Winter's Wonder: Pine Point, Book 2 Page 4

  “Zane Andrews.” Becca stood in the doorway and waited for her sister’s reaction. It didn’t take long to come. Ella dropped the mascara and turned, her mouth a wide O.

  “You are not.”

  “I am.” She walked into her bedroom, peeling off her Pine Point Paws sweatshirt.

  Ella followed her with a screech and planted both hands on the doorframe. “Do you mind telling me how exactly that happened?”

  Becca still wasn’t entirely sure. “He came by the shelter yesterday and asked me.”

  Ella looked as if she didn’t believe her. She narrowed her eyes. “What else?”

  “What do you mean? Nothing else. He asked me, I said yes—” after about a minute of stunned silence, anyway, “—and he’s picking me up at seven.” She looked at the clock in her bedroom. “Oh, shit. He’s picking me up at seven.” She dashed into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

  “Hey, I wasn’t done in there,” Ella said. But Becca dropped the rest of her clothes and jumped under the spray.

  “Sorry!” she called as she lathered up.

  When she emerged ten minutes later, Ella stood in the bathroom, arms crossed, makeup half-done, scowling.

  “Sorry,” Becca said again. She wrapped the towel around herself and inched past her sister, back into the bedroom, where she stood in front of her open closet. “Now, what am I supposed to wear?” she asked Tucker, the gerbil. He blinked at her, wriggled his whiskers and nosed his food dish. “Yes, you’re very helpful. Thanks.”

  “Something sexy,” Ella called from the bathroom.

  Leave it to her sister to have supersonic hearing. “I’m going to have to raid your closet again for that,” she called back.

  “Yes, you are,” Ella said. She reappeared in the hall, hair sprayed into place and makeup fully applied. “Come on.”

  “I’m not going for slutty, just saying,” Becca said as they walked into Ella’s room.

  Ella rolled her eyes. “Big difference between slutty and sexy.” She went through her drawers, clicking her tongue until she pulled out a filmy green shirt with buttons down the front. “Here. Put a camisole underneath and a tight pair of jeans, and you’re good to go.”

  Becca held the shirt up to the light. Totally see-through. “It’s like zero degrees outside.”

  Ella looked at her like she’d grown an extra head. “So what? Are you eating outside? No. Last time I checked, they had heat in restaurants. Now put it on.”

  An hour later, Becca sat across from Zane at Marc’s Grille, one of the most upscale restaurants in town, and tried to remember how to breathe. He wore a black button-down shirt and dark jeans, a leather jacket over both and hair that fell into his eyes. Large hands. Large build. Large everything, arms and shoulders and torso, and again he reminded her of some kind of exotic wild animal.

  “Drinks?” the waiter asked. Becca took the menu he held out. Yes. A very, very stiff drink, she wanted to say.

  “Rum and coke would be great.” She glanced around the room, taking in the greenery hanging along the windows and the long, sleek bar. Classical holiday music played at a muted volume, and a large wreath hung above the door. Beautiful. Tasteful. And all she could do was feel the nerves climb up and down her spine.

  “I’ll take a Sam Adams draft,” Zane said.

  The waiter nodded and left them alone, and Becca proceeded to fiddle with her napkin, her water glass and finally the menu itself.

  “Hey,” Zane said.

  She glanced up.

  “I don’t bite.” He gave her a slow, casual grin. “Unless that’s what you’re into.”

  Oh, God. She looked back down at the menu. Get a hold of yourself, Bec. He’s just a guy. You’re acting like no one has ever taken you to dinner before. He’s flirting with you. Flirt back. Do something back. She licked her bottom lip and ran a finger down the menu.

  “See anything you like?”

  She lifted a brow. Just you, she wanted to say. Instead, she gave him a small smile. “I’m thinking the salmon. What about you?”

  “Filet.” He closed his menu and set it aside as their drinks arrived. “I like a woman who’s not afraid to eat,” he added after the waiter had taken their orders. “I’ve been out with too many who had salad and water and though that was a meal.”

  She bet he’d been out with many women, period. “I suppose it would be better if I did like salad and water, but—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “You look good just the way you are, doll.”

  Her face flushed. Warning bells went off in her mind—he’s been around, he’s only looking to get laid, he disappeared after high school to shake some problems with the law—but her body went warm and wet in a matter of seconds and didn’t listen. Instead, she rested her chin on one hand and let her gaze meet his. Let it hold his. She’d spent enough time approaching wild animals to have an idea how to tame the restless glint in their eyes.

  “So you work security over at Mountain Glen?” she asked. Their salads arrived, and the distraction of food—plus another rum and coke—made it easier to talk to him like a regular human being.

  He nodded. “It’s pretty boring, if you want to know the truth. But there are some million-dollar homes over there, and if they want to pay me to drive around every once in a while, or sit in a booth by the gate and check visitors’ IDs, I don’t mind.”

  “Or take care of stray animals that may or may not be rabid.”

  He grinned. “That too.”

  “What’s the most exciting thing that’s happened to you?”

  “At Mountain Glen? Or in life?”

  Oh, hell. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear his answer to the second one. She could only imagine the things he’d done and seen. “Let’s start with Mountain Glen.”

  Their entrees arrived, and he cut into his filet. “Let’s see…there was the time JoJo Kettering backed her minivan into the Yedziniak’s brand new fence. Or the time Wiggles the potbellied pig got loose in the pool area.” He whistled. “That almost made the local paper.”

  She laughed. Good looks, a body to die for and a sense of humor to boot. No wonder women drooled over this guy.

  “Actually, last summer I found a couple of teenagers banging in one of the empty houses.”

  “You did not.”

  He chuckled. “I did. Neither one of ’em saw me until I was right on top of ’em.” He paused with a wry grin. “No pun intended. It was pretty funny watching that poor kid try to get his pants up in record time.”

  “Oh my God.” She smiled. “That is pretty funny, if you’re not that kid or his girlfriend.”

  “Ah, it’ll make for a good story they both can tell in a few years.” He winked. “We all have some of those, right?”

  Good stories about getting caught having sex in public places? She bet Zane had a dozen or more. She, on the other hand, had to think hard to remember the last time she’d had sex at all.

  “Otherwise,” Zane went on, “it’s pretty quiet over there. Just me and another security guard.” He shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ll take peace and quiet.”

  “You’ll get that in Pine Point, that’s for sure.” She took her last bite of salmon. “Yum. This was so good.”

  “So what did you do after high school?” Zane asked as the waiter cleared their plates.

  “College for four years at a little school in Connecticut.”

  “You major in animal science or something?”

  “Nope. Business and accounting. Kind of boring, I know.”

  “Doll, I haven’t found one thing about you that’s boring yet.” His gaze seared hers, and all the lovely warmth from earlier in the evening returned tenfold.

  I want this man. Now. In my bed. Or on this table. Or anywhere at all really. Becca pressed her palms to her lap. Somehow in the last hour, she’d turned into a rag
ing ball of hormones. Who was the animal now?

  “How’d you end up working at the shelter?” he asked, as if completely unaware of his effect on her.

  “I, ah…” She cleared her throat and focused on the twinkling white lights in the front window. “I volunteered there all through high school and summers during college. When I came back, they were looking for a business manager.”

  “But you’re doing all the managing right now.”

  “Temporarily. Until the board hires a new general manager, but that probably won’t be until after the first of the year.”

  He nodded and took the check when it arrived, sliding a hundred dollar bill inside the leather folder. “Do you like it?”

  “I do. Some days it breaks my heart, and I know I’ll never get rich working there…” She wondered how sappy she sounded and then decided she didn’t care. “But I feel like I make a difference, and that counts for something. At least to me. Animals can’t help themselves when they’re in trouble.” She shrugged. “But if I can help them, then it seems like I have to try.”

  His eyes hadn’t left her face, except to drop to her mouth once and return to her eyes. She couldn’t read his expression. Was he bored? Amused? Marveling at how utterly naïve she sounded? Finally, he reached for her hand. “You ready to call it a night?”

  She nodded, disappointed. She must have bored him, or he wouldn’t be taking her home at a quarter to nine. He held her coat and then slipped on his own and walked her to his truck. It sat by the curb, black and chrome and enormous.

  “Can I ask you something?” she said as they reached the passenger side.

  “Of course.”

  She rubbed both arms to warm herself. “Why did you ask me out tonight?”

  For a long moment, he didn’t answer. I shouldn’t have asked. Maybe it was some crazy dare. Maybe he was regretting it now. He certainly seemed like he was regretting it now, because—

  “Becca,” was all he said, and she had no more time to think before he leaned down and kissed her.

  His hands went to her face, brushing the loose hair from her cheeks, and his tongue teased its way inside her mouth. A rush of sensations made her woozy, and it was all she could do not to collapse into him. As it was, he backed her into the truck, and the cold metal against her back mixed with the heat from everywhere else and filled her up. She kissed him back as if her life depended on it.

  As if she’d never kissed anyone before.

  As if she’d split apart in the next second, and every last inch of her was intent on holding herself together as he moved his mouth to her temple, her ear, her neck, the palm of one hand.

  “You have to ask, doll?” Zane finally said when they broke apart. “I wanted to do this.” He ran one hand down the length of her front, pausing a second at her waist before trailing up again. “And this.” He leaned in again, but this time the kiss was chaste, just a peck on her cheek. “And maybe more than that next time, if it’s all right with you?”

  Chapter Seven

  Zane waited until Becca had disappeared into her apartment above Dolly’s Diner before pulling away from the curb. Why had he asked her to dinner? Well, for one, she was a cute little package with a curvy figure and those bright blue eyes. For two, she was one of the only women in town who hadn’t thrown herself at him in the year he’d been back. Actually, she’d made it pretty clear on their first two meetings that she wanted as little as possible to do with him. So hell, he liked the challenge of winning her over.

  He turned onto County Route 78 and then Red Barn Road. In truth, he’d asked Becca out for another reason, one he had a harder time figuring out. The way she treated her animals, the way she devoted herself to their wellbeing, hit a nerve deep inside him. “I feel like I make a difference, and that counts for something.” He’d pretty much taken care of himself his entire life. He preferred to rely on no one, to trust no one, which he supposed in some strange way made him a lot like those strays she took in.

  Speaking of strays—

  Zane slammed on the brakes about a quarter mile from the front gate of Mountain Glen. A pair of beady eyes stared at him from the shoulder of the road. He flicked on his high beams in time to see the dog disappear into the weeds. Hell. What’s that thing doing out here? It had to be close to zero degrees. He peered into the dark, but it had vanished.

  Zane shook his head and continued past Mountain Glen to the first dirt road on the right. He followed the private road until it dead-ended. Three modest but well-kept mobile homes lined the side facing the mountains. He pulled up next to the first one and killed the engine. Home sweet home. He jogged to the front door, shivering against the cold. He gave another glance into the dark. Why the hell was he so worried about an animal? That dog had obviously taken care of itself up to now. It had a place to live, in the woods or wherever. And it knew how to get food. It would survive.

  But surviving isn’t the same as living, is it?

  The odd thought bounced in and out of his head as he kicked off his shoes and hung up his coat. He checked the wood stove in the corner, fed it a few more logs, helped himself to a beer and sank into the worn but still-comfortable plaid couch. Kitchen, living room, one bedroom and a bathroom. And it cost him a cool three hundred bucks a month as long as he kept the security job at Mountain Glen. Nope, it wasn’t a bad place to live, not for a bachelor.

  He turned on the television and skimmed through the channels. Christmas shows flashed onto the screen every few seconds—the Grinch, Charlie Brown’s spindly tree, the kid with the Red Rider BB gun, and a church choir singing hallelujahs. He finally stopped at a motorcycle-rebuilding show and muted the volume. Thoughts of Becca returned in full force. She must have taken wardrobe advice from her sister tonight, because that see-through green shirt had Ella Ericksen written all over it. Zane drank and closed his eyes. He’d struggled to keep his eyes from wandering too often to Becca’s cleavage, to the skin he could just make out under the green fabric. He wondered what she tasted like. What she’d feel like under his touch. A fantasy of a naked Becca unraveled in his mind’s eye, and just as he was about to loosen his own zipper for some sweet relief, his cell phone buzzed.

  He jerked upright and almost lost the last third of his beer. “Shit.” He finished it off, then set the bottle on the counter and checked his phone. Maybe she’d texted him. A sweet little goodnight message from the local animal rescuer would send him straight into dreamland.

  But it was Springer instead.

  “So how’d it go?”

  Zane grinned. Nosy bastard. “Good.”

  “Still out with her?”

  He thought about lying and saying yes, but his friend would probably pick up on the bullshit. “Nope. Home having a beer.”

  “Pussy.”

  Zane tossed the phone aside without responding. He thought about opening another beer, but the sound of the wind whistling through the trees took him to the window over the kitchen sink instead. He framed his eyes and looked into the dark. Less than a half-mile away, a few lights glittered in the homes of Mountain Glen. Unlike his own place, bare of a single holiday decoration, most of the houses were lit to the hilt with lights and figurines and life-sized Santas on their roofs. Even from here, he could see the Yedziniak’s place, with red and green lights that bounced to music until eleven every night.

  Probably added hundreds to their electric bills. Not like the Glen residents had to worry. He dropped his hands. Last thing he wanted to do was go out into this cold, but he couldn’t get the thought of that damn dog out of his mind. Cursing under his breath, he pulled his boots back on, then his coat, then his hat and gloves. For good measure, he wrapped a scarf around his neck—an early Christmas gift from Mandy McCraken, seventy-five and the only other woman in town besides Becca that had never hit on him.

  He headed for his truck, swung it in a tight circle and drove back to the main
road. Ten seconds later, he was pulling up to the front gate. Sue gave him an odd look, but he didn’t stop to chat. Wasn’t anyone’s business why he was here. Slowly, he drove around the perimeter of the community, high beams on, looking for the dog. The only thing he saw was Ralph Neiderbaum driving his golf cart with his St. Bernard trotting behind. The pair lumbered along, and Ralph raised a hand in hello. Zane waved in return and then doubled back to the maintenance shed.

  If he couldn’t find it, he could at least leave some more food for it. Over the last two days, the dish had been licked clean, and he had a feeling he’d be buying more dog food out of his own pocket before too long. He left his truck idling, ran inside and carried the bag around back, where he dumped more food into the dish. He bent down. Well, shit. Look at that. For the first time, he noticed that the pile of towels had been all pushed together in the corner, and a few telltale brown hairs stuck to them. Maybe the thing wasn’t totally dumb and had taken advantage of this shelter after all.

  He rolled down the top of the now-close-to-empty bag and stuffed it under one arm. Well, he’d done what he could. He turned to go and caught a flash of movement in the bushes across the sidewalk. A moment later, the dog emerged and stood under the streetlight, panting. Its skinny sides moved in and out with the effort, and he could make out the shadow of its ribs. Still, it didn’t look injured, and when he dared to walk toward it, it backed toward the bushes again. Zane stopped where he was. Across the lawns, Christmas lights still flashed and “Winter Wonderland” still played. They watched each other. Zane whistled once, low and long. The dog licked its nose and took a step toward him.

  “Maybe we’re more alike than not, huh, buddy?” Zane whispered into the dark. Two strays, both solitary for the night, both looking for a place to keep warm. Taking slow, deliberate steps, he made a wide circle around the food and the towels and backed away. The dog cocked its head. After a moment, it trotted toward the dish.

  “There you go,” Zane said, but the animal’s ears went back at his voice, so he didn’t say another word. It trembled in the cold, and although its nose was going a mile a minute, and it kept licking its chops, it refused to put its head down long enough to grab a bite to eat. Instead, it just stood there and watched him.