Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

LUNA

I t's been nearly two weeks since the barbecue, and I haven't seen Zach at all—not even around our small town. Even though he's been away for years, having him back and so close by makes me want to find excuses to bump into him.

"Miss Johnson, can I have a quick chat?" Principal Michaels calls down the hallway, breaking me from my daydream. It's five on a Friday, and all I want to do is get home and take off my bra.

"Sure thing," I call out with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.

I step into his office and close the door with a click. "What can I do for you, Ted?"

Ted's a character I've always struggled to read and an intense workaholic. I'm not a hundred percent sure he even goes home on the weekends.

He folds his hands in front of him and leans back in his chair as I take a seat opposite. "We're looking for a new head of the arts department, and from what I'm seeing, you're the prime candidate. It's more hours, but it does come with a salary increase. I've seen the progression your students are making under your tuition, and I'd like you to take the reins overall." He sits forward and clasps his hands together on the desk, holding eye contact. "How does that sound?"

I swallow thickly. I half expected to be hauled in here to explain why a dozen of my students' papers are being handed back late from marking. Never this, never a promotion. "That, um, that sounds like a great opportunity. Thank you."

A wry smile crosses his face as he leans back in his chair once more. "Excellent. I'll be in touch about the next steps, but you're doing a great job, Luna."

Standing up, I grab my bag. "Thank you. Have a nice weekend." I tear out of the office and make for the parking lot, my veins beating with adrenaline at the news.

Climbing into my car, I crank it, my phone connecting to the Bluetooth, and I dial Mom's number. She answers in a flustered tone. "Hey Luna, I'm just in the middle of something. Is it urgent?"

Like a balloon left in front of a fire, I deflate. She's always "too busy."

"I-I was just calling you to let you know that I?—"

"Can it wait, honey?" she interjects.

"Yeah, don't worry about it. We can talk later."

"Okay, bye!"

She'll never change. My mom has always been the same when there's a new guy on the scene, and the latest man in her life is taking all her time. I'm happy for her, and I'm a grown-ass adult, living in my own place, but sometimes, I wish there was room for me too.

My intention was to drive home and collapse in a heap of comfort food, but a last-minute diversion has me heading away from my house and toward the beach. I only swim in the ocean first thing in the morning, but that's not why I'm going—it's been too long since I saw him, and my curiosity has won out.

The sand warms my feet as I make my way down and toward the ocean. I can see Zach's beach house, which is a good two hundred yards away, but I can't make out any movement on the veranda.

The lapping waves feel soothing as they wash against my tired, aching feet from the busy week at school. Summer break is fast approaching, and I can't wait to have each day to myself for the next two and a half months. A chance to do things like this and not stalk Zach. Definitely not . Because that's just plain weird, Luna.

As I keep walking along the relatively peaceful shoreline, there are a few families packing up from their day at the beach, and it's not lost on me that now I'm in my early thirties, I'm still no closer to having a family of my own, which is something I want. One day. When you're an only child and your parents separate, it limits the size of your family in a big way. A family I've craved my whole life.

A tall broad figure is in the distance, running at a glacial pace across the sand.

Oh. My. God. It's Zach, shirtless and dressed only in a pair of Scorpions training shorts.

As he moves closer, he clearly recognizes me and starts waving. His thick, muscular, tattooed upper body glistens with sweat, and when he gets twenty feet from me, I can see and appreciate the destination of those droplets. They trickle straight down below his low riding waistband, where a dusting of brown hair begins and leads to places I'm sure many women have dreamt about, including me.

"Hey," I say, keeping my tone as unaffected as possible. But really, all I want to tell him is how his name rhymes aptly with snack since that's exactly what he is.

He lifts his backward cap from his head and runs a hand through his sweat-soaked hair before replacing it. Jesus.

"Hey, didn't expect to see you down here tonight. Is there another barbecue or something?"

Zach casts his eyes over my body, and it's then I realize I'm still wearing my not so beach-appropriate black work pants and white blouse.

I feel my face flush with heat. "Oh no, not tonight. Sometimes I come down here to unwind after school. Nice way to round off a week."

And sometimes I come down here to see you.

He eyes me and smiles. His full lips are addictive, and his straight white teeth shine in the sunlight. It's hard to tell where the ocean ends and his eyes begin, since on a bright day, like today, they both shine the same color.I'm not sure if I was staring, but I forcibly look to the ground, just in case I was.

"I've just finished my run, but how about I make us something to eat? I'm sure I owe you food after that breakfast drop off."

I look back up and meet his gaze, and I can tell he genuinely wants to spend time with me. "Yeah, why not. And you can show me around your place!"

We fall into line as I try desperately not to show my physical reaction when he swings an arm around my shoulder and leads me in the direction of his beach house. "You know you're all sweaty, right?" I prod at his tattooed arm.

Zach low chuckles and glances down at me. "Call it payback for wrinkling up my new shirt and shorts when you wrapped yourself around me the other week."

Maybe I should feel a hint of embarrassment at the reminder of the way I dived right for him, but I don't. Instead, I feel butterflies that he actually remembered.

"I think I can make a frittata," Zach says from his position at the fridge. He has his head inside, looking at what's available.

I laugh. "I guess these days you have a private chef."

He turns back to the counter, his arms loaded with various ingredients. "Yeah, well that and Jon. At this point, I could just pay him instead; he stocks my freezer weekly."

I set my juice down on the coffee table in front of me and kick off my work shoes. "You guys are still pretty close, huh?"

He nods. "Very. He's my brother. We've had our moments, but we're close. When you're on the road sharing hotel rooms or at practice practically twenty-four seven, it brings people together."

"Yeah, I guess," I reply, drawing out the guess because I can't relate to that. Neither the friendship thing nor the traveling. I've been on vacation to Europe, but mostly with my mom.

"Dammit, what goes in the base again?" Zach says from his position at the counter as he scrolls through his phone, clearly looking for instructions.

I can't help but burst out laughing as I make my way over to him and take his phone. "Come here, you big dope. It's not that difficult. You've been spoiled in this luxury lifestyle of yours." I nudge my shoulder into his side. I'm that small in comparison. He towers over me, and I kind of like it. A lot.

"And you're still just as bratty as ever," he retorts, grabbing several vegetables and a pan ready to begin sautéing.

"You do know frittatas are for breakfast, right?"

"I do. But since they're the only ingredients I have, and the only thing I thought I could make, sticking to frittata rules isn't exactly an option."

I look up at him and quirk an amused brow . "Thought being the operative word."

He shakes his head and laughs. "I'll make you wear this fucking frittata in a minute."

If that involves putting those tattooed hands on me, then be my guest.

Zach continues chopping vegetables with a blunt knife, but the way he seems determined to finish what he started is seriously endearing. The way he checks and fights people on the ice, you'd never believe he was such a softy off it.

A few struggling minutes later, we finally reach a point where the frittata is ready to be plated.

"Do you like cooking?" he asks from across the island, "Because this isn't half bad, and I never had you pinned as a chef." He takes another mouthful, humming in appreciation.

"It was fifty percent of your work, but I guess I'm not bad. It doesn't really interest me though."

His lips twist to the side slightly. "So, it's still space and how we get there?"

I take another sip of juice and smile around the rim of my glass. He does remember.

"Yeah, mostly the constellations right now, but astrodynamics still fascinates me. I watched the latest Falcon Heavy launch just before you arrived here." I arch a brow. "Those side boosters get me every time."

Zach drops his fork to his plate and laughs. "You're so random. I literally have no idea what's going to come out of your mouth next."

I pin him with a playful glare. "Says the man who chases a biscuit around a slippery surface for a living."

His lips shake with the laughter he's trying desperately to hold back. "I reckon your sass alone would be enough to fuel a mission to Mars." Then he stands and rounds the counter before rubbing a rough hand through my slightly frizzy hair as he passes. "You're like my pocket rocket or something."

My body tingles all over.

But I'm not sure if it's from his physical touch or the way Zach Evans just gave me a nickname.

ZACH

"So, how many bedrooms has this place got?" Luna asks. We're sitting on the small couch in the living room, and with my size taking up most of it, she might as well be on my lap. Her proximity and sweet vanilla scent are doing things to me that friends never should.

I push away the thoughts before they have time to bloom. "Just two, but only one is usable at the moment. I don't see the point in buying furniture when I need to rip the entire floor up since it's rotten in most rooms."

"Sounds like a big reno. Will you sell it afterward?"

"Unlikely. Yeah, I bought it for A—" I stop myself from saying her name. She's out of my life, and there's no point going over old ground.

"Amie?" Luna finishes for me before scoffing. "She didn't deserve you."

I nod slowly. "Yeah, especially after she cheated and got herself pregnant." Luna doesn't know about the potential pregnancy and paternity test results. I planned to keep the whole thing to myself and a couple of friends, but the words leave my mouth faster than I can stop them. "I recently found out the baby isn't mine."

Her mouth hangs agape at the bombshell I just dropped. "That fucking bitch."

"Something like th?—"

Luna wraps her arms around my neck, almost straddling me in the process, and the way my dick twitches, I know I need this to stop fast because one, I'm not entertaining women, ever. Two, this is my friend, and my dick is being a traitorous asshole. And three, she's my friend's ex—a friend who clearly still has feelings for her.

Luna Johnson is off-limits for all kinds of reasons.

She takes a calming breath before she speaks again. "If you want to talk about it then I'm here. But I wouldn't blame you if you just want to forget she ever existed." She looks around the beach house. "I say renovate this place and keep it. Just because she fucked you over doesn't mean you should sell it." Pulling away from the hug, I drop my hands that involuntarily made their way to her lower back.

Offering me one of her bright smiles, she continues, "It's perfectly positioned and will be a great place for you to visit and unwind in the offseason."

Luna stands and walks toward the sliding glass door that leads out onto the veranda. The sun is starting to set and shines a gorgeous glow on the horizon. Opening the doors and stepping out, she makes her way to the edge and rests her arms on the railings. "You can't give up a view like this."

I come to stand next to her and inhale the refreshing salty breeze. A lock of her auburn hair dances in the corner of my vision, and I take in the way the retreating sun complements her features perfectly.

Even if nothing else works out this summer, I know I've rekindled an invaluable friendship with a very special woman.

A few more beats pass as we listen to the crashing waves before Luna speaks again. "I don't know if your dad and Luke plan to help you with this place, but I have time. I know I'm not exactly great with DIY, but I can paint, skim, and use a hammer."

"You have teaching," I reply, slightly taken aback by her offer.

"Nah-eh, summer break starts next week, and other than some lesson planning, I'm a free agent."

"Well…I'll need to get some stepladders," I say, trying to keep my face as straight as possible.

She shoots me an unamused look. "And I'll be able to reach all the places your oversized ass can't get to, so it's the perfect combination."

I lean my forearms on the railing and nod to myself, my gut telling me this is a great and a terrible idea all at once. "Okay, Rocket; you're on."