Chapter Four

Well, damn. Zach hadn’t expected his impromptu detour to take a look at his property would end with an even better view than the one he’d just spent thirty minutes staring at. Stella Lane was huffing out heavy breaths, but he honestly couldn’t tell if it was from irritation or exertion. She was going to hurt her shoulders if she kept reefing on that crowbar. He watched, waiting, knowing she’d never ask him for help. Stubborn, amazing woman. He wondered if there was anything she couldn’t do.

“Do you have to stand there?” she asked, blowing hair out of her face as she glanced up at him.

“Want me to stand in the middle of the road?” He grinned at her, and to his absolute fucking delight, she grinned back. It changed her face—moving her from beautiful into breathtaking. Literally. Like switching on an actual light, his skin felt warmer.

“Not enough traffic. No point.”

He shook his head and crouched down. “I don’t doubt there’s anything you can’t do, you put your mind to it, but I’m guessing by how hard you’re trying to turn that bolt, it’s stripped.” He paused, letting the word settle in his brain and on the tip of his tongue. Her eyes widened, and her nostrils flared slightly. Damn. Maybe he should rethink wanting to work with her so badly. He could be setting himself up for a lot of cold showers.

Changing the course of his thoughts, he leaned in just a little. “Let me help. I won’t tell anyone.”

Those sexy lips quirked. He wanted to know what it would take to make her laugh without restraint.

With obvious reluctance, she said, “Fine. But I can change the actual tire.”

He nodded. “Whatever you say, Doc.”

He could say, with absolute certainty, that this was the most unique fifteen minutes he’d ever spent with a woman. She let him take the bolts off—which were really damn tight—and he moved out of the way so she could swap the tires. It frustrated him to see her struggle with the weight of the flat one. He could probably bench press her, but she was so determined to do it on her own, he didn’t even try to help her. He did, however, tighten the bolts when she was finished. She had a smudge of grease across her forehead and several spots on her hands. When they stood, he looked down at her and, for about a second and a half, saw a vulnerability in her eyes that made him want to open her up and figure out why she was so wary. So guarded and opposed to leaning on anyone. You’re trying to be her partner, not her shrink.

He stared at the small grease stain she’d given herself and, without thinking, pulled up the hem of his T-shirt. Stella’s sharp intake of breath made him pause for a second, and the way she checked out his chest and abs made him rethink his idea. Her lips parted, but he focused on using the soft material of his shirt to swipe at the spot on her forehead. With one hand, he held the back of her head still and the other, he pressed his cotton-covered fingers to her skin and gently removed it. Or lessened it anyway. Her hair trailed over his fingertips, making him clench his jaw to fight back the wave of attraction.

Her eyes closed, and she swayed forward, her hands almost coming into contact with his stomach, which had his muscles tightening. Stella snapped back, yanked herself away from him.

“I’m not five. I don’t need someone wiping dirt off my forehead.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, letting his shirt drop back down.

Looking chastised, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink, she grimaced. “Sorry. And thank you. Really. I appreciate it. What are you doing out here, anyway?”

Zach hesitated, looked out at the water, then back at her. “I’ll show you.”

He’d been on his way to his mother’s, but decided he needed to see the land he’d bought. Knowing he had his own chunk of Brockton to come home to, a piece that was his, had grounded him. Definitely worth giving up most of his savings for. The calm it had brought the second he’d set foot on it proved it was worth the risk. He’d sunk his money into three properties. His mother’s, a rental, and this land that he planned to build a house on. He’d look out the windows every day and be able to breathe knowing he’d done it; he’d succeeded.

“Show me what?” She picked up the tools and put them in the back of her Cherokee as a car whipped by. First in the whole time she’d been there. She might have been stuck on this road for a while if he hadn’t happened by. Coincidence or fate? Didn’t matter. He was glad he was there, but he wondered if there was anyone she would have phoned. Boyfriend? Definitely no husband.

When she shut the jeep and came back to stand beside him, he pointed to the water. The gravel shoulder dipped down to a slight ditch and then went back up, leveling out into what looked like just a vast amount of land. He started down the slope and held a hand out to her. She stared at it, then surprisingly, slipped her hand into his and let him help her both down and up. When she pulled her hand back on the other side, he shoved his in his pocket so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach for her again.

“You showing me the ocean? I’ve seen it a few times,” she said.

“They sold this land off in large chunks a while back,” he told her.

Stella looked around. “There was a real estate sign here forever. People worried it would be some huge box store that bought it. I’d heard it was broken up and sold in pieces. Still a shame, since whatever gets put here will likely block the view. But it’s better than some chain coming in and desecrating most of it with a parking lot.”

Zach stopped and stared at her. “Jaded much?”

She pointed to the view. “Maybe a little more than I should be, but this kind of beauty shouldn’t be the view for shoppers too busy to appreciate it.”

“No. It shouldn’t. But how about homes? The land was sold with the intention of creating a new subdivision of Brockton Point.” They walked closer to the water, where the scent of salty air was strong and brisk.

“Homes would be good. I hope they don’t do condos, though, or at least not really high ones.”

From this spot, they could see forest on the other side of the ocean with a few houses dotting the far coastline. He remembered a few of those homes being fishing lodges or summer homes and wondered if the same families owned them. When they came closer to the edge of the bluff, they stared down at the water breaking against the lower bank.

Zach pointed to the right where there was a gentle curve in the landscape. “I own one point two acres in that curve right there. I won’t be the first to break ground because I’m not ready to build yet, but my home will be one of the ones along this stretch.”

Her eyes showed surprise. “It’s a good spot.”

Hands still in his pockets, he stared out at the water. “Knowing this was here, waiting for me to come home to, kept me going a lot of nights. Even when I left town, I knew I wanted to come back here. Live the rest of my life here, looking at this.”

Stella followed his gaze and sighed. “It’s a gorgeous view.”

“I’m looking forward to someday,” he admitted. Glancing down at her, he waited until she tipped her chin up. “How about you, Doc? What are you working toward?”

She closed her eyes, and he watched her inhale and exhale with great care. When she opened her eyes, stared into his, his own breath caught with the intensity he saw. “Being able to breathe.”

…

Anticipation hummed through his blood as he turned down the familiar street to his mother’s home. It had been his home after his father died. Memories slapped at him when he pulled up to the rancher. He and his best friend had spent many afternoons in that house, right there in the living room he could see through the large picture window. Even before they’d been able to move into the house, though, Travis had stuck by him no matter what. Through the taunting from the other kids, the occasional ass kicking from both the other kids and his dad. As if Zach had any control over how much money his parents had or how his dad drank away every penny, leaving them with nothing. He’d given them more with his death than he ever had when he was alive. As he shut off his truck, grabbed his bag from the back, and got out of the vehicle, he looked around and frowned.

His mom had had him when she was twenty, which meant that she’d just hit her fifties. From conversations with her, he knew she kept active and was happy. But the state of her yard, the overgrown lawn, didn’t mesh with his expectations. His mother liked things tidy, and even before the Army had sharpened that instinct in him, he’d kept things that way so she didn’t hassle him.

Her car wasn’t in the driveway and there was no garage, so she must not be home from work. That was fine. She knew he was coming, he just hadn’t given her an exact time. He slipped the key out from under the mat, reminding himself to tell her to knock that shit off. He didn’t care how small she thought Brockton Point was, safety came first. Letting himself in for the first time in a very long time, he stood in the entryway and breathed it all in. Images came to mind like an old school slide show, flipping through his brain. Most of them, after they’d rebuilt their lives, starting with this house, had been happy. Until Travis died and Zach had spiraled into a pit of loneliness and guilt he couldn’t see through.

Taking off his shoes and leaving them by the door, he walked through the house; very little had changed. Flipping the light on in his old bedroom, which now looked more like a generic spare room, he frowned at the burned out bulb. He’d planned to attack the yard first, but maybe he’d do a little tour of the inside and see what other things his mom needed taken care of.

“Time to make up for not being around to help,” he muttered, unloading his duffel into the set of drawers at the foot of the bed. Felt weird to be back at his mom’s place, but until he figured out a more permanent solution, it would have to do.

Zach made himself at home, changing his Blundstone boots for runners and heading out to the shed in the back to start up the mower. The breeze he’d felt by the ocean had not reached this far inland, and by the time he moved to the front lawn, his T-shirt was soaked with sweat. The good kind. Not the kind that came from trying to keep his eyes peeled for mortal danger while he dragged a wounded animal to shelter, watching his own back at the same time.

Shake it off. Definitely easier to do during the day. It was the nighttime that was hard. It was then he couldn’t stop his brain—and he’d tried—from diving head first down one of two fucking rabbit holes: the death of his best friend at eighteen and the things he’d seen overseas. He honest to God didn’t know which one haunted him more.

That’s over now. Both of those things. They made you who you are. Move on. Man up. “Hooah,” he whispered under his breath. Gripping the electric mower’s handle tighter, he focused on the rhythmic back and forth motions and the feel of energy vibrating up his arms. He’d just tucked the mower back in the shed when he heard his mom’s car in the driveway.

He knew she saw his truck. Being a blue, quad cab, it was a little hard to miss. She stopped and looked at it, but when her head turned and caught his gaze as he came through the side gate, her mouth dropped open. She shook her head a little and her hand flew to her mouth. He kept walking until he was right in front of her and then he wrapped his arms around her and picked her up, hugging her as hard as he could without breaking her. She hugged him back with all her strength.

“I don’t have to ask if you’re eating,” she said when he set her down. She sniffled and looked him up and down. “Might need to ask what you’re eating. Looks like nothing but muscle.”

He grinned. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You look good, Zachary. Healthy. Happy.” She hitched her purse on her shoulder and then put both hands to his face, looking closer with a mother’s speculative gaze.

“I’m both, Mom. And home.”

“Not just a quick visit or a few days of leave. For good this time?” She whispered the words.

“I promise.”

She exhaled hard and smiled all the way to her watery eyes. “I’m going to make you your favorite meal,” she said, starting for the path to the house.

“Pizza from Pop’s?”

“Number hasn’t changed. Call them while I shower and then we’ll visit and talk about you mowing my lawn.”

He didn’t know why she was using her “mom” tone on him, but he just smiled and hoped that at thirty-two, he wasn’t about to get grounded.

While she showered, he changed the lightbulb in his room, adjusted the hinges on two of her cupboards, and unstuck the screen door. Jeez. She could have called a handyman or something. He sent her some money now and again even though she had a good job as a secretary for the mayor. Didn’t make sense to him that she’d let things run down. Maybe she doesn’t know how to fix this stuff. He laughed out loud. His mother knew how to do everything. In that regard, his mother and Stella had a lot in common.

“Something funny?” she asked as she walked in, dressed in cozy clothes that he couldn’t tell if they were pajamas or just lounge gear. Her dark hair was wet and cut short. Her eyes were the same color as his.

He turned, twisting the cap off a bottle of water he’d grabbed from the fridge. “I was just thinking it’s not like you to fall behind on maintenance.” He took a long swallow, nearly downing the whole thing, then gestured to the screen and the cupboard doors. “I tightened up a few things for you. If you make me a list, I’ll take care of anything else you need done.”

Guilt tickled over the edges of his ribs. Lots of kids went away. Zach hadn’t done anything millions of other teenage sons hadn’t, but he still wished she hadn’t been on her own all these years. You’re home now, so things will be different. Her eyes went over his shoulder and then she moved, stepping around him to go to the fridge.

Zach watched his mom as she pulled out a can of soda and popped the tab. She was aging well and that made him happy. When he was young, when his father had been a fixture in their lives, she’d seemed so much older. And now Zach understood how life, how one situation, could age a person both physically and emotionally.

“Stella says you’re running the show for Brockton Days,” he said, leaning a hip against her counter.

She nodded, excitement sparking in her gaze. “I am. Mayor Cambridge wanted a few things to run differently and she really liked my ideas, so we’re moving forward with some of them. Don’t think you’ll get out of helping me either. We’re doing it up big this year. Carnival style.”

“I told Stella you’d be roping me in.”

She regarded him with narrowed eyes for a moment. “Stella, huh? Not even Doctor Lane. You already get what you were after?”

He pushed off the counter. “I’m working on it. Carnival style? So what…guessing weight and bearded ladies?”

His mother laughed loudly, the sound bringing him back to some of his happier memories. “Not quite. But I’m thinking plenty of women will pay top dollar at a kissing booth if you’re in it.”

Zach scowled at her. “You’d pimp your own son?”

With a slightly wicked smile, she nodded. “The money goes back into the community. It’s for a good cause.”

Feeling restless in the small kitchen, he looked out the window again, watching as two birds swooped into the large maple tree that needed a trim.

“I’d rather do some heavy lifting. Set up and that sort of thing, but I’ll be there. That tree needs trimming, Mom. Some of those branches look like they’re dead or dying. Last thing you need is them falling on the roof.”

“You call for the pizza in between all your puttering?”

Turning, he saw that she was looking at her watch, avoiding his gaze. What had he said?

“I did. What’s going on, Mom? Everything okay?”

Now she looked at him and her gaze shone with happiness. “Things are wonderful. I have my boy home for good. What could be better than that?”

She put her soda down and stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and giving him a hug. Mom tactic. He was old enough, and wise enough, to recognize a distraction when it was smacking him on the back.

When she stepped away, he arched a brow. Twisting her fingers, she sighed. “I kind of haven’t done a few things on purpose. I’m sort of seeing someone. He’s a great man. You’re going to love him. You actually have a lot in common. But he’s not great with idle time, so sometimes I leave things undone so he has something to do.”

“Excuse me?” Luckily he wasn’t drinking because he might have choked. He didn’t know which piece to tackle first.

She straightened her shoulders and gave him that look that used to—correction, could still—make parts of him shrivel.

“Don’t you talk to me in that tone. Shane is a good man and I’m a healthy, vibrant woman,” she started.

Zach covered his ears. Yup. Thirty-two years old, standing in his mother’s kitchen covering his ears so he didn’t get too much information. He stopped short of actually singing out “la-la-la.” She slapped his arm and laughed.

When he lowered his hands, he did so cautiously. “So you have a boyfriend.”

Her cheeks went pink. “I suppose you’d call it that. He’s a good man, Zach. I really do think you’ll like him. He’s loving and kind and makes me laugh.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugged as if they’d done a Freaky Friday. “Wasn’t sure how serious it was or if you’d actually get your butt back here.”

Zach stared at her a moment, weighing his words. “I told you I’d be back. I wasn’t off doing nothing, Mom. And you could have come to see me. I’ve only been a few hours away for the past couple of years.”

“A few? Seven hours is more than a few. I’m not complaining about what you’ve done or where you’ve been. You know how proud I am of you. I just wasn’t sure how to bring things up over the phone. We’ve been together for about nine months now.”

He almost made a crack about that but winced for even letting the thought pop into his head. She grinned, and he knew she could still read him too well.

“I’m happy, honey.”

His heart clenched. Damn he wanted that for her. “That’s good, Mom. I’m glad you’re happy. You definitely deserve it.”

“So do you. And now you’re back to find your own happy. What happens if Stella doesn’t want to take you on as partner?” She picked up her pop and drank.

Zach leaned on the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s where I’m at right now. She wasn’t very receptive, even though it’s easy to see she’s got lots going on.”

His mom nodded. “Stella wants to carry on what her dad left behind. She figures because he didn’t have help, she shouldn’t.”

Running a hand over his chin, he considered that. “She tell you that?”

She laughed. “Honey, this is still a small enough town that people talk. A lot. It’s pieced together with what I’ve heard and what she’s said. She’s an independent girl. Always was. Might take some convincing.”

He’d already figured out that much. “Any suggestions?”

His mom’s smile was sassy. “Just be you. Never seen you go after something and not get what you wanted.”

That wasn’t entirely true, but what were moms for if not to believe the absolute best in their kids?

The doorbell chimed, and she went to the door. Zach grabbed his own soda and the plates she’d taken out. He set them on the table and grabbed some napkins. His mom walked back in carrying a large double pepperoni pie from Pop’s. He’d missed that place.

“Smells delicious. I’m starving. You probably should have ordered two,” she said, bringing it to her small, round pine table.

He laughed, as she’d meant for him to do. Other than Travis, she’d been his only constant. Once his father died, it had been her and him against the world. The small insurance policy she’d received after her husband passed allowed his mom to purchase the home she still lived in, and even though things had still been tough, it had all seemed easier. Happier.

Zach reached out and covered her hand. “I’ve missed you, Mom.”

She smiled, and her eyes went a little watery again. “Back at you.”

They ate in companionable silence for a short while, but when she’d polished off her second slice and he was going for his fourth, she met his gaze.

“I should probably let you know…” she started, her eyes shifting over to the clock on the stove.

When the front door rattled, he dropped his pizza, his brain and body going from relaxed to ready in an instant. His mother stared at him a moment, concern etching lines into her forehead. Right. Not everything was a fight or flight situation. He’d been out of the army for two years now and wondered if it was just coming home that had him more on edge than he’d realized.

His mom stood up and it dawned on him. His brows rose. “He has a key?”

He watched her cheeks brighten, and she stared past him as if the wall behind him had suddenly gotten interesting.

Zach pointed at her. “You live with him?”

“Stop it,” she whisper-yelled, heading for the living room.

“Do we need to have the talk?” Zach followed behind her as the door opened.

“Hi honey,” his mom greeted, shooting Zach a warning glance.

Her boyfriend was about Zach’s height and twice as wide. Looking at him, Zach finally understood the word burly and the contrast sort of made him smile. His mom was small next to him, and the guy’s beard and mustache seemed gruff in comparison to his mother’s softness.

“You must be Zach,” the big guy said, stepping in and closing the door behind him. He put the keys on the little hook beside the door.

“He is. This is my Zach, and honey, this is Shane.”

Zach held out his hand, unsure if he was happy or a little weirded out. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too, son. Your mother is very proud of you and very happy you’re home.”

It was a good shake—solid and genuine. His mother’s eyes were full of hope and he smiled at her to convey his approval.

“I’m glad to be home, and even happier I’m staying. I think I stole a few of your jobs around here, though.”

Shane laughed and when his mother moved around Zach, Shane put his arm around her, pulling her close. “She thinks I need to be busy every minute. She’s not completely wrong, but I’m not sorry you got to the grass before me.”

“We just ordered pizza. Come and eat. I want you two to get to know each other.”

Shane looked down at his mom—he was several inches taller than her and a few shorter than Zach. “I’m just going to wash up. Be right there.”

His mom smiled and accepted the kiss Shane gave her. Okay. This is awkward. She deserved someone, but he didn’t have to watch. Shane walked down the hall while he and his mom returned to the kitchen.

“I was going to tell you.” She pulled out an extra plate.

Zach tried to make light of it even though thoughts of what it would be like to live with his mother and her still fairly new boyfriend jumped around in his head. “What? That you’re shacking up?”

She set the plate down and gave him a total mom stare. “You have a home here—I don’t want you to think you don’t. That’ll always be your bedroom. Nothing has to be weird.”

Except her saying it. The third slice started to slide around in his stomach. “Mom.” He cringed.

Before she could say something he really didn’t want to hear, he put a slice of pizza on Shane’s plate and spoke. “Don’t worry about it. I’m only here for a couple of nights. I’ve made other arrangements.”

As a general rule, he didn’t lie. But he didn’t want her to think he wouldn’t stay because she had a boyfriend. He was happy for her, but he damn well did not want to be in the next room.

“Zach.”

Looking her in the eyes with a smile, he shook his head. “Seriously, Mom. I didn’t come back to cramp your style. And I need my own space, too.”

That part wasn’t a lie. He just didn’t know where he’d find it.