The Goodbye Bride (26 page)

His lips parted hers, and she absorbed his moan as his arms tightened. She pressed against him, couldn't get close enough. He made her feel complete, and she hadn't felt that in so long, not since she'd last been in his arms. She could get a job, get a place, get a life, but it wouldn't be complete without Zac. She'd known it all along, down deep inside. She'd tried to convince herself otherwise, but she'd only been fooling herself.

He was her home.

He pulled back until their ragged breaths mingled between them. “I miss you, Lucy. I want you in my life. Let's try again.”

The look in his eyes nearly melted her into a puddle. She'd waited weeks to hear those words, and they were like the sweetest melody in her ears.

“I want that so badly,” she said. “But what—what happened? What changed?”

He rested his forehead against hers. “It was Aunt Trudy. I went over to talk to her about the sheriff. She's so sad. I don't want to live a life of regret. If I let you get away, it'll be the biggest mistake of my life.”

Her eyes burned, and she swallowed hard. “Well, aren't you the sweetest thing.”

“You're the only girl for me, Lucy Lovett.”

“Kiss me.” Her face burned at her boldness, and her eyes found his collar again.

He tipped her chin up until her eyes met his. He lowered his head, brushing her lips slowly, as if he were savoring every moment. She was savoring it too. Could hardly believe she was getting this second chance. He set his hand on her face, his fingers threading into her hair.

This was happening. It was really happening. A curl of joy unfurled in her stomach, making her feel so many wonderful things. Her mind spun with euphoria.

But then troubling thoughts burst in like unwelcome guests into her home. Thoughts of her life in Portland, of her vexing ex-fiancé, of her desertion, which she couldn't even remember. Seven and a half months of her life—a blank slate.

She pushed the worries firmly from her mind. If they could put the past behind them, everything would be just fine. It had to be. She couldn't bear the thought of losing him again.

Chapter 31

L
ucy's eyes popped open. Daylight flooded into her room. A breeze pushed at her curtain, skating over her skin, pebbling her arms with goose bumps. A lingering spicy scent clung to her skin.

Zac.

Memories of the night before came surging to the surface, and a tingly heat spread through her like wildfire.

After the kiss they'd gone up to his apartment and talked awhile. They'd watched a movie, making out whenever the mood struck. And it had struck plenty. She ran her fingers across her swollen lips, across the tender skin on her face where his stubbly chin had rubbed. Her lips tilted in contented pleasure.

Her heart gave a roll at the memory of his hungry eyes, his gentle hands, his pliant lips. But even as butterflies frolicked in her stomach, another feeling lingered just below the surface—the dark expectancy of dread.

What if he woke up this morning and regretted it? He'd been pushing her away for weeks. He'd had one conversation with his aunt, and now everything had changed? But nothing had really
changed. She still didn't remember why she'd left before. Her memory could still come back, and everything could change.

Zac would remember that now. Morning had a way of bringing that kind of clarity.

Her muscles clenched at the thought, and a knot tightened in her belly, strangling every last butterfly. A noise sounded outside her door. She cocked her head, recognizing the clanking of the mop bucket. They'd never gotten around to sweeping and mopping last night.

She got out of bed and headed for the shower, her legs all trembly at the thought of seeing Zac again—and not in a good way. She felt more vulnerable than ever.

Under the showerhead she gave herself a talking-to. She had to pull it together. She had to go out there like nothing had happened the night before. He'd be relieved, and they could both move on.

Something pinched inside at the thought, but she ignored the feeling. She'd see if she could get into her new place, maybe even today. The sooner the better. This wasn't working. How could she be so close to the man she loved and deny herself? It was a fool's mission.

After her shower she dressed in her favorite white shorts and a billowy blouse. She took her time with a minimal amount of makeup, dried her hair straight and fluffed it up. She needed all the confidence she could get.

She stilled her quivering lip.
Chin up, Lucy Lovett. You can do this
.

The ache in her heart belied the thought. She left her room, her legs quaking despite the brave façade she wore. When she walked into the dining room, Zac was taking the chairs from the
tables. It was like a reversal of last night only with a different ending. Much different.

He looked up, smiling.

She returned his smile, looking away before she got caught in his gaze. “Morning, Boss. I'll make us something to eat.” She headed for the kitchen.

“Already did.”

She turned back just before she hit the swing door.

He nodded his head toward the bar where he'd set a covered plate and a tall glass of orange juice.

Something inside warmed and softened. “Oh. Thank you.”

No, no, no. This didn't mean a thing. It was probably a guilt gift so his rejection would go down more easily.

She made her way to the stool while he continued pulling the chairs down. She couldn't get a read on him. Of course, it didn't help that she couldn't seem to look him in the eye.

She felt the heat of his gaze on her back as she chewed. The eggs and bacon tasted like cardboard in her mouth and seemed to lodge in her throat. She ate quickly nonetheless. The sooner she was done, the sooner she could give them both some space. She'd go straight to the apartment office and beg them to let her in today.

She shoveled in the last bite of eggs and stood, gathering her plate and glass. “Thank you for breakfast. I'll just take these to the—”

“Lucy . . .”

The slow strains of a country ballad began, and Lucy's eyes shot to Zac.

He stood over by the jukebox, an enigmatic smile tilting his lips. “Come here.” His voice was as thick as honey.

Her breath caught in her throat. She looked at him sideways. “What?”

He held out his arms in an invitation to dance. “Just come here.”

“It—it's nine o'clock in the morning.”

“I've been waiting weeks to dance with you, and I'm not waiting a second longer.”

Her feet—traitorous little things—moved toward him without the permission of her brain. She tried to look away, but it was too late. He'd already sucked her in and held her prisoner.

She stepped into his arms and he took her hand, moving her in the slow box step they'd done so many times before. Despite their height difference they moved effortlessly together, as if they were one. His hand burned into the small of her back like a brand.

Okay, so he hadn't changed his mind. But he would. Right? Her mind warred with her heart, fear making her rigid. She dragged her eyes to the second button of his shirt.

“So . . . what's going on between Miss Trudy and the sheriff? I mean, their argument . . . did she clear up what happened between them?”

“Turns out they were high school sweethearts.” His voice rumbled low. “Her daddy didn't approve, so they sneaked around. She was stuck at home with her sick mama when he got drafted by the Celtics.”

“So he left her.” She knew all too well what that felt like. The thought put a hard pit in the center of her stomach.

“She's still angry about it.”

“It's a long time to hold a grudge.”

“Have you met Aunt Trudy?”

She understood how the woman felt. By the time she'd been old enough to track down her father, she hadn't even wanted
to. And then it was too late. Even so, she had no regrets. Why would she want someone who'd deserted her when she needed him most?

The song reached a crescendo as the final chorus played. Their bodies moved together flawlessly, his legs brushing hers. When his hand moved on her back, her eyes found his of their own volition. They held for a long, poignant moment.

His eyes dipped down to her lips, and she instinctively wetted them.

No, Lucy. You're not going to kiss him. Be strong.

The battle waging inside agitated her. She lowered her eyes to his shirt. “I'm getting a crick in my neck.” She winced at her Miss Trudy tone.

He bent at the knees, tightening his arms around her, and lifted her off the floor without missing a beat. They were eye-to-eye now, their bodies pressed together, barely swaying.

“Now you're going to get a crick in your back.” The words came out too breathy to serve as the scolding she'd intended.

She braced her hands on his wide shoulders. Her pulse fluttered as their breaths mingled between them.

His lips said nothing, but his eyes said plenty. She couldn't get away from them now. She was close enough to see the flecks of charcoal and a hint of green. Close enough to see the want darkening them.

The final notes played out, sweet and touching. Zac stopped moving and held her there a long moment.

His eyes searched hers. He loosened his hold, his belt buckle scraping her belly as he eased her back onto her feet.

He kept his hands at her waist, loose enough to allow her to flee, but her feet were frozen to the floor.

“Do you regret last night?” His voice was a low rumble in her chest.

“Yes. No. I don't know. I don't rightly know, Zac, I'm just—I'm afraid.” She bit her lip. She hadn't meant to say all that. She didn't want him to know how vulnerable she felt. That made her even more afraid.

He tipped her chin up, and she soaked in the confidence shining in his eyes. “I'm not going anywhere, Lucy. I don't regret last night. I don't regret it at all. The only thing I regret is letting you walk away from me last time.”

The words loosened the knot inside just a bit. Relieved the tension in her shoulders. Tears burned behind her eyes, and a lump formed in her throat. His face blurred as she stared at him.

“Is that what you needed to hear, baby?” he said on a soft breath. “Because I mean it. You don't need to be afraid.”

She nodded, hating the tear that broke loose and trickled down her face. He swept it away with a thumb, lowering to drop a sweet kiss on her lips. The briefest of touches.

He hovered above her, their breaths mingling for a long moment, their eyes meeting. “I'm not going anywhere,” he whispered.

Then he kissed her again. Her hands slid up the solid wall of his chest and wrapped around his neck. How did he know just what to say? She wasn't sure, but her legs quaked with relief. He didn't regret last night. He wasn't leaving her. That was all that mattered. The rest of it—the stalking reporters, the bothersome ex-fiancé—would go away soon enough. Then there'd be just her and Zac, picking up right where they'd left off.

Chapter 32

T
he next week rushed past for Lucy. The warmth of August lured campers and hikers from across the country, and they all seemed to stop at the visitor center for directions and information.

On Wednesday child celebrity Felicity Turner was arrested in Los Angeles for driving under the influence of drugs. The reporters left to chase the national story, leaving Lucy smiling all day.

Zac pulled her into his office when she got home that evening. He gave her a long, slow kiss that made her wish she still worked at the Roadhouse.

“Let's go out Saturday night and celebrate your freedom,” he said when they came up for air.

She gave him a mock scowl. “There's a poor girl out there who's headed for rehab, you know.”

“And there's a pretty girl right here who deserves her privacy.” He took her face in his hands and gave her a quick kiss. “Let's go to the Lobster Hut. You love it.”

“I don't even remember it.”

“We only went once. Your taste buds will still appreciate it.”

That wasn't all her taste buds appreciated, she thought, as he drew her into another kiss.

On Saturday Zac led her inside the restaurant with a hand on the small of her back. She thrilled to his touch, no matter how brief. The tempting aroma of seafood filled the air. The restaurant was energetic with the sounds of happy conversation and hearty appetites.

A few minutes later the host led them to the last empty table, a small one with a beautiful view of the harbor. The ambience was casual and the décor eclectic. No two chairs matched, but the red-checkered tablecloths pulled everything together. Lobster buoys and hurricane lamps hung from weathered gray beams that stretched across a wavy tin ceiling.

She picked up the glossy single-page menu. “It smells good. I'm so hungry I could eat a wet mule.”

“Get the lobster.” He winked. “It's better than mule.”

When the server approached, they ordered their drinks and meals and settled back in their chairs to enjoy the view. A seagull perched on a piling outside the window, staring at them with its dark, round eyes. Another swooped in and snatched a nugget of food from the pier.

Zac took her hand, pulling her attention back to him. He swept his thumb over her knuckles. She'd never tire of the way he looked at her. The way he touched her.

“I'm so glad those vultures are gone,” he said.

“It'll be nice to not have to sneak around anymore. It's a little hard to blend into the community when I'm being tailed by a horde of reporters.”

“Hopefully they got their fill.”

She thought of the articles they'd published that had put her in such a bad light. Her cheeks heated at their insinuations.

He squeezed her hand. “Hey. None of that now. You haven't done anything wrong.”