Small Town Secrets. Sharon Mignerey
to study her. She wore huge, patched, baggy bib overalls cut off at the knees and a purple shirt. Both looked as though they had been worn while painting rainbows. Red-and-white striped socks covered her shoeless feet and climbed up her legs. Under that getup, he couldn’t tell if she was a size eight or eighty. He figured the former based on the shape of her calves. An unwelcome flare of awareness nudged him, which he ruthlessly shoved away.
“He is the cops,” she said finally.
“So?” Zach hooked a thumb in one of the belt loops of his jeans. “If he’s causing you trouble—”
Again she laughed, the sound bitter and disbelieving. “What planet did you come from? There’s a whole five guys on the force, and trust me, they’ll see this his way. They’ll turn a blind eye since I’m his ex-wife, cast in the role of Delilah.”
“So you’re not interested in getting back together with him.” He watched her, the answer to that question somehow important.
“No.” She met his gaze, her blue eyes framed by long, long fake black eyelashes. “Not now, not ever.”
“Feeling a little ambivalent, huh?”
She smiled, or at least he thought she did behind the painted-on grin.
“Do you have a name?”
“Léa Webster.”
He stuck out a hand. “Hi, Léa. I’m Zach MacKenzie.”
With effort, Léa kept her gaze on his face, her impression growing this was the hardest man she had ever met. Piercing eyes the color of strong tea and framed by spiky lashes searched her face. His own was utterly masculine from the straight slash of his eyebrows to the square jaw and jutting chin beneath a couple days’ growth of beard. His nearly black hair wasn’t much longer.
Even without looking below his chin, she knew what was there. A powerful build that any bodybuilder would covet and lean hips covered by faded jeans. He didn’t look annoyed, though she wouldn’t have blamed him if he was.
Time paused somehow, and she was too aware of his hand touching hers. Just that fast, she felt out of breath, like some starry-eyed schoolgirl. She didn’t like this out-of-control, breathless anticipation. Thanks, but no thanks. The only thing that kept her from bolting was the knowledge that her ex-husband was still lurking somewhere outside.
And she—who had a reputation for never meeting a stranger and who could make conversation with anyone about anything—had no idea what to say to Sadie’s nephew.
He glanced down at himself, absently running the flat of his hand down one pant leg.
“Give me a minute to put on a shirt.” He strode down the hallway toward the stairs at the front of the house, which he took three at a time.
Léa pondered what to do next as she moved out of the hallway into the front room where she peeked out the window. She should simply let herself out, but that would be rude. More rude than paying a midnight visit. How could she have forgotten that Sadie was gone? Especially since the upcoming trip to Europe had been the primary topic of conversation between them for weeks. That, and her nephew’s arrival.
Léa knew he was fresh out of the Colorado State Penitentiary because Sadie had talked about that, as well, especially after Léa had taken her to Cañon City for the parole hearing. Zach’s story had all the elements of melodrama that could have provided a storyline for a daytime soap. According to Sadie, Zach had been involved in a tragic accident where someone had been killed. Thanks to a sloppy on-scene investigation and a compelling eyewitness, Zach hadn’t been able to convince the D.A. he was sober at the time of the accident. He had further cast doubt on his credibility by checking into an alcohol rehab center a couple months before the scheduled trial. Despite plea-bargaining the charges against him, he’d still ended up in prison for almost three years. The story sounded too familiar to Léa. It seemed likely he was a guy who avoided responsibility the way her ex-husband Foley did. A responsible man wouldn’t have ended up in prison.
Though Léa loved her neighbor and respected her judgment, she had decided the less she had to do with Sadie’s nephew, the better. She’d be neighborly but distant. Except, here she was, late at night, dodging her drunk ex-husband and imposing on a stranger. A stranger she had vowed to avoid. What had she been thinking? What little she could see of the street from the window didn’t reassure her that Foley was gone, but still…She had just changed the locks, so all she had to do was get across the street and get inside before he came around again.
Rude or not, it was time to go.
She ventured toward the front door, the hallway dominated on one side by the open stairwell.
“Sorry to bother you…” Her call died in her throat as Zach came down the stairs, a black T-shirt emphasizing his impressive shoulders. He looked every inch the bad boy, the kind of guy she had been drawn to a lifetime ago—before she had grown up. His jeans were a little loose, as though he had recently lost weight. The shirt, though, clung to his broad physique.
“It’s no bother.” His voice was deep and had a raspy tone that reminded her of the big, stray one-eared tomcat that visited her every day and whose meow came out as a hoarse rumble.
“Really, I—”
“He come around much? Your ex?”
Her gaze skipped away from Zach’s penetrating one. She shrugged and managed a nonchalant, “Depends. Sometimes…”
“And you come see Aunt Sadie when he does.”
Léa nodded.
“And then what?”
“We talk.”
He made a noncommittal sound.
“Usually over tea or hot chocolate.”
His eyebrow rose, and he took a step toward the kitchen as though he expected to fill that role. She couldn’t imagine drinking hot chocolate with him in Sadie’s welcoming pink-and-green kitchen.
She touched his forearm as he passed her. “You don’t have to…I’m not expecting…”
Her glance fell to her fingers on his arm. She snatched her hand back, feeling as though she had just been burned. Maybe she had.
“I should go,” she said.
“You’re sure?”
Wishing she had some way of knowing Foley was gone and hating the uncertainty that skittered through her, she nodded. Zach made her uncomfortable, though he had been nothing but nice. She swallowed, unable to ignore the knot of apprehension that settled in her stomach.
He followed her toward the door where she picked up the discarded shoes.
“Thanks,” she said. “And I really am sorry that—”
“I’ll walk you home.”
Feeling more flustered by the second, she shook her head. “Thanks, but I don’t want to bother—”
“You’re not.” He stepped onto the dark porch behind her and pulled the door closed.
Her attention focused on the deep shadows beneath the trees up and down the street. Since Foley had been wearing a white shirt, he ought to be easy to spot if he was still here. Aware Zach was looking, also, she felt marginally reassured he didn’t seem to see anyone, either.
With effort, she tried to pick up the conversational thread, but couldn’t remember what had come before. “I’m not what?”
“You’re not bothering me.” In the dark it was impossible to tell, but she had the feeling he was smiling.
“Oh. Well…” She took in a deep breath of air, which was cool, just a little crisp, and carrying the scent of Zach’s soap and the rose garden in the middle of Sadie’s front yard.
Once again at a loss for words, she opened the gate to the picket