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“It’s not my fault your drivewaysucks. I can’t be the first woman complaining about this.”.
I expected him to let go of me, but instead, his grip merely tightens as he leads me to his front door, his arm wrapped around me. “You are,” he says.
It takes me a moment to realize what he’s referring to, and my mood sinks. “I bet that’s just because every other woman is too polite to voice her thoughts. That gravel must’ve ruinedso manyexpensive pairs of shoes.” I shake my head, mentally lamenting the loss women I don’t even know have incurred all because of Zane.
He barks out a laugh and bends down, lifting me into his arms effortlessly. “Celestial, if you want me to carry you, just say so.”
My lips part in shock as he bridges the remaining distance to his front door with me in his arms. “I… I… that’s not what I meant!”
With each step, my body rocks against his, the thin fabric of his t-shirt doing nothing to hide the strength of his abs and arms. He carries me like I weigh nothing, and I can’t help but be reminded of the way he picked me up all those years ago. He carried me then too, through his elaborate gardens.
His arm shifts underneath me as he unlocks his front door with a swipe of his thumb, but he doesn’t put me down once we’re inside. No, he carries me all the way to the kitchen and places me on top of a counter. Then he kneels in front of me and gently grabs my ankle, turning it as he inspects my shoe. “There’s some slight damage,” he says, before looking up at me. “I’ll buy you new shoes, okay? I’m sorry about the gravel.”
I blink in surprise as he straightens and turns to wash his hands. “I was joking,” I reassure him, and he looks over his shoulder, throwing me another one of those smiles that just confuses me.
“I’m not. I’ll buy you new shoes.”
I raise a brow and narrow my eyes. “I’d rather you didn’t. You’d send me something weird just to spite me.”
Zane dries his hands and walks back to me, pausing so we’re at eye level. “I’m no longer the spiteful teenager you left behind, Celeste.” He places his palms flat on either side of me and leans in, his abs pressing against my knees. “I know I framed my request to have dinner with you tonight as a reward for keeping my promise, but truthfully, I just wanted an opportunity to apologize to you — properly and sincerely.”
He’s so close that I can’t help but notice his long lashes, and those lips that felt so soft against mine. Zane grips the kitchen counter tightly, drawing my gaze to the way his arms flex, and I suck in a breath. “Apologize?”
“Yes,” he replies, his tone solemn. My heart skips a beat when he reaches for me and places his index finger underneath my chin. “I’m sorry, Celeste. I’m sorry for every single mean thing I’ve ever said to you, every time I taunted and teased you, every prank I pulled, and every single time I made you feel like you were anything less than the amazing, intelligent, beautiful, strong woman you are. I apologize for hurting you when we were kids, for taking our rivalry too far.”
He lets go of me and pulls a hand through his hair, the movement familiar and oddly soothing. It’s what he always used to do when he was frustrated, and somehow, I’m glad that hasn’t changed. For reasons I can’t quite decipher, I’m glad I can still read him just a little bit.
After all, the man standing in front of me is one I’m not sure I know anymore — I thought I did, but increasingly, I’m wondering if I’m mistaken. Just like I’ve grown and changed throughout the years, he seems to have as well.
“Thank you,” I murmur. “For the apology. I can’t say I forgive you, Zane, because you truly have hurt me more than you might realize. But we’re not kids anymore, and whether we like it or not, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the industry. It’d be best if we put the past behind us and learn to be civil with each other. So far, we seem to be managing that just fine, but I appreciate your apology nonetheless.”
He raises a brow, a soft huff escaping his lips. “Civil. Right,” he repeats softly, once again mussing up his hair. It’s just a little longer now, enough to grab and hold on to. I bite down on my lip, blindsided by the memory of my fingers threading through his hair as he kissed my neck, the smell of freshly cut grass invading my senses.
Zane turns to the pan on his stove, and I take a moment to study him. He always had a powerful edge, partially due to his last name, but back then it didn’t drip off him the way it does today. If he wanted to, he could’ve made life and work exceedingly difficult for me, the way he used to. It’s what I expected, and I’m not quite sure what to make of him now.
“Do you still hate anchovies?” he asks, startling me out of my thoughts.
He looks over his shoulder, his gaze filled with something I can’t quite define. “How do you know that I hate anchovies?”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmurs as he begins to boil some pasta. “I won’t use Caesar dressing on tonight’s salad, then. I have some homemade honey and lemon dressing that I think you’ll like.”
How could he possibly know such a small detail about me? I’m pretty sure not even Archer realizes I hate anchovies, and he’s mybrother. “Can I help with anything?” I ask, aware that I’ve just been staring at him the entire time.
He glances at me and grins. “You could light the candles on the table if you’d like?”
I nod and lift myself off his kitchen counter before heading in the direction he pointed me to, only to find a beautifully decked dining table waiting for me, complete with dozens of flowers I can’t even identify. He set the table so we’re seated perpendicular to each other, each of us on either side of the table’s corner. We’d still be able to face each other, but there’s less distance between us that way than if we were seated opposite each other. Why would he want us sitting so close?
ChapterEleven
Zane
Keeping my eyes off her during dinner turned out to be a challenge. The way she moaned when she took a bite of the lamb ragout I made for her would’ve brought me to my knees if I hadn’t been sitting. What would she say if I admit I spent all week perfecting that dish, simply because I know it’s her favorite?
“If I hadn’t watched you cook most of this food, I’d never have believed you made it,” she says as she places her fork down, satisfaction flickering through her beautiful eyes. “It’s kind of unfair, you know? Men who look like you shouldn’t know how to cook too.”
My eyes widen, and my heart skips a beat as I throw her a shy smile. “Men who look like me?”
Celeste’s smile drops when she realizes what she just said, and her face flushes beautifully. “I… I… I mean…”
