Zach looked into Ginger’s blazing eyes and knew he’d crossed the line. He let go of her wrist. It took everything he had to step back when he wanted nothing more than to pull her close and kiss her again. Slow this time and more thoroughly.
He couldn’t stay numb around Ginger. She was flaring emotion and in-your-face feelings—all the stuff he feared. If he let himself feel, it’d all come back. And all those raw emotions unleashed would ruin him. Ruin her, too, if she got close enough.
He couldn’t let that happen.
“Come on, it’s cold out here.” He slammed his hands deep into his coat pockets and headed for home. He didn’t offer his arm, as touching Ginger couldn’t end well, so he kept his distance. But he’d slowed down.
She walked next to him, her coat still open to the frigid air, completely silent.
He’d shut her up all right.
When they reached the back of his building, Zach opened the door for her.
She looked at him. “Thanks for walking me home.”
He nodded, feeling lower than dirt.
Before he could say anything, apologize even, Ginger ran up the stairs and disappeared into her apartment with a slam of her door.
Zach sighed. He owed her an apology. Instead, he made his way to his own apartment. Shedding his coat, he looked at his place with the brown leather couch and chair. His weight bench sat in the corner and the wooden miniblinds were drawn shut against the streetlights shining in from Main Street. His apartment was devoid of color. And feeling.
This is who he’d become.
He entered his tiny kitchen and made a sandwich.
Clicking on the TV, he tried to shut out what had happened with Ginger. He didn’t want to care for her, but knew how easy it’d be to do just that. Everything about her was vibrant and warm and full of life. She drew out those dead parts of him and teased him with promises of maybe. As if maybe they could be something. Maybe she was what he needed.
Maybe...
After eating, he stared at the TV without watching it. He finally turned it off, got up and changed into an old T-shirt. He might as well get some work done and burn off this itchy restlessness.
He stepped out of his apartment at the same time Ginger came out of hers. She was dressed in running gear.
“Kinda late for a run.” His voice came out in a low growl.
She raised her chin. “I won’t feel like going in the morning, not that I need your permission.”
“No. You don’t.” Would she stay inside if he asked her not to go?
She’d become his concern and he wanted to protect her. He’d protect her from herself if he had to, and he didn’t like it that she seemed restless, too. He didn’t know whether to be flattered or furious that he’d driven her to seek out running at nine o’clock at night. This was Maple Springs—a small town where running at night would be fine. She’d be fine, but still.
Ginger anchored the earbuds of her phone and passed by him. She flew down the stairs without once looking back.
Zach headed for his shop. The molten glass was hot and waiting for him to make something. He’d make anything to keep his thoughts at bay.
Once inside his workshop, he turned up the temperature of the smaller glory hole furnace and prepped the area. He was in the mood to make globes filled with twisted strands of glass. They had a pagan history, but he didn’t worry about that. God was bigger than any superstition. Zach didn’t name them; he simply made them for their beauty. And tonight, they perfectly suited his messed-up mood.
* * *
Ginger ran hard, but thoughts of Zach and that kiss stayed with her. Like a blister, it swelled and hurt and pretty much made her miserable no matter how far or fast she ran.
Did she really want to get involved with a guy so twisted up inside that he had nightmares? It didn’t matter that he had more than a legitimate reason for them. Zach was grouchy as her father had been. And her father had nearly crushed her with his careless words and venomous moods.
When she finally made it home, she leaned against the back door, trying to catch her breath. She could hear Zach in his workshop with that heavy rock music playing. At close to ten o’clock, he was wise not to blast the volume as he had before.
She heard a masculine yelp, followed by a crash. And then silence.
Was he hurt?
An image of him cut and bleeding flashed through her mind and made her feet move before she thought it through. The back door to his shop was open, so she pushed on it.
It was hot inside. And she might be jumping from the frying pan right into the fire, but Ginger walked in anyway. “Zach?”
“Yeah?”
She kept going. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Be careful where you step.”
She saw large chunks of colorful glass splintered into pieces on the floor. And Zach stood in the middle of the space with sweat running down his face, drinking from a water bottle. “What happened?”
“Too big.” He wiped his brow with his forearm, and she saw that he was bleeding.
“You cut your arm.”
He shrugged. “It’s fine.”
She hustled forward. “No, it’s not. There’s glass in there. I can see it from here.”
He bent his arm and looked at it. “Huh.”
“Do you have a first aid kit?”
“On the shelf.” He pointed toward the bathroom.
She slipped off her fleece jacket and threw it on a chair. “It’s roasting in here.”
“Yeah.” He walked to the window and opened it wider.
She exited the bathroom with a first aid kit. Sidestepping the broken glass, Ginger made her way toward Zach.
He held out his hand.
But she waved him away. “Just sit down and I’ll do it.”
He didn’t argue. He sat on a stool and gave her his arm. Blood trickled down to his elbow and dripped onto the floor.
“Nice.” She took a deep breath and set the first aid kit down. Her hands trembled a little, so she scanned the table. At the other end, she spotted small piles of colored glass sprinkles. They glittered in the overhead light. Pretty.
She dug out a pair of tweezers and then looked at him. “This might hurt.”
He raised one mocking eyebrow.
Ginger gritted her teeth, scanned the mass of mangled skin scarring his left biceps and then blew out her breath. “Right.”
The piece of glass sparkled in the light. Grabbing the underside of his elbow, her gaze flew to his when he twitched. “What?”
“Your fingers are cold.”
She took another deep breath, and with the tweezers, she grabbed the glass splinter, yanked it out and then set both on the table. The piece of glass was the length of a bobby pin. His wound bled more profusely with that sharp shard dislodged. “Ewwww.”
His face grim, he handed her the half-empty water bottle. “Pour this over it to make sure you got all the splinters out.”
She did as he asked and then ripped open a large gauze bandage that she placed over the cut. “Hold that a minute. Can you tell if there’s anything still in there?”
He looked at her. “It’s good.”
“Good.” Ginger hopped up on the metal table and wiped her own sweating brow. “Blech.”
He chuckled. “You look a little green.”
“Not a big fan of blood.”
Zach stood and grabbed a roll of paper towels. Still holding the bandage that was soaking through, he handed her the towels. “Dry off my arm, and then we’ll put another bandage on there and tape it down.”
She nodded. Tearing off a couple of towels, she patted his forearm dry, trying not to look up into his face, steering clear of his eyes.
“I’m sorry about earlier.” His voice was whisper soft.
And it cut right through her. She shrugged, but cold air blew in from the open window and made her shiver. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not.”
She looked up and another shiver raced up her spine. Would he kiss her again? Part of her hoped...
He didn’t. He handed her a fresh bandage. “Open that.”
She nodded and her fingers fumbled with the packaging. Foolish girl!
He stilled her hands, until she looked up. “Friends? I won’t pull that on you again.”
Ginger battled both disappointment and relief. “Okay, friends.”
“Good.” He pulled the bloodstained bandage off.
The cut was already clotting. He’d live. Ginger laid the new bandage in place and while Zach held the gauze, she firmly taped the edges.
He gave her a crooked half grin. “Nice job.”
“Girl Scouts, but I dropped out before I earned my medical badge. So, what happened?”
He ran his hand through his hair, making it stand straight up. “I was tapping a good-sized globe onto that knock off table and lost it.”
She noticed a dark burn mark on the underside of his other forearm and touched it, but he didn’t flinch. “Does it hurt?”
He shrugged again. “It’s fine.”
She searched in the first aid kit and found some antibiotic ointment. Twisting off the cap, she squeezed a dollop onto her finger. “Here.”
“You do it.” He held his arm out.
Was he teasing her?
She spread the ointment quickly across his burned skin, and her pulse picked up speed. Friends—right. Her heart wasn’t supposed to skip beats with a friend. She didn’t dare look at him or he might see how much he affected her.
She tore off a couple of sheets of paper towel, wiped off her fingers and then the tweezers. She scooped up the glass splinter with the towels and threw it all away. Glancing at the mess of broken glass on the floor, she asked, “Can you save any of that?”
He grabbed a broom and swept the pieces into a pile. “Nope.”
She handed him the dustpan.
He scooped up the pile and tossed it in the trash.
“Now what?”
“I’ll make another one.”
Ginger chewed the inside of her mouth. She should leave, but didn’t want to. “Can I help?”
He looked at her for a long moment and then finally said, “You want to give it a try?”
Ginger’s stomach flipped. “Really?”
“I’ll show you. Have a seat over here.” He patted his workbench with the high sides.
She watched him slip that long metal pipe into the bigger furnace. The molten glass dripped like thick honey. He twirled the pipe and then rolled it along the edge of the big steel table that still had the first aid kit lid lain open at the other end.
Then he dipped the pipe in the furnace again, gathering more hot glass onto the already glowing glob. “What do you want to make?”
She grinned. “Another globe?”
He nodded. “What color?”
“All colors.”
He gave her a nod and dipped the glob of hot glass into piles of colored glass sprinkles. He picked up a few blue, some green and yellow and then red shimmering bits, then back into the furnace. Explaining what he was doing as he went, he cautioned her not to touch anything until he said to do so.
When he had a nice little ball of hot glass with streaks in it, he wiped off the mouthpiece of a hose that was connected to the pipe. “Here, blow through this.”
Ginger did as he asked.
“Harder than that.”
She giggled and blew harder. The hot glass at the end of the pipe bubbled and leaned.
“Okay, roll the pipe along this ledge here. See how it lets the glass stretch.”
She twirled the pipe too slowly, so Zach placed his hands between hers and rolled faster. She let loose a nervous-sounding giggle again. “This is so cool.”
He took the pipe and twirled it in the glory hole furnace with its wide circular opening. He pulled it back out and handed her the mouthpiece. “Blow again.”
She did as he asked while looking up into his eyes.
“That’s good. See how it’s filling out?” He rolled the pipe with her. “You want to keep going?”
“Yes. I want to do everything from start to finish. Show me everything.”
He smiled at her. A full-blown wide smile that made her heart race. “Okay.”
Time had stopped. Ten minutes or two hours, Ginger didn’t know how long she stayed with Zach, blowing globes and then finishing up with a couple of vases. Her vase twisted really weird, but he said that he liked it and wouldn’t toss it. He showed her how to use the giant tweezers he called “jacks” to pull the glass like taffy and then eventually cut it away from the pipe.
He was right there, protecting her, teaching her, even showing her how to shape the molten glass with wet wooden cups called blocks. Then he’d take over and together they’d take the piece to the knock off table, dislodging their glass creations from the pipe.
She felt like Alice must have after falling down the rabbit hole into a whole new world of color and shapes and heat. She understood why Zach called it hot work, but her fear of getting burned lessened as the night wore on. Zach was a good teacher, keeping her safe. But her heart had inched dangerously close to a different kind of fire. One that might consume her if she wasn’t careful.
Finally, Zach donned heavy mitts and carried the last thing they’d made to the cooling oven. “We’ll be able to handle everything in the morning.”
Ginger yawned. “What time is it?”
“One thirty.”
They’d been working for hours, but it had gone by so fast. “How’d you get into this?”
He went to the minifridge and grabbed two bottles of water. Handing her one, he said, “I attended a glass workshop while taking night classes and pretty much got hooked.”
Ginger took a long sip. “Night classes?”
“I had to get my degree in order to become an officer.”
“So what’s your degree in?”
He gave her that half smile. “Business.”
Of course, he’d trained for this, too. “So, how’d you fit it all in?”
He shrugged. “After transferring to another base, I finished my degree online. The glassblowing met the humanities requirement, but like I said, I was hooked. I found an owner of a small glass studio who needed help and apprenticed with him when I was off duty in order to use his studio after hours. I did that for years. It’s why I settled on a business degree. I wanted my own shop after I retired.”
“So that’s why you came home?”
A shadow passed over his face. He emptied his water bottle and tossed it into the recycle bin. “It wasn’t my choice to leave the army this soon.”
“What happened?” Ginger saw his stormy expression and backpedaled real quick. “I mean, if you care to share.”
A flicker of something dark and angry shone from his eyes. “I received my walking papers while in Afghanistan. Latest round of budget cuts. Despite my exemplary service, I got RIFed.”
Ginger cringed at the raw sarcasm in his voice, but wanted clarification. “Riffed?”
“Reduction in force. Let go, laid off, whatever fits.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. And keep it quiet. I haven’t told my family.”
“Why not?”
His anger turned to discomfort. “If I’d been a commissioned officer from the start, maybe I’d still be there. Like I said before, my father graduated from West Point. I was supposed to follow in his footsteps, but my grades weren’t good enough. I enlisted instead, having no intention of becoming an officer. But then I was recommended for OCS—”
“What’s that?” Ginger interrupted.
“Officer Candidate School. As a commissioned officer, a four-year degree is required. And since I was making a lifelong career out of it, I jumped at the chance to move up.”
Ginger understood all too well. Zach wanted to live up to his father’s example and make him proud. Didn’t he realize he’d surpassed it by his active duty? She’d heard Helen mention that Zach had been deployed too many times to count.
“Didn’t matter in the end. I didn’t make twenty years. There’s no way I would have retired without at least twenty years in. My dad knows that.”
“He hasn’t asked?”
“No.”
“Maybe he’s waiting on you to tell him.”
Zach grunted. “Might be a long wait.”
“Why? Don’t you think your dad would understand better than most?”
He shrugged.
There had to be more to it than not fulfilling his career expectations. Getting laid off because of budget cuts wasn’t exactly something Zach could control. But then, neither were his nightmares. Did his family know about those? Did the army?
In her opinion, getting let go from the army might be the best thing for him in the long run. It had to be. She’d read the joy in his eyes while he worked. His whole countenance lit up when he taught her the craft of working with glass.
And she’d responded back with joy. Ginger couldn’t remember when she’d had so much fun. “Maybe that was God’s plan to get you out.”
He gave her a look that said she didn’t know what she was talking about.
The grump had returned. And that made her defenses rise along with her voice. “I don’t know what you were like in the army, but you’re so alive when you’re working with glass. I can see it’s your passion. It makes you a good teacher.”
He suddenly chuckled. “I’m not so passionate with the customers.”
She laughed, too, relieved that he’d lightened the moment instead of biting her head off. “No. Not so much.”
“Maybe that’s where you come in.”
She tipped her head. “Me?”
“Work for me.”
Ginger’s belly fluttered. Those butterflies were dancing up a storm. Zach was talking crazy and she was crazy enough to want to believe him. “I think the late night has gotten to you.”
“I’m serious.” He wasn’t kidding.
And that scared her more than she’d like to admit. Time to leave. “No.”
“Why not?”
She spread her arms wide. “I have my own business to run.”
He took a step toward her. “You came alive shaping that glass. Tell me you didn’t love it.”
Ginger stepped back. He’d read her like an open book. Could he sense how he’d affected her, too? Coaxing out all kinds of wish-filled feelings that working for him might destroy?
She grabbed her fleece jacket and headed toward the door. “It’s late and I’m going to bed.”
“Yeah, it is late.” He turned off the light, closed and locked the door behind them.
She bounded up the stairs, unlocked the door to her apartment and then waited. “Thank you for tonight. It was fun.”
When Zach reached the top, he looked way too intent. “Think about it, Ginger.”
“Good night, Zach.” Ginger opened her door and slipped inside.
No way.
There was no way she could accept that offer and keep her heart safe. After working hard to make something of herself, she couldn’t throw it all away on the whim of a handsome man asking. A man she cared for too much but didn’t dare trust with her future.
* * *
The next morning, Zach stepped out of his apartment with coffee mug in hand. He’d slept well despite making glass into the wee hours. Maybe all that work had given him a dreamless night. Whatever it was, he looked forward to Ginger’s reaction to the items they’d made last night.
He paused at her door. Should he knock?
No.
He’d see her downstairs in the safety of their respective shops. If he hoped to keep things on a friendly and professional level, he’d stay away from her in her apartment.
By the time he flipped on the lights at the back of his studio, he knew Ginger was already at work. He smelled the scent of cinnamon from the tea she’d made every morning this week before overhearing her talking on the phone to someone about the window contest, answering questions, giving advice. Must be another merchant. And Ginger was always ready to help.
He heard the click of her heeled footsteps as she entered his place through the slider. He never locked it, knowing she kept her side locked.
He met her near his sales counter. “Morning.”
“Have you opened the cooling oven yet?” Ginger’s eyes shone with eagerness.
“Not yet. Come on back.” Maybe offering her a job hadn’t been such a bad idea. She was clearly hooked. Much like he’d been all those years ago. Could he afford to bring her on? Sooner seemed better than later, but that might be the thrill of working with her last night. He needed to crunch the numbers and readjust his plan. She had a business to run and part of that was paying him rent. To hire Ginger, he’d have to take over her retail space and increase sales sooner than planned. Based on his traffic, he might be ready. But was he ready for Ginger?
Maybe...
He opened the doors of the annealing oven and reached inside. The glass was cool enough to touch, and gently, he withdrew the vase Ginger had made. It leaned a bit on one side, but he’d fortified the bottom so it would stand without toppling. She’d used the small jack to pinch the sides into a swirling twist of red and white and clear glass that he liked.
Her eyes widened. “Can I touch it?”
“You can have it.”
She caressed the glass before taking the vase from him. Then she scrunched her nose. “It’s not good enough to sell, is it?”
He chuckled. “Maybe not, but it’s an excellent first try. More like what most come up with on their fourth or fifth lesson.”
“Really?” She didn’t look as if she believed him.
“I don’t blow smoke, Ginger.”
Her eyes narrowed, and he saw the satisfaction register deep in her brown eyes. “So, it’s pretty good?”
“Very good.” He pulled out the globes. One by one, they were bigger than what he usually made alone and loaded with twisted glass strands inside. Setting them in a wooden box he kept by one of the worktables, he added, “These will definitely sell, and I couldn’t have made them without your help.”
“Really?”
He gave her a look.
“Sorry. Not used to compliments. Especially coming from you.” She gave him a playful grin.
He snorted. For a look like that, he’d do almost anything. “Just stating facts, but I’ll compliment more often.”
Her cheeks colored and she looked away. Setting aside her vase, she inspected the glass globes, touching each one. “You better put a decent price tag on them. Don’t just give them away like you do with your little glass hearts.”
He needed this woman in his shop. “I will.”
“And you should hang them in your window.”
He cocked an eyebrow. She needed to pick a display idea and make it into a reality. “For now.”
Touching the large cobalt blue ball of glass with strings of glass embedded inside, Ginger smiled at him. “Right. For now.”
Every thought about keeping it professional and friendly scattered. Remembering the feel of his lips on hers, he wanted to pull her close and make good on kissing her properly. And definitely more thoroughly than what they’d shared walking home last night.
As if reading his thoughts, she backed away, grabbed her vase and headed for her side through the slider. “I’ve got to run out for a second.”
He glanced at his watch. Nine forty-five. They both opened in fifteen minutes. “What about your customers?”
She shrugged. “If I’m a little late opening up, no big deal. You’re the one with the groupies. Entertain the ladies until I get back. Oh, and Zach. If Sally shows up, don’t let her leave till I get back. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
“Got it.” But he shook his head.
This was how it could be if they worked together. With Ginger’s help, his business would grow. She was good not only with the customers, but pricing details and community stuff. He needed this woman to flourish. And he needed to convince Ginger it’s what she needed, too.