winked. “I think you should brace yourself for this fangirling to becoming a mutual thing. It was awesome. I’ve packed the next two in the series for my next trip. I’m trying to pace myself, because I know it’ll be a while until book four comes out.”
Faith blushed. “I’m working on that right now, actually.”
Hope pressed her lips together in delight. “Seriously, I love Vera. She’s so kickass.”
They talked for another minute about Faith’s series, then their conversation turned to another popular urban fantasy series that they both had read, and how Faith’s series was similar (and different) to it.
Ryan waited until they were done, then gave them a bemused look. “Can I continue the introductions?”
“Yes, of course.” Hope lifted her hands. “Faith can come back another day when we don’t need to be social. Right?”
Was the Pope Catholic? Or Edward a vampire? Heck yeah, Faith would come back.
“Everyone else here is either Foster or a Minelli, and then there’s Dani, who’s going to be both in another month or so. She was my partner when I was a paramedic, and all of her brothers and the Foster guys have been…” Ryan shrugged. “They’re like a second family to me. There’s Rafe and Olivia, Jake and Dani…”
Faith was nodding, and trying to remember names as people around the room waved at her, but something that Ryan said was niggling at the back of her mind.
Then they turned toward the staircase and her gaze collided with a newly familiar set of dark eyes looking at her over the rim of a beer bottle. Zander tipped the bottle up an inch in a private greeting, his eyebrows lifting just enough to tell her he was surprised to see her here, too.
Deep inside her belly, her lady parts started doing a burlesque dance.
Her brain, though, had a completely different reaction. That niggle in her mind turned into unexpected panic.
This is why you’ve got a no men rule, she told herself. Because the second you let yourself have a safe, secret night of flirting, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome turns out to be the complete opposite of a stranger, just driving through.
Which she’d realized the night before, but not to this extent.
Zander Minelli wasn’t just visiting family in Pine Harbour. Her brain whirred through the connections. She knew of the Fosters, everyone did. You couldn’t drive through a local festival without seeing something sponsored by Foster Construction.
The dark eyes burning a hole through the space between them belonged to a man deeply connected to her safe space—this peninsula where she’d built a sphere of solitude around herself and her son.
Not under any circumstances could her lady parts dictate what happened with him. No, her brain was in charge, and her brain wasn’t interested.