Zach
“You get out of here!”
Zach’s eyes popped open at the low growl that was unmistakably coming from right outside the hotel room door. He opened his mouth to snarl at whoever was rude enough to make noise in the hallway, when the roses distracted him.
Then it all came back to him. Not a hotel. The sheriff’s house. Damn good thing he hadn’t snarled. Still, why had someone shouted?
He looked around and, Jesus Christ, it was like a florist’s shop had exploded in here. The wallpaper was a wash of huge cabbage roses in pinks and reds. There were flowers on the bedspread, on the sheets, on the weird-assed pitcher and bowl on the dresser. Even the chest of drawers and headboard had roses painted on them.
“Don’t you two track that mud on my clean floors!” a woman yelled. “I will beat you both! Out. Get out. You let that little boy sleep and go to work!”
He slipped out of the bed, the hardwood creaking under his feet, and peered out of the—rose-covered, of course—curtains.
It was pouring down, the trees heavy with the water, the sight of green just going on and on, nothing but barns and fences to break up the color.
Colton and his cousin…. Gary… George…. Greg! They hustled across the dirt and jumped into their pickups.
Damn.Not only did he want to see Colton, but he also felt awkward as fuck having to leave the room. He was in the sheriff’s house. The freaking sheriff, for Christ’s sake. What was he supposed to do? Wander down, open the fridge, and help himself to food?
He looked at his feet and dug his toes into the fluffy rug. Even with all the roses vomited across the room, this was the nicest place he could remember spending the night. Sure beat the heck out of the cot in the tiny space he had in the tent.
It even had a bathroom with a real shower. With no roses. Daisies, yes, but no roses. That had been heaven. The one thing that would have made it better is if Colton had been there with?—
Best not go there or he’d tent his shorts real fast.
He needed to get dressed anyway; he had to pee, and he wasn’t going out in just the T-shirt he shrugged on and the running shorts.
Grabbing his duffel, he dug out some jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He tossed the black button-up aside. Too wrinkled. Pushing a bit deeper, he found a navy pullover that was passable.
Maybe after he washed his face and combed his hair he’d figure out what to do next. He snorted as he quick-stepped for the bathroom. Sure he would.
The noises from the kitchen got louder. He figured that was a sign or a hint or at least a clue, that people were up and about. After making himself presentable, he looked in the mirror. He didn’t look as freaked out as he felt, which had to be good.
His feel-good moment ended when Zach opened the bathroom door and came face-to-face with three little girls. Theyall had wild black curls, button-black eyes, and wore various Disney princess nightgowns. The littlest one had her thumb in her mouth.
They stared at him for a second, then the oldest tilted her head. “Mamaw’s making oats with strawberries. I’m Kenzi. She said to come down.”
Then she led them down the hall, as if it was normal for a stranger to appear out of the daisies like some fiddle-playing elf with a need for caffeine. Had he fallen into Wonderland?
The awkward embarrassment of coming into a complete stranger’s home amplified a thousand-fold when Kenzi led him into the kitchen. Nanette was cooking as expected, but Zach didn’t expect the elderly couple sitting at the table.
“I got him, Mamaw,” his chaperone announced.
The pair at the table studied him. The woman had silver hair, and her blue eyes sparkled with kindness. A far cry from the hard once-over he got from the gentleman. It wasn’t a sneer, but he didn’t seem impressed with Zach.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice not as steady as he wished.
“How’d you sleep, Zach?” Nanette turned from the stove and smiled. Whatever she thought, it didn’t stop her from making him feel welcome.
“Better than I have in forever, ma’am.” He bowed his head to her. “Thank you again for your kindness.”
“You’re welcome, and call me Nanette. Sit.” She pointed to the open seat across from the old guy. “This is Betty and Jerry Hanlon, Ted’s parents.
“Pleased to meet you both. I’m sorry to be intruding on your family.” He extended a hand, and the old guy softened a bit.
“Nan told us about what’s happening,” Betty said. “Nice that Colton and Greg were there to help you.”
“They were…” he eyed the littles, “extremely helpful, ma’am.”
