Page 23 of The Art of Falling in Love with Your Enemy
“The world is a weird place, so full of sadness and gray. There’s some heartbreaking stuff going on out there, and I think that’s why I like to be silly and joke. I know it’s why I like quilting. I want to remind people there’s something good here,” he says as he taps his heart. “Good in all of us.”
“You are not who I thought you were, Zac. But it’s early days still,” I say with a wink. Pushing myself back from the table, I stand up and walk around the table, headed toward Zac’s side so I can mix more paint and prep to give the room a second coat.
As I do, Zac starts to stand, too, but accidentally kicks the chair beside him, causing it to slide out and clip me on my heel as I go past. It’s a direct hit that throws me off course. My balance wanes, and I can feel I’m about to topple to the floor, so I reach out and grab at the only thing within arm’s reach: Zac.
I’m aiming to at least clutch at his shirt, but somehow, some way, I manage to grab the band of his sweatpants. Not only am I falling to the floor, but Zac’s sweats are coming with me.
He must have felt his pants sliding, because I feel Zac’s hand grasp mine, holding everything as stationary as he can around his waist as he flings himself down with me, pulling me on top of him so that we’re nose to nose, with two dogs sniffing our foreheads.
I slowly open my eyes, which I had squeezed shut at the end due to the carnage I was about to both witness and partake in, and find a pair of sparkling emerald-green eyes staring back at me.
Zac’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Hi,” he whispers, his breath hitting my cheek.
I’d have to be a rock to not feel the chemical reaction that takes over my body at this moment. I could stare at his chiseled jaw and flawless skin for hours, and almost feel the touch of his fingertips ghosting down my side and languidly dragging along the crease of my hips. My hands touch his forearms, and his skin trembles. I feel the rise and fall of his body as he sucks in a breath.
Dragging my eyes to his, I inhale a sandalwood fresh scent as I do. I’m not going to lie: I may abhor this man and dream about torturing him in some fabulous way, but right now, the warmth of his touch and the caress of his fingers as they dance across the back of my arms is beyond thrilling.
Zac slowly sits up, wrapping his arms around me and cradling me as he does, pushing the hair away from my eyes. He thumbs my chin, tipping it toward his mouth, and my breath hitches. Placing my hand on the side of his face, I cup his cheek and raise myself that much closer to him so our noses are barely touching, ever so softly skimming.
KNOCK, KNOCK.
“Yo, Etts, I know you’re here. Your car is in the drive.”
I’m not sure who moved faster or first, me or Zac, but at the sound of Riley’s voice, we’re both up and manage to fly at least six feet apart.
Grabbing my heart, I catch my breath. “Hold on, Riley.”
Zac, with his hand on his lips, watches me from across the room. Riley bangs on the door again. “Let me in, woman, I have hot food for you.”
Zac motions for me to straighten my shirt, so I tuck it in and check myself in the mirror before flinging open the front door.
“Heeeyyy,” Riley says as she peeks over my shoulder, taking in Zac. “Making a house call today? Or maybe you’re here to arrest her for something else?”
“Actually,” Zac says as he throws an arm in his jacket, “I stopped by to drop a few things off, for penance.” He winks. “I need to get going anyway, got the retreat to think about.”
He nods at me before excusing himself, squeezing past the two of us standing in the doorway because Riley refuses to budge. She watches him as he walks to his car and climbs in, only turning back to me when he’s left the drive.
“Well, well, well,” she starts, but I hold up a hand. Do I want to tell my friend I almost made out with the hot police officer who drives me up a wall? No…but yes, cause it’s Riley and she knows everything about me.
Riley holds up a white take-out bag. “Orange chicken and peanut noodles. Figured it was a good rainy day lunch meal.” She pushes past me, heading for the kitchen. “Wait, do I smell paint?”
“You do,” I say with a grin. There’s this other part of me that speaks up now and says no, don’t tell her. Not yet.
As she disappears out of sight, still chatting away, I allow my fingers to dance on my lips, thinking of what could have been. Glad no one else saw.
Because sometimes, some secrets are more fun kept inside.
TEN
Zac
At one point a few days back, I was looking forward to spending my Sunday going over the proposal for the Canine Comfort Therapy Team. I’m still new here to Sweetkiss Creek, and while I know a few people, I’m not a super outgoing person. I seem like it to most people, but I’m more of a homebody than someone who wants to go out.
But now, parked at the dining room table I share with my absentee and newly married roommate, Reid, I realize today’s not a good day to be by myself, cause I’m left alone with my thoughts.
And all I can think about is Etta and her lips.
And that my lips almost touched her lips. Almost.
