“It might, but who knows, maybe it’ll put Virtue on the map as a tourist destination.” That would really annoy his father, Zane thought with a note of satisfaction. “All right, we’ll get out of your hair. Half an hour, you said?”
“Enough to drink coffee and go over to Kate’s for breakfast. Or the Winter Doughnut Shop. They’re spectacular.”
“I don’t remember either of them.” Zane shook his head. “In some ways Virtue seems exactly the same, and in others I don’t recognize it at all.”
“Kate’s opened about ten years ago, I think. Imelda’s—the doughnut place—is only open over the winter. She runs a coffee cart the rest of the year. A lot’s changed,” Jake said with a rather serious nod. “We should get together and talk about some of it sometime. There’s a lot of pressure going on from the town council on some topics right now, and an old Virtue voice like yours might carry some weight.”
“I’m not that old!” Zane knew what Jake meant, but the line got a laugh, which he and Dion departed on.
Dion breathed, “Silver fox,” as they left, and Zane, knowing he shouldn’t, said, “Wolf. Silver wolf,” which made Dion purse his lips thoughtfully.
“I suppose. He’s sort of tall for a fox. And those blue eyes. Too bad he’s married.”
“To a woman,” Zane pointed out with amusement. “Besides, I thought you were currently madly in love with Aaron Jones.”
Dion was too dark to blush, but shot Zane a slightly betrayed look, as if he’d struck on something he wasn’t supposed to know. “Don’t be mean.”
Zane, genuinely surprised, put a hand over his heart in apology. “Sorry. He seems lovely.”
Dion sniffed, said, “He is,” and refused to be drawn out any more as they went for doughnuts. Or a cinnamon roll, in Zane’s case. It was larger than his palm, and he only ate about a quarter of it, but the rest went into a take-out box so he could nibble on it for the next day or two. Dion, who could eat anything, probably due to a much-stricter exercise regime than Zane ever bothered with, ate an apple fritter that was almost literally the size of his face, and a cup of cinnamon-apple tea that apparently went wonderfully with the fritter. He ordered another one to go, and on the way out the door, said, “Remind me to always take dining advice from the locals while in a small town. You never told me Virtue had such good food, Mr. Z.”
“When I was growing up it had the Silver Dollar Diner, the Italian Place, and a burger joint that burned down three times before the owners gave up on it.”
“Sounds like an insurance scam.”
Zane’s jaw dropped. “That never occurred to me.”
“Ah, well, I’m handsome but cynical. My toxic trait. I’m going back to the B&B to call every purveyor of fine fabrics on the East Coast and offering the first one who gets us a decent range of fabrics an exclusive six month deal with Zane Bellamy Fashion Designs. Unless you want me to work from your studio.”
Zane never wanted anyone to work in his studio if he could help it, and Dion knew it. He gave his PA a dry look and Dion swanned off, grinning, toward the B&B, while Zanewalked carefully across still-slick sideways to his new temporary workspace.
The curtain rods were up and Jake Rowly was gone by the time he arrived. It only took a few minutes to finish and mount the curtains, after which he finally got up the nerve to text Vicki with,can we talk?
As soon as he sent it he knew it was a mistake. Nobody ever wanted to have a conversation that begancan we talk? Worse, she didn’t answer, making it very, very clear he’d made a mistake. Millions of mistakes. He needed a how-to guide on communicating with women. That was embarrassing, for a man of thirty-eight years. He alternated between working on her dress design and fretting, until about three-thirty, when his phone bipped with a notification, and there was a text from Vicki:
Sorry, I was at work. We can talk, sure. When/where?
Work. Right. She’d been teaching. No wonder she hadn’t answered. Zane reallydidneed a how-to guide. He texted back with his new workplace address and she sent a confused emoji and asee you in a while,which didn’t exactly fill his heart with confidence.
On the other hand, she hadn’t said she never wanted to see him again, and Zane would take that as a win.
CHAPTER 13
Vicki wasn’t really sure she ever wanted to see Zane again, but she hadn’t figured out a way to give her dress to somebody else, either, so after finishing school paperwork, she slogged around the block toward the town square, paused, and went back the other direction to stop at the new gastropub. Their hot chocolate wasn’t as good as Imelda’s, but they had a liquor license, so she could get a shot of Bailey’s in it. At the moment, Vicki wasn’t sure which she needed more, the warmth or the liquid courage.
Nothing good ever came from a conversation that started withcan we talk,but they’d left things very awkwardly—at best—on Saturday night, and…they probably needed to talk. About fake dating, if nothing else.
After all, Vicki knew how fake dating worked in the movies. Maybe it could turn into something real.
Or maybe it was just a career move for Zane. She sighed, finished her hot chocolate, and straightened her coat. She was a confident, intelligent, strong woman. She could go have anuncomfortable conversation withthe hottest guy she had ever laid eyes onand it would betotally fine.
Oddly enough, that helped. She was even smiling as she marched back out into the weather and headed for the address Zane had given her: one of the shop fronts on the town square, but she didn’t know which shop itwas.
Because, as it turned out, it hadn’t been one yesterday. Its windows were clean now, although she couldn’t see more than shadows inside through thin white curtains that hadn’t been there either. Vicki knocked on the door hesitantly, wondering what was going on inside.
It took just long enough for her to wonder if anybody would answer, or if she should knock again, before the door swept open. The lightweight curtains billowed dramatically, briefly providing a pale, ghostly backdrop for Zane Bellamy, who wore slacks, shirtsleeves, and a measuring tape around his neck. His grey gaze was almost silver with bright hope, and the devastating smile that made Vicki’s knees weak was currently shy and soft. “Vicki. You came. Thank you. Come on in.”
He stepped aside as the curtains settled, and the room suddenly seemed less…gothy. Which was kind of too bad, because the gothic vampire look had worked rather well for Vicki.
