Love on a Summer Night (8 page)

“We’ve got more at home,” Faith said smoothly, standing up again.

That brought Zander eye-to-eye with her legs. Her knees. Her smooth skin and not far from where his hand was hanging, her ankle with it’s gorgeous quill tattoo.

A writer’s ink.

The quill curved around her ankle bone before exploding into a flock of birds. All her stories?

He wanted to tug her ankle into his lap and trace the outline of the tattoo, make her shiver and giggle until she told him all about it. When. Where. Why.

With who.

He wanted to know everything about her. More than just the surface details that made her fascinating enough already. He wanted to know what made her tick, what got her excited.

What turned her on.

“Let me buy you lunch,” he said abruptly, standing up again. He towered over Faith, and he liked it like that. Liked how she looked up at him with that what-are-you-doing expression on her face, and how she licked her lips.

Especially that part.
 

He wanted to chase the plump, shiny flesh with his own tongue and find out if she tasted as serious as she looked most of the time, or if she was secret laughter and sighs on the inside, too.

“We couldn’t…” she said, but her eyes held his. “I tried to explain Friday night…”

“Ah yes.” He gave her a reproachful look. “You led me to believe you were a taken woman.”

She laughed. “I’m sorry about that. That wasn’t fair.”

“Then make it up to me.” He grinned down at her. “I did make Eric drop his granola bar, after all.”

“I want fish and chips,” Eric interjected, standing on the bench beside them. He was almost as tall as his mother that way—an equal part of the conversation. “Please, Mommy?”

And thank God for that, because it was likely the reason Faith relented. “Fine. We can go and get some lunch.” She glanced back at Zander. “And if Mr. Minelli happens to go to Castaway Pete’s at the same time, that would be…nice.”

They were only a block from the tiny strip of restaurants that did a booming business in the summer, for the tourists getting on and off the ferry and area cottagers, too. Two more weeks, once school started and the summer season officially wrapped up, and Tobermory would be nearly a ghost town.

He’d come back at exactly the right time, because this was easy. Walking together, with Eric in the middle, slowly coasting along on his scooter. Grabbing one of the bright blue picnic tables.

Arguing over who should pay.

Faith got right in his face when he tried to treat them, waving a twenty at him. He nearly grabbed her wrist and pulled her tight against him, and from the spark in her eye, she didn’t miss what was on his mind.

Oh yeah, she was interested.

And this time, the confusion over how she felt about that fact seemed less vexing than before.

Progress, he told himself. Significant progress.

— SIX —

F
ISH and chips had never tasted so good.

Zander had disappeared inside with her twenty dollars, and returned with a single tray of food—and her twenty dollars.

“Your change,” he said with a wink. Then he turned to Eric before she could say anything. “Hey bud, I need help with the second tray. The pirates inside are holding it hostage. Do you have any gold?”

Eric laughed. “You mean, do
ye
have any gold.”

“Argh, me matey, I do indeed.” Zander held out a couple of loonies, and Eric took the one-dollar coins and led Zander back inside.

When they returned, Eric crowed about how he’d tipped the pirate behind the counter—the main reason to visit Castaway Pete’s—and they all dug into their lunch.

Eric filled the silence with excited chatter about the library program he was going to for the afternoon.

Zander nodded along, asking questions like how long it would be and how many days he’d take it, and Eric sat up taller and beamed brighter with each answer. But Faith felt like with each question, she was being stripped bare. Zander didn’t look her way and yet she felt his attention most keenly.

"And how about you, Faith? Working this afternoon?"
 

He knew she had the afternoon to herself—today and every day this week—thanks to her son, so she'd seen the question coming. But she still wasn't prepared for it. “I’m…” Done writing for the day. “Going to do laundry.”

His eyes leapt like amused, glittering chunks of coal. “Fun.”

Shrugging, she stole one of his French fries. “I told you, nothing about my life is fun.”

He dipped another fry in ketchup and held it out for her. “This is fun.”

Yes, it was, and admitting that—to him, to herself—was surprisingly easy. “Once or twice a year, maybe we go wild and have lunch out.”

He grinned. “So it is possible for Faith Davidson, serious writer extraordinaire, to have fun.”

“Possible, yes. Probable, no.” Her phone sounded from the pocket of her backpack. She pulled it out—the alarm reminder that Eric’s library program started in thirty minutes. “Finish up your lunch.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Zander said softly, his lips quirking as he looked down at his tray.

“I meant Eric,” she laughed.

“Right.” Zander turned to Eric. “You’ve got a busy afternoon ahead.”

Eric stared right back at him. “What are you going to do with my mom this afternoon?”

Faith enjoyed seeing Zander speechless, so she waited a beat before saving him. “I think we’ll take you over to the library, then Mr. Minelli might walk me home, where I will wash your soccer uniform so it’s shiny and clean for your game tomorrow night.”

Eric shrugged. “Boring.”

“Excuse me?”

“Thank you.”

“That’s better.” She handed over a napkin, then started to stack their trays.

“I’ll get these,” Zander said, his fingers brushing hers as they both reached for the pile of ketchup-smeared paper plates, crumpled napkins, and empty tartar sauce cups.

Faith froze.

So did the six-foot-something tattooed biker she couldn’t get out of her mind.

She didn’t know she’d been missing his touch. Not exactly. But the moment the contact was made, she knew she was in big trouble. Even though it was innocent, it didn’t feel innocent at all. Faith forced herself to keep breathing.

“Come on.” His voice strained to sound normal—or least that’s what she told herself she was hearing. It would be good to not be alone in this craziness. “Eric’s got a thing to get to, right bud?”

“That’s right!”

Faith blinked and pulled her hand away. She buried her burning face in her backpack, looking for the smaller bag and water bottle that Eric would take with him to the afternoon program.

“And then you’re going to walk my mom home?”

Seriously, why was Eric so obsessed with what Zander was going to do to her that afternoon?

With
. Not to.

She jerked the backpack closed and stood up, her hip banging against the picnic table. “Okay, let’s go.”

She managed not to look at Zander until they got to the library—damn small towns, everything being only a block apart barely gave her time to de-blush and try to restore her natural defences.

“You have a good time.” She kissed Eric on the forehead and smoothed her hand over his hair. “I’ll be back in three hours to pick you up.”

“With Zander?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Awww!”

Zander leaned in and offered his fist to Eric, who solemnly bumped knuckles with his new friend.

Faith cleared her throat. “What do you say?”

“Thank you for laughing at my poop joke.”

“Eric!”

“And lunch.”

“That’s better. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She watched as her little boy scampered off, high-fiving the program leader as he took his seat on the carpet alongside a handful of other children. Probably all the kids that would be in his class in two weeks—Tobermory didn’t have a huge population at the height of the summer. It dwindled to almost nothing over the winter.

When she turned around, Zander was watching her with a weird look on his face.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He stepped out of the way and gestured to the door. “Lead the way, laundry lady.”

“See? I’m no fun.”

Maybe if she hadn’t said that, he’d have let her pass him and step back out into the sunshine.

But she had, and as soon as it was out of her mouth, she’d known it was a mistake. His hand snapped out in front of her, touching her hip.

Zander’s fingers brushing against hers had been distracting. This?

This was mind-altering. His palm curved around her side, his forearm a steel bar across her waist. “I don’t believe that for a second,” he whispered before releasing her just as quickly as he’d stopped her.

Desire seized her body, making her tremble for the first time in years. If they weren’t in the doorway of the library, she would have grabbed his hand and returned it to her side. If she weren’t still wrapped around the axle about trust and loss, she’d lead him to the nearest alley and let him do a lot more than just touch her.

But they were in public and she wasn’t ready for the kind of adventure that Zander promised.

She’d never be ready for that, truthfully, because she’d dated the bad boy before. Married him, had his baby, and gleefully kissed him before he set off on adventure after adventure.

Until the day he didn’t come home to her.

Now her face was burning for a completely different reason.

Not her whole face.

Just her eyes.

Damn it.

Just as quickly as she’d burned hot, now she was shivering from the nearness of Zander’s large form.

Ducking her head, she started walking again.

Blink.

Blink.

She wouldn’t cry.

It wasn’t that she was afraid of emotion.

Hell, she was a fan of tears. A big one. They could be cathartic and healing. Freeing and therapeutic. She’d shed them for all of those reasons, and other, sadder reasons. Because she was scared and alone. Depressed and worried and not sure anything would be okay ever again. But they had their time and place, and whatever her flirtations were with Zander, he
wasn’t
a confidant.

Over the pounding of her heart, she heard Zander talking to her. Apologizing.

She shook her head, then waved her hand when he didn’t stop. “It’s not you.”

“Hey, slow up.” He pulled ahead of her, holding up his hands. “I’m not going to touch you again, just wait a minute.”

She jerked her head up. She’d crossed the street and they were halfway down the road to her place.

“What’s wrong?”

Faith took a deep breath and shook her head a little to shake the dredged-up feelings loose.

Zander rocked back on his heels and carefully slid his hands into his jeans pockets. She knew what he was doing, backing off and clearly demonstrating he wasn’t a threat. But she couldn’t find her voice to tell him it really wasn’t him, not like that. He hadn’t creeped her out. She was just freaked out by all the uncontrollable feelings.
Triggers can be the most unexpected things
. It was a primary lesson in grief counselling and she knew it well. After four years, she thought she’d experienced all the triggers she might encounter.

She’d been wrong.

Zander had sparked the worst kind of reaction by being the best kind of person. By being awesome with her son and teasing with her, coaxing parts of her back to life. By being gut-achingly perfect in all the most unexpected ways.

“I know I’m a nice guy…” he started, giving her a slow grin that teased her, that promised she’d never live down that brush off. And that teasing eased some of the tension, helped her breathe again. He watched her face, and slowly nodded. “And since nice guys just aren’t your type…”

She laughed weakly. “Nice guys are totally my type and I thought we’d agreed you weren’t one.”

“Is that how that conversation went? Because I assure you, I’m as square as they come.”

She frowned. “Let’s talk about the fact that you should wear a leather jacket when you’re on your bike.”

He frowned right back. “I do.”

“I watched you get off your bike at the park.” She rolled her eyes at the way his eyebrows quirked at her admission that she’d watched him earlier. “Yes, I saw you pull up, and…yes, you are a very distracting sight.”

“So the storming away from me at the library was a ninety-minute delayed reaction to that?”

She shook her head, and as he gave her a far-too-gentle, far-too-understanding look, she started to feel silly.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Are we storming to your house, by any chance?”

“
I
am heading home, yes. I think the
we
portion of the day should probably come to a close.”

“Even though you found me a
very distracting sight
?”

“Yep.” She stepped past him and continued down the street. He loped alongside her, and it didn’t matter how fast she trundled, he easily kept up.

She couldn’t actually run. That would be weird.

This whole thing was weird, of course, but that would be too much.

So when they got to her driveway, she stopped again.

As did he.

She noted that her mother’s car was gone, and ignored the flight of butterflies that started twirling in excitement in her belly.

Being alone with Zander was not a big deal, because he was leaving. She’d go and do laundry and put this whole weird encounter behind her.

Until she fell asleep—then she’d twist it into a bizarre fantasy where they had wild monkey sex at Castaway Pete’s, probably.

That would be her cross to bear.

Before he could figure out where her mind had just gone, she returned to their discussion.

“Where were we? Oh yeah. You. Distracting sight. You’re also an idiot because you were on your bike in this very thin t-shirt.” She tapped her fingers against his chest.

Oh, he felt good. Big, hard, warm… With a slow exhale, she flattened her palm against his
very thin
t-shirt and enjoyed the flex of his pecs against her hand.

She ignored the surprised look on his face.

He’d touched her. Now she’d just touch him. Just for a minute.