Page 48 of Trust

“Where did you go?” She rested her hand on his chest. “If you don’t want to tell me what other beauties have caught your attention, you don’t have to.”

“Other beauties?” He took her hand and pulled her toward the kitchen. “We both know that’s impossible and not just because I can barely handle you.”

A disgruntled huff echoed down the hall, and he wondered if ignoring it would work. When another one followed, he stopped inside the kitchen. “Words, Olivia. Hit me with them so I know what tactical error I made.”

She took the bag out of his hand and strode over to the island. “My goodness, Zane. You make it sound like being in my company requires a dog-eared copy of The Art of War.”

“It kinda does,” he mumbled as he walked over to the fridge and pulled out a beer and a bottle of Olivia’s favorite wine. And yes, he had stocked up. So what?

“How long before supper is ready?”

“Avoid and deflect. Are you sure that’s necessary?”

“Yep.” He grabbed a glass and filled it, deciding that Olivia needed a generous pour. “Here you go, babe.”

She held up the glass. “Guess this is your way of telling me something.”

“Not necessarily.” He tilted his beer bottle against her glass and grinned. “I don’t mind that little streak of jealousy you just showed since you tried to sell me the whole tryst thing the other day.” Lifting the bottle to his mouth, he took a gulp. “We’re both way outside our comfort zones, so scaling a pile of doubt is daunting. No way around it.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that.”

“I’m not sure why.” He leaned against the island and watched her pull several containers out of the bag. “You experienced a crippling loss when Thad died and have no reason to risk your heart. And I’m gripping my PTSD from a half-dozen years as a Special Operator like it’s my best friend. We’re a shit show in the making.” The casserole dish thunked down on the counter, and he knew his brutal honesty might’ve been too much. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, and for the record, your pessimism and lack of faith don’t make you any more immune to life’s travails.”

“Well aware of that.” He stepped in, crowding her. “I have enough years on the frontlines to know anything is possible.” Lifting her chin, he gave her a soft kiss. “Including you and me finding a way to…”

“What?” she asked breathlessly.

“Be some kind of happiness for each other.”

“Certainly not the worst option in the world.”

Zane leaned back. “Love the enthusiasm.”

“This from the man who sees clouds and assumes a tsunami is on its way.”

He dug his fingers into her waist. “A man should be prepared for whatever storm is headed in his direction.”

“Assuming I’m the troublesome weather pattern you’re referring to.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having a tempest in your life.” The sound of something crashing reverberated against the ceiling, and Zane looked up. “It’s either my dead relatives weighing in or a critter that got into one of the open windows.”

Olivia turned toward the doorway. “Well, let’s go investigate. I’m dying to get acquainted with the Hawker spirits.”

“You say that like it’s possible.” He took Olivia’s hand and headed toward the staircase. “And normal.”

“It’s not abnormal, and if they like you, they could very well enjoy my company too!”

“No doubt about it,” he mumbled as they climbed the stairs together. Because he sure as hell enjoyed her and couldn’t see it changing any time soon.

God help them both.

Olivia stepped into the enormous attic and noticed a chair had been tipped over. Was it the work of a bored spirit or a critter that had made a home in the dusty space?

“It’s a lot of junk, isn’t it?” Zane asked.

“It’s a lot of treasure.”

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