by Kim Law
“And touching body parts.”
“Right.” His hand shifted on her back. “Touching parts. Which we should probably stop doing.”
“Because we’re not right for each other.”
“Exactly.”
Only they didn’t stop.
He glanced over her shoulder before coming back to her. “And because I don’t want your brother thinking he needs to try to kick my ass. I’m not wearing my fighting clothes tonight.”
Strained laughter slipped from her, releasing some of the pent-up tension. Not all of it, for sure. Because duh, she was still in Zack’s arms.
She peeked over her shoulder at her brother. He was still watching them. Very carefully. She made a childish face at him, but did decide to put a bit more distance between her and Zack. Because Brian might just decide to kick his ass.
“I promise I won’t let him,” she said.
Incredulity flashed back at her. “First you laugh at me at every turn, and now I’m supposed to let you protect me from your brother? Uh-uh.” He shook his head. His hand still burned at her back, palm flat and every finger splayed out, and she still wanted to take his clothes off and lick him all over. “If he wants a fight, I’ll give him one. I can’t have you making me look like a girl.”
The idea of Zack fighting her brother over her made her grin. Her brothers had intimidated many a man over the years—not that she’d ever considered dating near the number they’d flashed their big-brother glares at—but there’d never been an instance in which the mere idea of seeing a man fight gave her the instant hots.
She could get into watching Zack throw a fist for her.
She could get into a lot of things with Zack.
Which they’d just said they wouldn’t do. Because it was just chemistry. And because they were friends.
With the reminder, she decided he had a point. She didn’t need to sleep with her friend. Knowing her, she’d do something stupid like fall for him. And then he’d break her heart.
She released him. Bodies still moved around them, and a country tune still saturated the air. She felt like they were the only two people in the room. “So how about that bet?” she asked. Time to lighten the mood. She held her arms out at her sides so he could take in her appearance. “Ready to admit I won?”
He checked her out from head to toe. As he did, she grew warm on the inside. Warmer.
She knew she looked good tonight. That had been the plan.
Just as they hadn’t seen her mirrors, rarely did anyone in Sugar Springs see her put this much true effort into her looks. For some reason, the thought of dressing up around the guys she’d been pals with her whole life never felt right. And it often embarrassed her.
But if she was going to catch one—and she was actually on the fence about that at the moment—then maybe she should start putting in the effort.
“That dress is killer,” Zack said.
“And the makeup?”
He studied her intently, and she found herself wishing she’d worn even more. Maybe he did have a point. Maybe she hid behind the makeup. She certainly wanted to hide from his scrutiny now.
“The makeup has every man in here wanting to take you to bed and not come up for air for a week.”
Including him? She had to wonder.
“You owe me pancakes,” she said. The music chose that minute to stop, and her words sounded overloud in the confined space. The people around them turned to watch.
Zack didn’t take his eyes off hers. “I owe you pancakes,” he agreed.
She licked her lips. It was time to get away. “I’m going to . . . uh . . .” She flailed her hand out to her side, before finishing lamely, “Find someone else to dance with.”
He nodded.
She stepped back. They remained in the middle of the crowd as the music once again started up, neither of them moving away, and she wondered if he’d say something else. Like . . . Don’t go. Stay here and dance with me.
She wanted him to.
But he didn’t.
Instead he motioned with his head to the bar. “There’s a guy over there who’s been watching you since you came in. Dark hair. Looks respectable. My guess is he’s after more than a night or two.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. Really? He was directing her to another man? Okay, fine. Good idea. She needed another man. One who’d stick around for longer than two weeks. She followed his gaze and then gave an approving nod.
“That’s Keith Justice. He’s actually at the top of my list of possibilities.”
A muscle twitched in Zack’s jaw.
“Go dance with him,” he said. He gave her a casual wink. “Be sure to snuggle up to him like you did me. He’ll like it.”
Chapter Ten
Go dance with him? Be sure to snuggle up to him?
What the hell was wrong with him?
Holly had been in his arms last night—wanting him—and he’d sent her to another man.
When had he lost his balls?
Zack growled under his breath as he stepped from the men’s clothing store nestled in between the pharmacy and the Welcome Center. Two dark-haired boys loped along on the sidewalk in front of him, pretending they were riding horses, and he squinted into the bright midday sun. He pulled his sunglasses from the top of his head and took in the lazy Saturday morning.
People were flowing from store to store, yet no one seemed to be in any huge hurry. Just coming and going, packages tucked under their arms. Many had kids by their sides. Others were with friends, maybe family, and were talking as much as they seemed to be shopping.
He didn’t understand the total laid-back style here.
That had bothered him at first. A person didn’t get anywhere in life if they didn’t work hard. Didn’t go fast. Yet the residents here seemed happy, seemed to be enjoying themselves. That made him wonder if there might be another way to play it. Possibly there wasn’t always someplace to be.
He would add that to his list of things to think about later. Along with the small-town bonding to throw support behind a person, how hot Holly had looked in her silver dress when she’d strolled into the Bungalow the night before, and the fact that he could have taken her to bed if only he hadn’t decided to grow a conscience.
Yeah. Things there were definitely causing him more than a second thought or two.
He looked across the square to where he could see a crowd through the diner windows. Sugar Springs had another, more upscale restaurant; a couple smaller ones he’d seen while out driving around; and of course, the Bungalow, which he’d understood was a calmer, more toned-down place in the daylight hours. But the diner seemed to be the hub of the town. There was currently a line of people out the door waiting to be seated for lunch.
A banner for the upcoming Firefly Festival flapped in the breeze off to his right, making him wonder what that would be like. It also made him think of his mom.
She’d been from a town similar to this—though Zack had never been there himself. Her family had been gone before he’d come along, and she and his dad had already been settled in Atlanta for a couple decades. There had never been a need to visit his mother’s hometown.
Yet he’d heard her talk about small-town festivals for years. She’d even dragged him to a couple in his younger days, but he had only vague memories. His dad hadn’t been a fan so his mother had eventually quit suggesting them.
Zack would be gone before Sugar Springs had their festival, but he could come back. Maybe bring his mother. She would like that.
Thinking about his mother, the festival, and how he really should be spending his Saturday morning working instead of shopping, he turned to head two stores down to where he’d left Holly. He saw the boys again. This time they were heading toward the street.
The younger one ducked between two cars parked end-to-front, gig
gling with all the freedom that young boys felt, and the other followed.
Zack lifted a hand. “Hey!” he yelled out. He took a step in their direction. “You’re—”
He didn’t get another word out before two large arms reached in from nowhere and swooped the boys up. Zack sagged in relief as the man pulled the boys back just as a truck rolled past.
“Whoa.” The man held the boys off the ground, each of them tucked under an arm as if they were footballs. “You two better watch where you’re going. If that truck would’ve hit you, you’d be flatter than a flitter.”
The man set the boys down, and they took off in the other direction.
Zack watched as a woman rushed from inside a nearby store. Her eyes were wide and panicked as she caught the two boys up by their collars. She stooped to hug them close, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
Then she proceeded to chew her boys’ ears off for running away from her.
The chastising made Zack smile. It reminded him of his mother again. He’d gotten into his own amount of mischief as a boy. She’d never veered from sounding exactly like that woman.
“Did either of you bother telling Mr. Bert thank you for saving your lives?” the mother asked her sons.
Contrite faces and stiff backs turned to the older man who’d walked over to them.
“Thank you, Mr. Bert,” they chorused.
Bert rubbed them each on the top of their heads. “No problem, boys. That’s part of the job. I watch out for the rambunctious ones out on the sidewalks.”
“Hey,” a female voice yelled out.
Zack looked around to find Joanie waving from the other side of the street as she jumped from her cupcake van and headed to her store. He waved back. He’d had a really good time with them last night, leaving only after they’d closed down the place.
Holly had disappeared a couple hours before that—after dancing with half the men in town. Too many of whom had merely been trying to get into her pants.
He had to give her credit, though. She seemed to be able to pick out the players easily enough. They hadn’t gotten more than one lukewarm dance, and some not even that. He had noticed a couple of men, though, who’d seemed legitimately wowed with her.
One was the guy who’d been hanging out by the bar. Keith something. The one Zack had told her to snuggle up to. What an idiot. And yeah, she’d snuggled.
Keith had seemed to enjoy it.
Thankfully, Holly had moved on to dance with others, before finally leaving alone. Zack wasn’t sure how he would have handled watching her leave with a guy.
It was something he didn’t want to think too hard about.
He neared the consignment store, peeking in the front windows as he went. Holly had dragged him out early that morning, only to drive them all over the back roads of Sugar Springs. They’d been stopping at yard sales, of all things. He’d never been to a yard sale in his life. Yet he’d found himself humorously entertained. Then she’d wanted to pick through more junk at the consignment store.
He found her inside now, digging through a pile of picture frames on one of the tables. An older lady was standing at her side.
“Good morning,” he was greeted as he stepped through the door.
He took off his sunglasses and nodded at the clerk. The place was crammed full of clothes, knickknacks, appliances. Everything he could imagine. Including people. They were everywhere.
Then his eyes landed on the walls above the shelving.
Decorative mirrors of all shapes and sizes hung in every available space.
Some were antique, some newer, but the thing that was the same about all of them was the creativity that made each and every one unique.
“Interested in a mirror, sir?” the clerk asked brightly. She was about twenty, with a head full of red hair. “We have quite the selection. It’s one of the things we’re known for. We even have out-of-towners drive in just to see them.”
“I’m here with . . .” When he spoke, Holly looked up from the table where she stood and her eyes met his. Her mouth curved up at the corners. His did the same. “Her,” he finished.
His lungs felt as if they were holding too much air.
“Ah,” the clerk said. “I should have recognized you, Mr. Winston.” She nodded politely. “Please let me know if you need any help.”
Holly hadn’t looked away from him while the woman at her side continued to rattle on. Her cheeks had a cute pink hue to them today, and her face was washed clean of makeup. She was like a breath of fresh air that kept hitting him in the face.
“Monday night?” the older lady asked as Zack approached. “I’ll set it up. Something nice. How about Talbot’s?”
Holly’s lips inched further up. She shifted her focus to the woman, politeness radiating from her. “That sounds lovely, Ms. Francis. But how about you have Tony call me? He and I can set something up if we decide we both want to go out.”
Ah, a date.
With Tony.
Whoever Tony was.
Ms. Francis beamed. “I’ll do that, sweetheart. And he wants to, trust me. I’ve already talked to him about it. I even gave him money to take you out. He’ll treat you right.”
Zack held back a laugh at the look on Holly’s face. Apparently she didn’t want to date someone who needed his mother to both give him money to take a girl out and get his dates for him. He couldn’t say he blamed her.
Ms. Francis finally noticed him, and scrutinized him up and down. The verdict seemed to be that she found him lacking because her nose turned up and she gave a little hmph.
Then she patted Holly’s arm, shined another bright smile her way, and trotted off.
Holly watched her go, that polite little smile still on her lips, before turning to him.
“Got a hot date?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “If only I could get away with giving out a fake number. But I’d get caught.” She motioned to the bag he held in his hands. “Did you find jeans?”
He held the bag up. “Two pairs in my size.”
The jeans weren’t the brand he’d choose if he were shopping in Atlanta, but with it being years since he’d worn any, he figured there was little need in being picky now.
“We could have gotten you more if you weren’t so particular.”
By more, she meant that he could have bought some “used” from one of the yard sales they’d stopped at. Several pairs had been available. She’d worked that angle until he’d finally convinced her it simply wasn’t going to happen. He preferred having his boys where he knew no other boys had been.
“Are you cleaning the store of their junk?” he asked.
He’d been amazed at the number of items she’d bought as they’d made their way from sale to sale that morning. At first he’d assumed she was just being polite, not wanting to leave empty-handed.
But as they’d loaded up her backseat after each stop, he’d begun to see a pattern. And strangely, that pattern reminded him of the mirrors hanging on the walls.
She’d been gathering items she could reuse.
And suddenly the mirrors made sense.
They were so beautifully unique. Just like her. Just like the mirror at the house. He stepped up beside her and almost bent forward to kiss her when she tilted her head up to his.
“Did you create all the mirrors in here?” he asked.
Her brows shot up. And just as quickly, she propped a hand on her hip. She cocked her head at an angle. “Who outed me? Who have you been talking to?”
“No one. They’re just so . . . you.”
“Really?” She studied him quietly. He began to think she wasn’t going to say more when she finally admitted, “It’s a hobby of mine.”
He took in the sheer number of items hanging on the walls. At the uniqueness in every piece. As he did, he saw three differ
ent people pointing out mirrors they wanted, asking a clerk to get them down. “Looks like more than a hobby to me.”
Her eyes dimmed a little and she refocused on the pictures she was digging through.
“Nope,” she said lightly. “Just a hobby. I do it in my spare time. Just like everything else.” Her last sentence was finished on a mumble, and he had the impression he’d just uncovered another clue to figuring out Holly Marshall.
She may act like she was perfectly fine doing nothing substantial with her life, but she didn’t really like it. This he could understand. He’d been struggling with her lack of desire to have more, but if she just hadn’t found it yet, then that was different.
“You ever thought about getting out of here?” he found himself asking.
Her green eyes took a quick peek at him. “You ready to leave?”
“I can stay here as long as you want.” He began rummaging through the items she’d already looked at, not seeing anything in his hands. “But I’m not talking about leaving the store. I meant Sugar Springs.”
She didn’t respond so he continued. “You complained about the lack of career potential.” He shrugged. “Maybe you could find whatever you’re looking for somewhere else. It doesn’t have to be as big as Chicago. Just . . . more than here.”
She put down the frame in her hand, and calm, grass-green eyes turned to him. The look sent chills down his spine.
“Don’t you dare judge me,” she said in careful, slow words. “I’m happy here. And I love who I am. I don’t need you to—”
“Hey,” he cut in. “No. I’m not judging. I’m sorry. I just . . .” He shook his head and took her hand in his. “I see sadness in you every once in a while. And for someone who’s so optimistic ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, I don’t like that sadness. I just wanted to help.”
“You’re wrong. I’m not sad. And I don’t want anything but Sugar Springs. Even if my family wasn’t here, they are my family.” She’d pulled her hand from his and swung her arm toward the windows as she said “they,” as if including the whole town. “They love me exactly as I am.”