Love on a Summer Night

by Zoe York

  Much.

  Except for all the ways he fascinated her, of course.

  Sigh. This would require a double-dose of serious denial.

  “…and this is Tom Minelli,” Ryan continued. Faith didn’t blink until her view of Zander was obstructed by someone else. A man.

  “Tom,” she repeated, smiling belatedly when she realized she was acting like a space cadet. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” the handsome, younger, less-tattooed version of Zander said. He pointed to the large, open kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Sure,” she murmured, still hopelessly distracted by his brother’s gaze. “Coke or water would be great. I’m driving, and not staying too long.”

  Tom stepped a hair closer. Not too close. But…flirting close. “That’s a shame,” he said, and when she blinked and really looked at him, his eyes were warm and dancing. “I’ll be right back with something cold for you.”

  As Tom shifted out of the way, Ryan finally started the introduction she’d been bracing herself for the last ninety seconds. “And visiting from out west, our returning soldier. Zander, this is Faith Davidson.”

  He stood, stretching himself to his full height and impressive breadth. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at her. His eyelids slid to half-mast, covering his glittering dark eyes but she could still feel the full weight of his appraisal. Then he slowly hitched his shoulders and reached out, offering her his right hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Faith.”

  Her breath caught in her throat as she slid her fingers against his, hyper-aware of every muscle in his hand as their palms lined up and his grip closed around hers.

  These were hands that could strip a rifle in the dark and dig endless trenches. Probably climb tall buildings, too. And still he held her fingers with gentle ease.

  The lines on his face deepened as he smiled slightly, and as her breath rushed out of her body, she realized he’d let go of her hand.

  She missed the feel of his skin—rough in places and warm all over.

  No, shrieked her brain.

  Wow, said everything else.

  “Shit,” Faith muttered under her breath before catching herself. Zander laughed quietly as she pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes up at him. “Soldier you say? Interesting. Nice to meet you, too.”

  “Interesting. I’m going to take that as a compliment.” His voice had a very distracting rub of amusement to it and she ducked her head to hide a blush.

  “Here’s a Coke,” Tom said at her elbow, appearing out of nowhere. Zander reached out and took the glass from his brother and handed it to Faith.

  She couldn’t hold back a laugh.

  Really?

  Tom apparently had the same question, but he said it out loud.

  Making a murmured excuse as her heart skipped traitorously, she left the siblings to their stare-down and escaped to the kitchen. She found the previously mentioned taco dip—delicious—and soon fell into a conversation between Jake Foster and one of his brothers about some of the renovations Holly wanted done on the place.

  The whole time, she felt Zander’s gaze on her. Warmth wrapped around her and her cheeks stayed permanently flushed as she moved through the party.

  What had she fallen into?

  And how long until the tall, dark, handsome not-so-much-a-stranger left the peninsula and life returned to normal?

  After making a round of the room, surprised at how many people recognized her, she found herself standing with Hope again. They were talking to Olivia Minelli, who’d recently started working with the movie star as her assistant. Listening to them talk about work was fascinating and not that different from her own writing world, although on a very different scale.

  A soccer balled zinged out of nowhere and bounced off Hope’s leg. She grabbed it and gave Gavin, Ryan’s middle kid, a gently scolding look.

  “Sorry Holly,” he said, and she pulled him in for a quick hug.

  It was a sweet moment that made Faith’s chest ache.

  “Come on, outside with this,” Hope said, guiding him to the back door.

  Olivia snorted as soon as her boss was out of hearing range. “No way will I be that chill about a ball inside the house.”

  “I’ve got a little boy,” Faith said, shrugging her shoulders. “Sometimes you lose your mind. Sometimes it’s not a big deal.”

  “How old is he?”

  “He’ll be five in October.” Faith glanced at Olivia’s obviously pregnant belly, rounding out the middle of a ruched maternity shirt. But you still didn’t ask that question. “Do you have kids?”

  Olivia patted her bump. “First one. A girl, due in November.”

  They talked more about pregnancy and midwives, sleep and sciatica pain and cravings, but Faith’s attention kept drifting out the window to watch Hope, who’d joined Ryan and the kids in a game of pick-up soccer.

  “They’re so happy, eh?”

  Olivia sighed. “Disgustingly so. It feels like she’s been here forever, not just a couple months. But she’s so good for all of them.”

  “And you like working for Hope—I mean, Holly?”

  “I call her Hope, too, it’s okay. I think it’s easier for her, you know? To be Hope all the time with most people.”

  Faith suddenly felt awkward. She’d been a fan of Hope’s for years online, and had participated in many conversations about the private star. Theories about her personal life, etcetera. Nothing like seeing the celebrity play soccer with her boyfriend’s children to be reminded that her private life was just that—private, and her own. “It makes sense,” she said so quietly it was probably a whisper. “They’re her safe harbour. The rest of the world always requires her to be on, right?”

  “Yeah.” Olivia caught her gaze and smiled. “Do you have anything like that as an author?”

  Faith shook her head. “Not really. The only expectation my fans have from me is that I don’t kill their favourite characters.”

  Olivia giggled. “Which is fine if you don’t have homicidal tendencies.”

  “Right?” Faith sighed dramatically. “The challenge is real.”

  As they dissolved into laughter, Faith felt Zander’s gaze turn toward her again, like her laugh had grabbed him from across the room. She took a deep breath and steadied herself. She needed some air.

  “Will you excuse me?” She smiled at Olivia. “I’m going to check out the soccer game.”

  “Of course.” The other woman gave her a look. It said, brace yourself. “We should do this again. Without people around.”

  “That’s what Hope said.”

  “She’s smart.”

  “I’m on deadline right now, but as soon as this book is done, I’m all over a tea party.”

  “Awesome.” Olivia winked at her as Faith moved toward the back door.

  On the deck, she found Ryan refilling the coolers with bags of ice. “Having fun?” he called to her.

  “Actually, yes.”

  He laughed. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

  “Ahhh.” She waved her hand. “It’s just that I’m in writing mode right now, so conversation is a challenge. I’m always drifting away. I’m going to head home soon, but I wanted to thank you for the invite. It was great to meet some of your friends.”

  “You and Eric are welcome any time. Either here or at my place. He could play road hockey with my boys and we could talk.”

  She snorted. She didn’t know what was funnier—the idea of her serious little boy playing road hockey or Ryan willingly talking about anything.

  “Talk about you, I mean,” he added, reading her mind.

  “Oh. Me.” She wrapped her arms around her middle and looked out over the lovely, long expanse of lawn behind the house. “This is a great place.”

  “Smooth change of subject,” he said wryly.

  “Sorry, I left my social savvy at home, clearly.” She sighed. “Go play soccer. Maybe I just need some fresh air.”

  “
I think you’re savvier than you give yourself credit for.” He patted her on the shoulder and jogged down the stairs from the deck to the grass, catching up to his kids and his girlfriend.

  She couldn’t even really blame her current mood on writing, which did make her a bit absent-minded, maybe.

  Crazy-sexy soldiers who looked like sin and rode motorcycles without a care in the world…they messed her up. Big time.

  Especially when one in particular was under her skin and all around her—literally.

  Zander’s boot steps on the deck behind her were the first clue she wasn’t alone.

  The butterflies taking flight in her stomach were the second.

  She turned to look at him and smiled, which she told herself was being polite but she really knew was because she couldn’t help herself. “Hi.”

  “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Yeah. The peninsula is a small world sometimes.”

  “I’ve forgotten that over the years.”

  “How long have you been gone?”

  “Almost twenty years. I come back a fair bit to visit, but it’s not the same.”

  She nodded.

  “How about you? I don’t remember you growing up, but you might be younger than me.”

  Ha. “Might be.”

  He winked. “I’m not asking.”

  “I’m thirty-five. But no, I’m not from around here. I grew up outside of Toronto. Moved here seven years ago for the outdoor lifestyle and never looked back.”

  “It’s been a while since I’ve gone hiking around here. Maybe you could show me your favourite trail?”

  She resisted a glance to his mid-section, where her suddenly hormone-addled brain remembered a glimpse of a trail of dark curls that led right from his navel to his belt, and below.

  What was wrong with her?

  This needed to stop. Dragging a deep, shaky breath into her lungs, she held it for a minute before exhaling and crossing her arms. “You seem like a great guy, Zander.”

  He laughed and rubbed his jaw and up onto his cheek, then stopped and looked at her over his hand. “Huh.”

  “What?”

  “I’d always wondered what the nice-guy brush-off felt like.”

  “I’m not…” No, that’s exactly what she was doing. She blushed. “Well, you do seem like a great guy.”

  “But you’re not interested in grabbing a coffee or something.”

  “I like coffee. It’s the or something I can’t do. And even if I could, I don’t think I can handle what that would entail with someone like you.”

  A faint muscle twitched in his cheek and his eyes widened just a touch. Just enough to tell her he wanted to say something—that he had a snappy comeback and was fighting back the urge to let it fly.

  Deep inside, a part of her moaned at the loss of whatever dirty/funny/snappy thing was on the tip of his tongue. She kicked that fickle woman in the shins and crossed her arms. “I’m just one of those annoying people who has standards.”

  This time he couldn’t fight the eyebrow lift. Maybe he didn’t even try. “Standards? And I don’t meet them?”

  Shit, shit, sugar tits. “That didn’t come out the right way.”

  He grinned. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Why aren’t you offended?”

  “Oldest of four, nineteen years in the infantry. Being told I’m not good enough yet is par for the course.”

  “Yet? I didn’t say yet.”

  His grin just got wider. “Sure.”

  “And I didn’t say you weren’t good enough. I said I have standards. Maybe you’ve never gotten the nice-guy brush-off because you’re not a nice guy.” She narrowed her eyes to deliver the next line, but her words didn’t carry much heat and they both knew it. “I’ve heard they take no for an answer.”

  “Are you telling me no, Faith?”

  Her chest tightened. Sure she was. Definitely. She’d just open her mouth and that simple, single syllable would spill right out. “I’m telling you my life is complicated.”

  “That’s not no.”

  She couldn’t do this. She shook her head and took a step back. “I should get back inside. And then home.”

  Understanding flickered in his dark eyes and he rocked back on his heels, his lower lip pulling tight between his teeth as he nodded at her. “You’ve got someone waiting for you there?”

  It wasn’t right to let him think that, but the truth was, she did. Her little man might be a hundred and fifty pounds lighter than Zander and three feet shorter, but he still owned her entire heart.

  What about the rest of you? She shoved that question out of her mind. The rest of her didn’t need what Zander was offering, either.

  “I do.” She gave him a regretful smile. “I’m sorry.”

  “That makes two of us,” he said gruffly. If he was upset with her, she’d understand, but he just gave her a look that was way more complicated than single injured pride. “See you around, Faith.”

  — —

  Zander watched as Faith ducked back into the house, then grabbed another beer for himself and one for his host from the cooler and wandered out across the back lawn to where Ryan was playing soccer with his kids.

  He hadn’t seen Faith’s admission coming. She didn’t wear a wedding band, although that didn’t mean anything. But the night before she’d definitely been interested. Not in a hook-up kind of way—he wasn’t deluded enough to think she’d be game for something like that—but in a simpler way.

  He’d recognized in her the same loneliness he felt inside. No way did she have someone treating her right.

  It wasn’t his problem, but fuck, he wanted it to be.

  “Hey man,” Ryan gave him a fist bump as he handed over the bottle. “Did I see you talking to Faith there?”

  “Yeah.” Zander took a long pull of beer.

  Ryan frowned and looked down at the ground. “Look, I’m the last person to give relationship advice, because I never want any myself, but…tread gently.”

  “It’s okay. She already told me she’s off-limits.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. But hey, maybe I misread her interest in you.”

  “You didn’t misread anything. We met last night…it’s a long story. How else would you say it if she’s not off-limits?”

  “Faith?” Ryan gave him a long, hard look. “She’s got standards.”

  Jesus, was he wearing a Loser sign? “Yeah, she mentioned that. I’m more interested in the fact that whoever she’s got at home isn’t doing right by her, because she’s a gorgeous, fascinating woman who seems far too lonely.”

  “Got at home?” Ryan squinted at the house. “Did she say that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The only guy she’s got at home is in kindergarten. Faith and I met through a bereaved parents group. She’s a widow, and to the best of my knowledge, she hasn’t started dating again.”

  Shit.

  He replayed their conversation in his head as they kicked the ball back and forth with Ryan’s kids. He’d given her the excuse that she knew would end the conversation.

  He needed to back off. She wasn’t interested.

  No, she wasn’t ready. She was definitely interested—she just wasn’t happy about it.

  He didn’t know what to do about that. Chasing her out to her car wasn’t the answer. But he had a week, and aside from work and a few family dinners, nothing else to do.

  At some point, he’d find a way to see Faith again, and they’d try that conversation again.

  — FOUR —

  ZANDER didn’t want to admit that his sister was right, but after meeting with Fred at the farm equipment store and some of Jake’s contractor clients over the weekend, he was decidedly pessimistic about the prospects of a full-time, full-service security firm surviving in Pine Harbour.

  The only immediate answer was to drown his sorrows in a cheeseburger. He headed for the diner on the edge of town.

  Mac’s was humming with activity, and every bo
oth had at least one person in it. Zander headed for a stool at the counter when he heard his name.

  Dean Foster waved from where he sat alone in a booth along the window. When Zander slid onto the opposite bench, Dean shoved the menu across the table. “Good timing. I was just about to order.”

  Zander didn’t need a menu, but he took the world’s quickest look before setting it down; the waitress wouldn’t come over until he did, and his stomach was growling. To distract himself, he started stacking the little creamers and sugar packets.

  “You sure you don’t want to go into the house building business with Jake?” Dean finally said, laughing as he pointed at the house Zander had built out of plastic and paper.

  “Dani’s already got opinions about the business I want to start on my own, can you imagine how bossy she’d get if I went to work for her fiancé?”

  “What kind of opinions?”

  Zander shrugged. Good ones, apparently. “She thinks there isn’t enough security business around here.” He cracked his jaw. “Unfortunately, I’m realizing she’s not wrong.”

  “We’ve talked about this before.” Dean was a cop, and familiar with the needy, high-maintenance wealthy cottagers who showed up every summer and called 911 every time a raccoon busted into their attics. “It’s gonna be a leap of faith, but once you’re here next summer, customers will come out of the woodwork. Besides, I thought you didn’t want something full-time?”

  “I don’t.” A vein started to throb in his forehead. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not old enough to retire, man.”

  Dean laughed. “Buy yourself a boat and call yourself a fisherman. And shut the fuck up about retiring, okay? I’m still looking at another fifteen years.”

  Where Zander had joined the army right out of high school, Dean had gone to university, getting two degrees before joining the provincial police force. “Could’ve gone reg force with me.”

  Dean snorted. He’d thought about it. Zander could still hear the lap of water against the dock as they sat there in their last year of high school, talking about joining up. But Dean’s father had been an officer, and officer’s kids didn’t enlist. They went to university and became officers. Or went to university and pretended they’d become officers long enough grow a pair of balls and do whatever they wanted.