Page 36 of The Art of Falling in Love with Your Enemy
“I do.” Using the folder, Zac points to the picnic table. “Now, go get some dessert and settle in. Good to have you.”
As Lane walks away, Zac sidles up next to me. “So, the cabin you’re staying in has an extra bed…right?”
Cold water blasts through my veins. “Say what?”
Zac’s eyes are pleading. “Can I stay in your cabin tonight?”
* * *
“Here.” I toss a pillow at Zac’s head, giggling as I do. “Just don’t snore, and please don’t sleepwalk.”
“Someone dealing with some PTSD around snoring and sleepwalking?” Zac asks, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
“No, just covering my bases.” I leave him alone in the spare bedroom and head back to the master, where I close the door and take my time getting into my pajamas. I start to open the door only to stop myself.
I take a step back and find myself staring at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is a mess, my shirt is on inside out, and my mascara has started to flake off.
“Wow.” I say this out loud and to no one in particular. I look like I’ve given up. Laughing to myself as I straighten my hair, I guess in some ways I almost had. But, things have changed.
Swiping a washcloth from the dresser, I step in the en suite to run some hot water. As I soak the washcloth under the faucet and begin wiping the day off my face, my thoughts start to wander.
Right to Zac.
Sighing, I’m still shocked at my reaction to Lucy. I’ve been shocked at my reaction to a lot of things lately; I guess Lucy should be no surprise. As I wipe the last of the makeup off and run the cloth under my neck and over my jawline, I find my eyes in the mirror and I smile.
“Now, there’s someone I’ve not seen in a long time.” Stepping back, my inclination is to throw moisturizer on and head out the door, but I really look at myself. I’ve been so mad about Steve and the lawsuit, and angry that he’s been holding on to my money, I’ve felt like I’m being held hostage and have no control…and then there’s Zac.
He makes me smile. And I can’t deny he’s funny and smart. Even though he arrested me, I know he was doing his job. As mad as I was, I was impressed when he didn’t let Brett know I was sitting in the cell. If Brett had known, then my brother would have known. Then it would have been all kinds of hairy.
I untuck my top and give myself one last look of approval, happy to see this woman standing in front of me with a huge grin on her face. She looks happy. And I like her. A lot.
I’m still smiling when I make my way out into the shared living area and sit down, putting my feet up on an old steamer trunk that’s acting as our coffee table.
“Don’t you look like the cat who ate the canary?” Zac says as he lords over me holding two mugs in his hand. “Here, I hope you like hot chocolate.”
“Love it.” I take the mug from his hands and take a sip. “Perfection. Did you bring hot chocolate with you?”
Zac shrugs, blushing. “Yes, I am a man who loves his hot chocolate and a good quilting session. Now, find me a rerun ofThe Golden Girlsand we’ll be in business for the night.”
I throw my head back and laugh. I even let myself hold on to the laughter for an extra second because it feels so good.
“I’ve always been a fan of Blanche.” I hold my mug high. “She was a cougar before cougars became a thing.”
“Why, Etta McCoy,” Zac says with a faux Southern drawl as he sits down beside me. “Are you a cougar?”
“No! I mean, n-n-not that I know of?” It’s comical that I find myself stuttering right now. Giggling, I turn and angle my body so I’m facing Zac. “If I had been, I wouldn’t know it.”
“But would you be one…if the relationship calls for it, that is?”
“What kind of inquisition is this?” I manage with a half laugh. “Do we need to throw our drivers licenses down on the table? For the record, I’m thirty.”
“Flirty and thirty.” Zac whistles. “Well, if we ever date, you would be the cougar.”
I sit up and place my mug on the trunk, slapping my palms to my cheeks in surprise. “What?”
“Yes, ma’am. I won’t be thirty until December, so you are older than me.” Zac leans across me to put his mug on the trunk as well.
“Age is more than a number.” I lean closer to him, whispering now. “Cause we both know I’m way more mature than you are.”
