“I’ll run it out to her,” Mara offered, holding out her hand for the coat. “They can’t have gone far.”
Miss Hannah gave it to her, and Mara hurried out of the children’s section into the rest of the gym. Her steps were quick as she darted around the machines and guests, smiling at the trainers working with their clients, and made her way to the front of the building.
Hope still held the hand of the perfect blond, who had to be her mother, though how any woman went from having a baby to having that body was unfathomable. They didn’t look that much alike, but Hope probably took after her dad.
What kind of guy managed to get Perfection to fall for him?
“Hope!” Mara called, trying to drag herself out of her jealous thoughts. “Hope!”
They didn’t hear her, and she hustled more, jogging now.
The windows at the front of the gym took up almost the entire wall, and just as she reached the doors, she saw Hope through those windows, running into the arms of a mountain of a man with the most perfect shoulders she’d ever seen encased in a fleece jacket. The man wore a baseball cap and sunglasses, despite the fact that it was an overcast morning and chilly. Normally, Mara would have hated something like that, but this guy . . .
She swallowed as the unzipped fleece, combined with his exuberant actions with the little girl, revealed a tight T-shirt that hid absolutely nothing about his abs.
Perfect abs.
The sort of abs Perfection would totally go for.
Gulp.
She watched for a moment as Hope showed off some of the dance moves they had done in class today, her dark-haired, mysterious father giving her every bit of attention she deserved, clapping and praising her as though she were on a stage somewhere. He pretended to be very impressed, which made Mara smile where she stood.
Then he held out a hand, which Hope took at once, and they started towards the cars.
Right. Jacket.
Mara pushed out of the doors, swallowing a sudden awkward lump. “Hope! Hope, wait!”
The family turned in surprise, and Mara forced a bright smile, the cold air suddenly much colder in her sweat-dampened state.
Which meant her hair would be dirty and frizzy, her face red, and her armpits sweaty.
Oh good. This was how she was going to meet Hope’s hunky dad?
No way.
She waved the jacket. “Silly goose, you left this inside. It’s way too cold out here, you need it!”
As she’d figured, Hope dashed over to her, leaving the others and stopping right in front of her.
“We had to go meet Daddy,” Hope explained as she put the jacket on. “We’re going out to lunch!”
“You lucky girl!” Mara smiled and helped zip her up. “Just make sure you keep the jacket on outside, okay? You need to stay warm. Deal?”
“Deal!” Hope flashed a quick grin, then ran back to her family.
Mara nodded, at no one in particular, and turned to go back into the gym, hoping no one would see the sweat stains she could feel on her back.
“Daddy, that’s my teacher, Miss Mara. Don’t you think she’s so pretty?”
A choking sensation gripped Mara even as her ears strained to hear the answer.
Her feet, however, kept moving, and faster than they should have been.
Married fathers of students, and their opinions on her looks, were no business of hers.
None at all.
Not that it made any difference, as Hope’s dad had the good sense to lower his voice enough that she didn’t even hear him say anything at all.
The warm gust of air that hit her as she went back into the gym was welcome, but it did nothing for the heat in her cheeks or the tension in her chest.
“Hoo,” she said on a rough exhale, sniffing and shaking her head.
That was quite enough of that.
“Hey, Mara!” came the booming voice of Ray, one of the gym’s trainers. “Wanna come do a few sets? I have some free time.”
Mara shook her head quickly but smiled for him. “Thanks, Ray, but I’m beat. I’m gonna go home. There’s a pint of ice cream there with my name on it, and I really, really need it.”
Anxiety wasn’t something that Zane was particularly accustomed to, but at this moment, he saw danger everywhere.
He hated malls.
He hated everything about them.
His baseball cap could only hide so much, and there was no way he could get away with wearing sunglasses indoors. Not while he was shopping with Hope. That wouldn’t be a disguise; it would be a signal to the mall cops to swarm him for kidnapping.
Nothing like standing out when you wanted to blend in, really. Not that blending in was exactly easy in his case. But it wasn’t his fault he was six foot six and weighing in at two hundred and twenty-two pounds, as this morning’s scale had informed him. That was all due to genetics, training, and a blessing by the hockey gods.
Thankfully, Tennessee was full of people of all sizes, and nobody really looked at his face when he walked around. Nobody really looked at anybody’s faces. For the number of famous people walking around Nashville, people really did seem to mind their own business for the most part.
And Zane Winchester wasn’t exactly the most famous person in Nashville.
He wasn’t even the most famous athlete in Nashville.
Not when Chezzy was dating the next-hottest gal on the country music stage and the college basketball season was ramping up towards its finale. Nobody was as famous as the music stars around here, and he had never met a more passionate fan base than the college fans.
They came out in full force for the Hounds, it was true, but seeing the players without their helmets on was rare, and fans could never be quite sure about identities.
He cupped his hand around the well-molded bill of his cap almost out of habit, trying to hide his features further by its shadow.
If he were out in this madness by himself, he wouldn’t care so much.
But he wasn’t alone.
“Daddy!”
He looked down at his little princess, her hand in his, her hot-pink fleece not doing anything to make her blend in. “Hopey?”
She gave him the sort of look only teenagers should wear. “You said we could go to the stuffed animal store. The one where I can make my own.”
Zane gave her a crooked grin, shaking the hand he held so that the motion would ripple across her whole arm. “I said no such thing, pumpkin. I said for your birthday, if you wanted, we could go. It would be one of your presents.”
Hope narrowed her dark eyes up at him, suspicion etched in every feature.
It was adorable on her.
It was exactly the way her mother had looked at times.
Which had not been adorable.
At all.
“I don’t think that’s what you said,” his daughter said moodily.
“I think I did,” Zane assured her. “I promise.”
Hope seemed to think about that for a moment. Then she brightened. “How will I know if I want to go there for my birthday if I’ve never even been inside of it?”
She had him there.
Zane scowled. “That’s a dirty trick, kid.”
“So we can go?” She beamed hopefully up at him.
She already knew she’d won.
So did he.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “But dinner first, okay?”
“Food court dinner?” Hope shot back.
This time there was no argument from Zane. “Of course. Know what you want?”
“Cheeseburger!” she cried with all the enthusiasm a five-year-old girl could conjure up.
Zane chuckled and shook his head. “That’s my girl. Okay, let’s go see what our cheeseburger options are.”
The food court was packed, as he had expected, but the options were straightforward enough. Italian, Japanese, pizza, sandwich place, healthy place, smoothie place, two burger places, and something European he couldn’t quite decide if he was brav
e enough to try. If it were up to him, he’d go to the more classic burger place: more like bar food than fast food, and the portions more his style.
But his five-year-old was in charge, and she wanted fast food.
The kids meals came with toys.
There was no arguing with that.
Sighing, Zane got into line with all of the other people, Hope’s attention fixed on the display of possible toys for her meal. “Daddy, I hope the green princess is the one we get. Lookit, she flies! You just pull the string on her flower, and she takes off!”
“How about that?” he replied automatically, scanning the menu for them both.
“No! I want the purple one!” Hope gasped, squeezing his hand as she jumped up and down. “Daddy, she comes with makeup!”
He blinked, his focus on the menu broken momentarily. “She has what now?”
“Look!”
He followed the direction of Hope’s finger, suddenly determined that nothing of the sort was coming home with his baby girl. She was growing up as it was, and to have makeup as a side dish to her meal? No way, no how.
“Don’t worry,” a man standing nearby with two girls of his own muttered. “My girls asked, and they don’t have any purple ones tonight.”
Zane didn’t bother hiding his relief and nodded his thanks to a fellow father in distress. “Thanks, man. What are they thinking with that sort of thing?”
His new ally whistled low. “I don’t want to know, brother. Good luck.”
Zane nodded again, smiling to himself as they moved up the line. “Which other ones do you like, Hope?”
She rattled off the fun things about the other four fairies, proving his fear that she was paying more attention to TV commercials than he would have liked, right up until they were at the counter themselves.
“Hi there, what can I get for y’all this evening?” their chipper, high-school-aged cashier asked.
Zane looked down at Hope. “What do you want, pumpkin?”
Hope eyed the cashier, then hugged herself close to Zane, burying her face against his side.
“Go on,” he encouraged gently, one hand going to her hair and stroking softly.
She shook her head against him.
He sighed to himself at that. Hope had developed this shyness with strangers lately, and he wasn’t sure why. She’d been a tough nut to crack as a toddler, only waving or smiling at select people, but she’d never been shy. He didn’t mind; it was just odd.
“She wants a cheeseburger meal,” he told the cashier, an apology in his smile. “One that comes with a fairy toy.”
The girl smiled back and nodded, her fingers flying over the screen of her register. “Good choice. Now . . .” She stepped to the side, away from the register, and leaned her elbows on the counter, her eyes on Hope. “I’m not telling everybody this, but we actually have two different fairies right now. I’m just supposed to put one in, but I think there’s a particular one you would like. Am I right?”
Hope peeked out from Zane’s side, her arms still clutching at him. She slowly nodded, her eyes wide.
“I thought so,” their cashier drawled. “Tell me which one you want, and I’ll make sure it gets in. But don’t tell anybody else that I’m doing that, okay? It’s our secret.”
Zane glanced down to see Hope smiling just a little. “Do you have the green one?”
The girl winked, her smile spreading. “Sure I do. And because you’re my new friend, you also get a free milkshake with your meal, if your daddy here says that’s okay.”
Hope tugged on Zane’s jacket and looked up at him. “Can I get one, Daddy? Can I? A chocolate one?”
Zane looked at the cashier, brow raised. “You don’t have to do that. I’ve worked behind the counter before, I know you can’t just . . .”
“Oh, sure I can,” she interrupted with a wave of her hand as she moved back to her screen. “Tuesday night promotions are fifty-cent milkshakes, and I have fifty cents right here. No biggie, and your little bug gets a bonus. Win-win. Y’all want another drink with that meal, or just the shake?”
Sensing this was not an argument worth having, Zane just smiled. “Fruit punch. Then I’ll have a number five, large size, and a Coke.”
“Dipping sauce?”
“For fries?” he asked with a disbelieving laugh.
The girl’s eyes darted to his, a smile tucking against her cheeks. “Sir, you would not believe the random requests I get around here. Just ketchup, then?”
“Perfect.” He pulled out a few bills from his wallet and handed them to her. “Keep the change. And thank you.”
She winked again. “Sure thing. Now your number is thirty-seven, and if y’all will just slide your way down there, I’ll have it up shortly. Bye now.”
Sometimes Zane really loved the South. He put his arm around Hope and steered her towards the end of the counter. “That would almost never happen anywhere else, kiddo. I just want you to know that.”
“She is my new favorite waitress ever,” Hope gushed.
“Not sure she’s actually called a waitress.”
Hope didn’t care; she just watched the goings-on behind the counter in anticipation of her food. She was practically bouncing in her sneakers as she tried to see everything, every detail of the preparation and the placement of the promised fairy toy.
Probably mostly for the fairy toy.
Zane watched her watching with some amusement. It wasn’t often that he saw himself in his daughter, but this was exactly something he would have done. He had always loved seeing things from start to finish, whether it was a load of laundry, a race, or a batch of cookies in the oven. His mom had gotten after him more than once for sitting in front of the oven to watch her cookies bake, but it hadn’t cured his curiosity even a little.
Or his drive.
It was one of the things that made him a great hockey player. At least, that was what he’d been told and what he believed. He played a game from beginning to end. No letting up, no brakes, no cutting corners. Start to finish, all in, all focus, all heart.
Apparently his baby girl had inherited that attribute as well. If she got anything from him, coloring aside, that was probably the best.
Just a few moments later, a tray with their order slid across to them, and Hope grabbed the tray with eager hands.
“Pump the brakes, baby cakes,” he said quickly, taking the tray from her. “Let Daddy carry that, okay? You find us a table. Go ahead.”
Still practically dancing, Hope skipped ahead of him, looking for an open table scattered among the mostly filled or half-filled tables. She finally found one right in the front and center of the rest, of course, and darted towards it with the same enthusiasm she had for everything else.
Maybe she’d also gotten that from him.
Hard to tell.
Zane followed her and set the tray down, pulling her food off and setting it before her. “Okay, Hopey-Dope, I’ve got a cheeseburger kids meal, toy inside, a fruit punch, and . . .” He paused and took a long sip of her milkshake.
“Hey!”
He exhaled in contentment and gave her a devious smile. “And one very good chocolate milkshake.”
Hope heaved a dramatic sigh with an eye roll. “Daddy . . . that is mine.”
“You are so right. I just needed to test it for you.” He winked and put it down before her. “Get hoppin’, girlfriend. I’ll eat your fries if you don’t finish them.”
“Don’t touch my fries,” she ordered with a dark look.
He laughed and sat down, pulling out his own food. “Okay, I’ll just eat mine, then.”
“Yes. Do that.” Hope suddenly turned her focus to her cheeseburger, and Zane did the same with his. It wasn’t amazing, but it was certainly good enough. He’d feel fat and lazy afterwards, but he’d put in a run tonight after Hope was in bed to feel better.
Nothing crazy, just a few miles.
He could catch up on this week’s TV shows he’d DVRed. That always seemed to m
ake the time pass a bit easier.
“Daddy! Daddy, it’s Miss Mara!”
Zane looked at his daughter, his mouth full with a too-big bite of burger. “What?” he managed to say around the bite.
His daughter pointed, her expression bright. “Look! Look, it is her!”
He looked where she was pointing, and sure enough, there was the tall, attractive woman from the gym, her dark bob sporting a braid across the top that draped behind one ear. Her face was almost completely devoid of makeup, which was refreshing and fitting, as the woman he had seen the other day hadn’t needed any to enhance her looks. Oddly enough, now she wore a pair of navy-blue scrubs and tennis shoes.
So she wasn’t a full-time fitness instructor. Intriguing.
“Miss Mara!” Hope called out, standing up and waving.
Zane looked at his daughter in shock. “Hope, honey, don’t . . .”
It was too late; Mara had stopped and was scanning the tables in confusion. Her eyes fell on Hope, and her expression changed instantly as she beamed.
The breath in Zane’s lungs vanished at the sight.
Wow.
Mara came over to them, tray in hand, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hiya, Hope! How are you?”
“Great! Daddy let me get a cheeseburger, and it came with a fairy toy!”
Mara gaped in an excellent display of disbelief. “No. Way. Why didn’t anyone tell me? I would have gotten one!”
Hope giggled and shook her head. “They’re for kids, silly. You can’t have one.”
“What?” Mara scoffed loudly, one hand going to her hip. “Well, that’s not fair. It’s not like I wanted to be a grown-up, it just happened. You sure I can’t get one?”
“No.” Hope laughed again.
“Shucks.” Mara snapped her fingers, then looked over at Zane, her bright smile fading. “Hi, sorry, I should have . . .”
He rose way later than he should have, shaking his head. “No worries,” he said in a rush, overriding whatever she had been about to say. “Zane. Winchester.” He held out a hand.
She took it and shook quickly, her grip surprisingly firm, bumping her up at least ten points in his mind. “Mara Matthews. I teach Hope’s Saturday kids’ Zumba class.”
“Right. Yeah, I remember.” He smiled, more at the memory than at her.
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