by Casey Dawes
Some nagging whisper, in a voice that sounded very much like his mother’s, scratched at his consciousness. He was being an ass.
And he didn’t want to look at why, but he suspected he knew.
No matter how hard he’d tried, he couldn’t get Sue Anne’s face out of his memory, and that pissed him off.
She was standing right in front of him, daring him to do something. The fierce look in her eyes and determined set of her jaw let him know how angry she was.
It made him want to kiss her.
Crap, the daylight of midafternoon was too public.
“This way, ma’am.” He gestured graciously toward the doorway.
After a moment of hesitation, she walked away from him.
He followed a few steps behind, matching her short stride.
Like the gentleman his mother had attempted to make him, he opened the passenger side car door, waited for her to get in, and shut it.
“Where are you parked?” he asked.
She handed him a piece of paper with the lot and row number.
He stifled a chuckle, but she must have caught his lips twitching.
“It’s not funny. I knew I’d be tired when I got back. I just wanted to make sure I could find the damn thing,” she said.
“Where did you go?” he asked as he pulled into the parking lot.
“To help my grandmother in Seattle. She had her knee replaced.”
“How is she doing?”
“Pretty well. She’s an amazing woman. Used to work as a product manager at Microsoft.”
“Makes sense.”
“Why?”
“You told me your father was a civil engineer. Must have gotten his talent from someone in the family. What about your grandfather?”
“Technical sales—also Microsoft. He was a wonderful man, and they were very much in love. He died a few years ago. My grandmother misses him a lot, but I think she’s finally adjusting.”
“Sorry for your loss,” Zach said as he pulled up next to the Subaru. “It’s got to be hard when two people are so close and then one passes on.” What would it be like to love a woman that much?
He glanced over at Sue Anne. He wasn’t ever going to find out if he kept playing hot and cold—come’ere, come’ere, come’ere ... go away. He got out of the patrol car and started to walk around, but she’d already gotten out. They came face to face in front of the middle of the grill.
Then he did what he’d wanted to do since he saw her again.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, holding back the passion he’d been storing up since he’d ... well ... since he’d started acting like a jerk. Instead, it was a gentle brush of his lips against hers.
When he finished, her eyes showed confusion. Her words, however, held no such restraint.
“What the hell was that for?” she asked.
“To say I’m sorry.” He let his hand drift down her arm and hold her hand. “You’re right. I’m being a jerk.”
“An ass.”
“Okay. An ass.”
Tension left her face, but wariness remained.
“Look, I’d like to try again. I’ve missed you.”
“How can you guarantee you won’t do this again?” Her gaze was steady.
“I can’t. I can only tell you that I don’t want to do it again. It must have hurt you a bunch.”
“Something like that.”
His walkie-talkie squawked. “You done with that jumpstart?” Pat’s voice was scratchy through the mic. “We have a situation here I need a hand with.”
Damn.
“Almost, Pat. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
“Do that, buddy.”
“Well, better see if a jump will do it.” He opened the trunk of the patrol car and pulled out the portable starter cables. “Why don’t you get in and pop the hood?”
Within a few moments, he had the wires hooked up to the battery.
“Give it a go,” he said.
She engaged the ignition, and the Subaru turned over and started. So did the headlights.
“There’s your problem,” he said. “You left your lights on.”
“It was dusk when I got here.”
“Happens.”
She stepped out of the car, the motor still running.
He disengaged the wires, closed the hood, and stored it in the trunk.
Neither of them spoke.
He wanted to be closer to her, let her know she could count on him to protect her from things like problematic cars or evil people lurking in the shadows. Or ... hell, mountain lions if that was what was threatening her. He wanted to be her champion.
He was doing a shitty job of showing it.
“Let me take you out,” he said. “Saturday night? Dinner?”
The air between them seemed too thin, even more than the 3,000-foot altitude warranted.
“I’ll be ready at seven,” she finally said.
“Thank you.”
Before he could move, she slid back behind the wheel and pulled away, growing smaller in the light of the big Montana sky.
• • •
Sue Anne changed her blouse one more time, looked in the mirror, and tugged off her skirt. Jeans were better. They suggested friendship.
Dresses and skirts acknowledged the possibilities between a man and a woman.
She put the skirt back on and slid into her only pair of fashionable boots. Thursday’s west wind that had sped her flight back from Seattle had been followed by a cold front and six inches of snow.
“What do you think, Sugar?” she asked the dog. “Am I ready? Will he like me?”
Ugh. She shouldn’t even be asking herself that question. She was a confident woman of the twenty-first century and a business owner.
She ruffled through her gift-wrapping supplies and pulled out a red ribbon. Quickly, she adorned the white box sitting on the dining room table—some made in Montana edibles she’d picked up for Zach. Sometimes, like her mother had always said, a gift was the best way to show affection.
“Your mother did what she thought was right,” Grandma had said just last week. “From what I remember, she was pretty poor when they were growing up. Kids made fun of her at school because of her hand-me-downs.”
“Shouldn’t she be past that by now?”
“Some people take longer to build self-esteem than others.”
It had always seemed like there was too much self-esteem, from Sue Anne’s point of view.
But combined with evidence of her mother’s loneliness, maybe she needed to rethink that position.
A knock at the door brought a smile to her face.
“Hi,” Zach said, his smile full of farm-country earnestness. He handed her a fistful of daisies. “For you.”
“Thanks. Come in,” she said, her heart racing like a high-school girl. “I’ll get these in water.”
“My mother told me flowers were a good way to say ‘I’m sorry.’”
“Smart woman.” Sue Anne placed the flowers in the vase, one stem at a time, as a long-ago housekeeper had taught her.
“She said the words mattered, too.” He shuffled his feet.
Too bad he didn’t have a straw hat and scruffy cowboy boots. The attitude had “aw shucks” written all over it.
Whatever he had to say, he was already forgiven.
He looked up at her, his green eyes steady and clear.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Things happened in my past that I’m not ready to talk about yet. I know I haven’t always been good in relationships. Took me a long time to get started dating, and I still haven’t figured it all out. Can you be patient?”
She nodded. It took everything within her not to push, to ask all the questions she’d bottled up for weeks.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I made reservations at Mustard Seed. That okay?”
“Great.”
“Let me help you with that.” He took her coat and held it out for her. “You look good,” he
said as she slipped her arms through the sleeves.
His heat was close behind her.
“Smell good, too,” he whispered. “Minty.”
“Peppermint shampoo.”
He cleared his throat and stepped back.
It wasn’t far to the restaurant, situated at one of the mall’s far sides. On a Saturday night, the venue was crowded, but Zach’s reservation quickly materialized.
“Something to drink besides water?” the waitress asked.
“I’ll have a Moose Drool,” Zach said. “How about you?” he asked Sue Anne.
“Chardonnay.”
“Okay.” The waitress started away.
“Wait, please,” Zach said before asking Sue Anne, “Just chardonnay? You don’t want any particular kind? It’s my treat, you know.” He grinned at her, a teasing light in his eyes. “As I remember, you’re very particular about vegetables; why not wines?”
She caught his spirit of fun and relaxed a little. First dates, or even second ones, could be a landmine of unknown expectations and attitudes.
“Since you insist...”
“I do.”
“I’ll have a Willamette Valley Chardonnay, then.”
The waitress scribbled on the pad, then scurried off, no doubt eager to get away before Zach came up with another option.
“Things still going well with the chocolate shop?” he asked as he opened the menu.
Damn. She’d forgotten to give him the box. Fortunately, it was out of Sugar’s reach. The dog was aptly named, with a sweet tooth stronger than Sue Anne’s.
“Yes. I met with the website designer yesterday, and she’s got the site almost finished. That will give us a few weeks to work out the kinks before the big launch.”
“When’s that again?”
“May first.”
They gave their orders to the busy waitress—Asian cashew chicken for her, Szechuan beef for him. Zach also ordered wontons and spring rolls.
“Hungry?” she asked with a smile.
“Chief’s been on us about the equipment. Not shiny enough. I must have been up and down that ladder twenty times yesterday, going after every last spot.”
“Oh, poor baby.” With the relaxed expression on his face, she felt safe in teasing him.
“So glad you have sympathy,” he said with a grin.
“I know all about cleaning. The chocolate molds have to be spotless, and they have these nooks and crannies that are impossible.”
“Use bleach,” he suggested.
“Are you out of your mind? What is it with men and bleach anyway?”
“Gets things clean?”
“And sends you to the hospital if you drink it. We’re talking food here, you know.” She should have stuck to this easy banter from the beginning; it was more fun than bickering. Her mother had always told her she was too serious.
Right again, Mom.
The waitress dropped the appetizers on the table and kept going.
“What do you like to do besides look at birds and hike?” he asked.
“You mean besides run a business and work out?”
“Yeah.”
“I like movies. Well, sometimes I like the popcorn better,” she admitted.
“I know what you mean. If you get a bad action movie, it can be saved by those little kernels of salt and butter.” He smiled. “And the right company.”
“I can see we’re going to have to work on your taste in movies.”
“You’re not going to subject me to chick flicks are you?” He groaned.
“We can trade on and off ... but I do like things beside romance movies.”
“Like what?”
The waitress brought their meals, and Sue Anne ordered another chardonnay and immediately chastised herself. It wouldn’t do to get bombed. Why was she so nervous? It was only a second date.
Or nondate. They still hadn’t settled the question of whether they were friends or something more.
“I like oddball movies,” she said, unwilling to ruin the moment with confrontation. “You know, like the Marigold Hotel thing. The Hundred-Foot Journey. Oh, and comedies. Love comedies!”
“I’m not sure I could go for some of those movies, but comedies are great. And I’m willing to try the others.”
Too good to be true.
Of course, he wasn’t planning on staying around. If she didn’t deal with it, it was going to fester through the rest of dinner.
“How long do you think you’ll be in Missoula?” she asked.
His happy expression wilted.
“I don’t know yet. It all depends on what kind of reviews and training I can get. I need to do something to offset the black record in Denver.”
“What exactly did happen in Denver?”
He frowned and put another forkful of food into his mouth. As he chewed, she could see the debate in his eyes. Was he ready to tell her?
Somehow she knew this was a turning point. If he couldn’t reveal what had crashed and burned his life in Colorado, how could she hope to have any kind of relationship with him in Montana?
Chapter 12
Zach knew it was a do or die moment. He delayed it as long as he could, chewing his food slowly, as if he were actually enjoying the flavor. The tender beef tasted like overcooked broccoli. Even the beer, his favorite brew, was flat.
“I told you I met a girl in Denver.”
Sue Anne nodded.
“Erin was pretty, smart, and fun to be around. We seemed really compatible—same goals, same interests, you know. We went out about nine months before I moved in with her.” Shit, this was hard. He hated talking about this stuff.
“Why aren’t you with her anymore?” Sue Anne’s voice was gentle, inviting him to continue.
He fell silent again. Could he admit his screw-up? They were still getting to know each other. And this wasn’t going to be a long-term relationship. He wasn’t staying in Missoula, and she was just beginning her business.
Why couldn’t they simply be friends? Did they have to get into all these background questions?
He swallowed the large lump in his throat. Did he want more?
“And?” she prompted.
He picked up his beer glass and traced designs in the moisture.
“When Erin wanted to talk to me, nothing else mattered. Not what I was doing. Not if I was at work. If I didn’t pick up, even if I was in the middle of an emergency situation, she’d ream me that night.” Sue Anne’s face was still with concentration.
“I thought about it a lot—what made her so needy? Then I realized I wasn’t paying enough attention to her.” He swallowed, unsure of how his date would take the next bit of information. “In fact, I was barely aware of her at all. I was single-focused, intent on the job, determined to get ahead.”
He took another sip of liquid courage, then put down the glass. Might as well get it over with—like ripping off a Band-Aid.
“I tried to make it better, so I took a chance and called her while I was on patrol. I was listening to her, and I missed the announcement of the Alert 4.”
Sue Anne frowned.
“That’s an FAA drill. We have to meet the criteria of getting things done in three minutes. Depending on the reason we fail, or the number of times the airport fails the test, the FAA could require us to do it over or fine the airport.”
He cracked his knuckles.
She winced.
“Sorry. Bad habit. Unfortunately, this was a retest for Denver.” He shook his head. “The first time they failed, someone got up from the sleeping area, turned off the alarm, and went back to bed.”
“Really?” She laughed.
“Yep. Have it on the authority of the FAA itself.” He allowed his lips to turn up, grateful for the ease of tension.
They enjoyed their meal for a few more moments.
“Did you mess up the second test because you weren’t paying attention?” Her gaze was steady.
“Yep. I was late, and that screwed it up for ev
eryone else. I felt terrible, but they were pissed. They had every right to be.” He took another long gulp of his drink.
There, that hadn’t been that bad, had it? It only felt like he’d ripped out his hair in a very sensitive area. Of course, he still hadn’t told her everything.
“They fired you?” she asked, leaning forward, compassion in her eyes.
“No, nothing as overt as that.” It had been worse. “They gave me all the shit jobs and bad hours. The rest of the squad shunned me as much as they could. No more invites to go to the bar with the guys. Not that I had ever gone out with them before, but it was my choice.” The chief was right, he’d never gelled with the team, and when he’d made a mistake, they weren’t there to support him.
Another gulp of beer finished it. He thought about getting another, but he was driving. The last thing he needed was to be pulled over. Besides, alcohol was a sneaky demon. After his screw-up and the subsequent escalation of fighting with Erin, he’d started the slide down that slippery slope. He’d won the first round with that particular devil and didn’t want to step into the ring for another.
“Sounds horrible. Everyone makes mistakes. Couldn’t they see that?” She was tensed, as if ready to take on anyone who dared attack him.
“It was their way. What if it had been the real thing and not a drill? People could have died. I didn’t like it, but I understood it.”
“Couldn’t you have ridden it out?”
“I didn’t think so. Besides, things went south with Erin after that. It was better to leave.”
He reached for the empty glass but shifted to water instead.
“You can have another beer, you know,” she said.
“I’d rather not.” He heard the curtness in his tone.
She sat back in her seat.
Great. Now he’d offended her. He ran his hand through his short hair.
“Look, I’m not very good at this. I thought Erin was the one. I was ready to propose to her.” He leaned back in his chair and blew out. “But after I screwed up at work ... well, nothing I did was right anymore.” Truth was, he wasn’t very pleasant to be around, and he couldn’t blame Erin for that.
Sue Anne didn’t say anything.
“I guess I was partly to blame. I shut down and stopped attempting to keep the relationship going.”
“Any regrets?”
“Of course.” He shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it now.” He needed to shift the conversation, or she’d think he was a hopeless loser. “I’m back on track, doing well at the airport. It was just a bump in the road.” A bump that still caused an ache in his chest for his failure to man up.