The Next Day (Foothills Book 2) by Carrie Thorne (mind reading books .txt) 📗

the first guy out of the plane when the clock was ticking. Always pulled more than your own weight, even when the rest of us wanted to give up.” His amber eyes flooded, and he added softly, “And the one that ran into the rubble to get to Jack and the other guys that had fallen.”

Clenching his jaw, he muttered. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Asher leaned his elbows on the table, hands in his hair. “Things are a hell of a lot scarier in the civilian world. Less black and white, not life or death but risky all the same. I’ve still got your back.”

Fingers still laced with his under the table, Freya gave a gentle squeeze, her warmth keeping his blood pumping when it threatened to stop.

Pippa smiled, “You always brought my brother back home. Anything you need, I’m there.”

Grady took a long gulp, then added, “You’ve already got a hell of a team to get it off the ground, if that’s what you decide. An accountant, an artist, legal advice, and, well, if you’re open, I’d love to be involved.”

Lincoln grinned, “And a cop if you get your ass in trouble. A teacher if you need a scolding now and again.” Pippa jammed her elbow into his side. Grunting at the impact, he added, “But seriously, Pippa can plan anything. Terrifying for all involved, but it will get done and be done right.”

Feeling that pang surface from the pit of his stomach, Zane swallowed before it slammed into his throat and forced his eyes to water. He nodded, jaw clenched tight, words completely inadequate.

14

Dirty Laundry

“Flowers and ruffles, pink and skimpy, or black and sleek?” Freya stared blankly at the swimsuits she’d laid out on her bed.

Sophie rubbed her chin in exaggerated contemplation. “Although the flowers are fun, a bit too tropical. The pink skimpy is damn sexy, but not family friendly. The black accents your eyes nicely and is low risk for wardrobe malfunction, yet is still hot.”

“You may be onto something.” She stuffed the black suit into her bag and added a cotton sundress from her closet. Not that she was worried about what to wear, but, well, she needed to look good. Something about ending a marriage that dragged her self-esteem in a downward dump.

As Sophie strolled out to grab her own swim stuff, Freya pulled her hair back into a messy bun, slipping her feet into her nearly-disintegrated flip-flops and headed for the front door. She called out as she opened the door, “Meet you outside.”

From the main bedroom, Sophie hollered back, “I’ll be out in five.”

Turning too late as she dashed outside, she slammed into a brick wall. Crashing smack-dab into Zane, he grunted on impact, catching her against him and steadying them both. “Hi,” he murmured.

“Hi,” she whispered as her eyes met his, more out of breath from the gleam in his expression than the collision. Clearing her throat, she stepped back and politely nodded. “Ready?”

His head tilted as he uttered a simple, “Yeah. Sophie riding with us?”

She nodded again, fearing she’d reached full bobblehead. It was either that or lace her arms back around his middle and steal a taste of those pouty lips. Not many guys had such suckable lips that said everything his words, or lack thereof, didn’t. “Asher’s already there helping Denise with the hors d’oeuvres.”

“Damn, he’s really working on this responsible thing, huh?”

Standing awkwardly with a precise eighteen inches separating them, she nodded again, “As the party is for you, she said he had to help since she doesn’t know your favorite foods.”

“You too. I believe she called it a Welcome Home party for both of us.”

“Yes, but I have been to their house many times already this summer because of Pippa’s wedding. They’ve got a great place for entertaining. The pool is huge; I suspect they built it in an effort to keep Asher out of trouble. But the patio has plenty of seating and the barbeque is massive enough to feed an army.”

“I hate crowds.”

“You know everyone that will be there. Just my parents, Asher’s of course, you and me, Asher and Sophie, and Pippa and Lincoln.”

“Guess that’s not so bad.” He paused, his jaw ticking madly–a tell that she had already learned meant that he was holding back his words until he figured out how to say something potentially controversial without offending anyone. “Do your folks know?”

“I didn’t tell them.”

“Bad enough there will be a crowd, but the in-laws?” He faked a whole-body shiver, the corner of his mouth quirked up in ornery enjoyment of his own joke.

She burst out laughing at the awkwardness of the gesture. Unable to resist, she closed the distance between them and nuzzled into his neck. Inhaling as many Zane-molecules as possible, she savored. “How bad were your in-laws before?”

Without pause, his arms wrapped fully around her. “Actually, they weren’t that bad. Better than my parents anyway. My parents thought she was perfect, like as a couple, we were to be their perfect clones. But Blaire’s parents would flat-out call her on her nagging, or if she complained about money or dragged me out to some party that she knew I’d hate.”

“Not just a PTSD thing then, you’ve never liked crowds?”

“Hell no. As you saw, it’s a lot worse now. Not just a dislike, but genuine meltdown.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “As nothing seems to scare you, I’m hiding behind you.”

She snorted against his neck, but didn’t say it out loud. He scared her. More than anything. Vince had never admitted to weakness. Giovanni had never stood and embraced for no good reason. Randy had been a youthful playmate. Zane was built to shatter what was left of her heart.

The door creaked open behind her. Clearing his throat and stepping