Chapter Four

 

ZACH KNEW IT was wrong to pull a Peeping-Tom on Calum and his cousin, but he couldn’t drag his eyes away, even as guilt bit at him for spying on them. Belle was down for a nap and he’d taken trash out to the can. Which just happened to be across from Natalie’s kitchen window—currently open several inches, along with the curtain.

He couldn’t believe it when his buddy had admitted during their phone call that Calum’s own cousin was his new neighbor. He knew the house had belonged to Calum’s grandma. Heck he and Belle used to visit with the older woman, eating cookies and enjoying stories about Cal and Natalie when they were kids.

Why his buddy had felt the need to keep Natalie a secret, he had no clue. Calum had plenty of opportunity in the past few weeks to mention who Zach’s new neighbor was going to be. It caught him by surprise she turned out to be the pretty cousin his buddy had mentioned a few times when they’d served together overseas, and he’d finally met during Cal’s stay in the hospital a couple years ago.

He stood frozen to the spot, and his chest tightened when he heard her tell Calum about her surgery—about how her grandma’s death had devastated her. And losing Matty. God, he couldn’t imagine recovering from the loss of a child. He’d heard the bare-bones of the story from Cal just after it had happened, and their grandma had mentioned it, too.

He couldn’t pull away, even when she collapsed in tears and Cal folded her in his arms, rocking her like she was a child. For a crazy moment, he wished his arms were enfolding her. No! No way was he getting involved in their business. He didn’t have the time or inclination to get involved with anyone. Even if the attraction that had hit in Germany had never waned, and she’d popped into his thoughts—frequently—since he’d met her in person. Belle was his focus. His only focus.

He strained to hear, but only snatches of conversation floated across the fence. He leaned against the rough boards when she mentioned his daughter. Belle reminded her of Matty? A shiver ran down his spine. Awww, hell. That’s right, her son had been Belle’s age when she’d lost him.

The pain and remorse in her voice cut like blades and he felt his resolve to remain detached slip away. She said she understood his protectiveness, that she would have been the same with Matty.

Three surgeries, man oh man. What she’d been through would’ve beaten down the average person. Then her grandma had died. On top of losing a child, and then having Belle appear out of nowhere. No wonder she had a precarious hold on her emotions. Too much pain on top of loss, moving, and recovering from surgery. Not to mention the holiday looming.

Zach rubbed a tired hand down his face and stiffened when Calum shouted at her. He wanted to run over and tell him to lay the hell off. He froze when she shouted back, “I don’t deserve to be happy! I let my child die!”

Zach jerked away from the fence, strode to his back door, and stomped into the house. He didn’t believe for a minute her child’s death was her fault. He didn’t know everything about her, but in his gut knew she wasn’t responsible. Not after all the stories Calum had shared about her, and having spent that week in close quarters together.

Survivor’s guilt was a bitch. He’d battened it back after getting out of the service. Had fought it and won—and had the scars on his heart to prove it.

No way was he getting involved, though, trying to shore up his resolve again. He’d hung up his knight-in-shining-armor suit years ago. It had never brought him anything but grief. Besides, he had his hands full working and taking care of his daughter.

He didn’t have time for a normal relationship, much less one with someone carrying around all that emotional and physical baggage. Nope, no way.

If Calum thought to suck him in by not telling him who was moving in next door, he had another think coming. Besides, it was apparent she wanted nothing to do with him or with Belle.

Fine by him. He wanted nothing to do with her. If he could just convince his munchkin to leave the woman alone, they could continue with their separate lives.

Now to convince his unruly libido, and his lonely heart, she was off limits, too.

 

❄ ❄ ❄

 

CALUM JUMPED to his feet. “For the love of God, Nat! You didn’t kill Matty.”

She cringed when Calum shouted at her. Her own avenging angel. She hated to upset him, but he couldn’t ever convince her she wasn’t to blame. Her son had depended on her to keep him safe. To keep the monsters at bay. Especially the monster who’d once vowed to love and protect him. Her child’s own father.

She’d failed, miserably.

“Enough, Calum. I just can’t do this with you right now.”

Her insides quivered with the need to huddle in a dark room, the covers pulled over her head. For about a hundred years.

Saved by the bell, literally—the welcome jangle of the doorbell heralded dinner’s arrival. Guilt assailed her as Calum scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration.

Not up to answering the door, she turned to the cupboard to get plates and said over her shoulder, “Get the pizza please. I’ve already paid. You’ll find tip money in my purse on the sideboard.”

“Okay, Nat. You win. Today only, though. We’re going to have a long talk soon about your misguided guilt.”

She huffed out a breath as he strode from the kitchen, and thought maybe she should have stayed in Portland, where he couldn’t bully her in person. Where she could just fade away until she burned out like a falling star.

Dinner was a tense affair, with her trying her best to keep the conversation light and flowing, and Cal unable to lose his glower and concern.

It relieved her to finally show him to the door, with a promise to make an appointment soon for PT, and to call if she needed anything.

Exhausted and in pain from moving, upset at herself for snapping at Zach’s little girl, and out of sorts from the argument with Cal, she rinsed her after-dinner teacup, rose slowly from the table and limped the few feet to her bedroom.

God, she missed her little boy and her grandma. If it weren’t for Calum, she’d wonder what the purpose was of even getting up to greet each day. She undressed and let her clothes stay where they fell, pulling on loose yoga pants and a skimpy tank before crawling under the covers, only to toss and turn into the night.

Nat groaned and glared at the numbers glowing neon next to her bed. Just shy of four in the fricking morning. She’d slept poorly, after finally falling asleep, in snatches of half hour or so.

The twinge of pain in her leg when she rolled onto her back brought a curse to her lips. She couldn’t wait to get on with PT, and past this stage of healing.

“To heck with it,” she whispered to the darkness. She’d grown accustomed to only a few hours’ sleep at night. Not that she didn’t crave a good night’s sleep, she just felt she didn’t deserve one.

What did it matter if she never walked without a limp again or was pain free? She didn’t have anywhere she wanted to go. No one to visit. No child to run after. To play with. No husband, no lover. No. One.

She didn’t need to be mobile in order to work. As a book editor, she could do her job sitting on her ass anywhere she chose. So what if she was tired of limping or having to use crutches? She had zero interest in doing anything, anyway.

A quick trip to the bathroom had her teeth brushed and her hair clipped into a messy knot on top of her head. She made her way into the kitchen, thinking that sleeping in the cozy room was a comfort, making her feel closer to her grandma, who’d slept there in her later years.

Originally the maid’s quarters, it was a large airy suite, complete with its own bathroom. It was perfect for her needs. No way could she be up and down the stairs more than once a day until her knee and shin strengthened.

With the kettle full of water on the stove to heat, she put fragrant fusion green mixed with Earl Grey tea leaves in a diffuser, and into the pot. A couple of strong cups would banish the cobwebs in her brain, at least for a few hours. Maybe a nap in the afternoon would help.

She’d been putting off getting back to work, but in a week she’d need to get on it, or she’d disappoint the author whose book she was due to edit. No way would she do that to her valued clients, or damage her reputation by being unreliable. If she didn’t start it soon, though, she’d be working day and night to get it done by deadline.

She had to get it together this morning, so she could get at least a few boxes unpacked before heading to Calum’s for PT later that afternoon. Resigned to getting her shit together, she poured boiling water in the pretty sunflower teapot, grabbed the matching cup, and set it along with honey and a raspberry scone on a tray.

She pulled scissors from a drawer, added that to the tray, and limped into the parlor. A sigh escaped at the sight of the boxes lining the walls. She would unpack just enough to get through the next few days, and worry about the rest over the weekend.

Just the thought of PT made her tense up, remembering how painful her cousin’s idea of therapy was. Not wanting to think about it, she set the tray on a pretty Queen Anne table and poured a cup of the fragrant brew. The first bracing sip had her feeling half-human again. The second was a welcome balm to her soul.

She hated being a shadow of who she used to be and was going to do something about it. Oh, she knew she’d railed at Calum about not deserving to be happy, but really, wasn’t she diminishing the memory of her sweet little boy by refusing to live again? Who would share memories of him if not her?

She’d been kick-ass before losing her way, and it was high time she resurrected at least a part of the woman she’d been. If for no other reason than to celebrate Matty, even in death. Another sip of her tea, and she was ready to unpack boxes.

Natalie laid a flattened box on the growing stack in the room’s corner, then groaned as she stretched. She was grungy, sore and tired, although she’d only been awake a few hours. She’d unpacked one entire wall of boxes, but had strained her back while babying her leg.

What an idiot, she thought. Thank goodness her PT appointment with Calum wasn’t for another three hours. Plenty of time to get cleaned up and have lunch before heading down the street to his place.

Although she’d made great headway with unpacking, she hadn’t been able to touch boxes with photos of Matty, or keepsakes. She’d save those for a day she wasn’t feeling so fragile.

“Sorry, little man. I’ll get your pictures out later this week.”

“You’ll feel stronger soon, sweetie. There are folks here you can lean on, you know.”

Natalie stumbled on the first stair step. She was either going crazy, or her grandma was haunting this house! She whipped her head around, of course seeing nothing.

“You’re losing it, Nat. Hearing things. And what folks would I lean on? I have Callum, period.”

Shaking her head, she made her way slowly upstairs to shower, and tried to convince herself she was imagining her grandma’s voice because she missed her so much.

 

❄ ❄ ❄

 

ZACH TENSED, sensing he wasn’t alone in his room, and cracked open one eye to see Belle not two inches from his face. Her eyes were drilling holes in him, with chubby cheeks sucked in until she had pursed fish lips.

Her method of silently willing him awake so he could make pancakes and fix hot chocolate was a little creepy, but she was like a sweet little fairy, flitting here and there, showering light on everything. He loved every one of her quirks to pieces.

Thank goodness he no longer jumped from his bed in readiness to defend himself when she crept into his room. It had taken a good six months to get to that point.

Countless times he’d scared the crap out of them both when he’d leapt from bed before realizing enemy combatants weren’t crawling through his bedroom door. He’d finally learned to ease awake when she gave him her ‘I’m hungry, it’s time to get up’ laser stare.

“Hey pumpkin. How about you go get Mr. King and meet me in the kitchen?”

“Okay, Daddy. Mr. King wants banana pancakes!”

“He does, huh? Don’t want to disappoint him. Do you think he’ll get syrup in his mane again?” He remembered the past weekend when Belle had pretend-fed her stuffed lion. It had taken him thirty minutes to get the furry king cleaned up.

“Nope, he’s gonna be berry careful.”

Zach grinned and chucked her under her dimpled chin before she skipped out of his room. Every day was a miracle, in his opinion, since he’d foiled her mother’s attempt to sell her for a week’s worth of crack.

His thoughts turned murderous when he pictured the fate his little girl would have met if he hadn’t found her. She’d all but forgotten the event, waking just once in a blue moon with nightmares—although still terrified of doorbells. She’d been three. Old enough to feel terror during the ordeal, but young enough the memories should fade away to nothing as years passed.

He swung his legs over the bed, fists clenched against his thighs. It was a good thing Jo Ann was in prison, locked away and no threat to Belle’s safety or happiness. That day, when the bitch had taken his child, had been the first time since his separation from MARSOC he’d wanted to kill someone.

He’d have had no remorse either, and didn’t know if he’d be able to control himself if they released her, and she attempted to see Belle. He knew he wouldn’t be in control if she tried to kidnap her again.

While he slipped on sweatpants, his mind wandered to Natalie. He pictured her sexy body, and his heart gave a hard thump as he remembered his visceral reaction while watching through her window yesterday. Clearly emotionally devastated, he’d wanted her in his arms instead of Cal’s. To be the one comforting her. Protecting her.

If his mind had wandered later in the night into fantasizing about how she’d feel naked and in the throes of passion, well, he’d just blame his long abstinence on that.

As he’d watched and listened through that kitchen window, something had snuck in and bypassed the protective wall he’d mortared around his heart—but he refused to succumb. He had Belle. By the skin of his teeth, his skills as Marine Special Forces, and his buddy Calum—he had Belle.

Besides, being a single dad took all his time. He had no time for an affair, much less anything resembling a relationship. So what if he was occasionally lonely and horny?

His head on straight and that wall around his heart shored up again, Zach jogged downstairs and into the kitchen. Belle was patiently awaiting her Mickey Mouse pancakes, with Mr. King holding court on the counter, looking less than ferocious decked out in one of her baby bibs.

“Who’s ready for pancakes and hot chocolate? Looks like you protected Mr. King from sticky syrup this morning, eh, pumpkin?”

“He sure is, Daddy. He said he didn’t really like his bath last weekend.”

Zach swooped in and blew raspberries on her plump cheeks, reveling in her giggles.

“Mr. King wants raspberries, Daddy!”

He blew on the lion’s furry face, eliciting hysterical giggles when fur fluttered and no sound emerged.

“Mr. King seems to be protected from raspberries, munchkin. Guess you’ll get them all!”

After another raspberry and a pat on her head, he pulled the skillet, spatula, and pancake makings from the cupboards. He used cookie cutters to form different Disney characters with the batter, some resembling nothing more than an amoeba when he lifted the cutter too soon.

“Daddy? I was thinking.”

He knew from the tone of her voice he was going to have to shoot down whatever she said.

“What, pumpkin?”

“Well, I know you said we shouldn’t bother the lady next door, but I bet she needs help decorating. You know?”

“Belle. We talked about this yesterday. She doesn’t want or need our help. I also found out that Uncle Calum is her cousin, so she has him to help her decorate. If she wants to.”

“But, Daddy! Uncle Calum can’t be there all the time. He works. But you work here and you’re on vacation, right? So, if she needs help when he can’t be there, we can help her!”

He turned to see her arms spread wide and a look of pure satisfaction light up her sweet face. Like she’d just solved a quantum physics problem and world hunger all in one—his munchkin had it all figured out. If she had her way, he’d do nothing for the day but decorate their new neighbor’s house.

He felt a headache brewing. He’d spent a restless night thinking of Natalie every time he woke, about the pain of losing a child, about when he’d almost lost his child. As hard as he’d tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about her too-thin, albeit sexy little body, either.

“Sweetpea, we will not bother her. That’s final. I know you just want to help, but she’s dealing with things right now. Things I don’t think she wants to share with us.” He couldn’t tell Belle that she reminded Natalie of her dead child. That was too much information for a little girl to have.

“But, Daddyyyyyy. It’s almost Christmas, and what if Uncle Calum doesn’t have time to help her decorate? Or bake cookies? Or watch Christmas movies with?” She had a horrified look on her face by the time she stopped listing all of her must-do holiday activities.

“No, Belle. Stop your whining. She has Uncle Calum. She doesn’t need us. You need to remember your promise from yesterday. You’re to stay in the house or backyard. We’re done talking about this right now. Why don’t you go grab a book to read to Mr. King while I make the pancakes?”

If her mutinous look was any indication, the conversation was only on pause. To be resumed when she hit her internal play button. He made quick work of whipping up her favorite breakfast and got her settled, along with Mr. King, at the table. She placed the furry lion next to her where she could pretend to feed him, while Zach wolfed down his own stack.

He was due to drop Belle off at his sister’s house for a girl’s day, then head back home to get some work done in relative peace and quiet. Although on vacation, he still had blogs to write and other things to do. It did his heart good to know his sister and Belle loved their times together, with Randi a superb role model, who was also a fierce protector, and would let nothing happen to his little girl.

“Whoa, hold on, Mr. King doesn’t want pancake syrup in his mane again.” He’d looked up just in time to see Belle’s fork, full of dripping pancake, making its way over to the king’s furry mouth. No way did he have the time to spend another half hour cleaning stickiness out of that fur.

“But he said he’s hungry, daddy.”

“I’ll feed him after I drop you off. A big, strong lion like that needs something more than just sweet pancakes, anyway.”

Her sigh was as strong as a summer breeze, and he held back a chuckle.

“Okay, if you pwomise to feed him.”

“Cross my heart, sweetpea.”

Making quick work of cleaning sticky hands and cheeks, he bundled Belle into his truck, backed out of the driveway, and rolled slowly past Nat’s house, his eyes inexorably drawn to the front windows, his view obscured by heavy drapes still drawn.

He sped up, turning onto Torch Drive and continued past Cal’s house, then took a right onto Signal Street before turning into his sister’s driveway, grinning to see her sprint out the front door waving madly.

She was a five-foot nothing curvy dynamo, with hair as black as his hanging down her back to her bottom, skin a shade darker like the silky feathers of a tawny owl, and eyes as stormy gray as his.

“Bellllllllllle! Where’s my girl?”

His grin widened to see Belle practically bouncing in her booster seat as Randi opened the door and jumped into the backseat, landing a smacking kiss on her chubby little cheek.

“Are you ready to have fun today, my sweet little miss? I have cookie dough ready to put in the oven, and some of our favorite shows ready to go!”

“Yay, Aunty Randi! Which ones?”

Belle bounced and cheered while Randi unbuckled her, her exuberance bringing happiness to his heart. His little girl didn’t even give his sister a chance to answer before she launched into telling her about Nat.

“A lady lives next door, and she was mean to me but then sad and crying and knows Daddy and I think she’ll feel better if she had her house decorated, don’t you Aunty Randi?”

Zach gave an internal eye roll at his daughter’s blatant attempt to get her aunt to side with her on the whole decorating the neighborhood campaign.

He stretched an arm across the back of the seat and waited for Warrioress Randi to appear.

“Who was mean to Belle? Someone you know was actually mean to my niece? Do I need to have a word with this woman?”

Zach gave a shake of his head and mouthed ‘later’ then said, “We just caught her at a bad time. I’ll fill you in later. She’s Cal’s cousin.”

Randi looked blank for a couple of seconds before her mouth rounded. “The woman who lost her, uh, well—the woman you mentioned you met when you returned from keeping watch over Calum in the hospital, when I was babysitting the little miss?”

It was Zach’s turn to look blank. “When did I mention her?”

Randi smirked. “Oh, the night I brought the little miss home, and I convinced you to have a few shots to decompress. Remember? I stayed the night in case Belle needed anything, and you unloaded about how attracted you… uh, jeez. We need to talk when there aren’t little ears everywhere.”

“What’s ‘tracted mean, daddy?”

His little one listened way too closely, and thank goodness didn’t understand half of what Randi just spewed.

“Later, Randi. We can chat later. Maybe tonight, when little miss britches is asleep.”

“I’m not little miss bwitches! I’m Belle! Aunty Randi! We gotsta go bake cookies and paint our nails and watch the shows! Which ones did you pick?”

Randi shot him one more look that promised to pull all his secrets from him later, then turned back to Belle.

“I told you, little miss, your faves! I have Zootopia and The Snowy Day and Bino & Fino!”

“Yay! Bye daddy. Gotsta go! We have plans!”

Zach laughed and leaned over the seat to get smacking kisses on the cheek from Belle and Randi. He waved as they clambered from the vehicle, shut the door, and then both skipped up the sidewalk holding hands, right through the front door into the house, the door closing behind them.

As he backed out of the driveway and drove down the street, he hoped to heck he’d be able to tuck thoughts of Natalie back in the corner of his mind where she’d resided the past couple of years. Good luck with that, he thought. It would be a miracle if he got any work done.

When he turned off his sister’s street and saw Natalie limping along the sidewalk, he cursed the universe for being against him, put on his signal, and pulled over.