fact, people were jerks. Her brows lowered, and she was somewhat taken aback by her cynical attitude. Somewhere in the past few weeks, she’d lost her usual optimism.
The door swung open and Zach stood in front of her, tall and ridiculously good-looking, but with Zach it had always been more about his confidence that hit women like a testosterone fireball than his looks. It had always been more about the cockiness that he backed up with enormous talent that drew women to him. Or at least it had been for her.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said as she gazed at him through the dark lenses of her glasses. “I was at the hospital and there was a problem and…” And why would he care? “I should have called to let someone know I’d be late. Sorry.”
He wore a white long-sleeved T-shirt advertising Moose Drool beer on the front and down one arm, Levi’s, and black flip-flops. And if she’d been a weak woman, she would have been tempted to breathe into her hand and check her breath.
“Kendra’s in the pool,” he said, dragging out the vowels to the end of next week.
“It’s what…fifty-five degrees?” Although in some states that was considered balmy for November.
“Fifty-seven, and the pool’s covered in winter.”
Of course. “Could you tell Kendra I’m here.”
His gaze lowered to the wings on her hoodie, then rose slowly to her eyes. “Come in.”
“I’ll wait in the car.” She turned and pointed to the Toyota. “Just tell Kendra that I’m—”
“What are you afraid’s gonna happen?” he interrupted her.
She turned and looked at him. “Nothing.”
He took a step back into the house, and she could barely see him through her sunglasses. His voice came out of the shadows, low and almost rough, “Then come in, Adele.”
“Are you always this bossy?”
He shrugged. “Are you always this difficult?”
“Fine.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts and walked into Zach’s house. He shut the door behind her, and she followed him through the entry and into the living room.
“Have you gone on your date with the red-haired guy?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Cletus? Yes.” Unlike the last time she’d been in the house, the expensive furniture and rich rugs were in place. She kept her gaze pinned on Zach’s wide shoulders and the back of his blond hair touching his neck so she wouldn’t make full eye contact with the big portrait of Devon staring down at her. Wherever Devon was buried, Adele was sure she was spinning in her grave. After everything Devon had done to keep Zach and Adele apart, here she was, in Devon’s house with Devon’s husband. Adele might have taken a moment to enjoy that delicious slice of irony if not for the fact that she didn’t want to be there any more than Devon would want her there.
“Wow. The guy works fast.”
“The date was nice.” Right up until he’d turned into a jerk.
“It would never work out you know.”
Yeah, she knew that. She was cursed. “Why? Because he’ll bruise like a peach?” She followed him into the kitchen. “And I figured out that you weren’t talking about me slugging Cletus, by the way.”
He opened a refrigerator and pulled out a plate of sliced tomatoes, pickles, and lettuce. Several high-pitched screeches from somewhere outside penetrated the house, and Zach winced. “You used to be quicker.”
“I used to be a lot of things.”
“I remember.” He shoved the plate at her, and one corner of his mouth turned up into a smile. “I remember a lot of things about you.” With her hands full, she was unable to stop him as he reached for her sunglasses and pushed them to the top of her head. “I remember your eyes, turquoise except when they turn a deeper blue.”
He’d been the first man to tell her that her eyes got darker when she got turned on. She remembered they’d been in his truck the first time he’d said it. He’d been kissing her mouth and touching her through her clothes and she’d wanted to eat him up.
“So tell me, honey,” he said just above a whisper, “what’s got your beautiful eyes so sad?”
A plate of veggies separated his stomach from hers, and she didn’t think to ask why he’d shoved the plate at her. For a few brief moments, she forgot he was a jerk. She was a woman who hadn’t had a decent date in years, and he was a man. An incredibly hot man with a soothing Southern accent that touched the places deep in her soul. The hot itchy places that wanted to be soothed.
Adele’s lips parted, and she took a breath. It would have been easy to unload her problems on his big shoulders.
“Life’s not so bad,” he said.
Showed how much he knew. “My life sucks.”
“Why?”
So many reasons. “My sister is in the hospital fighting for the life of her baby, and it should be her husband holding her hand. Not me.”
Zach lowered his gaze to Adele’s mouth. “Where’s her husband?”
She was so disconcerted by his attention to her mouth that her brain got a little fuzzy, and she blurted, “Off boning Stormy Winter somewhere.”
Confusion wrinkled his brow but he didn’t look up. “Stormy Winter?”
“His girlfriend.”
“Ah.” He slid his brown gaze back up to hers. “Stripper?”
Adele smiled. “His ‘assistant.’”
A door opened, and Zach looked up past Adele. “Shit,” he said through a groan.
“I thought you might need some help,” a female voice said, followed by the click of heels on the stone floor.
Zach returned his gaze to Adele’s and replaced her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose. “Thanks, Genevieve, but I found a helper. You shouldn’t have troubled yourself.”
Behind the lenses of her glasses, Adele closed her eyes.
“It’s no trouble,” Genevieve Brooks assured him as she stepped into the kitchen.
“Why am I holding this plate?” Adele finally thought to ask.
“In just a minute, I’ll need you to carry that outside.” Zach turned and walked back to the refrigerator, and Adele lowered her gaze to the back of his Levi’s. His wallet made a bulge in one pocket, and he bent forward slightly to pull out a big tray of hamburger patties and hot dogs. “You can grab the buns over there on the counter, Genevieve,” he added as he shut the door.
The heels of Genevieve’s pumps tapped across the tile as she moved to the counter. She was as tall and lean as Adele remembered, and she wore a white blouse, beige pants, and cardigan. Probably St. Johns. Several ropes of pearls circled her slim neck, and she wore a diamond the size of a marble on her ring finger. “Those girls are going to be starving,” Genevieve said. She grabbed the buns, then turned to Adele. “Hello. I’m Genevieve Brooks-Marshall. Lauren Marshall is my stepdaughter.” Genevieve’s makeup was understated and perfect, and her black hair was cut into a straight bob.
Adele assumed Lauren was on the dance team. “Kendra Morgan is my niece,” she said.
“One of the new girls?”
Adele nodded as Zach walked past her through the kitchen, and she followed him into the dining room. “I’m obviously interrupting your dinner plans,” she said to his back. “So, if you’ll just show me where to set this, I’ll grab Kendra, and we’ll leave you to your guests.”
He opened one of the French doors, and Adele stepped out onto a terrace. “What was your name?” Genevieve asked as she joined them.
“Adele Harris.” Adele waited for any sort of recognition from the woman with whom she’d gone through twelve years of school, but there was none. Adele wasn’t all that surprised.
Zach closed the door, and the two women followed him down a set of stone steps to the lower terrace and cobblestone courtyard. It was a clear November day, and Adele felt like she’d stepped into a fall issue of
