Fighting Love

by Melissa West

  “Bragger.”

  Trixie appeared then for their drink orders, and Zac prayed Sophie would have hers figured out or this evening was going to get real bad real fast. “Y’all ready? Hey, Zac.”

  “How you doing, Trixie?” Zac asked as he glanced up at the waitress, who’d graduated a year or two after him in school.

  “Doing good. Finally caught that rattler in my backyard.”

  Sophie tensed, and Zac nearly broke into fits.

  “Good to hear it. All right, I’m going to have a Sam Adams. Sophie?” He eyed her, a silent plea in his eyes to make the wait worth it.

  “I’ll just have a water, please, no ice and no lemon.”

  Dear God.

  Trixie walked away muttering something that sounded a lot like “uptight” and “difficult” and other words that he prayed Sophie hadn’t heard.

  “What was that?” he asked once Trixie was out of earshot.

  “What?”

  “That drink order. Couldn’t you have at least ordered a mixed drink or something?”

  “I’m driving.”

  “Yeah, so am I.”

  “Well, then, you shouldn’t be drinking either.”

  “And you shouldn’t order water without the damn ice. Who does that?”

  “People with sensitive teeth, that’s who. If I get ice in my drink, I’ll be in pain all night, and then I’ll turn my anger at that pain on you. So if you want to feel that wrath, go ahead, tell Ms. Glare-A-Lot to add the ice. Make it double ice. Who needs any water in it, anyway? And while you’re at it, throw in the lemon, which is certain to be nonorganic and loaded with pesticides. Which you would know because they’re probably from your farm. But sure, put those chemicals in my water. Won’t kill me or anything. Oh, wait. The FDA said they will, in fact, kill you over time. With a little thing called cancer. But by all means, give me cancer just so I don’t piss off the wait staff.”

  “Here’s your perfect, no-ice, no-lemon water.”

  Zac closed his eyes as Trixie set down the water, Zac’s beer, and a basket of garlic biscuits.

  “What are you doing here with her anyway? I thought you didn’t like her like the rest of us.”

  “I—” Zac started, but Sophie pushed out of her chair before he could continue.

  “I need a moment please.” Sophie raced for the door that led outside more quickly than he’d ever seen her walk.

  Zac feared he’d made a terrible decision choosing Captain Jack’s for their first date. He should have chosen somewhere quieter with just a few people there so he could introduce Sophie slowly. Instead, he’d thrown her to the wolves.

  “Guess she didn’t like the water after all.” With a laugh, Trixie disappeared back into the kitchen.

  Zac followed after Sophie, wishing he would have anticipated this disaster, but apparently good sense was missing from his list of ingredients.

  Pushing out the back door onto the deck that led to the dock, Zac inhaled the earthy scent of lake water mixed with the surrounding pines. For a moment he didn’t see her, and he feared she’d hightailed it out of there, screw him and everyone else in this town. But as he edged down the sloping ramp to the dock, he caught sight of her standing at the end, her arms wrapped around herself, that blond-and-strawberry hair of hers blowing in the breeze off the water.

  In that moment, he wanted to watch her to see what she would do next, but he knew if this was going to work, if she was going to trust him, he had to be the friend they claimed he was.

  “Tough crowd, huh?” he asked. When she didn’t reply, he stopped beside her, his shoulder brushing against hers, but she didn’t move away. Like maybe she needed the feel of him there for support, even if she wouldn’t ask for it.

  “They hate me.”

  “They don’t—”

  “They do.”

  “Okay, maybe some of them might not be so fond of you, but you know what?”

  “What?” She peered up at him for the first time, and he caught the redness in her eyes. She blinked, and a single tear slipped free and glided down her cheek. Tentatively, Zac reached up to swipe it away.

  “Screw them.”

  Her eyes widened a bit as she glanced back at the restaurant to make sure no one had heard, and he had to laugh at her response.

  “That’s right, I said it. Screw them. You can only be yourself. Anything else isn’t good enough. Just you being you. And if they don’t like it—hell, if anyone doesn’t like it—then screw them.”

  The corners of her lips twitched, and she sniffled. “I have a hard time with that sentiment.”

  “I can see that. Well, except when it comes to me. You seem to screw me whenever you can. Oh, wait.”

  She burst out laughing, and a surge of relief washed over Zac that felt an awful lot like happiness. Could making another person happy be the magic to making yourself happy? It was a peculiar thing, and certainly something he experienced every day with Carrie-Anne, but that was different. She was his daughter, and that kind of happiness existed on an entirely different level from this. Yet as he bumped Sophie’s shoulder, causing her to laugh once more, he thought he could get used to this happiness thing. And the woman who had caused it.

  “Want to eat or leave?”

  Sophie rolled back her shoulders and lifted her head. “Nobody’s stopping this woman from eating.”

  He grinned, and they turned back toward Captain Jack’s. As they went back in, she said, “But I’m planning the next date.”

  “Next date, huh?”

  Their gazes connected, and Zac could swear he felt a charge fill the air, a spark building between them, linking them together.

  “You know, if you’re game,” she added.

  He opened the door and felt her arm brush his chest, the charge spiking. “Name the day and I’m yours.”

  Zac caught the light smile on her face before following her to their table, his mind and heart full of thoughts and feelings he hadn’t had in a long, long time. Now how to shut that down before the unthinkable happened and he found himself falling for his fake date.

  They sat back down as Trixie made her way over, a hand on her hip as she peered down at Sophie. “Let me guess. Allergic to half the things on the menu, so you need something made special for you.”

  “Now, look—” Zac began, but Sophie cut him off.

  That prize-winning smile of hers spread across her face. “I appreciate your concern. Maybe you’re not the old wench I thought you were after all. But as it happens, I don’t have any allergies. Unless you count bad manners, then yeah, I suppose I’m feeling a little allergic to you right now.” She paused, her whole face transforming in barely contained glee as Trixie’s mouth fell slack. “So just a cheeseburger all the way will do, thanks.”

  Trixie’s eyes narrowed. “Fries all right?”

  “Fries sound perfect, thank you.” Sophie turned her sparkling gaze on Zac, begging him to react. He managed to cover his laugh with a cough.

  “Um, same. Yeah,” he said, bypassing the steak and lobster in the name of solidarity with his date. He closed his menu and passed it to Trixie, who glared in response, but he wasn’t too worried. After all, it wasn’t the first time she’d glared at him and likely wouldn’t be the last. But as soon as she was out of earshot, Sophie crossed her arms, and that sass of hers turned on him.

  “Why do I get the feeling I’m going to pay for that kindness of yours later?”

  Zac sat back in his chair and tried not to grin. “Well, I did agree to help your image. Might as well keep up my end of the bargain. Especially since I expect you to keep up yours.”

  “The part where I date you. Even though you could date any woman you’d like.”

  “I don’t want to date just ‘any woman.’” He almost finished with “I want to date you,” but managed to stop himself before that nugget of truth slipped free and ruined him for good. Instead, he decided it was time he infused a little real date stuff into their fake date. “Why did you mo
ve to Crestler’s Key? I know the rumors, but what’s the truth?”

  “The rumors?”

  Instead of going into the real rumors around town, the ones that said she came to steal her grandmother’s home and everything the poor old woman owned, he said, “You know, that you visited the market last year, took one look at me, and knew you needed to meet me.”

  She laughed, the sound so light it brought a smile to his face. “So the town is saying I bought a farm just so I could meet you? Who exactly is spreading this rumor?”

  Zac lifted his hands. “No idea, but I’ve assured them you hate me far too much for such nonsense.”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  Suddenly Zac felt his heart pick up speed. His eyes locked on this woman before him, too beautiful for her own good, yet he wasn’t sure she had a clue of the impact she had on those around her. On him.

  “What about you? Are the rumors about you true?”

  He cracked a smile and glanced out into the restaurant. “Ah, that.”

  “So married once, right? Out in Texas? What did you do out in Texas?”

  Besides watch his wife walk away with her doctor? He couldn’t say that. For once, he wouldn’t let his anger at Lora ruin his happiness. “Mainly, I coached at a local high school—football.”

  “I bet you loved it.”

  He thought back to those days, the intensity of game day, how the whole community came out on Friday nights. “I did. It’s a culture out there—everything to them. It was nice being a part of something that meant so much to the town.”

  “So why not coach when you moved back here? What made you open Southern Dive?”

  The evening crowd had filtered in, every table full now, a thousand conversations happening all around them. Yet as Zac met Sophie’s stare again, it was as though they were the only ones in the room. It was unsettling in the best possible way, and he found himself leaning closer, eager to invade a bit more of her space as he revealed the truth he wouldn’t have admitted to anyone else. “I guess I didn’t want any part of that life to come with me here. I wanted to start over, fresh. I didn’t want reminders of what I’d had—what I’d lost. Of what Carrie-Anne had lost. Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah . . . it does.” She blinked once, like she’d been in a trance, and Zac released the breath he’d been holding as Trixie brought over their burgers, releasing the tension of the moment.

  They ate in silence for a beat before Zac realized she now knew far more about him than he knew about her. “So what’s up with all the baking? It’s like foreplay to men, you know. You have half the town under your spell now.”

  A loud laugh broke from her lips, and he grinned as he took a pull from his beer.

  “Foreplay, huh? I guess it is for me, too. I love it. Nana taught me everything I know. I used to stand on this old wooden stepstool at her side and watch her create magic in the kitchen. Warm cinnamon and spice would fill the air as it baked, and I’d think, now this is heaven.”

  She glanced up wistfully at the ceiling and then stuck her thumb into her mouth to suck off a fallen drop of mustard from her burger. Zac suppressed the urge to groan as he watched her.

  “I guess I’ve made some of the recipes my own over the years, but to me, baking brings me back to center. It reminds me of simpler times, when there was nothing to worry about but making sure I watched the clock so I didn’t overcook the turnovers. Back then, Nana didn’t have a timer, probably wouldn’t have used one even if she did.”

  She popped another French fry into her mouth, and Zac took another long pull of his beer, then two, so he could look at her without her seeing every thought going through his mind, half of them far too indecent to be having in a restaurant full of the town and all their gossip.

  Still, with her long hair cradling her perfect face, her eyes bright from her memory, he couldn’t help but stare. And the surprise of it all—she was staring right back at him.

  Trixie returned then with their check, breaking the connection, and Zac thought he was liking his old schoolmate less and less by the second. “Getting crowded now, so thought I’d bring this on over.” She dropped the check, and Zac instantly took it, placed his credit card inside, and handed it back to her.

  “You didn’t have to pay,” Sophie said after Trixie walked away.

  “Sure I did. It was my date.”

  She cocked her head and grinned. “So that means you’ll let me pay for our next date?”

  Zac opened his mouth to say yes, whatever, none of this was real after all. But it felt real, far too real for him to allow her to pay for anything. “How about I agree to consider it?”

  “The date or letting me pay?”

  “A man would have to be crazy to turn down a date with you.”

  A smile played at her lips as they made their way outside and to their cars. A clear, starry night shone above them, the air crisp, a soft breeze causing the trees to sway, everything about the moment easy and relaxed, not at all like the rest of Zac’s life. He found himself wishing they could extend the evening, even if no words passed between them, just Sophie beside him and the stars above.

  “Well, this is me,” she said, motioning to her car. Zac opened her door and leaned on it as she slipped around to the other side, but not inside the car just yet. Instead she faced him, the door the only thing between them. The wind blew her hair, and several loose strands flew over her face, but Zac didn’t dare reach out to tuck them away from her face. Separated by just a few inches, her floral scent invading his senses, he feared that if he touched her, if his fingertips felt her hair, her skin, he would lose all control and kiss her. Already, every fiber in his body ached for him to close the small distance, to see if she tasted as sweet as her baked goods.

  But before he lost the fight with himself, Sophie graced him with one more smile and said, “Good night, Zac.”

  “Good night, Sophie”

  He closed her car door and watched her pull away.

  Chapter Eight

  Sophie felt the bed dip beside her and adjusted in her sleep, her hands reaching out, only to connect with something and shift away. She tried to back up, but he had pressed a firm hand to her stomach, stopping her.

  “It’s okay.”

  “What are you doing?”

  He cocked his head and brushed a strand of hair from her face. She caught the look in his eyes, a look she’d seen more times than she cared to lately, and it had started to frighten her. A look like he was walking the delicate line between sanity and absolute psychopath.

  He didn’t speak, didn’t even open his mouth. Instead he climbed on top of her, while she tried to back away, her claustrophobia rising.

  Finally he whispered, “Shh, it’s okay.” She fought against him, but he had a foot of height on her and more than eighty pounds of muscle.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m helping you. Now put the blanket over your head.”

  “No!” She startled awake, a cold sweat breaking across her neck, and her nightgown stuck to her like she’d climbed into the shower in her sleep.

  Sophie pushed her sheets off and rushed to the bathroom, lifted the toilet lid, and started to make herself vomit until she caught her reflection. Seeing the absolute fear there, she slowly closed the lid and sat back, tears filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks before she could stop them.

  It was over, she’d left, and he couldn’t hurt her now. But that was part of what made him so evil—he hadn’t ever hurt her. Not physically, at least. Which made getting the restraining order approved by the court a lengthy endeavor and the divorce an even lengthier one. He’d never once hit her, never even gave her a bruise.

  On the outside.

  The scars from his hits were layered within, over her heart and self-esteem—pink and white markings all through her mind. Evidence of just how badly he’d broken her.

  And she’d never seen it coming.

  * * *


  A Xanax cocktail later, Sophie was all smiles as she walked toward the fire station entrance, a basket full of fresh pastries in hand to bribe them through their bellies.

  The fire department’s annual bachelor auction to raise money for the fire station was just two months away, and every person who attended the auction would receive a basket of fruit and a plant to celebrate summer. Apparently, everyone in town attended, and Littleton Farms always provided the baskets. But this year, Sophie intended for Fresh Foods to supply those baskets and plants.

  Several of the firefighters were washing one of their giant red trucks when she approached. “Hi there,” she said, then lifted up the basket so the vanilla and cinnamon and spice smells would float over to them. “Y’all hungry?”

  Immediately the men stopped what they were doing to get a peek at what she’d brought.

  “I was looking for Justin. Is he around?”

  “Right here. What can I do for you?”

  Sophie turned to see a man standing just inside the brick fire station. His eyes squinted as he peered at her like he already didn’t trust her and wanted to check out the situation before he fully committed.

  “Hey there. Well, I brought these treats by in hopes of having a little talk with you about the bachelor auction.”

  “Yeah? What about it?”

  “Well, rumor has it you give out fruit baskets and plants to all the attendees. I’d like to offer for Fresh Foods to supply those this year.”

  “We get them from Littleton Farms.”

  Unwrapping the basket, Sophie passed out the lemon tarts and turnovers to the firefighters before stepping up to Justin and motioning to the basket.

  “Apple or cherry?”

  He fidgeted, his eyes on the perfectly glazed, flaky crusts. Nana had taught Sophie how to make the perfect turnovers every time by using shortening instead of butter, and ever since, she’d never met a person who could refuse them. She held out a turnover, wrapped prettily in Fresh Foods paper wrapping, then secured with a sticker boasting the Fresh Foods daisy and butterfly logo.

  “Miss, I get that you’re just trying to find your ground here, but Zac is an old friend of mine.”