Ginger was too fresh-faced and innocent, Zach thought.

Yet she hadn’t asked about his arm. Or his dream. Did she know?

Ginger sat at the end of the couch and tucked her bare feet under his blankets. “I’m surprised you don’t have a family of your own.”

An interesting way of asking why he wasn’t married. “Never got around to it, I guess.”

“How come?”

He gave her the truth. “I saw too many guys torn up over leaving their wives and kids. Having to shut down to do the job. I didn’t want that. What about you? No boyfriends?”

She looked away. “Ah, no.”

“How come?” He repeated her words.

She shrugged. “They’re a hassle.”

Her fingers brushed his bare skin near the scar and she froze. “When did you get this?”

That raw whisper made him look into her wide brown eyes. “Three years ago.”

She looked horrified. Her hair tickled his shoulder and he inhaled quick and sharp. She smelled nice. Really nice. Like flowers and rain. He caught her wide eyes.

Did she feel it, too, this hum of awareness between them?