EIGHT

Zane drove along Main Street and noted that the charming storefronts and friendly townspeople didn't grate against his nerves like when he'd first arrived.

Was his original plan about to be revised? It seemed plausible now that circumstances appeared to be changing.

And by circumstances, he, of course, meant Olivia.

And her extremely dangerous mouth.

After finishing the fair, they'd barely made it to her front porch before acting like they had an hour left on earth and needed to make the most of it.

Did hours of kissing and groping change a person irrevocably?

Was it possible to become besotted in seven days?

An involuntary snort escaped, and he knew asking himself such ludicrous questions was a waste of time if the way his heart was acting indicated anything. Not that he'd let that particular organ have a say in anything.

Flexing his fingers, he told himself that what he and Olivia had was just a physical thing. Plain and simple. They were two healthy adults enjoying what the good Lord had put them on the earth to do. Nothing less and nothing more.

Mentally patting himself on the back for the fine explanation, he hunkered down behind his well-constructed emotional walls. Perhaps if he stayed long enough, he could pretend that the small connection he was beginning to experience was nothing more than an inconvenience.

No need to make more of it than there was. Tapping his finger against the steering wheel, he pulled into the hardware store"s parking lot and shifted his focus to the never-ending to-do list the family manse produced.

He slid into a parking space and was immediately assaulted with the smell of wet asphalt. The distinctive scent that lingered after rain fell on dry soil shot him back to the moment he'd boarded the plane without the three men he'd been responsible for. The all too familiar slide show of the horrific events that led to the loss of his brothers-in-arms slid across his mind, making a full breath impossible.

He'd been six feet off his target when the blast of hot air knocked him back with unexpected momentum. It was supposed to be a routine patrol op. But it ended up being one of the worst days of his career. They were in contact within ten minutes and did what they could to evade the grenade thrown into the middle of their fire team. His best friend rushed to meet the deadly explosion rather than avoid it. It was a sacrifice that should have been his. Was he ever going to be free of the guilt for failing to bring his men home?

The pressure in his chest eased after several attempts to drag air into his lungs. He leaned forward, resting his chin on the steering wheel, and studied the store"s brick wall.

A hard truth slid through his gut, and he knew that if he and Liv were ever going to have a chance, he had to do something about the memories and guilt that ruled his life.

Not that he was considering it since he'd dismissed the idea a minute ago. But calling the Army shrink he'd spoken to all those months ago might not be the worst idea in the world. Hell, if for no other reason than to get his night terrors under control. Something his dead relatives would be sure to appreciate.

He groaned quietly at the prospect of digging into the cesspool his mind had become and pushed himself out of his truck. Was there another option?

Hearing his name, he glanced up and saw two women waving in his direction. He gave them both a tip of his chin and then hightailed it toward the hardware store.

What tear in the space-time continuum caused two attractive ladies to be so friendly? Out of all the Hawker brothers, he'd never been the one to garner women"s attention and didn't think the scars he now bore had changed that.

He shook his head, decided it was probably a one-time thing, and opened the wide wooden door of the store. "Better," he mumbled as he cruised up the central aisle. The selection of drills caught his attention, and he picked up one he'd seen online and studied the bit.

"That's one of our most popular," a high-pitched voice informed him. "You want me to show you what it can do?"

Looking down, he studied a teenager with shocking pink braids and oversized glasses. "No thanks."

"Are you refusing because I'm a girl and assume I don't know anything about power tools, or because you're just browsing while the family ghosts have a rager?"

"Neither," he replied firmly. "And what do you know about the Hawker ghosts anyway?"

"A lot more than you'd probably guess." She pushed her hand out. "I'm Zelda, and this is my family's store."

"Nice to meet you." He shook the girl"s small hand gently. "Guessing you're operating off town gossip, and anything I have to add will be superfluous."

Zelda pulled a stick of gum out of her overalls and unwrapped it. "I've been known to keep my ear to the ground and have amassed a nice pile of facts. But don't be shy ‘cause I could always use more."

Zane set the drill on the shelf and crossed his arms. "Is this a fishing expedition or a desire to confirm already acquired intel?"

"Both." She pushed the gum into her mouth. "And if you could give me the down-low on the gossip that suggests you and your brother are the hot tickets in town and women far and wide are scheming ways to get an invite to your place, I'd appreciate it."

"Really?"

Zelda nodded and then blew a bubble. "Also, feel free to comment on," she leaned closer, "how you got Olivia to kiss you in front of God and everyone."

Why was the idea of him and Olivia kissing all that alarming? He narrowed his gaze. "Has the beauty and beast thing put everyone back on their heels?"

"No," Zelda said with a smirk. "Olivia hasn't dated much since the tragedy, and…"

"Wait, what tragedy?"

"Oops, maybe I wasn't supposed to say anything." She took several steps back with her Converse squeaking against the linoleum. "Forget I said anything."

"I'd rather not," he called out to Zelda's retreating figure. He ran his hand over his neck and decided he would have to figure out that piece of Olivia's puzzle soon.

A large man with red hair and a matching beard approached. "Welcome to Haven Hardware."

"Thanks," Zane murmured, accepting the man's outstretched hand.

"I'm Allen, and that was my daughter who just," he lifted his fingers and made quotations, "spilled the beans and now has to regroup."

"Didn't notice any bean spilling."

Allen clapped Zane on the back. "I doubt that's true, but I appreciate you suggesting otherwise. He crossed his arms over his barrel chest. "Did you come in for a new set of wrenches? I figure you need a smaller one since the engine on the Ferris wheel is packed tighter than a can of tuna."

Doing his best to acclimate to the rate at which information flew around the small town, he tried to remember what else was on his list. "I actually could use a smaller set and some…"

"Shims," Allen finished. "That old house you got is about as even as my wife's temper, and I bet those cabinets you installed have settled a lot more than you were planning on."

Zane snorted. "My God, man, is there anything you don't know?"

"If you asked my beloved bride, she'd give you an earful, but since she's busy at the Paint and Sip, I'll say absolutely not." He hitched his thumb over his shoulder. "Follow me, and I'll grab the stuff you need. I'll include some caulk since Olivia's windows are about due."

He followed Allen down the center of the store. "Olivia and I are…"

All six feet four inches of the town, psychic skidded to a stop and spun around. "Please tell me you're not planning on letting an incredible opportunity pass you by."

Staggered that Allen had any opinion about his and Olivia's budding friendship, he tried to respond and found he couldn't. "It's not…"

"As the town's occasional arbiter of love advice, it's my job to gently remind you that being the guy on the train is not a story you want any part of."

"What train?"

Allen lifted his eyes to the ceiling, mumbled something, and then returned his gaze to Zane. "It's not a literal train, but one that represents opportunity."

Unsure whether to be pissed or amused that he appeared to need metaphors, he waited for whatever bit of wisdom the man was about to lay down. "I'm listening."

Allen leaned against a display and cleared his throat. "The man who hesitates loses. The man who finds himself in the company of a beguiling woman and does nothing will likely be haunted by that what-if for longer than anyone would like. Don't be that guy. If you encounter a woman on a train, in the street, or just down the road from your house that makes the word irresistible run round and round in your head, for all that is good and right in the world, do something. Anything. Even if it's only an awkward, fumbling, poorly thought out gesture."

Not wanting to encourage more feedback, he nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Please do, because the last thing this town needs is another sad sop parking his rear on a barstool at Jaspers. We've got plenty of bachelors who couldn't navigate the road to love, and believe me, that isn't a group you want to join."

Before he could respond, Allen turned and headed toward the back of the store. "Meet me at the counter, and I'll bring the stuff you need."

"Indeed." He scraped his hand over his head and walked toward the back counter.

Running the advice over in his mind, he rejected more than half of it because he was a man who'd always acted decisively and without a trace of dithering. If he wanted something, he damn well went out and got it. And as for Olivia, he couldn't escape the woman's presence if he wanted to. She was everywhere.

Which meant that he needed to get his mind right because summoning the effort to avoid her and the crazy chemistry they shared was becoming more difficult by the moment.

A thing that could easily lead to disaster for both of them.

Olivia leaned against the kitchen counter and watched Zane drop his head against the steering wheel of his truck.

Should she go out and see if he was okay?

Would that be too intrusive if he were in the middle of a freak-out?

Feeling Bella lean in, she looked down. "We're going to give him a little space. Running out there fluttering and fussing will only make him resist us that much more."

Bella didn't appear convinced, and she knew it was time to lead by example. How could she command her dog to have restraint if she couldn't do the same?

Digging her toes into the rag rug under her feet, she watched the man who had parked himself squarely in the center of her very naughty dreams.

Perhaps he was having some kind of flashback?

Or worse—composing a speech about wanting just to be friends.

Could he be replaying the mind-bending make-out session they'd shared? Because she sure had. Resting her chin on her clasped hands, she closed her eyes and let every delectable detail play on a loop. The man was a master and had made lust tear through her limbs like a runaway train.

His tight-fisted control had slipped for a handful of minutes the previous evening, and it had been delicious enough to make her want to dedicate all her free time to making it possible again and again.

She bit her bottom lip. "Please don't let him end this thing before we start." Bella barked in agreement as her cell phone rang. She saw her grandmother's name pop up and slid her finger across the screen. "Grams, I'm very busy staring at the man who has turned my world upside down."

"And how is that working out for you, darling?"

"About as good as you'd expect."

"Well, don't fret. The way he looked at you yesterday suggests he's all but enamored with your fine mind, razor-sharp wit, and delicious kindness."

"Half the female population of Haven managed to cram their numbers into his hand yesterday, so his momentary interest might very well have disappeared." She pushed herself away from the window. "He's been sitting in his truck for five minutes with his head against the steering wheel."

"He could be doing some light meditation."

"Zane is like one long exposed nerve, and the chances of him being into breath work is about as likely as me discovering a love of math."

"Maybe he's composing a nice sonnet to seduce you with."

"Are you even trying to make me feel better?" She frowned. "He's probably having an old-fashioned freak-out and coming up with a sad sack of fibs to get rid of me. Men like options, and, as of yesterday, he had a pocketful." A gust of disapproval found its way through the glass of her phone, and she knew Margret wouldn't let that comment go.

"You are not an option, Olivia Elaine Bennett. And any man who thinks that is not worthy of your time and attention. The only people worth investing in are the ones who see your value and show it in deed and action. If this boy is incapable of seeing you're a treasure, then he's not the one. Period."

"Zane is not a boy. He's a full-grown man with a chest full of regret, a heart filled with pain, and a mind tortured by memories. I may simply not be his cup of tea."

"And if that's the case, better to know sooner than later."

"Are we sure about that?"

"Yes, my sweet girl."

"That's what I was afraid of." She smoothed out her shirt. "I guess it's time to go out and face the music."

"Indeed."

Seeing the top of Zane's head resting against his steering wheel told her it was likely a tune she would care for. "What did you call for, anyway?"

"I want you and your sister to come to lunch tomorrow so we can concoct a plan to get your mama and the sheriff out on a date again."

"Our attempts at playing cupid last year failed miserably. Is it something we should try again?"

"Absolutely. My daughter may have the disposition of a mule, but that doesn't mean we can't overcome it and make a second chance at love possible."

"I suppose the six months that have passed since our last attempt might very well be enough to lull her into a false sense of complacency."

Grams snorted. "Exactly. Be here at twelve, and let's see what kind of devious…I mean, effective love trap we can come up with."

"Alright."

"And Olivia…"

"Yes?"

"Don't be afraid to rename the prince in your story. If Zane isn't the one, another will be along shortly."

"Love you, Grams."

"Love you more."

She slid her finger across the glass and ended the call. "Alright, neighbor, let's see what the next best move will be."

Making her way across the gravel driveway, she hoped the conversation she was about to have wouldn't require a tube of cookie dough and a bottle of wine to get over. When she got close enough to see Zane's pained expression, it was clear that adding a bag of white cheddar Cheetos would be prudent and necessary. "Damnit," she muttered quietly. "So much for hot kisses on the porch."

She slowed her pace in an attempt to put off the inevitable it's not you, it's me speech and pushed her Keds through the small rocks. "I'm going to assume that your forehead scrunched up like a Shar-Pei puppy and your mouth forming a firm line of ‘hell no' will not bode well for me."

Zane pushed open the door to his truck and dropped his feet to the ground. "Allen said you needed your windows caulked."

"And the news made you sit in your truck for ten minutes in deep meditation?" She eliminated the space that separated them and leaned against the truck door. "I save my angst for leaky pipes, but that's just me."

"Did you know that everyone in town is talking about us?"

"Not surprising." She rubbed her finger over the edge of the open window. "But considering half the population spent a month discussing my sister's window display, it's par for the course."

"I'm not the guy on the train, Liv."

Not able to stop herself, she took one of his calloused hands. "Did your trip to the hardware store produce some epiphany?"

He slid his hand away and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not interested in taking our flirtation further. I can't handle the complications you'd park at my door. I want a peaceful life, and being around you will not make it possible. And…"

"Okay, Zane. I get it. No need to give me the full list of excuses." Surprise and irritation colored his face, and she stepped back. "We'll just exchange the occasional pleasantry. No need for things to get awkward."

"That's it? You're just going to give in and accept it without an argument?"

Not caring for the hard bite of his tone, she crossed her arms. "I'm civilized and don't resort to fits when things don't work out my way." Hearing Bella approach, she turned toward her dog and did everything she could to snuff out the famous Bennett temper that was beginning to bloom. The last thing she needed to do was give in to her baser instincts and give Zane the show he was expecting. She may have a crush on the man, but that didn't mean her self-respect had flown the coop. If there wasn't a mutual "hell, yeah" between them, then she wasn't interested.

And yes, she understood how that statement flew in the face of all her previous actions, but there it was. When a man said no thank you, it was best to take him at his word. She bent down, kissed her dog's head, and then threw Zane her best I don't give a flying fig smile. "Take care, neighbor."

"You don't want to know why?"

"Not particularly."

Zane pushed himself back into the truck and slammed the door. "Considering you're a person who isn't satisfied until they know every last detail, I find that hard to believe."

Frustration, sadness, and irritation crawled up her spine, and she did everything not to let it show. The last thing she'd give the irksome man was the satisfaction of knowing how deep her disappointment ran. "When a man tells you he's not interested, what more does one need to know?" She narrowed her eyes. "A crush can disappear as quickly as it appears. I appreciate you not stringing me along. I'll simply set my sights elsewhere and find another candidate to share my affection with."

"So, your feelings toward me were never that big of a deal?"

"I don't know, Zane; you ripped the opportunity to discover what might be from my hands."

Not wanting to drag out the conversation further, she spun around with her dog at her side and stalked toward her home. Damn man. Undoubtedly, he could walk into the most horrific mission without missing a beat. But God forbid he should face his heart.

Silently thanking the wine gods, she was glad she had a cabinet full of therapy.

It was going to take more than a minute to get over the lost opportunity, and she was grateful that she had the means to make it a tad less tragic.