The Next Day (Foothills Book 2) Page 13

  “Okay,” he nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Even with her eyes sparking, she was a siren.

  Mirroring his amusement as she finished her diatribe, she smiled and shook her head. His coffee sputtered complete, and she slid it across the island, then nodded to sit outside. They sat on the rockers and gazed out at the morning. This… this he could do every day.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket. Shifting his coffee to his left hand, he pulled out his phone and saw Asher’s name. “Hey,” he answered.

  “Hey, man. Tell me, how goes married life?” Cringing, he took a slow exhale, reminding himself of the number of times Asher had saved his ass, and decided to let him get away with the smartass remark.

  “Shove it.” At his side, Freya smiled, listening in. He rolled his eyes at her and smiled.

  “Seriously, sucks to have it go down that way. Freya holding up okay?”

  Watching her reactions, the laughter in her ocean blues. “You know Freya. I can’t picture anything that would bring her down.” Piss her off, yes, but ruin her buoyant humor? Not a chance.

  “Got that right. I’m leaving Burien as we speak; I get the weekend off. Want to grab a drink at Ahab’s when I get back?”

  Zane tried to picture the place, having only seen it on various errands into town. Quirky bar, very touristy, lots of energy. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

  Raising her hand, Freya motioned that she wanted an invitation.

  “Freya wants to come. That cool?”

  “Totally. I’ll call Sophie and we’ll make it a thing. I mean, not a double date thing, but, you know.”

  “Cool. Hey, is there a barbershop nearby?”

  “Yeah, drop into Sal's anytime. He'll fix your ugly mop.”

  When they ended the call, Freya was still watching him, her face adorably contorted in smile-meets-grimace. “We’re never going to live this down.”

  “Nope. May as well make the most of it,” he shrugged. “Shit, that reminds me. My dad left me a message while I was in the shower. I think he’s trying to schedule something.”

  She laughed out loud. “At least I don’t have to pretend to be your wife.”

  Shaking his head, he cringed. “Hopefully they’ll stay in Seattle and we can have one dinner with them and that’s it.”

  A few hours later, perfect time for a late lunch and to dodge the crowds, they pulled into Ahab’s. “What is this place again?” he asked. Shit, the parking lot was packed. Did this town ever slow down?

  Freya slipped her hand into his. He ought to argue, but he couldn’t. Friends held hands. Of course, they probably didn’t get off on the electricity of the simple gesture, but the judge didn’t need to know that. Halting in front of him, she reached up and ruffled her other hand in his hair and grinned, “I'm glad he left the cowlick. Good cut.”

  He smiled stupidly, like a pup that had pleased its person.

  “Ahab's is a classic. Whaler themed and hokey and relaxed.”

  “I’m not having more than one beer.”

  She exhaled and nodded dramatically, “I think I learned my lesson. Which I have learned many times in my life, but every so often, you have to mess up again. But this one should cure me for a long, long time.”

  As they walked inside, he was immediately struck by the absurd character of the place. Fishing nets, detailed murals of epic whaling scenes, boats hanging from the ceilings. The server twirled to them, “Two?”

  He nodded toward Grady and another guy–must be Lincoln–at the far end of the room. He’d seen him in a few photos of Asher’s family back in San Diego, including the very traditionally staged engagement photos of Pippa and Lincoln. Asher had only mentioned the four of them; wonder what happened. A bubbling bundle of energy came up behind them, tearing Freya away.

  Jumping up and down, Pippa squealed in one rapid breath, “Congratulations I’m so excited.”

  Freya’s eyes went wide, looking at Pippa as if she were nuts. “About?”

  Flaring her arms out wide, Pippa cheered, “You got married.”

  In a sarcastic sing-song tone, Freya shook her head, “And I’m getting an annulment.”

  Scowling, Pippa snorted. “I know. I’m going to keep hoping you change your mind.”

  Turning, she nearly bumped into Zane, having already knocked into him in her enthusiasm. “Sorry, Zane. How are you? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I happened to have called Asher on his way here to see how training went, and, well, the rest of us jumped on board for a much-needed relaxing afternoon.”

  He nodded, dumbfounded and speechless at the peppiness of Asher’s sister.

  They pushed through the crowd and settled at the high-top table in the corner. Pippa slid in next to Lincoln and he pulled her close, whispering something in her ear. Zane snagged one of the seats in the corner, Freya joining him. A moment later, Asher and Sophie came in and took the other seats on the wall-side.

  A pitcher of beer appeared on the middle of the table, the server returning with a plate of sliders and another of quesadillas.

  Grady started pouring, his face dark like he was debating saying something.

  Zane nudged him, “What’s up?”

  “Didn’t know if you wanted any updates in public.”

  “If you have an update, I want it.”

  “Right before I left the office, I confirmed your court date. Not bad, it’s in three weeks.”

  Nodding, Zane exhaled with a sigh of… relief. It was definitely relief. Regret wouldn’t make any sense. “Great. We can handle that.” He slid his hand under the table and laced his fingers with Freya.

  Her head bobbed with enthusiastic agreement. “That’s not bad.” Beer untouched, no food on her plate, she scooted back in her stool. “I’m going to go wash up. Back in a sec.”

  That brightness from this morning had faded. She must be relieved, right? The crowd engulfed her. He gave it a minute. And another. Excusing himself, he made his way through the vacation-buzzed tourists and billiard tables, more high-tops, until he reached the bathrooms.

  Waiting outside the door labeled Mermaids, he debated if she was alone in there. Nope. Not going to be the guy that barges in looking for his invalid wife. He felt creepy enough, waiting outside the women’s bathroom in a darkened hallway, tipsy tourists filing in and out.

  She’d been so easygoing about this whole thing, hadn’t even railed with one of her furious tirades. When she’d released his hand and retreated so serenely, he knew something was up. Right before he gave up and stormed in anyway, she came out. “Zane,” she gasped as she looked up and saw him waiting.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah. This whole thing is so weird.”

  A trio of women weaved between them. Once they passed, he said, “Know what you mean.”

  Straightening her dress, she sighed, “It seemed so easy, to declare it invalid. No, it wouldn’t have happened if we were in our right minds, but still, I had a great time otherwise.” A guy passed through them and into the Sailor’s room. Once he’d disappeared, she said, “The timing is awful, to be going through this right now, when you’re trying to figure out what you want, and I’ve got so much going on.”

  When their server came down the hallway, trying to decide to go between them or around, a pair of women with full bladders behind her, he could have backed up again, but his brain was so haywire these days, he grabbed Freya and pulled her out of the way, right into his arms. Her breasts, pelvis… everything pasted against him to make room for the crowd. All the blood flooding south in a rush of throbbing heat, he clutched her hips and held on for dear life.

  She melted into him, her eyes swimming with every reason this wasn’t as easy as they’d both been banking on. As he moved to release her, another pair of women came down the hall. Freya plastered herself against him again. Damn, she smelled so good; she’d hit the shops while he got a haircut, and she smelled like lavender and sage, fresh and earthy and of everything home should b
e.

  Biting the corner of her lip, her gaze dropped to his lips. Breath coming fast, heat radiating from every point of contact, he leaned in.

  Movement at the end of the hall shattered what shouldn’t have been a moment to begin with. Pippa held out his phone, an apologetic smile on her face. “Sorry to interrupt. Zane, your phone’s been blowing up. Your dad’s calling.”

  Shit. He released Freya and she brushed past Pippa, her hand grazing her cousin’s shoulder on the way by. Pippa looked devastated to have interrupted, her brow scrunched with sincere apology. Asher had described her as sensitive, but Zane suspected she took every emotion in the room personally.

  “Thanks,” he said. He played the voicemails as he walked back to the table. Stomach churning, pulse pounding in his skull, he slumped back into his seat. He looked at Freya, “My parents will be here in two weeks.”

  Hand linked with his as they eased back to the table, she nodded, “Okay. Whatever you need.”

  He dropped onto his stool and added, “And they want to stay at my place for the weekend.”

  “Why?”

  “Fuck if I know. Apparently everywhere in Foothills is booked for the rest of the summer, and they wanted to be close so we can go hiking and all that touchy-feely bullshit. Not a good time to decide to be parents of the year.”

  “Ugh,” she groaned. “We’ll make it work.”

  He turned to the rest of the table, “My parents are crazy. I may have told them I got married to get them off my back, which may actually have been what precipitated the drunk idea in the first place, and, well, shit, they’re coming for a visit. Mind pretending that we didn’t get trashed and elope and are looking to have this annulled? But that we actually know each other?”

  Asher laughed out loud, nearly crying in his enjoyment. “What’s your story?”

  Eyebrow raised in a plotting nod, a little spooky like she was accustomed to scheming, Freya locked eyes with Zane, “Naturally, I’d go visit Asher regularly, and you came home with him a number of times. It was love at first sight. We wrote to each other while I travelled, and while you were deployed, you’d sneak messages to me. Of course, we regularly engaged in phone sex and sending naked pictures. Now and again we’d meet up in some far corner of the world and make love until dawn.”

  “Naturally,” he nodded, suppressing the groan as he listened to her sultry voice describing what would have been an ideal relationship, particularly the globally-separated erotica where there would be no pressure to be home in time for dinner or offense that he hadn’t called on time, even when he’d been entrenched in a mission.

  “Then the day you got out, you said the word and I came home, as I’d been planning. I met you halfway and we tied the knot in Tahoe.”

  Sophie smiled. “Sounds incredibly romantic. And suits you both.”

  Sitting back, Grady sipped his beer, the corners of his mouth turned down. Pippa nudged him, “Don’t be such a downer.”

  He shrugged, “Going to be risky, pretending to be married. You might not get that annulment if you get caught. Marriages are rarely declared invalid anyway, so it won’t take much to have it denied. I mean, a divorce would be more straightforward since you have no shared assets.”

  A pit forming in his gut, Zane shook his head, “I can’t go through another divorce. Even a clean cut one.”

  “Just keep a low profile.” Grady took a long pull on his beer, then stared at the glass for a minute. “This isn’t nearly as good as the beer Asher brought over.”

  “That’s half the reason I make my own.”

  “What’s the other half?” Grady asked.

  “Gives me something to think about. Takes focus and patience. And it’s never monotonous. Doesn’t always turn out the way I intend. Sometimes it’s predictably acceptable. Other times, I go to all that work and it tastes like feet. Or, maybe a recipe gone wrong turns out to be fantastic.”

  “Did you know we don’t have any craft breweries in Foothills? Nearest is in North Bend. With the number of tourists we have here in Foothills alone? Not to mention the folks passing through on their way to the trails and national parks? Craft brewing is huge in Washington. There’s a market.”

  “Really?” Zane’s chest clenched around that odd pang again. A hope that had the power to crush him if gave in to it.

  Nodding, Grady snagged a slider from the tray. “Really. Just saying. I mean, it’s mostly selfish; I like good beer.”

  As the pang sank into his gut, it wrenched and folded over on itself. Cool idea, but probably more than he could manage.

  Asher kicked his foot. “Dude,” he scowled. “You were always the first guy out of the plane when the clock was ticking. Always pulled more than your own weight, even when the rest of us wanted to give up.” His amber eyes flooded, and he added softly, “And the one that ran into the rubble to get to Jack and the other guys that had fallen.”

  Clenching his jaw, he muttered. “Yeah.”

  “Yeah,” Asher leaned his elbows on the table, hands in his hair. “Things are a hell of a lot scarier in the civilian world. Less black and white, not life or death but risky all the same. I’ve still got your back.”

  Fingers still laced with his under the table, Freya gave a gentle squeeze, her warmth keeping his blood pumping when it threatened to stop.

  Pippa smiled, “You always brought my brother back home. Anything you need, I’m there.”

  Grady took a long gulp, then added, “You’ve already got a hell of a team to get it off the ground, if that’s what you decide. An accountant, an artist, legal advice, and, well, if you’re open, I’d love to be involved.”

  Lincoln grinned, “And a cop if you get your ass in trouble. A teacher if you need a scolding now and again.” Pippa jammed her elbow into his side. Grunting at the impact, he added, “But seriously, Pippa can plan anything. Terrifying for all involved, but it will get done and be done right.”

  Feeling that pang surface from the pit of his stomach, Zane swallowed before it slammed into his throat and forced his eyes to water. He nodded, jaw clenched tight, words completely inadequate.

  14

  Dirty Laundry

  “Flowers and ruffles, pink and skimpy, or black and sleek?” Freya stared blankly at the swimsuits she’d laid out on her bed.

  Sophie rubbed her chin in exaggerated contemplation. “Although the flowers are fun, a bit too tropical. The pink skimpy is damn sexy, but not family friendly. The black accents your eyes nicely and is low risk for wardrobe malfunction, yet is still hot.”

  “You may be onto something.” She stuffed the black suit into her bag and added a cotton sundress from her closet. Not that she was worried about what to wear, but, well, she needed to look good. Something about ending a marriage that dragged her self-esteem in a downward dump.

  As Sophie strolled out to grab her own swim stuff, Freya pulled her hair back into a messy bun, slipping her feet into her nearly-disintegrated flip-flops and headed for the front door. She called out as she opened the door, “Meet you outside.”

  From the main bedroom, Sophie hollered back, “I’ll be out in five.”

  Turning too late as she dashed outside, she slammed into a brick wall. Crashing smack-dab into Zane, he grunted on impact, catching her against him and steadying them both. “Hi,” he murmured.

  “Hi,” she whispered as her eyes met his, more out of breath from the gleam in his expression than the collision. Clearing her throat, she stepped back and politely nodded. “Ready?”

  His head tilted as he uttered a simple, “Yeah. Sophie riding with us?”

  She nodded again, fearing she’d reached full bobblehead. It was either that or lace her arms back around his middle and steal a taste of those pouty lips. Not many guys had such suckable lips that said everything his words, or lack thereof, didn’t. “Asher’s already there helping Denise with the hors d’oeuvres.”

  “Damn, he’s really working on this responsible thing, huh?”

  Standing awkw
ardly with a precise eighteen inches separating them, she nodded again, “As the party is for you, she said he had to help since she doesn’t know your favorite foods.”

  “You too. I believe she called it a Welcome Home party for both of us.”

  “Yes, but I have been to their house many times already this summer because of Pippa’s wedding. They’ve got a great place for entertaining. The pool is huge; I suspect they built it in an effort to keep Asher out of trouble. But the patio has plenty of seating and the barbeque is massive enough to feed an army.”

  “I hate crowds.”

  “You know everyone that will be there. Just my parents, Asher’s of course, you and me, Asher and Sophie, and Pippa and Lincoln.”

  “Guess that’s not so bad.” He paused, his jaw ticking madly–a tell that she had already learned meant that he was holding back his words until he figured out how to say something potentially controversial without offending anyone. “Do your folks know?”

  “I didn’t tell them.”

  “Bad enough there will be a crowd, but the in-laws?” He faked a whole-body shiver, the corner of his mouth quirked up in ornery enjoyment of his own joke.

  She burst out laughing at the awkwardness of the gesture. Unable to resist, she closed the distance between them and nuzzled into his neck. Inhaling as many Zane-molecules as possible, she savored. “How bad were your in-laws before?”

  Without pause, his arms wrapped fully around her. “Actually, they weren’t that bad. Better than my parents anyway. My parents thought she was perfect, like as a couple, we were to be their perfect clones. But Blaire’s parents would flat-out call her on her nagging, or if she complained about money or dragged me out to some party that she knew I’d hate.”

  “Not just a PTSD thing then, you’ve never liked crowds?”

  “Hell no. As you saw, it’s a lot worse now. Not just a dislike, but genuine meltdown.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “As nothing seems to scare you, I’m hiding behind you.”