Zee turned her head but didn’t join the conversation.
Church raked his fingers through his hair, the strands longer than he’d worn it since entering bootcamp all those years ago. Christ—twenty-four years ago to be exact. He suddenly felt a hell of a lot older than forty-two.
“So they want you to bring a wife,” Theo said slowly.
“That’s the idea. The actor’s manager threatened legal action.”
“Well, that’s inconvenient.”
Church shot him a look. “You think?”
A soft snort sounded from the storage closet. They both looked at Zee, who was pulling can after can of ground spray paint out of a box and setting them on a shelf.
As she realized their discussion stopped, she looked over her shoulder and issued a little laugh. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She brushed a strand of chestnut hair away fromher face. She held up a can, rambling on as if to cover her eavesdropping, “I’ve never seen this much ground paint in one place. What are you planning to do with all of it? Section off the entire mountain?”
“It’s for the training courses. We use it to mark positions for the trainees during exercises,” Theo explained. Then he slowly turned back to Church, gray eyes suddenly gleaming in a way that had his senses on alert.
“I already don’t like whatever it is you’re thinking, Malone.”
Theo cut his eyes toward Zee. Then back to him.
Church pointed a finger at him. “Don’t.”
Theo tipped his head. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t look at her.”
Zee spun to them, a tiny crease between her soft brows. “Why shouldn’t he look at me?”
Neither of them answered. They were too busy having a stare-down with a battle of wills on the side.
“Zee—” Theo began.
Church shook his head. “No.”
Zee folded her arms over her thin middle and studied them. He opened his mouth to shut the idea down before it even formed.
But she spoke first. “I’ve been a wife before.”
The words hit him like a physical blow, rocking his head to the side as if she’d slapped him.
“I know how to play the role,” she continued.
He met her stare, and hers was steady, void of the type of grief he’d seen on her face during the funeral.
Theo slapped a hand on the box with a dull thud. “Looks like it’s decided to me.”
Church closed his eyes briefly. “Don’t you dare.”
A grin sliced across Theo’s face as he pointed between him and Zee. “I now pronounce you man and wife.”
His chest burned, and in the back of his mind, a voice—distinctly Matt’s—echoed as if from a distance, too far away to make out the words.
His friend probably had a few choice comments for him. Because somehow he’d just agreed to play husband to the widow of the one man he’d lost.
* * * * *
Zee paused in front of the bathroom mirror and gave herself a quick once-over.
