Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Ellie

I have to repeatedly tell myself to stop staring at my mom's new tenant. Zach took off his sweater and is washing the glass in his t-shirt—an item of clothing so fitted I can count his six-pack. Make that a twelve-pack. Why in the world did I say he could move in today if he helped clean?

Yet, even as I ask that question, I know the answer. I couldn't say no with Troy standing right next to me. He and Kelly have been so good to me that I felt like I had no choice but to let his brother move in today.

Hurrying to take the curtains off the rods, I remind myself that Zach Hart is nothing but an entitled, self-absorbed, womanizing cheapskate. I'm relieved when my phone rings as I am on the way to the window where Zach is working. Turning around, I sit down at the kitchen table with my back to him.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Kiki." My childhood friend, Keira, sounds panicked. "I just heard the most awful rumor."

"What's that?"

"That Dan Roberts is coming back to town to do that charity team Troy Hart is setting up."

"Ah, your high school sweetheart. The one that got away," I tease.

"The very same." She sounds despondent. Poor Kiki. Sometimes I think if she channeled her focus from Dan onto anything else—say, learning a foreign language—she would probably be speaking six different ones by now. Fluently. "I figured you might have heard something from Troy at the arena."

"Dan may have gotten away then , but there's no telling what might happen with him coming back to town."

A low growl emanates from the receiver. "I'm not going to make a play for Dan. He's a gorgeous, famous, amazing hockey player living the high life in Chicago. I'm just a boring hometown girl who runs the local farmers' market. Yawn." Before I can tell her how wonderful she is, she adds, "And besides, there wouldn't be any future in it. It's not like Dan is planning to stick around Maple Falls. He'll be here for the games and then he'll be gone."

" You are gorgeous and amazing, Kiki," I tell my friend. She has never had the self-confidence she should. She's got no idea how beautiful she really is. And smart. "Don't you dare let any man make you feel like you're less than that. Also, you have no idea where Dan is going to end up."

"Uh-huh." She's clearly placating me because she changes the subject. "What are you up to?"

"I'm cleaning the cottage out back. We've rented it to one of Troy's brothers for a couple months."

"Which brother?" She sounds intrigued.

"Zach." I nearly spit his name.

She starts laughing. "The hottie billionaire? Poor you!"

"I loathe him," I remind her.

"I think the lady doth protest too much."

"Are you quoting Shakespeare at me or something?" I ask my bookish friend. Kiki was the nerd in the jock-nerd couple of her and Dan back in high school .

"All I'm saying is that the guy's a smoke show."

"I have to go," I tell her. "The hottie billionaire, as you call him, is outside washing the windows and he missed a spot."

"Wait, what?!"

"I'll fill you in later." I put my phone down and stride out the front door—something I regret doing as soon as I walk around to the side of the house. Zach is standing there in a very wet T-shirt. It's so clingy he might as well not be wearing anything at all. My mouth responds by going as dry as the Sahara.

Zach looks up at me and stops scrubbing the window. "Can I help you?" He sounds vaguely angry, which I like. I'd hate to think he was out here enjoying himself.

I nearly tell him to put his sweater back on, but suddenly I can't seem to talk. The only sound I'm capable of is, "Gah …"

"Excuse me?" He looks concerned.

"Grrrr …" I utter while praying a bolt of lightning will zap through the sky and strike me down.

Zach puts his sponge back into the bucket before walking toward me. "Are you okay?" His caring tone is nearly my undoing.

"Um … yeah … agggg …"

As soon as he's in front of me, he reaches over and touches the side of my mouth to wipe away a trickle of moisture. So much for dry mouth, I'm positively drooling over the guy. The only way to regain my dignity is to succumb to a major cardiac event. Unsure how to go about that, I roll my eyes skyward in a desperate bid the Almighty will take pity on me.

Zach suddenly reaches out and grabs my arms. "Are you having a seizure?"

I only see two options for myself. I could probably come up with more if the blood could get to my brain and allow me to think, but it can't seem to make the journey.

The first thing I can do is to tell Zach my body is betraying my common sense and that I think he's a hunka hunka burning love. Luckily, a tiny voice inside my brain stops me from doing this .

That's why I go with the second option—which is to fake a faint and hope Zach catches me before I hit the ground and hurt myself for real. Being that his hands are already on my arms, I'm hoping his reflexes will be up to the task.

On a wing and a prayer, I collapse with the grace of a lead ballon in triple gravity. Zach's arms wrap around me fiercely and I nearly swoon for real as he pulls me close to his heart. "Ellie, I'm here. I have you."

I want to yell at him to let me go, but as I'm mid pretend swoon, I can't. Zach picks me up—in his arms!—and carries me inside the cottage. I crack my eyelids a fraction to see where he's taking me only to hear him say, "Oh, good, you're awake!" He takes me to the sofa but instead of putting me down, he sits with me still on his lap. It's pure torture.

"You can put me down," I croak.

He doesn't. Instead, he demands, "Are you okay? Should I take you to the hospital?"

The thought of showing up at Maple Falls Memorial fills me with dread and I shiver in response. I cannot afford to fake a stroke. My health insurance deductible is so high I'd have to really be dying to make it worth the amount of money I'd have to fork over for whatever tests they'd run.

Inhaling deeply, I tell him, "I'm good. I just haven't eaten today." I don't mention the three-egg omelet with toast and hash browns I consumed at the diner only three hours ago. Oh, and that piece of blackberry pie. A la mode.

"Is there anything in the kitchen?" he wants to know. "An energy bar, nuts, a stick of jerky?"

I shake my head while inadvertently inhaling his spicy scent—the clove and orange scent makes me dizzy for real. "I told you I haven't gotten to the market yet."

He stands up with me still in his arms and declares, "I'll take you up to your house then. We can get you something there."

There is no way my mom can see me carried into our house by Zachary Hart. No. Way. "I'm fine, thank you. Just put me down. "

"I can't do that. Either I take you up to your house or I take you out for lunch. You decide."

Squirming in his arms, I tell him, "That's not necessary, Zach. Please put me down."

His response is to squeeze tighter.

It appears I have no recourse. "Fine, you can take me to the market, and I'll buy something for lunch."

Walking toward the door, he announces, "We passed a diner on the way here. I'm taking you there first."

I say a small prayer that Shirley May is not pulling a double today. She'd out me for sure if she saw me again so soon. It's not that I care if Zach thinks I'm a liar. It's just that I really need to have the moral high ground here.

Between the two of us, I'm not the bad guy.