Some Kind of Wonderful: A Holiday Novella (The Cupcake Lovers) (2 page)

Pulse racing, Maya cut the engine and wrangled her emotions.

Giselle fluffed her luxuriant sable locks. “As you know, Zach and I were pretty intimate in our correspondence,” she said, looking uncharacteristically anxious.

“As close to a threesome as I’ll ever get,” Maya said, remembering one particularly graphic exchange.

“When we meet I’m wondering if I should shake his hand, hug him, or kiss him.”

Maya stared up at the illuminated reindeer and sleigh sitting atop the Coles’ roof, remembering the winter she’d braved her fear of heights to help Zach reanchor that same decoration after a powerful windstorm had blown it off. She thought about the “intimate correspondences” she’d been party to this past year. “Funny,” she said, trying to reconcile the Zach of her youth to the Zach who’d recently stirred her soul. “I was wondering the same thing.”

Chapter Two

Since they were in the business of planning, coordinating, and throwing special events, Maya wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable joining a party in progress. Especially since she was acquainted with most everyone in attendance.

Giselle was the ultimate party girl whether she knew anyone or not. She didn’t even blink when, after she was greeted at the door by Helen, Daisy Monroe (another senior member of the Cupcake Lovers) whisked her away to pick her brain about the costumed characters at Disney Resorts. Apparently Daisy was now the sometimes mascot of her recently co-purchased café—Moose-a-lotta. Maya didn’t get the full story, but she was certain Giselle would fill her in later.

Meanwhile, Maya hung up their coats, then enjoyed a second extended hug from a teary-eyed Helen. “So glad you’re here,” the older woman said.

“Me, too.” Maya’s own eyes stung as childhood memories welled. Stepping into Helen and Daniel Cole’s house was like stepping into the past. Since Zach’s mom (once a widow and now deceased herself) had waitressed the evening shift in a local tavern, Zach had spent his after-school hours here under the watchful eye of his aunt Helen and uncle Dan. Maya had been a frequent guest.

Looking over Helen’s shoulder into the bustling living room, Maya recognized older members of the Cupcake Lovers and their spouses, and she thought she recognized Rocky Monroe, Daisy’s granddaughter, but she definitely did not see Zach. The scene, however, the furnishings and décor, the scents of homemade cooking and cinnamon potpourri, was so familiar, Maya’s heart fairly burst with nostalgic joy.

Some things never change.

Like the various sized, colorfully painted nutcrackers Helen hauled out and arranged atop the fireplace every December and the humongous spruce Daniel always managed to squeeze into the northeast corner of the room. As always, the star topper grazed the eight-foot ceiling and the branches sagged under the weight of numerous Victorian ornaments, metallic garland, and strings and strings of colorful twinkling lights.

The hand-knit stockings pinned to the fireplace mantle. The holly garland wrapped around the staircase banister. The four-foot singing Santa positioned alongside the antique umbrella stand. All familiar. All comforting.

Merry thoughts danced through Maya’s travel-fogged brain until Helen grasped her hand and pulled her in the opposite direction of the party, into Daniel’s den. “There’s something I have to tell you,” the woman said in a hushed voice while closing the door behind them. “Don’t panic,” she said, “but something happened to Zach.”

Maya felt nauseous.

“He’s okay. Or he will be okay, but he’ll never be one hundred percent the way he was.”

“Are you saying Zach was injured?” The question scraped Maya’s throat like a razor blade, and it was all she could do not to fall back in a chair. Her legs felt
that
shaky. “What happened?”

“I don’t know precisely. He won’t talk about it.” Helen, who now looked twenty years older than her seventy-five, wrung her age-spotted hands. “I didn’t mention this to you on the phone, Maya, because I didn’t want you to worry the whole way here. He’s been stateside now for three months, recovering and undergoing physical therapy. Something to do with his legs. It must have been bad, because he won’t be returning to active duty. I don’t think they’ll let him, even if he eventually conquers that limp. He says he’s fine and he looks fine,” Helen said. “But his spirit is somber. I keep thinking about the way you two used to laugh. I thought…” She broke off and looked over her shoulder. “I should get back to my guests. I just … I wanted to break the news to you before you saw him.”

Maya palmed her brow, willing her head not to explode. “I don’t understand. We traded e-mails over Thanksgiving. He didn’t say a word about being injured, let alone being back in the states.”

“Don’t take it personally, dear. Zach didn’t tell anyone.”

“Not even you and Daniel?”

She shook her head. “We didn’t have a clue until he showed up on our doorstep two weeks ago.”

Maya felt her dismay morphing into anger. Why in the world would Zach keep something like this to himself? Why would he pretend … “Where is he?”

“In the kitchen having a beer with Sam McCloud. I’m not sure if you’d remember Sam. He’s probably ten years older than you. Former military. Widowed father of two and a doozy of a baker. The only male member of the Cupcake Lovers.”

The information barely registered in Maya’s buzzing ears. “What are they, trading war stories?”

“I don’t know about that. As I said, Zach’s tight-lipped about whatever happened in Afghanistan. If that’s even where he was when it happened,” Helen said. “Daniel has his doubts.”

The more Helen shared, the more Maya’s blood burned. “But he’s okay, physically, aside from the limp, as far as you know.”

Helen nodded, then narrowed her eyes. “Are you upset or angry? I can’t tell.”

“A little of both.”

“I should have broken it to you differently.”

“You shouldn’t have had to tell me at all, Helen.” Maya hugged the woman, then stalked toward the door. “It should have come from Zach.”

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this angry. She couldn’t remember anything before five minutes ago when Helen had said,
Something happened to Zach.

Maya made a beeline for the kitchen by utilizing the back hall. She knew this house well—every room, every closet and hidey-hole. She knew how to get to Zach without having to pass within sight of the living room and partygoers. A blessing considering she would have blown off anyone who tried to say hello. Maya had tunnel vision. One thought, one goal. To get to Zach. To see for herself he was okay. She couldn’t think beyond that. Her brain had all but shut down.

Something happened to Zach
.

Maya pushed through a side door and into the kitchen. Zach was leaning against the counter, swigging beer alongside another man. Sam, she guessed. Maya only had eyes for Zach, and at first glance, a swift glance, he did indeed look
fine
. He looked whole and healthy, and incredibly handsome in casual trousers, a suit jacket, and an open-necked oxford, his short blond hair sticking out every which way.

Seeing her, Zach set aside his longneck. “Maya?”

Her hearing buzzed. Her vision blurred. A million memories swirled, sucking her back to a time when they’d been as close as pine needles on a twig. Heart pounding, she ran across the room and threw herself into Zach’s arms. He felt warm and solid, and when he hugged her tighter she realized she was trembling. She clung, trying to find her voice, her wits. Her eyes burned. “Are you okay?” she croaked.

“Yes.”

“Truly?”

He gave her a reassuring squeeze, his own voice tight. “Absolutely.”

Blinking back tears, Maya pushed out of Zach’s arms, and as she focused on his fit form and the familiar surroundings the world righted. In that instant she regressed twenty years, vibrating with the same rage she’d felt when Zach had taken a spill off his skateboard and instead of bouncing back up had teased her by playing dead. Fuming, Maya punched him in the shoulder. “Bastard.”

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” another voice said.

Maya had forgotten about Sam. Normally she would have been embarrassed by her emotional display. But there was nothing normal about this moment. Her best friend had been severely injured, so much so, he’d spent months recuperating and he hadn’t reached out, hadn’t confided in family. In her.

Still, she’d been raised to be polite. Glaring at Zach, she jabbed a hand in greeting at Sam. “I’ve heard of you, but I don’t think we’ve met. Maya Templeton.”

“Sam McCloud.” He squeezed her hand in a brief, warm shake. “You live in Florida now, right?”

“Did your parents fly up, too?” Zach asked, holding her gaze but looking puzzled.

“No,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “My parents took a holiday cruise. Giselle came with me.”

Zach just stared.

Sam cleared his throat. “
The
Giselle?”

Maya flicked her gaze to the dark, rugged man, then back to Zach. “You told him about G?” She assumed by Sam’s tone that he knew about the sexy letters. Letters she’d had a part in writing. Which made Sam, a man she didn’t even know, privy to Maya’s sensual side. She wanted to die. She wanted to punch Zach’s other shoulder.

Zach shifted his weight, shrugged. “Giselle was a bright spot in a rough year.”

Maya’s cheeks burned and a weird feeling swirled in her gut. Something dangerously close to jealousy. “Well, your bright spot is only a few steps away, partying in the living room with the Cupcake Lovers. Feel free to bask in her effervescence.”

“Definitely my cue.” Sam stepped away and dropped his bottle in a recycle bin. “Nice meeting you, Maya.” He nodded. “Zach.” And then he was gone.

“We need to talk,” Zach said to Maya.

“You got that right.”

“Not here. Someplace private.”

“The pantry.” The place where they used to hide and sneak snacks, particularly filched cupcakes. No one would walk in on them there.

“Fine.” He reached over and nabbed a dark-colored stick that she hadn’t noticed before. A stick with a handle.

A walking aid.

Chest tight, Maya watched as the boy who’d raced her to the ice-cream stand, the man who’d provided reconnaissance and surveillance to an infantry battalion in a harsh, rugged land, hobbled toward the food pantry of his aunt and uncle’s home sweet home.

Chapter Three

Zach had never been fond of surprises. Especially those laced with danger. In the field, he responded on instinct. On training and experience. He relied on quick thinking and cool confidence, and he almost always mastered the moment.

Almost.

Three months and two weeks ago he’d been coldcocked by a sneak attack that had left him bloody and broken and his spotter (and close buddy) dead.

This day, Zach had been shocked by Maya, who’d breathed life into his comatose heart.

Dodging into the pantry appealed on multiple levels. It harked of simpler times, happier times with the girl who’d been his confidante and friend. A girl who, through e-mails and letters, had recently introduced him to her business partner, whose sexy photos and flirtatious notes had brightened several long and lonely nights. It also afforded him a chance to get his act together in private before rejoining the party. His reaction to seeing Maya, to holding her in his arms, had been unsettling. Even more so than the prospect of meeting Giselle in person.

After flicking on a dim light and shutting the door behind them, Zach followed Maya deeper into the expansive walk-in pantry. Nabbing a step stool and an oversized caramel-popcorn tin, they squeezed past crammed shelves of canned and baking goods and hunkered behind the ceiling-to-floor spice rack. Zach’s leg twinged with the effort, but he ignored the pain. Part of him felt ten years old again, without a care more serious than how he was going to earn enough money to buy that superrad mountain bike he’d seen at J. T. Monroe’s Department Store. Except the woman sitting across from him barely resembled the gangly-legged, freckle-faced kid he’d given rides to on the handlebars. She didn’t even remind him of the high-school junior who’d tutored him on those damned math exams. Or the young woman he’d grilled hamburgers with six years back, during a week when they’d both been back in Sugar Creek visiting family.

Maya’s hair was longer and blonder, her skin kissed by the Florida sun. She brushed aside her bangs as she huffed in frustration, and he noticed a slight crinkle in her forehead. A mark of someone who spent a lot of time in deep thought or fierce concentration. A year younger than Zach, Maya was twenty-nine. She’d matured physically in ways that appealed to him as a man. He was especially attracted to her lush mouth. He’d never noticed her lips in a sexual way. He was damn well noticing now. There was also a new edge, a harder edge, to her personality that intrigued and worried him at the same time.

“You called me a bastard,” he blurted.

“You’re scrutinizing my language?”

“I’ve never heard you swear.”

“I’ve never been so angry. Criminy, Zach. Why didn’t you tell me you were in the hospital? I would have visited.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“You didn’t want me to visit?” Her sweet face screwed up with confusion and hurt. “Why?”

“Remember that time we visited your grandpa at the hospital? How upset you were? How you puked after coming out of his room?”

“I was eleven, for goodness’ sake. And he was hooked up to all those tubes and machines. It was scary.”

“What about the time we were building that tree fort and Davey Wilcox fell out of the maple and busted his leg? You puked then, too.”

“The bone was sticking out of his skin. Jeez, Zach.”

“What about the time—”

“Point made. I get queasy when I see people in pain. I can’t help that. I feel bad.”

Zach reached over and tucked a hank of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t want to put you through that. And before you protest, saying you would have managed, which I know, I didn’t want to put
myself
through that. I had enough on my plate without seeing the worry in your eyes or anyone one else’s. I didn’t want your pity or Uncle Dan’s tough love. I can’t explain exactly, and I don’t want to talk about it. Any of it. I just want to move on.”