She hurried as best she could to wash up and dress, neither going as smoothly as she hoped. She’d groaned, moaned, and cursed her way through the entire appareling process.
As she was attempting to pull her hair into an awkward ponytail, Zack came in.
Zack!
She flushed as she remembered he’d spent the night in bed with her, albeit very platonically. She also recalled asking him to stay with her, simply because she’d wanted to feel him lying next to her. She hadn’t wanted to be alone. She had been both selfish and forward. It couldn’t have been easy for Zack to, literally, only sleep in her bed. On her part it had felt very nice to have him with her. His strong arms wrapped around her and holding her close had given her a sense of warmth and safety. She gave herself a mental shake to clear her head.
“Did you turn off my alarm? Why don’t I hear the crew?”
Her voice was rushed and frustrated as she tried to gather her recalcitrant head of hair. Zack took her brush from her hand and gently urged her down on the vanity seat in front of the mirror. He stood behind her and began gently running the bristles through the dark copper strands, slowly working through the knots.
“Yes, I turned off your alarm. You needed the rest, and you don’t hear the crew because I gave them an extended weekend off.”
She looked up at his reflection in dismay, thinking of all the design changes that needed taking care of. “Why in the world would you do that? I mean, give the crew a long weekend?”
Zack raised one eyebrow at her in the mirror, his sexy mouth quirked in a half smile and his chin covered in morning stubble. Damn, but he was hot.
“Amanda, it’s the July Fourth weekend. Did you think they’d work through it?”
She had to think about his words. “The July Fourth weekend? Already? Wow! Where have I been?”
She was mostly talking aloud to herself, not asking him, but he answered her anyway, still running the brush through her hair.
“Let’s see,” he began ticking off items on his fingers. “You’ve been working for your taskmaster, anal retentive boss, covering all of the work crew’s bases for them, babysitting McGinty, keeping tabs on your friends at home, apparently planning and heading a benefit for an abused women’s shelter, and last but not least, handling your own, D.A.R.E.’s, some other friends, and your grandparents’ investment portfolios.”
He paused and smiled wryly at her reflection. “And that’s just from what I’ve seen on your computer. I’m sure I’m missing more, too. Just how many balls do you need to have in the air at any one time to feel productive, Mandy?”
She laughed lightly, at first, at her tendency toward overachieving “Guilty!” she replied. Then she got disgruntled as she realized he’d nebbed in her personal business.
“My investment portfolio? Zack! You didn’t!” she scolded him. That was way overstepping his bounds and she wasn’t going to have it.
He smiled at her mischievously, letting her sweat it for another moment, and then told her, “No, I didn’t neb. You left the benefit plans and spreadsheets your investment advisor emailed you open on the PC yesterday. I closed them out as soon as I realized it wasn’t business related, I assure you.”
He mocked her by pretending to cross his heart in a promise and placed a serious expression on his countenance. She let him off the hook, but told him that if she began receiving investment advice from him she’d throw his sorry ass out.
“Don’t worry, Mandy. I’ll probably be the one coming to you for advice. Especially if you sue me for the slip and fall from yesterday,” he mocked her further.
His fingers began separating her hair into sections and braiding it quite dexterously.
“Where did you learn to braid hair?” she demanded, and then made fun. “No wait. Don’t tell me. You also own and run a hair salon in the city, right?”
He shook his head, gave her braid a slight punishing yank, and then casually leaned down to kiss the top of head. “No, smart-ass. I have two little sisters who used to have a lot of sleepovers. I learned to French-braid too. Wanna see?” he asked teasingly.
Amanda gaped at him, not sure if he was serious or not. Not about the sisters, but about the French-braiding. “You can’t cook worth a damn, but you can braid hair? I think I need to talk to your mom and sisters, and get them to fill in some important gaps for you.”
She stopped razzing him and asked, “Do you have any brothers?” There was a lot she didn’t know about him. She hadn’t been checking his family history yesterday in her readings. She’d caught flashes of family here and there but not a whole lot to tie it together. Most of his thoughts had centered on her and him and his use of his abilities on her, which by the way she needed to address today at some point, she reminded herself.
Zack looked away from her in the mirror, gazing down as he quickly finished the long weave down her back and secured it with an elastic band. “Yes, I had a brother. He was in the military. Army. He died in a bombing in Afghanistan, several years ago. Nearly all the men in his unit were wiped out by members of the al Qaeda, or so we’re told.” An odd tone in his voice told Amanda he wasn’t sure if he believed what they’d been “told.”
Amanda’s jaw fell as she stared at him in the mirror and she turned around, wrapping her arms around his waist, laying her cheek against his hard, rippled abs as she hugged him.
“Oh, Zack. I don’t know what to say. I’m so very sorry for you and your family. What a horrible thing to go through.”
Zack decided to switch tracks. Enough sad talk for one day. Taking Amanda by her good hand he drew her toward the kitchen.
“I know you missed breakfast, but you needed the rest and I hated to wake you. So, since I can make a mean sandwich, I thought you might forgive my lack of cooking skills?”
The table was laden with turkey sandwiches, pickles, potato salad, and chips. While she’d slept in he’d run out to a tiny country store that was, by mountain standards, close by, albeit still eight miles away. Her stomach rumbled audibly in appreciation and they both laughed.
“Looks great! I’m famished,” she responded gratefully. She seated herself and grabbed a sandwich from the tray. He dished out the potato salad and offered her the bowl of chips and container of pickles.
“Will you tell me more about your family?”
Now that he was filling her in on his family, her curiosity was raging. She really wanted to know about the people that had formed this very unique man.
Zack breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted to know more, so his tale about his brother hadn’t thrown her as much as he’d feared. Around bites of his sandwich Zack talked, summarizing his family life.
“Josh was the oldest, fourteen months older than me. He was married to Deborah and they have a son, Damon, who is six years old now. Debbie just recently got remarried, but she’s still close to our family so we see them a lot. Her new husband has adopted Damon as his own son.”
“Cara came after me. She’s three years younger and is a physical therapist. She’s divorced, and has two great kids. Emma’s four and Elizabeth is two. Cara’s divorce has been a rough one, nothing amicable about it. She is still going through custody battles with that scum of an ex-husband, Richard.” Zack’s face darkened as he spoke of his sister’s ex, and Amanda believed it probably wouldn’t behoove Rich to meet Zack in a dark alley any time soon.
“The baby of our family is Rebecca. She’s a little more than two years younger than Cara. Becca is an attorney, a State Prosecutor. She’s like a dog when she sinks her teeth into a case. You couldn’t shake her loose if you tried. She’ll go after an offender until she gets every bit of truth out of them she can.” His fondness for his family was clearly shown in his voice.
“Becca is still single. She’s dated off and on, but just hasn’t found the right guy yet. I think a lot of men are intimidated by her.” Amanda could see a thought had just occurred to Zack as his eyes momentarily widened. “Oh! That’s right! Her birthday is tomorrow. S
he’ll be thirty.”
Doing the mental math Amanda quickly figured that Zack must be thirty-five or thirty-six. He’d never told her.
“It sounds like you are all very close. That must be nice.” She had loved her mother, and had never been upset by the fact she was adopted, but there were times when she dreamed of having a larger family. She’d have loved to have a brother or sister.
“How’s your pain today?” Zack woke her from her reverie. He could feel the low throb from her wrist and the slight sting from her leg. It didn’t seem to be as bad as he’d thought it would be today. She should have been in bed, complaining about how much she hurt, but she hadn’t said anything about her pain at all, that was pretty curious.
“Oh, it’s not too bad. I’m uncomfortable, but it’s not horrendous or anything. I think I’ll take some acetaminophen though, to take the edge off.”
Zack left the kitchen and returned with two tablets. “You sure you don’t want one of the Vicodin?” he asked. She shook her head and popped the tablets into her mouth, swallowing them down with a sip of lemonade.
“What about your parents?” she prodded.
He nodded and continued. “My dad’s name is John, and my mom is Claire. They live in Mount Lebanon.”
She gave a small nod of acknowledgment. Mt. Lebanon wasn’t far from Amanda’s neighborhood. It was another suburb just southeast and outside the city of Pittsburgh. Literally, only a few miles from her.
“As a matter of fact, they live just five minutes away from me,” he stated. She knew he owned property in that area so she wasn’t surprised to hear that.
“They’re both doctors. My dad is an orthopedic surgeon, and mom is a pediatrician. They’re both semiretired now, but they keep active, volunteering at free clinics. And of course, the grandkids keep them busy too. They babysit a lot, and have them for overnights and weekends, when Deb or Cara needs a break.”
Ah! So they were the reason Zack had gone into medicine, she surmised. She was curious why someone would walk away from years of education and training. Would it be a touchy subject if she asked him?
“May I ask why you aren’t practicing medicine anymore? Did something happen? You don’t have to answer if I’m out of line. I know it’s a very personal question.” She waved her good hand at him as if to erase her question “Never mind. It really isn’t any of my business.” She blushed and looked away. Zack’s expression had looked pained upon her request. This wasn’t a discussion he wanted to have.
But she had many, much more personal questions to ask him before the day was through. It was time for the truth, from both of them. The thought of telling him about herself made her feel like a heavy weight had been placed on her chest. She sighed and fidgeted, trying to get herself comfortable, which wasn’t happening. She got up and walked over to get her hiking boots. She needed to get outside, stretch a little bit. She sat down on the sofa, which had actually cleaned up pretty well, to put them on.
“Amanda, you can ask me anything. Talk to me about anything.” Zack came over to help tie her boots when he noticed her difficulty with her braced hand, kneeling in front of her.
“I’m an open book.” He sat on the coffee table opposite her when he’d finished, taking her good hand in his.
“I’ll tell you. But, I have to explain some things first, in order for you to understand it.” She was feeling extremely apprehensive and he didn’t think it was about what he had to say. It was time to come clean with her, though he was pretty sure she knew about some of it already.
“You ready for a little walk? Can your leg handle a walk in the woods if we keep to a level area?”
“Sure, I think I can handle it. Even if it’s not level, let’s take a short hike? If it gets to be too much you can piggyback me on the return trip, right?” She laughed at him when he quirked a brow and asked good naturedly if he was to be her personal pack mule for the day. She was more relaxed now that he’d basically agreed to answer her.
“Give me a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.”
Zack went to retrieve his boots as he waited for Amanda, assuming she had to hit the bathroom before they left. His eyes widened in disbelief when she came back in sporting a leather holster on her right hip. It held a rather lethal-looking gun. When he asked her what it was she told him it was a Smith & Wesson twenty-two caliber revolver. He didn’t know what that meant, so he just nodded. Unlike his military brother, he’d never even held, let alone fired, a weapon. Firearms were a definite no-no in his home while growing up.
“Um…are you planning on shooting me if you don’t like my answers?” he queried, only half jokingly. He watched, bemused, as she doubled over in hilarity. After a few seconds she was laughing so hard she was crying. Oh good, he’d tickled her funny bone, he thought sardonically.
“Amanda? Do you really need the gun? Planning a hold-up or something?” Knowing her proclivity toward clumsiness, he was worried she’d shoot herself, or him, or maybe both!
She only laughed harder at him, wiping her eyes and reaching for a tissue to blow her nose. “You…you…you’re such a cit…city…b…boy!” She finally spit out. Taking a few deep breaths she tried to calm herself.
“We’re in the mountains, Zack. You know? There are snakes and predatory animals. Ringing a bell? You don’t just go hiking without protection.” She was absurdly please she’d found one more thing Zack knew nothing about. “Don’t worry. I have a license to carry, and I’m a crack shot.” She’d meant to sound encouraging, but Zack’s face fell even further and he groaned out loud.
Still chuckling, she went to the door and grabbed a canvas backpack, and then went to refrigerator and took out some carrots and apples for the horses. She filled two canteens with water, wrapped up a couple of leftover sandwiches, threw another couple of apples into the backpack, along with some granola bars, and then walked out the door calling, “Come on, big guy! We’re stopping by the stables first. I’ve got to stop and say hi to Hellfire.” She erupted into laughter once more at the look on his face when she’d said her favorite horse’s name.
* * * *
Zack followed Amanda as they walked through the woods, staying to her right and just slightly behind her, for two reasons. One, in case she fell, he could grab her on her uninjured side, and two because he had absolutely no idea frigging idea where they were. He kept asking her if she was all right, and if they were lost. She kept assuring him they were fine and to hang in there, she wanted to show him something.
He watched her as they took a lazy zigzag pattern up the mountain. Her eyes casually, yet carefully and constantly scanned the ground they walked on, swinging in a large arc from left to right and back again. She scanned at their feet and yards ahead of them.
“Are you looking for something in particular?” he asked at one point, telling her he’d help her find it if he knew what it was.
He heard her choke on another laugh, and then, when she tried to speak matter-of-factly telling him, “I’m not looking to find anything. I’m looking to avoid it,” she wished he hadn’t asked.
“Um…what are we avoiding then?” he watched as she tried to frame her words in a non-threatening manner. She failed.
“Don’t be alarmed, but I’m watching for rattlesnakes and copperheads, and then of course for poison ivy and poison oak.” He felt himself blanch when she said rattlesnake.
“Really, don’t worry, they’re afraid of us too, and naturally try to get out of the way. I just don’t want to surprise anything.”
Neither did he!
She went on to describe the rattler, the eastern diamondback, generally about five feet in length, though they could grow to eight, she told him with a teasing sideways glance. Her beautiful green eyes sparkled with mischief. She continued on to tell him that typically they were an army gray-green in color with black diamonds, edged in yellow. He further learned that copperheads grew two to four feet in length, and rarely bit unless directly threatened, usually freezing if anyone came upo
n them. The coloring of the copperhead, she told him, was tan with chestnut colored or darker brown bands.
He swallowed hard. He’d treated rattlesnake bites before, and knew that they were very dangerous, even fatal, if not treated in a timely manner. He was only slightly less relieved when she reminded him that copperhead venom didn’t tend to kill, but it was still extremely painful.
When she sounded as though she’d had first-hand experience, he asked how she knew. She’d ducked her head and admitted she had accidently fallen onto one as a teen when she’d tripped while hiking. She told him, with a shudder, she never wanted to experience that ever again. Her grandfather had placed a tourniquet above the bite so the venom wouldn’t flow through her system too quickly, then carried her piggyback for several miles back to his car, and rushed her to the hospital for antivenin treatment.
All the while the pain had been excruciating to a then fourteen-year-old girl, who had vomited the entire way in. Apparently her nausea had been atrocious. She’d been in the hospital for several days, and she told him she’d been lucky! She showed him some faded scars near her elbow on her left arm where the flesh had blistered from the poison. Zack began to wonder exactly how many lives the woman had. He thought, if she’d been a cat she’d be somewhere near the tail end, no pun intended, of nine by now.
He shook his head in wonder. “Definitely keeping my medical licensing,” he muttered to himself again, causing her to grin unabashedly.
Reluctantly, he smiled back at her. Who could help themselves? She was breathtakingly gorgeous with her flashing emerald eyes and her burnished copper-red hair glistened in the sunlight filtering through the trees. The healthy flush on the soft ivory skin of her cheek darkened as her gaze caught his and her lips parted unconsciously in invitation.
Amanda's Touch [D.A.R.E.ing Women] (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 19