by Casey Dawes
“Do you like making chocolate?” he asked, hoping she’d take the hint to change the topic.
“Yeah. Sounds silly, but it makes me happy. Building a business gives me confidence in myself as a person, not just a woman.”
Some of the tension between them dissipated.
“So you don’t need a man,” he said cautiously. Was that the right thing to say?
“I didn’t say that.” She smiled. “I’d like a relationship someday. But right now, just like you, my career comes first. I’d say we’re perfectly matched.”
“So what are you suggesting?”
“Let’s just be friends like you want. We both enjoy a lot of the same things. It would be fun to get out.”
“Friends, huh?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds good to me,” he said. Of course, there were those kisses. Were they still off limits?
• • •
Friendship? What had she been thinking?
With the passion Zach had demonstrated when he’d kissed her, she doubted he’d be content with a simple friendship for long.
Neither would she.
The problem was that ultimately they wanted different things. If she were truthful with herself, she didn’t want a friendship that didn’t have a chance of blossoming into a real relationship and eventual commitment. Zach, like most guys she knew, wanted a friendship that probably led to the bedroom, no strings attached.
She smoothed her skirt. He wasn’t alone in that desire, and if his kiss was any indication, getting to the benefits part sooner rather than later wouldn’t be too bad.
But it was a risky move. She could try to keep her heart neutral, but chances were good she’d get hurt, just like she had in the past. Most guys could do sex much more casually than women.
Still, it had been a long time, and she missed the intimacy. She stared at his hands, imaging them on her skin.
Worth the risk.
Maybe she was imagining things. Maybe they could just be friends.
Should she bring up limits on physical contact?
God, it was all so twisted. She wanted more than he had to give, but she didn’t want to let him go. While remaining simply friends would be the smart thing to do, she’d miss those kisses.
“Okay, friend, how about a movie next Saturday night?” she said lightly.
“Have to work,” he said, shaking his head. “But I’ll be off Sunday afternoon if you want to do a matinee.”
Even better. Afternoon movies weren’t as romantic as evening ones. She should be safer.
Like sex never happened in the afternoon. What was she thinking?
“Okay,” she said.
“You pick, then.”
“Trust me?” Her heart fluttered a little. The right movie could make a wonderful date, the wrong one could be a disaster in spite of the popcorn, unless the relationship lasted long enough to turn disasters into humorous stories.
Relationship? No. This was only a friendship.
“I’ll trust you this time,” he said and picked up the check the waitress had dropped off.
“Let’s split this,” she said. “That’s what friends do.”
He pressed his lips together, was silent for a moment, then shook his head.
“Nope. Can’t do it. I invited you.”
“But that breaks the rules.”
“Rules? We haven’t made any rules.”
“Well, we should,” she said. “How else are we going to make sure we stay friends without this becoming something else?”
“So you want to split the expenses right down the middle?” He drummed his fingers on the table.
“Yeah, like my girlfriends and I do.”
“But I’m not your girlfriend,” he said.
No. He most certainly was not. Her heart beat a little faster as she thought of all the ways he was definitely not like a woman.
“On one condition,” he finally said, disrupting her thoughts.
“What’s that?”
“This one’s on me.”
It was a dangerous precedent, but having someone treat her was a nice change. She could lean on him a little bit without bending the friendship rules she was laying out in her mind, couldn’t she?
“Okay.”
• • •
Zach maneuvered the Cherokee out of the apartment parking lot.
Friends. That’s all they were ever going to be.
Simple.
Easy.
He had a goal and a plan to get there. He was sticking to it. Once he got the position he wanted, he could look for the right girl.
Then why was it he had a nagging feeling his mother wouldn’t approve of his “friendship” with Sue Anne? He could almost hear her accuse him of “trifling” with Sue Anne’s feelings.
Only his mother could get away with a word like “trifling.”
He pushed his conscience, in the form of his mother’s voice, aside.
A movie shouldn’t be hard to handle. Sue Anne had found a suspense film that sounded good. A little shared popcorn, an enjoyable movie, and home.
Maybe he could get another chance at those adorable lips.
Just a friendly kiss. Nothing more. Besides, she hadn’t brought up the issue about physical contact again. He was in bounds of their agreement so far.
He ignored the imagined sound of his mother’s sputter.
He turned the car onto Third Street. Looked like they were ramping up for road construction. Spring must really be here.
Good Foods had a display of flowers in the window.
Nope. You didn’t bring flowers to a friend.
He eased to a stop as the light turned red and cranked up the radio and sang along to “Chicken Fried.” The singer didn’t need to worry about competition. Oh, Zach could carry a tune. Barely. Good enough for cars and showers.
Could Sue Anne sing? There was so much to learn about her—so much to explore—like what kind of music she liked.
He was still humming when he pulled up in front of the chocolate shop. The place was coming together. New metal tables and chairs adorned the front porch, and a row of petunias lined the walk. It looked like a snapshot of his happy childhood in Iowa.
After following the path around the back, a bouncing Sugar greeted him, which made his smile deepen.
“That’s a good girl,” he said, opening the gate and scooping up the squirming animal.
Sugar licked his face.
He laughed.
His laughter must have alerted Sue Anne because she opened the door.
God, she was hot. Tight-fitting jeans and a blue sweater showed off her gym-toned figure. Her dark hair curled around her face, and her lips were painted a pale pink.
Would she be open to spending the day in her bed instead of the movies?
Get your mind on business, Crippin.
“Hey,” she called. “See you’ve found Sugar.”
“More that she found me.” He put the dog down. “Are you ready?”
“Let me get Sugar inside. C’mon girl.”
Sugar yipped and looked up at Zach, her backside wiggling madly.
“I don’t think she likes that idea,” he said and picked up the dog again.
“Thanks,” Sue Anne said as she took Sugar from him and set her inside. As soon as she closed the door, a wild yapping ensued.
“Definitely doesn’t like the idea,” Zach said.
Sue Anne chuckled.
She caught him up on the chocolate shop doings, and he told her about some of the more bizarre incidents at work.
Just like good friends.
He was going to pull this off.
Only a few people were scattered around the movie theater. The warm weather must have lured them outside to take hikes or work on their yards. Garden stores did a booming business this time of year.
“One bag or two?” he asked as they stood in the popcorn line.
“Definitely two,” she said. “We’re only friends, remember
?”
“Don’t friends share popcorn?”
“Not in Texas, they don’t. The society ladies would be horrified.” Her green eyes sparkled with humor.
“Since this is Montana, though, you want to break a few rules?”
“Probably not the best idea.” She placed her order for a medium popcorn and soda pop. Before he could do anything about it, she took out a twenty-dollar bill. “I’ll pay for his, too.”
The clerk looked at him expectantly.
“I’ll have the same.”
“You’re not supposed to pay for my food,” he hissed while they made their way down the long hall to the individual theater.
“You paid for the tickets,” she hissed back.
“I did,” he said with a smirk. He’d gotten around her prohibition by ordering them online before he picked her up. He wasn’t sure why he was making such an issue of it, but splitting the check annoyed him.
“How do you feel about Christmas?” she asked after they’d settled into their seats.
“It’s only April.”
“This is a very important holiday for me. If you’re going to be my friend, I need to know how you feel about it.”
“Is it going to ruin the friendship if I say it’s an overrated holiday?”
“It would put us on dangerous footing.”
“Then it’s a good thing I like it” He leaned back in his comfortable seat. Going to the movies was almost like watching it in a living room these days. Except for the big screen. And the popcorn.
And the girl.
He snuck a peak at Sue Anne.
She was studying him like he was a bug specimen.
He reviewed everything he’d said to her about Christmas. Nope. Hadn’t said anything stupid.
God, women were a minefield.
He turned his head just as the lights dimmed.
“What?” he whispered. “What did I do?”
“Nothing.” She smiled. “We can talk about it later.”
The worst words a woman could say to a man.
He fidgeted through the first part of the movie, but then the tension of the film got under his skin. In spite of the fact there were no major car chases or gunfights, he was gripped by the story and forgot his impending execution.
The only irritant was a strong desire to hold Sue Anne’s hand, but to do that easily, he’d have to move her armrest out of the way.
Her drink sat in the cup holder—a paper and liquid moat.
Friends.
The heat from her body next to his was scorching that whole theory. Why had he ever thought he could sit in the dark next to her hot presence without a reaction? He shifted in his seat and came up with a dozen ways to torment the villain in the movie. That helped.
A little.
“Cup of coffee?” she asked after the movie finished.
He couldn’t come up with any really good excuses as to why that would be a bad idea. Except the obvious. She wanted to “talk” to him.
“Okay. Starbucks?” he asked.
“It’s really the only place nearby,” she said.
“You made a good choice of movies,” he said as they drove north on Reserve. Maybe that would get him out of the doghouse.
“Thanks. I like that director.”
“I’m not that much into films that I remember directors.”
“I started to pay attention a couple of years ago. I was tired of paying for movies I didn’t like, and stars weren’t always a guarantee. Producers and directors give me a better feel.”
They got stuck at the interminable light by the freeway, and he took the moment to look at her. She was staring at the overpass, her profile clear in the fading afternoon sun.
Funny, he’d never noticed how strong her jawline was. Probably because he had a hard time making it past her lips. It was a determined jaw. This was a woman who was going to make a success of anything she wanted.
Not as ditzy as he’d first imagined.
What would she be like in a real relationship? Could she soften enough to support him in his dreams and still go after her own?
It didn’t matter. As soon as he got the recommendation he wanted, he’d be leaving the wilds of Montana for civilization.
He must have punched the gas a little harder than he’d intended when the light changed because he had to jam on the brakes when the rusted Chevy pickup in front of him changed gears.
“Whoa!” Sue Anne exclaimed. “Did I miss something?”
“Sorry, no. Wasn’t paying attention. Forgot not everyone drives an automatic in Montana.”
“Uh-huh.”
Starbucks was busy as a lot of hikers returned to town, but he snagged an outside table in the sun.
After they settled with their coffees, he couldn’t figure out what to say. Should he bring up Christmas? Or was that dangerous territory?
“I suppose you had old-fashioned family Christmases,” she said. “Grandparents, cousins, kids, the whole enchilada.”
“Kinda like that.”
“You probably even had snow.”
“Yes.” He took a sip of his coffee. Where was she going with this?
“Polar opposites. It’s a good thing we decided to be just friends.” There was a bitter undertone to her voice he hadn’t heard before.
“Now wait a minute. That seems unfair. Just because we had different kinds of Christmases doesn’t make us incompatible. That makes as much sense as whether or not I like lima beans.” He grinned, hoping that made the topic a little less edgy.
“Right.” She drank more of her coffee as she stared off into the distance again.
There was something more on her mind.
He waited her out.
“No snow where we lived in Texas.” Her lower lip trembled for a few seconds before she appeared to get it under control. “And it was just me and my mother. Most years, my father showed up, but there were a few holidays he wasn’t there. Too busy. Too dangerous to come home. Too something.”
Letting her gather her thoughts, he took another sip of coffee, his eyes never leaving her. His heart ached at the agony he saw written on her face.
“I always loved books and movies for presents. I’d carefully write out a list and leave it around for her to find. Every year, no matter what had happened the year before, I eagerly opened my presents. Nothing from my list. Ever.”
She swiped a finger against her eye.
“Makeup. Exercise stuff. Clothes. Tons and tons of clothes. Oh, God, I sound like such a spoiled brat.” She crossed her arms on the table and laid her head down so her eyes were covered.
Uh-oh. Meltdown.
He suppressed the urge to go to the bathroom, find a coffee cup that he didn’t need to buy, or order the snack with the most sugar per ounce—anything to leave the scene. Instead, he took a deep breath and touched her arm.
“I’m sure you’re not a brat. You were a kid.”
“I was sixteen the last time I wrote a list.” Her voice was muffled by the fabric.
“I remember my sister when she was sixteen. You’re still off the hook.”
“You think so?” She lifted her face enough so he could see her eyes. They were shot with red.
“Tell you what, friend. In November, you write down a list of ten things you want for Christmas, and I guarantee they’ll be under the tree in December.”
“Promise?” A little more of her face was visible.
“Promise.”
Her whole face was wreathed in a smile as big as a child’s.
Oh, God, he was in such trouble.
• • •
Zach slid into the patrol car and headed for the far reaches of the airport. To the west, mountains framed the edge of the valley, most of the forests scarred from a long-ago forest fire.
Trees sure took a long time to come back.
In the southern distance, Lolo Peak gleamed in the sun, sentinel to the Bitterroot Valley and guardian of the pass that Lewis and Clark had used to get to Ida
ho. It was a raw land, in spite of the current civilization. Late settlement and intentional conservation had made it that way.
He looked away, disquieted by his unusual introspection. Was he growing too fond of Missoula?
Hardening his resolve, he paid attention to his surroundings, looking for anything unusual—a car that had been tampered with, a hole in the fence where a deer tried to get through.
Or something bigger.
Although they didn’t frequent this end of town, bears habituated the upper reaches of the Rattlesnake area, and a herd of elk made a semi permanent home on Mount Jumbo, the mountain someone had decided looked like the circus elephant from the mid-1800s.
The resemblance was a mystery to him.
As the patrol car cruised the boundary, he relaxed into an ease he hadn’t felt in a while. Things were going well. He hadn’t screwed up any drills, tests, or direct orders, and since he’d begun bringing chocolate, his relationship with the team had improved. They weren’t a bad group of guys. Even Pat, the man he sensed as his biggest rival for advancement, had gone out of his way to extend the hand of friendship. And damned if Zach hadn’t begun to like the man.
Then there was Sue Anne. She was fun to be around. If only they could keep it as a friendship, everything would be fine. But after the meltdown at Starbucks, he was afraid they were going to become too close. Hell, they were already more emotionally connected than he wanted.
He should probably put some distance between them so she didn’t get hurt when he left.
Of course, he’d gone and made that stupid promise. What had possessed him? He was going to be long gone by November.
He was turning around at the far reaches of the field when the radio squawked.
“Alert 4. Everyone return to base. It’s an Alert 4. I repeat. Alert 4.”
Crap. The feds had to go call a drill right now.
He pounded the steering wheel and raced back as quickly as he could without acquiring an airport customer as a hood ornament.
The team was already on the go by the time he got back but behind where they should be. He drove to the plane that was the site of the alert, since he’d missed the engine crew, then grabbed his gear. Minutes later he was in place, aiding volunteer victims to places of safety.