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“I didn’t realize you knew how to smile,” I say, noticing the slight tilt to his mouth.
“I’m not smiling,” he counters. “I’m laughing. At you.”
“Do you always argue about everything?”
“No,” he says resolutely. Then, he chuckles again when he realizes he just proved my point.
My lip quirks from his laughter, and I work hard to keep it steady. I don’t want to find him charming or even entertaining. I don’t need another problem in my life right now, not even one as attractive as him.
Or maybe that’s exactly what you need.
“Are you always this stubborn?” he accuses.
My irritation starts to dissolve. I can see him watching me from the corner of my eye.
“Yes.” I pause for a moment and then scramble to fall into step beside him again. “Do you always give people whiplash?”
“Probably,” he says.
“Why are you walking me home?” I ask after a few moments of silence, genuinely curious.
“Because you’re drunk. And you’re a woman, walking home alone in a strange place.”
I study his profile as I slow to a leisurely pace like I have all the time in the world. Zane’s just as good-looking from the side. What is it about attractive men that makes women more tolerant of questionable behavior? It’s like they can get away with murder just by flashing that arrogant, sexy smile.
The brief interaction we had earlier, he was grumpy and irritable. But he did buy me a drink and he is walking me home now.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise?” I knock my shoulder into him. “Don’t worry,” I murmur like it’s a secret. “I won’t tell anyone you’re a gentleman beneath the rough surface. Wouldn’t want to ruin that asshole persona you have going for you. Seems to be a hit with all the ladies.” I cringe when I let that last sentence slip out.
“Yeah, I’m beating women off with a stick tonight,” he says dryly. “All but one.” He mumbles that last part.
The pebbles crunch beneath our feet as we walk.
“You and Wyatt seemed to be hitting it off,” he adds.
I watch him for a few steps, wondering if that’s jealousy I hear in his tone. Surely not. He barely glanced in my direction tonight. But he’s hiding his true intent behind a stone mask. I decide to mess with him a little to see if I can crack another piece of his exterior.
“I can give you some pointers if you want. Things to make you more successful with the ladies. Try smiling once in a while. Maybe crack a joke, or, hey … just stand there and look pretty.” I smirk, proud of myself for hijacking Benji’s earlier description of his friend.
He sighs, but it sounds suspiciously like humor. “Are you always this difficult?”
“You have no idea,” I say.
I smile when he laughs out loud, the rumble deep inside his chest. I like the way it sounds. My defenses lower just a bit more.
We’re quiet for a full block while we continue to walk. It’s a comfortable silence, though I’m very aware of him next to me. I have to admit, I’m glad he’s walking me home. I feel safe with him by my side.
I wonder what Jessica would say if she saw Zane here with me now. Or Chelsea for that matter.
Zane has me completely off-balance. But I kind of like the way it feels.
I roll across a stone and lose my footing, my balance wavering until Zane grabs my arm. My hands go to his chest for support, but I freeze when his warmth seeps through his shirt and into my palms. We’re standing so close. My head tilts up in slow motion as my eyes follow the same path, tracing the black fabric, traveling along his corded neck and across his chiseled jaw. Hisbreath skates over my skin as our eyes connect. And suddenly, I’m drowning in dark blue depths.
As the moment extends, the nearness of him comforts me in a way I didn’t realize I desperately needed. And my emotions begin to rush to the surface, hitting me like a punch to the gut. Deep-seated scars are leaking from my skin like poison as the enormity of my situation finally hits me. My job. My relationship with Ron. The mistakes I’ve made recently. The uncertainty of my future. And it’s all magnified by the alcohol flooding my system. My eyes fill with tears. I’m not a crier by nature, but I’m helpless to stop the stream slipping over my bottom lids as they slide down my cheeks. I cover my face, aware enough to know I’m a complete mess right now.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, unsure what it is I’m apologizing for.
“For what?” he murmurs, pushing aside my hands and wiping a tear from my cheek with his finger.
