Chapter 17 Zane
Zane
Hope steps back, pulling out of my hands. She bumps into the bookcase behind her. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“But you don’t know me.”
That’s…true. I take a deep breath and push to my feet. Then it’s my turn to pace away from her, because the other option is pressing her up against that bookcase and taking her lush mouth with mine.
When I’m halfway across the room, I turn and look back at her.
“When I was twelve years old, I watched my father punch my mother for the last time. Because the next thing that happened was Ridge slamming into him, shoving him down the stairs. He broke his neck in the fall. Ridge broke his arm. There was a police investigation, and for months, we didn’t know if he would go to jail for saving Luna’s life.
When he was finally cleared, Mom had spent all of her money on therapy and lawyers.
We got in the car and left Edmonton in the rearview mirror. ”
“Zane…”
“Never told anyone else that. Mercy knows, because Ridge told her, and she had a front row seat when we showed up all broken and sad. Nobody else knows. So I might not know you well, yet, but you shared some things with me that I bet you haven’t told anyone else.
And now I’ve done the same.” I flex my hands at my sides.
“That summer, I felt like a man unable to take care of his family for the first time. For the last time, too. Because I quickly learned, Hope. I know what it means to take care of people, I can promise you that.”
“You can’t want—”
“I can. I do. I took one look at you and wanted you to be my family with a fierceness that scared me. Tried to shove that away, because it reminded me too much of my own father, as a matter of fact. You know what I remember the most about him? How much he wanted my mother. He was all over her, all the time. Loved on her so much it was embarrassing. Until she made him mad.”
Hope’s eyes flare with recognition.
I nod sadly. “Yeah, you know about that, don’t you? I never want to be that kind of man, Hope. But I’ve had a few short days and a couple very long nights to get my head on straight when it comes to you, and what I can offer you. I promise you that as much as I want you, I want to give you more.”
Her hands flutter in front of her. “But I’m…”
I take a step closer. “Yes.”
“Zane.”
“Let me in, Hope.” Another step. “Let me know you.”
She chokes out a disbelieving sob. “You can’t want his baby.”
“Doesn’t need to be his baby. You say the word, and that innocent child is mine, I promise you.”
She stares at me. Doesn’t matter if I’m looming over her or looking up at her, this is all overwhelming tonight. And she’s got a precious reason to need her sleep.
Giving her all the time in the world to step away, I reach up and gently cup her face in my hand. “You don’t need to decide tonight. You should get some rest.”
But she doesn't move.
Neither do I.
Slowly, the space between us gathers a charge, like the air before an epic thunderstorm.
I'm painfully, beautifully aware of every little detail.
The warmth of her cheek against my fingertips.
The way her breathing steadies as she stares at me.
The glitter of her gaze and how long it stays glued to my face, waiting for me to flinch.
Never gonna happen.
When I see her trust buoy up, and her shoulders soften, I let my hungry eyes drift lazily to her mouth. Let her see that it’s not just that I want to protect her little family, but I crave her as a woman, too.
It scares her, though. Of course it does.
She shakes her head.
“I don’t think I can be what you want,” she whispers.
A shudder slams through me, because she already is. Broken, scared, soft and small, she’s already perfect despite the world trying to pummel her from every angle. “You let me worry about that.”
“Hard not to think about it when you’re looking at my mouth like…” A lovely flush sweeps across her skin and the heaviness of the air around us crackles with a new blast of electricity.
But it’s still important to listen to her words and not just read her body language. “I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable.”
“I didn’t say that.” Her eyelashes sweep against her rosy cheeks. A slow blink, but then she meets my gaze again. “I trust you, Zane.”
“You’ll never have reason not to.”
“But…” She trembles. I slide my hand to her neck, curling my fingers around the nape. Anchoring her to me as she searches for the right words. And when she finds them, they’re powerful. “I don’t know if I can imagine being in a bed with a man again. So you might be wasting your time.”
“I’m not. It’s my time, and I promise I’m spending it exactly as I want to.” Silent fury rips through me at what her ex stole from her. “I don’t look at you because I expect anything. I look at you because you’re beautiful, and looking is a joy in and of itself.”
I haven't let myself want someone this much in a very long time, maybe ever. I’ve never had to think this carefully, this long, about what my desire would mean, who it would impact.
She thinks we’ve only just met, but from my vantage point, I’ve analyzed holding her in my arms from every possible angle already. And all of those hedging thoughts were wrong.
I knew she was off-limits. I knew I wanted her anyway, would want her from afar if that was all I could have. All I should have.
But I miscalculated one important factor—how much Hope might want me back. She’s not warning me off because she doesn’t share my desire, she’s trying to warn me that she can’t allow herself that desire.
Which is bullshit, but I’m not going to rush her to that discovery.
We’ll stick with some safe first steps. “Do you like looking at me?”
Startled, she smiles. “Yes. You’re captivating.”
“What a nice thing to say to me. Thank you.”
She laughs.
I return her smile. “We make each other laugh, don’t we?”
She nods, a little reluctantly. “We do.”
“That’s a good starting point. And we have some chemistry, but there’s no pressure there.”
Her gaze drops to my mouth and she bites her lip.
“What are you thinking right now?”
“Wondering what your moustache feels like,” she admits freely.
“It might tickle.”
She jolts a little in my arms. Her eyes are wide and curious as she slides her gaze back up to meet mine. “Really?”
“There’s one way to find out. No strings attached.”
She sighs with longing. “A kiss…”
My girl might be bruised and scared, but she’s full of longing.
Nobody’s treated that passion right, I bet, and that’s a terrible shame.
“Any time you want, Hope. You can have all the kisses you want. No expectations. I know you don’t want more than that, but you look at my mouth like you might want… ”
She exhales as she reaches up between us and drifts her fingertips against my mouth. Over my lower lip, then my moustache. A shiver races over my skin as she moves the neatly trimmed hairs. “Just a kiss?”
“Just a kiss sounds pretty fucking amazing.”
She hesitates a beat before her fingers slide around the back of my neck as she stares at my mouth.
It’s yours. I’m yours. But I say nothing, I do nothing. I hold still, barely breathe. Being good and patient for her.
I’ll wait until the end of time just to be yours when you need me, I think, my heart pounding desperately in my chest.
But she isn’t going to make me wait that long.
Thank. God.
With a determined look in her eyes, she leans in and exhales just before her lips caress mine. As if she wants her next inhale to be me.
Her mouth is as soft and lush as I dreamed, plump and giving.
I groan into her kiss, unable to hide my reaction. But I don’t take over. I just hold on to her, being that anchor as she licks my lower lip, then smiles.
Not shy, not now. Now she’s kissing me with her entire being.
Tongue, lips, a little teeth against the corner of my mouth as she pushes deeper, asks for more.
And she can have so much more.
“Tell me what you want,” I rasp when she breaks off, just for a moment, just to gasp for air and tighten her hold on me.
The look on her face is incredible. Shocked and delighted, and then very, very bold. “Kiss me again.”
Don’t. Have. To. Ask. Me. Twice.
I shift my hold on her, scooping her body into my arms, lifting her against me, and God damn that feels right. She’s soft against every hard plane in my body, and my mouth is perfectly slanted over hers, allowing me to kiss her deeply and thoroughly and endlessly.
By the time I finish showing her mouth a very good time, I’m sure the entire province can hear my heart pounding.
I ache for more, but it’s a good kind of ache, a deep longing that’s going to fuel me through however long her healing journey is.
Maybe she won’t want to take me into her body until after the baby is born, and that’s all right.
I know that when she’s ready, it’ll be the best we’ve both ever had, and I don’t need to rush to get there. We’ll do it one kiss at a time, because this woman is my future, my destiny, my everything.
She presses her fingers to her lips as I set her back on her heels and brace my hands on the bookshelf behind her. “That was…wow.”
“Wow is good.”
Her eyes dazzle, emerald orbs of delight as she touches my moustache again. “It doesn’t tickle,” she whispers. “But it does feel nice.”
“Excellent. Let that chase away the nightmares, okay? I’ve got you. Now go to bed. I need to take care of some things.”
She searches my face. I can see that she wants to ask me what I mean, but she also doesn’t want to break the spell of our kisses.
So I give her another one, soft and gentle. And then I walk her to the door. “Sleep tight, City Girl.”
I stand in the doorway and watch her disappear up the stairs, then listen to the soft click of her door.
Then I drag both hands over my face.
She's pregnant.
The trust it took for her to tell me that… Fuck. And she thought she was sharing it because she needed to explain why she had to run again.
She’s fucking run far enough.
As soon as she says yes, I’m giving her the name on the ranch gate, the name I chose at eighteen, and making this refuge hers in every way.
That thought is a sweet balance to the deep fury that roils in my gut—a white-hot, marrow-deep rage at the man who put his hands on her, put fear in her eyes, put a tracker on her car like she belonged to him.
Derek Hitchkoff.
I call my brother next.
Cash answers on the first ring, even though it’s after midnight. “What’s up?”
“What can we do with a name?”
“A lot. What are you thinking?”
“You know anyone in Vancouver who could take a ferry ride for me and get eyeballs on a location?” Between military service and his time in jail, Cash has the biggest network of any of us—and the broadest variety of friends.
“Consider it done. You got a name?”
I give it to him. “You have to be careful with this.”
“I’ll find a way.” He pauses. “You see Ridge when you got back?”
“Yeah. He was sitting by the barn, just watching the house.” I shove my thumb into my temple.
Cash exhales in my ear. If anyone could understand what makes Ridge tick, it should be Cash. But they couldn’t be more different.
Ridge is never going to stop punishing himself for killing our father, even though all three of us wish we had been big enough to do it with him.
After Cash promises to get back to me tomorrow with an update, I set the phone down and stare at my notebook on the desk. Where I've been running numbers all week, trying to figure out how to keep my family's future on track.
None of that feels important right now.
I turn to a fresh page in the notebook and start writing out a new plan.