Never Expected You

by Jody Holford

  She left the dogs and went to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge even though her stomach was spinning in circles and she didn’t want to eat. Shutting the fridge with a thud, she went to the window and peeked through. The light was still on in the clinic, but Cindy’s car was gone.

  “He was generating business. And if it was more, good for him.” But still, the thought of him going out with Cindy, or anyone, made her want to dig her nails into something. She hated feeling jealous, but she refused to lie to herself and knew that was the feeling leading the way right now. It was stupid. She had no claim on Zach. When her phone buzzed in her pocket, she almost dropped it in her effort to distract herself with something else.

  Megan had texted asking if she wanted to come to a cake testing on the weekend. Stella smiled and typed back a response.

  Do I want to try multiple flavors of cake? Yes please.

  Forcing herself to stare at the screen and not out the window, she waited for a reply. She’d thought being part of the wedding and the planning would be hard; maybe bring up bad memories of what wasn’t meant to be. But the more time she had to help Megan plan her day, the more excited she was for her friend. And that time has been freed up, thanks to Zach. She groaned and looked out the window again.

  When her text beeped, she looked back at the screen.

  Megan: Speaking of yummy desserts, how’s Dr. Hottie?

  Stella: Stop it.

  Megan: Start it.

  Stella laughed and replied: We’re partners. It was hard enough letting him into my practice. I’m not starting a romantic relationship with him.

  Megan: Who said relationship? You’re both adults, why not hook up? You know you want to.

  The idea had merit, but she worried once wouldn’t be enough, and it wasn’t like she could sleep with him and walk away. He lived in the same house. Worked in the same place. Even if they agreed to a short-term thing, there was no way to keep it from getting awkward.

  Stella: Wanting something doesn’t always mean getting it. It’s too complicated.

  Megan: Do you ever turn your brain off? Just go with what you feel?

  Easy for her to say. She had Adam. Though it hadn’t been an easy journey for her friend either, things had worked out well. But Stella didn’t want the same things Megan did. Not anymore. Letting someone into her heart meant getting it knocked around again. And she couldn’t do that. It was too bruised to survive another assault.

  Stella: I feel like you have better things to do than worry about my sex life.

  Megan: Want me to find you a hook up?

  Stella snorted with laughter. When Adam had tried to get Megan’s help in finding him a wife, she’d started several online dating profiles for her boss and from the stories Stella had heard, none of them ended well. Maybe because they were meant to be together and they’d both been fighting it, but still. Stella did not need Megan’s assistance finding a date or anything else.

  Stella: I’m good.

  Megan: Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

  Stella: Night.

  Stella continued to stare at the phone. She could find her own damn date. But when she looked up, stared out the window toward her clinic, she knew she didn’t want to date. She didn’t want to let herself be vulnerable again. And if she were willing, she wasn’t sure how any guy could compare to Zach. She hated that he’d gotten under her skin and dangerously close to her heart with his kind, steadfast nature. His hot body and wicked smile didn’t hurt, but lots of guys were good-looking. That didn’t make them all good. More than anything else, that was the piece pulling her under; Zach’s innate goodness. He was the kind of guy that wouldn’t mess around with a woman’s heart. Maybe because he’d suffered loss or been on the outside looking in, but there was something about him that said when he was in, he was all in. And the thought of going all in with anyone again, scared the hell out of her.

  Tossing her phone on the table, she gave up trying to distract herself and went to see why Zach was still at the clinic.

  As she walked through the door, she almost walked into him. His hands went to her shoulders, bracing both of them so they didn’t collide. A simple touch shouldn’t make her feel so much. She’d spent too long trying to feel nothing.

  “Hey.” He stared at her, his forehead creasing.

  Looking at him messed with her brain and her heart. Averting her gaze to his chest, she noted the yellow splotch near his collar bone. She touched her hand to it and, arching a brow, she asked, “Finger painting?”

  He dropped his hands and ran both through his hair. “Uh, not really. See, the thing is, I wanted to talk to you about before.”

  Stella’s heart bounced around in her chest like it was made of rubber. Ha. If only. She didn’t want to do this. Keeping this line drawn was getting harder, the reasons getting weaker, the want getting…deeper. She inhaled sharply, stepped closer to him. He smelled like outdoors and man and…paint?

  “Zach?”

  “I…uh, wanted to do something for you. At the time, it seemed like a good idea, but now you’re here, and I’m wondering if I’ve crossed a line. Fortunately, you can’t really fire me, but I’d like you not to hate me either. So just know, I had the best of intentions.” His voice was low and rough. Turning, he walked toward her father’s office. She didn’t want to be in there. She avoided it when possible. Unlike the house, which just made her comfortable, being in his office, knowing he’d never be in it again, made her feel alone. Like a person who woke up every morning forgetting what it was they were supposed to be sad about. Then she walked in there and the pain hit her like a fresh slap in the face.

  Stella followed because she didn’t know what else to do. Zach pushed the door open and stepped aside so she could go through first.

  She felt Zach behind her as she made her way forward, slowly, like she was treading along a path of honey. Nearly robotic steps carried her over the threshold. Inside, the walls had been painted a soft, buttercream yellow. What’s your favorite color? The fresh evening air pushing through the screen of the open window had dulled the scent. Turning, she took it all in, her heart doing a thunderous dance. The color was beautiful; soft, fresh, new. Tears pricked her eyes. Dueling emotions warred. He stripped the room of memories. Memories that hurt. He gave you a fresh start. She looked at him, watching her from the doorway, his gaze intent, careful, and, if she wasn’t mistaken, loaded with emotion. She pulled in a shuddery breath.

  Zach pulled in his own breath. “I’ve moved everything into one of the upstairs rooms in the house. I didn’t throw out anything.”

  Stella touched the clean desktop. Zach had obviously wiped it down along with the empty shelves.

  “I’d come home from school and he’d be going through paperwork here. If I wanted to tell him about my day, I’d sit right there,” she said, pointing to the rickety old chair that had heard as many stories as the rest of this room. “Sometimes, I’d just follow him around the clinic. But I knew, when we were in here, I could unload anything I was feeling.”

  A thick, uncomfortable ball of loss lodged in her throat. Zach closed the space between them. He didn’t touch her, but she could feel him. His natural scent washed over her, and she thought she could recognize it, him, anywhere. He’d done this for her, and she didn’t know if she was mad, sad, lost, or turned on. Like this room, Zach brought all her emotions to the surface. She turned to face him and saw the lines of worry creasing his watchful eyes.

  Her feelings were gale force winds and she was the unsteady vessel, not ready to face the elements.

  “Stella, breathe. I’m sorry. I thought it’d be okay. I overstepped. I can fix it. It’s just paint,” he whispered.

  He looked ready to scoop her up and crush her against him, or maybe she was projecting her needs. God, she was tired of pushing forward without moving anywhere. Zach had barged into her life and demanded she live it; forcing her to recognize it was her father who’d died, not her. That she was in charge of her future, and
she couldn’t have one standing still. She looked around the room again, biting the inside of her cheek hard enough to make herself wince.

  “I kept it as it was because it kept him here, but I couldn’t come in. Not if I wanted to breathe,” she said. The lump in her throat grew. “Now he’s gone.”

  She whispered the words without emotion and realized she’d been pretending otherwise. Keep moving forward, one foot in front of another, and she’d stay ahead of the pain. Standing still, Zach facing her, there for her, she was tired of trying to outrun it. “He’s gone,” she whispered again, her voice breaking.

  Zach put his hand to her face, cupping it, his thumb brushing gently over her cheek. When she bit her lip, still trying to fight back the feelings, he used that same thumb to pull her lip free.

  “Baby,” he whispered, his voice guttural. “He wasn’t in this room.” He moved his hand down, trailed it along her neck, over her shoulder, and let his palm rest just above her heart in a gesture that was more sweet than sexual, but still added pressure to her rib cage. “He’s right here. Always.”

  The tears fell and before she could wipe them away, he yanked her against him, wrapping his arms around her so tight she shouldn’t have been able to breathe. But she could. The pressure inside of her loosened as she hung onto him, her arms crossing over one another around his neck. His hands stroked up, down, back up, and she knew he meant to soothe, but something inside of her broke free along with the grief. The reminder that she was still alive, and it was time she let herself remember that. Pulling just her head back so she could see him, she stared into his vivid blue eyes. She saw the sheen in them and knew they were both done running. They’d both felt loss and come out on the other side.

  “I miss him,” she whispered.

  Zach lowered his head until their foreheads touched. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

  She shook her head. She didn’t even know what he was apologizing for; the paint? The loss of her dad?

  “I can change it back,” he told her, his voice steady. Solid. Like him.

  Stella’s fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck and because she was plastered against him, she felt the shiver wrack his body. Sensation traveled over her skin like tiny revelations awakening her.

  “Doc?”

  She smiled at the nickname. He used it to put a bit of space between them, emotionally, but she knew it was too late. Trying to live a life that wouldn’t leave her wallowing in a pile of regret had meant not really living at all.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He sucked in a breath like she’d slipped off her clothes and she knew why. Stella had fought him every step of the way. Moving forward also meant saying goodbye. And she hadn’t been ready. It’s time.

  They stared at each other, their eyes locked as tightly as their bodies. Pulling one hand from his neck, she ran it along his shoulder, felt the coiled strength there. Traveling up, she brushed her fingers over his smooth, clean shaven jaw. She touched her fingers to his lips, he sucked in another breath, and then made her do the same when he kissed the delicate skin of the tips. She licked her lips and a different kind of pressure filled her chest, while dizzy butterflies filled her stomach.

  Zach’s eyes searched hers, silently asking her if she was sure. His hand pressed her closer, the feel of his palm on her lower back flaming the fire burning inside her chest. No, she wasn’t sure. But she was tired of wondering. Lifting up to her tiptoes, she pressed her mouth to his in a kiss that left no room for anything except the visceral emotions he’d stirred in her from day one. As he tilted his head, slanting his mouth over hers and took control of the kiss, she was happy to let go, to give in. To surrender.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Cupping both of her cheeks in his palms, Zach’s heart actually ached with the need to be closer to this woman. She turned him inside out in a way he’d never known. Instead of just making him feel like part of something—a feeling he’d craved his whole life—Stella made him feel like he was something. His hands stroked over her body once, then found their way into her hair. The scent of it teased him, made him want to bury his face in her neck. Pulling back enough that he could see her heavy-lidded gaze, Zach forced himself to slow down. She had to be sure. He was preparing to ask her if she was when she stepped back and took his hand. Without a word, she pulled him through the door and their hurried steps over the gravel toward the main house covered the sound of his heavy breaths. Fuck. There’d be no walking away from this. Stella Lane was going to ruin him for any other woman. He hadn’t even gotten her naked yet and he felt like he was shaking.

  The dogs didn’t even raise their heads when Stella and Zach moved through the living room toward her bedroom. At the door, she turned and looked up at him with so much affection, his heart did one of those double beat things. He’d had enough sex to know when it was more. Everything about Stella Lane was more. And he wanted her to be his. Slow down. Don’t go there. Live in the moment. But he’d spent so much of the last ten years working toward his goals, trying to get back to the place he started that he hadn’t even considered the place he’d end up belonging, was not a place at all.

  “Zach?” That one whispered syllable asked so much. Was he sure? Hell yes. Did he want this? More than anything. Would it change things between them? Damn right it would. But they could deal with that later.

  Stroking a finger along her jaw, he pressed his lips there, trailing his mouth along the delicate skin there. He smiled against her when her breath caught. The tension in her stance, in her ragged breath, told him she wanted this as much as he did. He kissed a path to her ear, nipped at her lobe, and whispered, “Breathe, Stella. Let go. I’ve got you.”

  With his hands on her waist, he backed her into the bedroom. The evening light slipped through the part in the feminine curtains. Lifting his head to take in his surroundings, he smiled. She was so tough on the outside, but in here, and inside of her, there was a softness. In her room, it came through with pretty pillows, a light, flower-patterned quilt on solid, four-poster bed, and a trio of fat, short candles on the sturdy wood dresser. Outside of this room, her gentle center shone through in the way she treated her friends, her animals. Other people’s animals. The way she gave people everything they needed, even when it meant leaving nothing for herself.

  When he looked back at her, he saw she was fidgeting, her fingers clasped together over her stomach. Unwilling to let her retreat or pull away, he took one hand, ran his thumb over her palm.

  “Your bedroom is sexy. Feminine. Bold. Like you,” he said.

  One side of her mouth tipped up. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

  Feeling too far from her, he pulled her back against him so their bodies were perfectly aligned. “I like you.”

  Pressing her hips forward as she wrapped her arms around his neck, she smiled. “I can tell.”

  His laugh turned into a harsh groan when she kissed him, anchoring her hands in his hair and taking what she wanted. As long as what she wanted was him, he was more than okay. Running both hands down her back, cupping them over her jean-clad bottom, he boosted her up and stepped forward at the same time. He fell with her onto the bed and braced himself on his forearms so he didn’t squash her. Her small physical stature made it easy to forget that she was one of the strongest people he’d ever met.

  Zach brushed her hair behind her ears with his fingers, letting them linger on the outer shell of her ear. Stella turned her face into his hand and exposed the sexy column of her neck. Pressing kisses there, he reveled in the feel of her underneath him, restless, wanting. She was caught up in what had sparked between them from the beginning. Letting his hands roam, he swallowed every sigh, every gasp, and marveled at the feel of her hands on his skin. She pulled at his shirt, wrestling it up between them when neither of them wanted to part. Taking a quick second to remove it, he lowered himself into her waiting arms. When she pulled him closer, it did what nothing else could, what he’d already foole
d himself into believing he’d attained; she made him feel like he was finally home.

  …

  Yup. Definitely ruined for any other woman. Stella curled into the crook of Zach’s arm, her nose brushing against his skin, sending mini aftershocks through him. His heart continued to race as fast as his thoughts. He shouldn’t even be capable of thought, but his mind was spinning. He’d made it thirty-two years without having his heart broken by a woman. Sure, it had been jostled around by a couple of women. It had been flattened when Travis died. But, so far, it had never been in jeopardy of being mangled. Until Stella.

  It was too easy to imagine waking up wrapped around this woman, and wasn’t that a landmine waiting to be stomped on? Stella shifted in his arms, and Zach rolled to his side so he was facing her. He brushed a lock of hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear.

  “You okay?” He needed water. He felt like he’d spent a month in a desert.

  “Okay is probably too mild a description for how I feel. Boneless might be closer,” she said, a smile tugging at those gorgeous lips.

  “That’s not a bad thing.” He leaned in, kissed her softly, thinking how much he’d like to just stay in this bed with her all night.

  He’d worried she’d close up once they’d had sex. Face it man, you were worried she’d regret it. All the reasons not to still hung between them, and he’d been certain those were the thoughts that would pull her out of her lust-filled haze and break the mood between them. So when she sat up, he braced himself, held his breath.

  “I’m hungry,” she said.

  A laugh burst free and he tugged her back down over him. She pressed her nose into his neck and inhaled, turning him on again. Basically, all she had to do was breathe and he was there, ready. But the fact that he’d been worrying while she was thinking about her stomach was damn funny.

  “I’m glad I amuse you,” she said against his skin.

  He ran his hand up the length of her back, over her spine, and enjoyed the tremor that wracked her body.