It takes me a solid ten minutes to still my racing heart and administer proper attention to my hair and face. I finally walk out of the locker room, determined to find out the answer once and for all, but after searching everywhere, I can’t locate Zach. He’s disappeared.
Shelby is sitting by herself under a tree, looking like someone just kicked her dog, so in a moment of crazy I walk over to her. She eyeballs me intently, clearly ready to do battle. But the last thing I want is a fight. I say, “So, you and Beau. I hear you’re trying to get him interested again.”
“Of course, I’m not,” she declares. “Who’ve you been talking to?”
“Look, Shelby,” I tell her, “I don’t like you very much. You’re too much like your mama for my taste.” The look on her face tells me that my accusation hits a raw nerve. So, I drop the bomb, “But just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean that Beau can’t. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Now she’s totally confused. “No.”
“I’m saying that Beau is a big boy and has the right to follow his own heart. If his heart leads him to you, so be it. But you’d better believe him when he’s says that if you mess with his family, he’ll drop you faster than a fish fresh out of the fryer. And he won’t give you a second chance, either. Beau is loyal to those he loves. If you’re ever lucky enough to have him love you, you’ll understand what an incredible gift that is.”
I’ve definitely caught her off guard. She doesn’t seem to know how to respond. She finally settles on, “I can’t control my mama. I can’t make her stay quiet about something if she’s determined to say it.”
“Maybe you can appeal to her motherly instincts, then. Let her know that she holds your happiness in her hands and that if she loves you, she’ll back away from whatever nastiness is up her sleeve.”
Shelby surprises me when she confesses, “I don’t want folks to think I’m like her.”
“Then don’t be like her,” I say. “Find the strength to be your own person and do the right thing.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I’m pretty sure Zach has already gone. Back at the table with the family, I manage a few bites of catfish and coleslaw, scanning the crowd for him the whole while, but he never shows his face again. Cootie remains quiet after the shortcake dessert has been served, so it appears tonight’s fireworks have been canceled. Thank the good Lord for that. Yet, I can’t help but wonder how long we have until she decides she can’t stay quiet any longer and starts peddling her trash to whomever will listen.
Beau and Shelby spend the night sending scorching glances back and forth to each other. Beau’s looks are of the warning variety, while Shelby’s are unadulterated longing. Davis has gone to the veranda for a drink, Mama and Auntie Lee are sitting on a bench under a tree plotting their defensive strategy, and the uncles are having a contest over who can eat the most. Amelia has been chattering non-stop in my ear, but I can’t tell you one word she’s said. My thoughts are one hundred percent on Cootie and her gossip.
At eight thirty, I inform my family that Faye and I are going home. Uncle Jed will take Mama and Jesse home with him and Auntie Lee. If I were having fun, I’d have stayed until they kicked me out, but this night has become a chore, plain and simple.
I place Faye in her carrier, say my goodbyes, and head toward the valet. It looks like I’m leaving at the perfect time ’cause a line starts to form behind me. Someone steps too close and I’m about to turn around and ask for space when I feel hot breath on my neck. My insides puddle and I know without looking that it’s Zach. “Heya, Emmie,” he purrs. He’s close enough I can smell his intoxicating manly scent.
“Heya, Zach, where’ve you been?”
“Off, thinking.”
“Why in the world would you do that when there’s catfish to eat?”
He ignores my question and says, “Would you mind giving me a ride home? I think I may have had one too many.”
“What about Shelby?” I ask.
“I s’pose she’ll ride home with her folks.”
“Didn’t she come with you?”
He disregards my question again and repeats his. “Will you give me a ride or not?”
If my insides weren’t flying around like I was on some sketchy carnival ride before, they sure are now. “Sure,” I say, as one of the parking attendants pulls up with Mama’s car.
Zach holds opens the backdoor before taking Faye’s carrier from me and securing the contraption just like I taught him the night of our non-date. He doesn’t seem the least bit incapacitated. Then he opens the passenger side door and gets in while I climb into the recently vacated driver’s seat.
“Where to?” I ask.
“Just take me to your house. I’ll walk from there.”
“What do you mean you’ll walk from there? It’ll take you twenty-five minutes to walk into town from Mama’s place. Just give me your address and I’ll drive you.”
“I don’t live in town,” he says.
I’m not sure why I thought he did. I guess because most of the younger, single folks who reside in Creek Water live in the heart of our growing downtown. “Where do you live?” I ask.
“On the other side of your aunt and uncle.”
“No, you don’t! I’ve never seen your car over there.”
“I park in the garage,” he says.
“But I’ve never even seen you drive by.”
“How often do you hang out in front of your house?” he asks.
He’s got a point. I’m out back plenty, but the only time I’m in the front of the house is when I’m coming or going. But still, you’d think I’d have seen him before now, or someone would have mentioned he was our neighbor. “Are you renting?” I ask.
“Nope. I bought the place right after I returned to Creek Water.”
“Why in the world?” I demand. My best friend from grade school used to live there so I know for a fact the house has four bedrooms and three bathrooms. It’s not ostentatious, but it’s big, and not the kind of home you’d expect a bachelor to purchase.
“I liked the house,” he answers.
“It’s a great street,” I agree. “But isn’t it a tad much for just you?”
“I don’t plan on being there by myself forever,” Zach says.
A lump forms in my throat at the thought of him living only two houses away from Mama with a wife and kids. I know that wife won’t be Shelby, but still.
I keep peeking at his profile while driving down the road that leads out of the club. He looks swoon-worthy handsome despite being ruffled and tired. I ask, “Do you know what Cootie had up her sleeve tonight?”
He shakes his head, “No, ma’am, I sure don’t. I expect it was nothing good, though.”
“She’d sure be one heck of a mother-in-law.”
“That would be my guess,” he answers, but he doesn’t say any more than that.
We drive the rest of the way home in silence. My brain is full of questions that I want to ask, but I get a vibe that Zach doesn’t want me to ask them.
By the time I pull into Mama’s driveway, I feel all kinds of conflicting emotions, ranging from intense attraction to frustration. Stating the obvious, I announce, “We’re here.”
I’m about to open the car door when Zach grabs my arm to stop me. I hear crickets chirping through his open window; they sound like they’re trying to convey an urgent message. He checks over his shoulder, “Faye’s asleep, let’s sit awhile,” he says.
The summer air combined with my current company is keeping the car’s internal temperature far warmer than I’m comfortable with. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”
He eyes me longingly and whispers, “I don’t want to talk.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“If you don’t want to talk, what do you want to do?” I ask softly, not realizing I’ve been holding my breath until I start to feel lightheaded.
Zach doesn’t answer with words. Instead, with the hand that’s still hol
ding my arm, he pulls me toward him. I go willingly, hypnotized by his hazel eyes. He groans, “I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw you in your uncles’ office.” A split second later his lips are on mine, telling me a story of their own.
His kiss is hot and hungry, while somehow sweet and searching. I taste the beer on his breath, but more prominently I taste desire. He declares ownership as surely as Christopher Columbus did when setting foot on the new world. I nearly hand off the keys to the kingdom.
I come to my senses a tad later than I should and pull back with a jolt. Zach looks totally perplexed. “What are you doing?” I demand.
“I was kissing you,” he says. “You seemed to be enjoying it.”
“Zach, you can’t just kiss me after the way you treated me the other night at dinner. You were just awful to me!”
He looks down and his lap for a moment and replies, “I guess I was just upset about something.”
“What?” I demand. “Are you still mad at me for not going to that dance with you when we were in high school?” His eyes bug open like he’s surprised I’m bringing it up. “For your information I wanted to go out with you, I just didn’t want to go to a dance at the club.”
“Why?” he seems totally taken aback.
“You see how Cootie is around my family. Well, she was worse when I was a kid. She made my mama feel so bad that we quit the club all together. I used to do everything in my power to stay out of the way of her and her gang. Going to a dance there would have put me right in their sights.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me that. We could have done something else.”
“I might have done that, but you went out of your way to avoid me. I couldn’t seem to catch your eye for anything in this world after I said no to the dance.”
“You could have called me,” he says.
“I suppose I could have. But Zach, I was sixteen years old and had pretty limited experience with the opposite sex. I was scared to call, especially because you started acting like I was a contagious disease.”
“I’ll have you know, Emmie, that it took all the courage I could muster to ask you out. I wasn’t much to look at in high school. I was crushed when you said no.”
“I’m sorry, Zach. I really am. Can we finally put that episode behind us? More than anything I’d like to go out with you, but not if you can’t forgive me.”
Zach leans in again and very slowly touches his lips to mine. It’s just a hint of contact before he says, “I forgive you, but only if you’ll forgive me for acting like such a class A jackass.”
This time I’m the one who initiates intimacy. I say everything I can think of in my touch. Including, “I forgive you,” “I’m sorry,” and “If you play your cards right, I might just let you take me to another dance.”
My daughter seems to open a psychic channel and wakes up, letting out a squawk so loud that Zach jumps back like he’s tripped an alarm. Which maybe he has. Maybe Faye, unable to say what’s on her mind, is suggesting we cool it a bit until things are more settled between us. If that isn’t a fanciful notion, I don’t know what is.
Zach kisses me one more time before letting go of me and getting out of the car. He comforts Faye, “Hello, sweetheart. What do you say we get you inside and put you to bed properly?”
Faye makes an adorable cooing sound as if agreeing to his suggestion.
He carries my baby onto the porch while I haul her diaper bag. Once I unlock the door, we go inside, and Zach takes the baby straight into the back of the house where the bedrooms are. He correctly guesses which room is mine—I’m guessing the old movie posters on the wall were a giveaway—and places her carrier gently on my bed. He unbuckles her, picks her up, and holds her close while singing a lullaby in her ear the whole while. In no time, she’s sound asleep again. This time with her head on his shoulder.
“She likes you,” I tell him.
“I like her,” he replies. “I like her mama, too.” He says this in a way that causes the hair on my arms to stand on end and my central nervous system to feel like it’s been invaded by butterflies.
I boldly ask, “And you’re not mad at me anymore?”
“I promise I’m not. I’m going to start acting like a grown-up from this moment on.”
“No more games?” I demand.
“Remember when I told you about the woman I liked who didn’t feel the same way about me. I guess I feel like once bitten twice shy.”
“But I wasn’t the one who bit you, Zach.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he smiles almost like it hurts to do so. After a long moment, he says, “What about you? You have a baby with another man. Are you sure you’re ready for another relationship after losing Armand?”
Gah, Armand! I keep forgetting about him. I want to tell Zach the truth, but I dare not until I know I can trust him. He’s obviously friends with Shelby, although god knows what he’s getting out of the relationship. I can’t tell anyone outside the family before I know they can be trusted. And sadly, I don’t trust Zach yet. What in the world does that say about me that I’d kiss a man I don’t fully trust?
“So, what do we do now?” I ask.
“Let’s just take it one day at a time.”
“I guess that’ll be okay,” I say.
Zach lays Faye down in her crib and gently tucks her blanket around her. He stares at her for a long moment and then says, “I’m sorry her daddy never got to meet her. She’s as sweet as they come.”
I feel guilty that her daddy never got to meet her too, but I can’t say I’m sorry about it. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to raise my child with a total stranger. And if he didn’t want to be a part of her life, I’d feel even worse knowing that I conceived her with a deadbeat.
I follow Zach to the front door, and announce, “Armand is part of my past. I would not have agreed to go out to dinner with you the other night if I weren’t ready to move on, and I sure as heck wouldn’t have kissed you tonight if that weren’t the case.”
Zach says, “I’m glad to hear it. I’ll pick you up for work tomorrow morning at nine.”
“Okay,” I agree. “But you don’t have a car. I’ll pick you up and drive you over to the club to get it.”
“I forgot about that,” he says. “Okay, you pick me up, but let’s go into town together. You can drop me to get my car after work.”
I open the door to see him out, but he doesn’t go right away. Instead, he pulls me back into his arms and ever so lightly touches his lips to my forehead. It’s as gentle as a whisper.
I replay the image all night long and hope against hope that Zach is telling the truth and doesn’t start acting all weird again. I’m not sure I can handle much more drama.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I ring Zach’s doorbell the next morning at nine o’clock sharp. His house is a classic craftsman-style with a wide front porch and a low-pitched gable roof. There are exposed wood beams and tapered square columns in a dark brown that contrast the lighter blue-gray color of the paint. The clean masculine lines are softened by blooming scarlet buckeye shrubs out front and the Portside wicker rocking chairs on the porch.
I hear him yell, “Come on in!”
I tentatively peek through the front door and call out, “It’s me, Emmie.”
“Come on back. I’m in the kitchen.”
I would never have recognized this house as the one my girlfriend’s family lived in. Zach has done a monumental amount of work. The interior beams used to be painted white to match the color of the ceiling, but Zach’s had them stripped and stained back to their original glory. He’s done the same to the built-in cabinetry.
I walk through a dining room furnished with a mission-style table and chairs and a large built-in window seat, then into the kitchen. In contrast to the rest of the house, the kitchen is light and airy. Zach is standing next to the stove, stirring something in a saucepan. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”
He turns around all fresh
ly showered and snazzy in his pressed chinos and linen shirt. His feet are bare, and I stare at his toes like they’re an intimate appendage. He says, “I figured we could work over breakfast. I’ve got all the measurements we need to get started. We can head over to the factory when we’re done.”
I sit down on a stool at the counter and ask, “What are you making?”
“I’ve got a German apple pancake in the oven and I’m whipping up a caramelized pecan and maple syrup for the top.”
Drool pools in my mouth for a multitude of reasons. “That sounds delicious. Do you cook a lot?”
“Only when I’m trying to impress someone.” He smiles at me coyly.
This morning’s Zach is very different from the Zach of previous encounters. He’s open and warm, which makes me think he meant what he said last night and has finally forgiven me. “Lucky me,” I say. “As far as I’m concerned, you can show off any time you want.”
He comes around from the stove to stand next to me. Then he gives me the sweetest kiss imaginable. My blood turns hot like molten lava and my body suddenly feels like it weighs a thousand pounds—I couldn’t move from this spot if my life depended on it. “Thank you for driving me home last night,” he says afterwards.
“You’re welcome,” I answer breathlessly. “So last night wasn’t just a one off? We’re kissing now?”
He groans deep in the back of his throat like he’s in pain. “We’re definitely kissing now.”
“What about Shelby?” I ask. I’m all for kissing, but I’m not if he’s going to keep going around town pretending to be her boyfriend.
“I called her when I got home last night and told her she needed to find someone else to make Beau jealous with.”
“I bet that didn’t go over well,” I say, trying to keep happiness out of my voice.
“Like a lead balloon,” he confirms. “But she knows I’m serious.”
“Why are you friends with her, anyway?” I want to know.
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