All for You

by Christi Barth

  “I do fine. If all I wanted was a kiss, I could line one up before you drag yourself across the finish line.”

  “I’m serious. The only thing I was looking for when I came out here was a job. Instead, I’ve got some kick-ass new friends, and I’m falling in love with a beautiful, amazing woman. I’d have to be ten kinds of an idiot to pass up that opportunity. Life is short. Why the hell would you want to postpone a single day of being as happy as possible?”

  “You sound more like a life coach than a cult expert.”

  “Don’t you get it? People join cults because they crave happiness so much. They’ll turn their lives inside out to find out. Abandon their families, give away all their money, move across the country. So if all you have to do to be happy is ask one of your closest friends out to dinner, well...” Zane shook his head. “Why wouldn’t you?”

  Gray poked his head out the tent flap. “They’re ready for us to line up. Come on, Zane.”

  “Wait.” Casey’s fingers dug into his hip. “Did you mean it?”

  “Of course.” Zane threw a hand onto Joel’s shoulder. “Promise me you’ll think about it.”

  After a sigh that seemed to come all the way from his toes, Joel nodded, then limped away.

  “Not Joel,” Casey whispered. “Did you mean what you said about me?”

  “Well, I know I’ll be a little sweaty, but I assumed you’d kiss me once the race was over.”

  “Not that. The other thing. About me. That you said.”

  Ah. Given how skittish Casey had been from day one, he might’ve thrown his cards on the table a tad early. But once they were out there, you just had to play ‘em. “You know I don’t believe in hiding anything. No promises and no expectations—but yeah. I’m falling in love with you. Now let’s go run a race!”

  Zane just hoped his words wouldn’t send Casey running in the opposite direction.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Zane looked around the Austrian restaurant in befuddlement. Like every other establishment around Seneca Lake, there was a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking some greenery, the flat blue vastness of the water, and the low sloping hill on the other side. According to Ward, they’d have a great view of the fireworks from Dano’s Heuriger. It was all wood and concrete modern architecture. Pastel chalk listed the menu on a chalkboard wall. This was exactly the kind of place Zane normally loved. But not on this day of all days.

  He seemed to be the only one who minded. Across from him, Ella and Gray were pawing through the bread basket. Piper sat at one end—as far away from Ward as possible—chatting with Casey. And opposite Zane, Ward was in deep discussion about some special cocktail he wanted the bartender to make with his own Lakeside Distillery-brand vodka.

  “I don’t understand why we’re here.”

  “Because everyone’s starving after the race. I promise, it is impossible to walk away from Dano’s still hungry.” Casey patted his thigh beneath the table. “You’ll thank me.”

  For bringing him to an Austrian restaurant? Doubtful. Again, not on this day. “But—it’s the Fourth of July. We come together as a country so rarely. This is the only time when everyone revels in patriotism. When you can know that from Maine to Alaska, people are eating hot dogs and potato salad just like you. I want to eat what my fellow Americans in Denver are eating!”

  Piper leaned forward, brandishing a menu. “Look, they’ve got four kinds of wurst—which are just better versions of hot dogs. And there’s potato salad, if the German kind. Braised red cabbage is in the same vein as coleslaw. Really, this meal is every bit as patriotic as what you grew up with, I’m sure.”

  “Casey’s wearing overalls—what’s more American than that?” Ella giggled. “Stick a pitchfork in your hand and you’re a dead ringer for American Gothic.”

  And she looked adorable, with that striped top slipping off her shoulder every time she laughed. Zane couldn’t wait to nibble a line from her ear lobe down to her collar bone. He dragged his eyes away before he tented his navy shorts. Gray wore a tie printed with a photo of the weathered and faded original Stars and Stripes on it. All well and good, until Zane’s gaze jumped over one more person.

  Zane made a time-out sign with his hands. “Ward’s wearing a T-shirt with Godzilla on it. I call patriotism foul. That crosses cultural borders.”

  “Yeah, but it says America¾Love It Or Eat It.” Ward stroked the giant green lizard fondly. “You can’t argue with the sentiment.”

  Casey gave him a winsome smile and a bat of her eyelashes that could probably coerce him into robbing the nearest bank if she asked. “This is how we do the Fourth. See how packed this place is? Give it a chance.”

  “Or are we driving you right into the arms of that big Arizona university, by courting you with our town’s quirkiness?” Gray winced as he reached for the platter of creamy spreads. “Trust me, I know how hard some of these town traditions can be to swallow.”

  That artichoke lemon spread looked fantastic. Bowing to the inevitable, Zane grabbed a piece of pumpernickel and loaded it down. “I’m here, aren’t I? But somebody better make me some fried chicken and deviled eggs tomorrow if I don’t walk out of here with a smile on my face.”

  Casey’s winsome smile turned into something more full of feminine wiles. “How about I just promise to put a smile on your face, and we can figure out the how later?”

  Sold. “I think that’d be enough to get me to eat even kimchi without complaining.”

  “Doesn’t count. It’s also a variation of coleslaw—so we wouldn’t let you complain about it. Just saying,” added Piper with an innocent grin.

  Ward cleared his throat long and loudly enough to make the next table over turn and gawk. Of course, they were all still wearing their race bibs and thus clearly hadn’t showered, so Zane didn’t think they had any room to be looking askance at his table. “Anybody else notice he ducked the Arizona question? What’s that about?”

  “Savvy negotiating.” Not only a complete lack of traditional holiday food, but to top that off, now he was getting the third degree? Zane might seriously have to call for a do-over on this Fourth of July. As long as it didn’t entail running that race again. “That’s what my agent calls it. Plus, I’m lying low on the big announcement front while my lawsuit gets settled.”

  “You’re being sued?” Piper gave him a slow once-over. “Objectively, you’re quite good-looking. So I’ll take a stab and ask if you’re a baby daddy?”

  Well, he’d just ripped open his shirt, painted a target sign on his chest and handed the redhead a bow and arrow with that one, hadn’t he? “I think I’m both complimented and insulted. Nicely done, Piper.”

  “Nicely evaded, Zane.”

  “Not on purpose. I assumed Casey would’ve told you. Or that everybody already knew, since Pierce is evidently happy to spread the news around like a rash.”

  “Pierce the Putz knows and we don’t? That’s not fair.”

  Zane wished they had heard about it already, so he wouldn’t have to have the inevitable discussion. “Simmer down. I’m an open book.”

  The waiter delivered their drinks. Zane couldn’t believe it. They were red, white and blue. Okay, mostly clear, with a streak of blue down the side and a few raspberries floating on top, but it got the patriotic job done. “What is this?”

  Ward scratched at the side of his actual Van Dyke. Guess for the holiday he’d let his carefully tended three-day scruff turn into a five-day honest-to-goodness almost beard. “Today I’m calling it the Shut Zane The Hell Up. But on any other day of the year, we serve it at the distillery as a Pacific Breeze. My black currant vodka and lemonade, mostly. Is it patriotic enough to stop your bitching, Buchanan?”

  “Just enough. Thank you.” He raised his glass. “To a well-run race, to my new friends whose warmth and welcome are turning th
eir lake into my home, and to the irresistible women who cheered me to the finish line.”

  “That was lovely. Heartfelt. Can we get back to the lawsuit explanation now?”

  Piper was just as tenacious as Casey on this topic. Not that he could blame them. Zane was sure all the interest would die down once they knew the specifics. “I wrote an article on people who break away from cults. It got a ton of play in the media, a forum where words are twisted and misrepresented on a daily basis. This guy Diggle claims I ruined his life by mentioning him. It’s a blatant money grab.”

  A cool glance that was too focused to be disinterested. “Is it?”

  “Yeah.”

  It had to be. That’s what Jeremiah and Nathan kept telling him, at any rate. Miller Mencken certainly wasn’t going to yank Zane’s best-selling books off the market over one questionable magazine article. So the only reason for Diggle to pursue this waste-of-time court action was for cash in hand. The whole demand for an apology—that had to be a joke. Zane couldn’t be expected to apologize for a fair and reasoned, and at times even sympathetic, dissertation of the facts.

  He took a sip of his drink before continuing. Well-balanced. Surprisingly not sweet. Ward knew his stuff. “He’s not suing for libel, because I didn’t cross that line. I’m damn careful not to, as a matter of fact. But he’s still suing me, instead of the morning news anchors who called him a whole bunch of names.” And the injustice and illogic of that burned at Zane. “Diggle says he wants to ‘cut out the root of the problem.’”

  “Have you talked to him?” asked Piper.

  It’d been Zane’s first instinct. Sit down. Lay out the facts. Reason with him. But over the last couple of months, Jeremiah and the Miller Mencken legal team had convinced him not to go that route. “Lots of times. Not since he filed suit, though.”

  Ward leaned back in the wooden chair, his drink cupped in his hands. “Why not? You’re pretty glib. Damned charming.”

  “Go any further and I’ll wonder if you’re trying to hit on me.”

  “I think what Ward’s saying is, why not try and hash it out with Diggle in mediation, before it gets more serious?”

  “Because I didn’t do anything wrong. I shine a light on these darkly mysterious cults. But there’s no mocking. No name-calling. I look for answers. Why would someone throw away their life to join? Why would they stay? Why change religions? I delve into the various motivations that drive the members, and I lay it out with the utmost of respect. More importantly, I expose their danger and oftentimes evil to the world.” There was a part of him, deep down, that admired the cult members. Admired their dedication, their zealous focus, their passion.

  “I’m guessing Diggle didn’t ask to be exposed, though. He didn’t call you up and beg to bare his soul.”

  “No. But he did agree to talk to me. Gave me permission to quote him, even.”

  Piper put her elbows on the table and propped her chin on her hands. “Come on. Even if we don’t admit to it, we’ve all read a tabloid or two. Peeked at gossip on the internet. Giving permission doesn’t mean people can’t twist your words or misrepresent you.”

  Talk about a low blow. Lurid headlines about Elvis still being alive and shacking up with Amelia Earhart had nothing, nothing in common with his scholarly body of work. “Are you equating my books to yellow journalism?”

  “I’m just trying to see it from Diggle’s side.”

  Right. Because Diggle had just knocked himself out running six miles for her town, and bought five hundred dollars in raffle tickets... Nope. That was Zane. So why the hell was Piper taking the other guy’s side? He shoved back his chair. “I’ll be right back.”

  Because Zane was suddenly having that kind of a day, he had to cross the entire restaurant to find the bathrooms up by the front door. They were thankfully empty. It gave him the freedom to kick the (also thankfully) rubber trashcan. To pace back and forth in front of the sinks a few times, and then splash water on his face to cool down. He’d had a lifetime to get used to his dad not respecting what he did for a living. Zane just wasn’t used to his friends treating him that way.

  He braced himself on the concrete slab of a counter and took a good, hard look in the mirror. As if the reflection of Dr. Zane Buchanan held all the answers the real man lacked. Should he ignore the pointed digs? Assume Piper spoke for the entirety of this tiny corner of upstate New York he’d intended to make his home? Give up the book? Or give up on Hobart and find someplace less judgmental to work?

  Nah—opinions were like cockroaches; insidious and everywhere.

  A growl from his stomach was the reminder he needed to suck it up and drag his mopey ass back to the table. Zane let himself vent with one more kick to open the door. To his surprise, Casey was standing on the other side. Both hands toyed with the end of her long braid.

  “The bathroom signs aren’t in German, if you were confused. The women’s is right there.” Guess he hadn’t paced away his entire mood after all. Oh well, maybe the booze in Ward’s cocktail would do the trick.

  “Danke schön,” she snapped out. “Are you really that dense? I’m not here to pee. I’m checking on you.”

  “Worried I’ll go bragging about my lawsuit to the hostess and get us kicked out?” Yeah. Definitely feeling sorry for himself. Zane wasn’t fit company. He should head back to Mayhew Manor. See if room service would take pity on him and boil up a hot dog. On the other hand, Joel ran a pretty classy kitchen. Probably didn’t even stock something as humdrum as a dog.

  Casey frowned at him. “I’m pretty sure we’ve established that I’m your girlfriend now. Isn’t checking on you in the job description?”

  Funny. That simple affirmation was all it took to set his mood to rights. Despite her questionable efforts to resist, and her silence at his casual declaration of love, it was obvious that Casey cared for him. Wanted to take care of him. He could wait for the words. Her actions spoke volumes. He wanted to go find a quiet corner and murmur softly how much her gesture meant. Press kisses of thanks to her temple. Let her presence burn off whatever mood stink clung to him like smog in a valley. But this wasn’t the time or the place to be so serious. And he didn’t want to tarnish any of the luster of her holiday.

  So Zane stroked a hand over his jaw, striking his best professorial mulling pose. “I’m not sure. We should probably get into that. Draw up a list of expectations. Things like how I’ll need you to come with me to the next Star Wars movie, no matter what. And never blink an eye at how much parmesan cheese I put on top of spaghetti.”

  “Or how you’re expected to let me take up all the space on the bathroom counter. And not sneer when I put horseradish and mustard on my grilled cheese. At least, no sneering until you’ve tried it at least once.”

  He’d be willing to try anything once for this woman.

  Casey rubbed her hands together with a mischievous grin. “This is going to be fun.”

  It could be more fun if they incorporated one of the most basic girlfriend/boyfriend perks. They’d hung out almost every day for three weeks. Not to mention that Zane wanted her so badly he could barely breathe. Time to raise the stakes yet again. “Especially once we start working sexual favors onto the list.”

  She met his gaze straight on. “The sooner, the better. In fact, I think that should go on the top of both of our lists.”

  “I don’t disagree.”

  A flurry of laughing, sunburned people entered the restaurant. Zane and Casey didn’t move as they went through the process of getting seated. He couldn’t tear himself away from the fathomless bottle green of her eyes that made Zane think he could see straight into her heart.

  Once it was just the two of them in the hallway again, Casey said, “I’m really sorry.”

  Terrific. They were backtracking to the whole lawsuit flameout with Piper. Zane didn’t want to get into it a
gain. Especially without a drink in his hand. “Don’t be. Not your issue.”

  “Piper didn’t mean anything by it. We joke that she would’ve made a great lawyer, because she loves to argue more than almost anything. She just likes to dig in and really attack a problem.”

  He couldn’t let that turn of phrase pass unchallenged. “I’m not a problem. My research isn’t a problem.”

  “It is to some people.”

  That was a shot across the bow Zane didn’t see coming. “Seriously? You, too?”

  Casey dug her toe into the floor. Squeezed her eyes shut and firmed her lips. When she opened her eyes again, her face was masked in bright determination. “No. Not today. You’re all churned up. It isn’t the time to get into a deep, ethical discussion. Not on a holiday.”

  “Okay.” Zane was happy to take the pass for now, but they’d clearly have to circle back to this. If Casey had a problem with him, he’d rather air it out ASAP. Explain to her that his research helped people not go down a dangerous path. That what he did was, in fact, a service. A literary precaution. Nobody ever joined a cult with their eyes wide open.

  “As a matter of fact, you should try not to think about it at all. Be really decadent. Take the whole weekend off.”

  Nope. His days of relaxing lakeside were over. “I can’t.”

  “Zane, you only work two days a week. Of course you can.”

  “I only teach two days a week. But with a new book contract pending, I can’t sit around and wait for the Lone Survivor to find me. I’m going to interview a couple of people at the nursing home over on Keuka Lake tomorrow. The elderly have loose lips. A couple of them are bound to let slip a few more clues, despite how little Bert Kiggins gave me.”

  She blinked at him. “Oh. That’s, um, logical.” Then her gaze shifted down and away.