Zeke stepped into Mal’s Market and stood for a moment, taking a slow look around. The Market had been one of the places Silas and Damon had taken him to the day before, but he hadn’t had a lot of time to check it out.
It was an interesting place, with shelves from ceiling to floor full of pantry items, spices, tableware, hardware, toys, books, knickknacks, electronics, clothes, cans of food, candy, some lipsticks, lifejackets, and an entire DVD library. There were even fishing rods, skis, brooms, and other items stashed in the rafters above his head.
A computer on a desk was tucked away in one corner—Deep River’s only reliable internet connection that Mal got via satellite.
Silas had told him that if you wanted it, Mal could get it for you, which was why Zeke was here.
He’d had a think about what he could do for Morgan on his way down the hill from Phil’s, and it had been difficult because he wasn’t sure what could he do for her that she couldn’t do herself. There were the usual things that women liked, flowers and chocolates and dinners and stuff, but Morgan could buy all of those things herself if she wanted them. She didn’t need him getting them for her.
He’d wondered if he could do something to help her with the cop stuff, but since she’d gotten irritated with him when he’d offered to help out with the old drunk guy, he didn’t think she’d appreciate him doing anything else.
You could give her a couple of orgasms. You’re good at that.
True enough, he was. But he didn’t like the heat that streaked through him at the thought of exactly how he could give Morgan West a couple of orgasms.
He’d told himself he wasn’t going there with her and he meant it. He wasn’t in Deep River for that and pursuing it would only cause more complications, and complications were the last thing he wanted.
So, no to help with the cop stuff, and a big no on the sex stuff too.
He was going to have to think of something else, which was why he’d come to Mal’s in search of some inspiration.
Malcom Cooper, the Market’s owner, a big burly man in his late fifties with a buzz cut and tats, stood behind the counter, finishing up helping a couple of people. Then he glanced at Zeke and folded his arms, staring suspiciously at him.
Zeke was used to the suspicion by now—it was a Deep River special—so Mal’s stare didn’t bother him as he stalked up to the counter.
“Can I help you?” Mal asked in distinctly unfriendly tones.
“Yeah,” Zeke said. “I need to get something for someone.”
“Uh-huh. You’re going to have to be more specific.”
Silas had already told him that once word got out he was hanging around Morgan’s place, people would get a bit more suspicious than normal, so he was prepared for that. And he certainly wasn’t going to lie about what he was doing.
“It’s for Morgan West,” he said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans and meeting Mal’s stare with one his own. “I’m doing repairs on her house and she’s been real nice to me. She works hard and she just lost her brother, so I want to do something nice for her in return.”
Mal gave him a very long look. “Is that right?” he said slowly.
“It is.”
“She’s a VPSO,” Mal said. “And quite handy with a Taser.”
Zeke didn’t see how a Taser was relevant, but he decided not to mention that. “So she keeps telling me.”
“And it looks like she’s on her own, but she’s not.” Mal’s gaze was quite pointed. “She’s got a whole town for backup.”
It took Zeke a second, but then he understood. Mal was letting him know he was being watched and if he bothered Morgan any, then the wrath of the town would descend on him.
Protective, weren’t they? Well, he had no issue with that. He didn’t much like people, it was true, but communities should look after their own and it was clear that Deep River did.
Does Morgan really need you to look out for her in that case? When she has everyone here?
Maybe not. But Caleb had given him the task and so he was going to do it, regardless of whether she needed him to or otherwise.
“I’m doing it for Cal,” Zeke said, since dropping Caleb’s name had certainly made a difference for Phil. “He wanted me to look out for her.”
Mal said nothing.
Zeke gritted his teeth and plowed on. “Old man up the hill, Filthy Phil, told me that someone needed to do something nice for her, so I thought I should. That’s why I’m here.”
Mal cocked his head. “Phil told you that?”
“Yeah.”
Something in Mal’s demeanor changed, the thousand-yard stare becoming less intense. Apparently it was Phil’s name he should have been throwing around.
“Well, alrighty then. What kind of nice are we talking about here?”
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Zeke said, deciding to be straight up. “I don’t know her that well. But she seems to like cooking.” He paused, thinking back over the previous evening at the dock, her pink toenails, and her bedroom full of sparkly, silky things. “And pink. And girly, frilly kind of stuff.”
Mal nodded again. “The kitchen things she likes I have to order in specially and she’s quite particular about those. But the other stuff… I’ve got a few things she might like.”
“Are they pink?”
Mal seemed to give this some thought. “Maybe.”
“Okay. So what have you got?”
Without a word, Mal turned away, walked out from behind the counter, and disappeared behind one of the towering shelves. A minute later, he came back holding a box of tiny candles and several delicate glass containers in different colors.
Zeke stared at them as Mal put them on the counter, thinking back once again to the pretty bedroom with all its delicate possessions. The white chest of drawers with a whole lot of bottles lined up on the top, perfume-type bottles. The bathroom too, now that he thought of it, had been full of different sorts of soaps and bubble-bath-type things. There had been a few glass holders around the tub, very like the delicate glass containers that Mal had put on the counter.
They certainly looked like the kind of thing Morgan would appreciate. Then again, how was this “something she couldn’t do herself” if she could just come to the Market and buy them?
And then an idea began to form, from which part of his subconscious he wasn’t quite sure, but it was there all the same. In one of the utility sheds on the West property that he’d checked out, he’d come across an old cast-iron bath.
Hmmm. Perhaps there was something he could do for her after all.
You won’t find a truer or more loyal heart this side of the river…
Phil’s words drifted through his head, and something inside him, something he hadn’t felt for a long time or maybe hadn’t let himself feel, gathered. It was almost like longing, which was ridiculous since he didn’t know what he could be longing for.
Not a truer or more loyal heart, that was for sure. He didn’t want anyone’s heart. He wouldn’t know what to do with it.
“Candles,” Zeke said. “And candle holders?”
“Yep. They’re scented too. Women like a nice scent, Morgan particularly.”
“Yeah, she does.” Zeke frowned at the candles. “She smells like vanilla and sugar. Kind of like sugar cookies.”
There was a very heavy silence and Zeke became aware of what he’d said.
Shit. Not exactly the most intelligent thing to come out of his mouth, especially given the fact that noticing a woman smelled good could only mean one thing. And he was pretty sure Mal would not be impressed if he knew of his other wayward thoughts concerning Morgan.
“Sugar cookies,” Mal repeated.
Zeke scowled. “Well, she does.”
“Uh-huh.” He held up a hand. “Wait a second.”
Again, Mal skirted the counter and disappeared down another aisle.
Zeke kept scowling, annoyed with himself and what he’d let slip. Thinking about that scent of hers and her apricot hair and the bright glitter of her eyes. And how she’d stared at him on the roof this morning, her cheeks pink, her mouth open. As if she’d never seen anything like him in all her life…
No, he shouldn’t be thinking about any of that. He could acknowledge attraction, and as loath as he was to admit it, he was attracted to Morgan. But he was not, under any circumstances, going to do anything about it.
“Here.” Mal returned, putting a pretty glass bottle on the counter beside the candles and candleholders. “You might want this as well.”
Zeke stared suspiciously at it. “What’s that?”
“Vanilla bubble bath.”
If someone had told Zeke a couple of weeks ago that he’d end up in Cal’s hometown buying small candles and vanilla-scented bubble bath for Cal’s little sister, he would have told them they were crazy.
Yet here he was, contemplating buying a little glass bottle with stars on it, some delicate candleholders, and some completely useless designer candles.
Inexplicable.
He studied at the collection of items a moment. “What about food? Candy or something.”
Mal frowned at them too. “Hmmm. Good plan. Morgan’s got quite…uh…refined tastes.”
“You have any expensive chocolate then?”
“Hmmm,” Mal said again. “One second.” He turned, reaching behind him to another shelf and pulling a box off of it. White with a panel showing the dark, glossy shapes of the expensive Swiss chocolate inside. “Here.” Gently, he laid the box down beside the other things. “This came in yesterday.”
“I need something pink too,” Zeke said.
Mal held up a hand, bent down, and brought out yet another box from underneath the counter. The box was white with pink writing on it. Mal put it on the counter next to the chocolates. “Pink Champagne,” he explained. “She’ll like that.”
Zeke nodded, satisfied. They were all things she could get herself, but the way he was going to put it together…yeah, she wouldn’t think of that. Or at least, that’s what he was hoping.
Digging into his back pocket, he pulled his wallet out and put some cash on the counter, while Mal bagged everything up for him.
Then, as Mal handed him the bag, he gave Zeke another long stare. “Tell me if she likes the bubble bath. I can get her another bottle. Same with the chocolate.”
He couldn’t be sure, but Zeke had the sense that this was somehow an olive branch. “Okay,” he said. “Will do.”
Taking the bag, he turned, only to run into a very muddy-looking Damon, his arm around the shoulders of a tall kid with strawberry-blond hair.
Damon eyed the bag in Zeke’s hand. “Don’t tell me,” he said, raising one dark blond brow. “You need some me time?”
Zeke ignored that since the kid was giving him major side eye. “I’m Zeke,” he said, feeling like he should introduce himself. “Damon’s and Si’s friend.”
“I know who you are,” the boy said, clearly deeply suspicious, which quite frankly was getting old. “I’m Connor. You’re helping Morgan out aren’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“You know she’s a VPSO?” Connor went on pointedly. “She’s got a Taser—”
“And a rifle in the basement, and she’s a really good shot,” Zeke interrupted. “Yeah. I know.”
“Relax, Con,” Damon said mildly. “Zeke’s one of the good guys, remember? Why don’t you go get us some chips? I think we’ve earned it, don’t you?”
“Why is someone always sending me away to get food?” Connor complained before giving Zeke one last dark look, then disappearing down an aisle in search of chips.
“Protective, isn’t he?” Zeke said after he’d gone.
“Yeah, he is.” Damon glanced at the bag in Zeke’s hand. “Seriously, who are those for?”
“Me.” Zeke headed for the door. “Had a sudden craving for a bubble bath while eating very expensive chocolate.”
“Zeke,” Damon called from behind him. “These jokes are seriously putting your grumpy reputation in danger. I’d quit it if I were you.”
Zeke didn’t bother answering.
He had some serious work to do.
* * *
After finishing her coffee with Hope and armed with some advice, Morgan got on with the rest of her day, visiting the Smith kid and having a chat with him about the importance of school and why it probably wasn’t a good idea to start smoking or stealing cars. Once that was done, she fielded a couple of calls, one about a burglary and one about a missing cat. She took a report on the burglary, managed to find the cat, which had been trapped in the neighbor’s basement, and by the time she’d finished, it was getting on for twilight.
Work had distracted her, but as she rode down the driveway toward her house, her heartbeat started doing weird things. She couldn’t work out whether the feeling was excitement or nervousness or a strange combination of both.
Probably both.
Hope had advised being straight with Zeke, and since Zeke was a straight up kind of guy, Morgan had decided that was probably best. So her plan was to tell him she was attracted to him and what did he think about the whole having sex idea. He might not be into it, in which case she’d have to deal with that, but she couldn’t let this opportunity pass.
Now she’d decided what she wanted, she really wanted it. And the more she thought about it, the more it seemed like the best way to deal with the tension between them. Not to mention her own grumpiness with him whenever he was around.
And then there was the opportunity factor. Who knew when another attractive man would pass through Deep River? If she wanted to sleep with someone at last, then this was the moment.
What if it becomes something more?
Why would it though? Sure, she was curious about Zeke and perhaps a little more than was good for her. But apart from that and attraction, she had no strong feelings for him. It wasn’t like she was going fall for him or anything stupid like that.
Parking her bike, she took a quick look up at the roof, but it was empty. And for a second she wondered if he’d gone back to his campsite. But the lights in the house were on and since they’d been off when she left this morning, that indicated he was around here somewhere.
She went inside, poking her head into the living room. But he wasn’t there.
How annoying.
She went down the hallway and checked the kitchen, but he wasn’t there either.
Even more annoying. Had he left already?
Morgan stopped in front of the kitchen sink, staring out the window at the soft pink dusk that was creeping over the trees outside, fighting the strange sense of deflation.
Nothing like making what felt like a big decision only for it to end up being a nonevent.
He might not have wanted you anyway.
It was true, he might not. She might have gotten that wrong. And she’d been wrong about things like that before, hadn’t she?
She’d thought her mother had wanted her, but when Connie had finally left Deep River, she hadn’t taken Morgan. “She’s happier here,” Connie had told Jared, the night of their bitter argument about divorce proceedings, that Morgan, lucky her, had just happened to overhear. “She’s not a city kid, Jared, you know that. And besides, when have I got time to be a single parent? I’ll have to find work and an apartment, all kinds of stuff.”
Not that she’d minded that her mother hadn’t taken her when she’d left. She was happier in Deep River. But still. It had been difficult to hear, especially when all Connie’s reasons for not taking her had sounded like excuses.
Morgan let out a breath, an old pain that she thought she’d gotten over years ago catching inside her. It was Phil’s fault, that was the problem. He’d brought up her family and the way they’d all gradually drifted away from her. Each one leaving her in their own way until now she was the only one left…
She turned around sharply, not wanting to think about that, only to find Zeke standing in the doorway as if he’d appeared there by magic.
Morgan jumped, her heart leaping into her mouth, thoughts of her family vanishing.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, pressing a palm to her hammering heartbeat. “Do you have to do that?”
“Do what?”
“Creep around making absolutely no sound. You’re lucky I don’t have my Taser on me.”
“I keep hearing about this Taser. You’ll have to show it to me sometime.” He didn’t smile, but she had the impression that he was amused.
She glared back. “Make a little noise next time, huh?”
He lifted one of those powerful shoulders. “Sorry. Can’t hunt game if you’re crashing around in the underbrush.”
Morgan took a silent breath, getting her shock under control. “Well, just a heads-up,” she muttered, “there’s no game in this house.”
There was an odd gleam in Zeke’s dark eyes. “Noted.”
“Good.” She took another breath, realizing that of course now he was here after all, and she’d had plans. Very specific plans. The thought did nothing to help ease her racing pulse, nor did the sight of him in jeans and that faded black Henley, holes or otherwise.
The cotton clung to his chest and shoulders, outlining the broad, muscular span of them, making her remember how he’d looked on the roof that morning, bronzed and magnificent in the sun. He’d been wearing those jeans then too, and they’d sat low enough that she’d been able to see the broad grooves near his hip bones…
Oh lord, and now she was staring. Again.
Her cheeks felt hot and he was probably going to notice, and she really needed to get this topic out in the open and stop being a mouse about it. “So,” she began, a touch breathlessly. “Did you want dinner? Because if you don’t—”
“Got a minute?” he said. “I want to show you something.”
Still thinking about how she was going to word her sex request, it took her a moment to process what he’d said.
“Oh,” she said, the wind taken out of her sails just a tad. “Oh, uh, what something?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“A surprise?” she echoed, blinking. “What surprise?”
Zeke put his hands in his pockets. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
Well, she couldn’t argue with that logic, could she?
“Fair enough. But…why?”
“You don’t like surprises?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “Surprises usually mean something bad when you’re a cop.”
Zeke’s dark gaze scanned over her, intent, making her heart beat even faster than it already was. “This one isn’t. I promise.”
Warmth gathered in her chest—why, she wasn’t sure. But it had something to do with the gleam in his eyes and the intensity with which he looked at her. As if she was important to him in some way. As if what she thought about this surprise mattered to him.
Morgan pushed herself away from the counter. “Okay,” she said. “Show me this surprise.”
He nodded, turned on his heel, and walked down the hallway, clearly expecting her to follow, which she did.
To her surprise, he went to the front door, opened it, and went outside.
She followed, trailing after him as he stalked across the lawn, moving soundlessly with a graceful, predatory stride she found so mesmerizing.
The soft pink dusk was moving outward, creeping through the spruces and firs that surrounded the house and darkening the sky, bringing with it the sharp bite of the cold that came with night.
An owl, up early, hooted from somewhere above.
Zeke approached the path that led to the river, and through the trees she could see lights flickering. How odd.
She could not think what on earth he was leading her to.
They were almost to the little beach near the dock when she saw it.
Sitting on the bank just above the darkness of the river itself was an old cast-iron bath. A banked fire glowed hot underneath it and surrounding it, flickering on cut logs that had been upended to create small tables, were a whole lot of tea lights placed in delicate holders of colored glass.
The light danced against the trees and bushes, a warm glow from the fire and red and green and blue from the glass containers. It looked so pretty, like a woodland fairy glade.
Steam rose from the bath, a faint hint of vanilla drifting on the air, and beside it sat another tree stump with a white box sitting on it, along with a book and a glass full of what looked suspiciously like pink champagne. Not far away sat another stump with one of her special fluffy white towels sitting all folded up neatly on top of it.
Morgan stopped dead, staring in shock. It felt like someone had put their hand inside her chest and squeezed her heart tight.
Zeke moved over to the bath and dipped a hand into the water. He nodded to himself and then turned to her. “Temperature’s good. You might need a plank of wood to sit on since the bottom of the bath is still hot, but it should be okay.”
He’d done this? He’d done this for her? And it was just the kind of thing she particularly liked: indulgent and feminine. A reminder that she wasn’t just a cop, but a woman as well.
She’d always had to do this for herself and she’d never minded. Or…at least she thought she’d never minded.
But looking at Zeke’s “surprise,” carefully put together with her in mind, with all the things she liked, her favorite scent and pretty candles and delicious chocolates…
You do mind. Because no one ever thinks of you like that.
It was true, they didn’t. She was always Jared’s daughter. Cal’s sister. Deep River’s VPSO. The last surviving West. She was never just Morgan, not to anyone.
There was a lump in her throat and her eyes prickled, which was downright stupid. Zeke had done this lovely and very thoughtful thing for her, so why she felt on the verge of tears was anyone’s guess.
It was just a bath. A very thoughtful one, but there was no need to cry about it.
Zeke was a tall, dark figure next to the bath, the candles scattering colored light over his strong face and glossing his black hair, and she blinked hard, hoping he hadn’t seen the tears.
He frowned, his dark gaze on hers. “You don’t like it?”
She swallowed, hoping the lump in her throat would go away. “Oh, no, I love it. This is…incredibly thoughtful of you.”
Zeke’s stare intensified. “Then why are you crying?”
Oh, great. So he’d noticed her reaction.
“I’m not.” She tried to get her voice to sound normal because she didn’t want to explain. “This is beautiful, Zeke. I mean, really. It’s just really lovely of you.”
He must have gone to such enormous trouble, carting around the bath and finding logs for the candles, and getting the water into the tub, lighting the fire to heat the water…
Are you sure you’re really worth all that effort?
The voice of a doubt she’d thought long buried whispered through her and she tried to force it away, force it down. And Zeke was still standing there, still staring, his sharp obsidian gaze moving over her…
If she wasn’t careful, he’d see that doubt too.
She moved quickly over to the bath, looking down at the sweet-scented water and dipping her hand into it, hoping to distract both herself and him. “Oh, this is wonderful. And the temperature is just perfect.”
“I can’t claim complete credit. The guy at the general store, Mal, helped. I wanted to be sure it was all stuff you liked.”
Her vision wavered, the hand around her heart squeezing even tighter.
So not only had he gone and done something nice for her, he’d asked Mal for help to make sure he’d gotten things she liked. He’d thought about her.
“Morgan?”
He’d come close, standing next to her, and she didn’t want to look at him. Which was silly. Why was she making this into a big deal?
She forced herself to turn her head and look up at him.
He stood beside her, mere inches away, tall and massive, watching her in that intense, quiet way. Colors from the candlelight flickered over him, highlighting his strong jaw and the proud blade of his nose. The dark hollows of his eyes and the uncompromising shape of his mouth.
He was, she realized with a sudden start, quite beautiful.
“I’ve upset you.” His dark gaze searched her face, his frown turning ferocious. “I’m sorry. It was the wrong thing to do. Perhaps it wasn’t appropriate.”
This mattered to him, she realized. Her opinion mattered to him. He’d wanted to do this for her, that seemed clear, and it was important to him that she like it.
She wasn’t sure why that made a difference or why her liking it was important, but she knew she couldn’t dismiss what he’d done by thinking of it as just a bath.
Couldn’t minimize the gesture by changing the subject or distracting him, no matter how much she wanted to.
She had to be honest with him. She had to let him know how much this meant to her.
“You didn’t upset me,” she said quietly. “It’s only that…well. No one’s done anything this thoughtful for me in a very long time.”
He was still frowning, the glint of something fierce in his eyes. “Why not?”
What could she tell him? That to everyone in Deep River she was the VPSO and a West? That no one saw her as anything else?
It’s your own fault. You don’t let anyone see you as anything else.
That was kind of true, but she didn’t want to think about why that might be. It was enough that Zeke had somehow seen beneath the uniform and seen her, as confronting as that might feel to her.
She let out a breath. “I’m a VPSO. That’s how people see me, and my job is to look after them, not the other way around. Plus, being a West in this town is a whole thing.” She paused a moment. “I’m a lot of different things to a lot of different people here, but I’m hardly ever just Morgan to anyone. Does that make sense?”
Zeke gaze searched her face like a gold panner searches for gold in a river. “I think so.”
“Well, and so it makes this—” She gestured at the bath. “Special. Because it means that there’s one person at least who sees me as just Morgan. And I…like that.”
“Why?”
Of course he would ask. But the answer to that led only to some painful places and she’d had enough honesty for one night.
Morgan lifted a hand and rested it absently on his broad chest, touching him without thought. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t want the water to get cold.”
He went very still.
Abruptly she was conscious of how close she was to him, of how tall he was and how broad. Of how hard he felt under her fingers. He was putting out a lot of heat, more than the fire underneath the bathtub behind him, and she could smell him too—warm and earthy and spicy. Like a forest in the middle of summer, and it was delicious.
The air was full of the same energy she’d felt out on the dock the day before, crackling over her skin, making her even more conscious of his physical nearness and how she was touching him and how she wanted to touch him more. So she pressed a little harder, testing the iron muscle she could feel underneath his Henley.
He blinked, staring at her so intently it was like he was trying to light her on fire with the power of his gaze alone.
And it was working. She could feel the edges of herself begin to smolder and glow, heat building inside her, along with a dragging kind of ache.
“What are you doing?” Zeke’s voice was even deeper, but softer too, like warm black velvet.
Morgan didn’t trust herself to speak, so she swallowed and slowly pressed her hand down flat on his chest, the heat of his body scorching her palm. He felt so good. Better than anything she’d ever felt before.
Zeke lifted his hand and put it over hers where it rested on his chest, his fingers curling around hers. “Not a good idea, sunshine girl.”
Sunshine girl…
Morgan stared at his chest, at his hand over hers. It was so much larger, his fingers longer, his skin darker. It covered hers entirely, enclosing it in a heat that was both comforting and yet tremendously exciting at the same time.
“Why?” She didn’t look at him, staring at his hand holding hers instead. “Don’t you want me to?”
Zeke lifted his other hand, his fingers catching her beneath the chin and tilting her head back, leaving her no choice but to meet his dark gaze. There was fire in it, she could see that; her touch wasn’t leaving him unmoved.
“Have your bath,” he said. “Like you said, the water will get cold.”
“I don’t have to have a bath.” She cleared her throat. “I can do…other things.”
Zeke’s gaze flared, but all he did was stare down at her for another long minute. Then he lifted her hand off his chest, brought the backs of her knuckles to his mouth, and unexpectedly brushed a kiss over it.
The touch of his lips against her skin stole the air from her lungs. And all she could do was stand there as he let her hand go and stepped back. Then he gave her one last enigmatic glance before turning and disappearing back down the path to the house.
Leaving her alone in the flickering candlelight.