A choked laugh escapes his wide chest. “Hussy? I haven’t heard that word in forever.”
I drop my chin to my chest and stare at the dark hardwood floor. “Yes, well, it seemed
appropriate.”
“A kiss doesn’t make you a hussy. It was an innocent kiss. About the most innocent thing I’ve ever
experienced.”
Everything Bree said about his life filters through my mind. The women, the clubs. Of course,
he’d call it innocent. He’s used to doing so much more. Everyone’s used to doing so much more.
“Right. Either way, I’m sorry, and it won’t happen again.”Why is he frowning again?
“Won’t happen again,” he echoes. His face showing…frustration? Anger? “I see. Yes, that’s fine.
No big deal. Let me show you out.” His arm flails out again, but he’s unable to grab the door handle.
He stops, dropping his head against the door in frustration.
“You really overdid it. Come on, let’s get you some water.” A little devil, one separate from that
awful little voice, hopped up on my shoulder the second he said our kiss was no big deal.
I know it was no big deal, but he didn’t have to say it.
That devil makes me reach for his hand and slowly pull him toward his sleek kitchen. The shiny
black cabinets paired with the dark floors are sexy. But it’s the countertop that draws my eye and my
fingertips. I brush my fingers along the oiled wood countertops, marveling at how perfect they are.
“You must use cutting boards all the time. The wood is still pristine. I had an old block countertop
in my apartment back home, but it was scuffed and marked up. It was still beautiful, though.” I glance
over at Zach, but he’s not listening to me. His gaze is narrowed in on our joined hands, and I draw in
a silent breath, bracing for the moment he pulls away. Shocked, I watch as, with effort, he curls his
fingers to wrap around mine loosely, his thumb barely brushing back and forth over the back of my
hand.
I did not think this through at all. Do I pull away? I probably should. Do I want to? No. I really
don’t. Today is a banner day. Holding hands twice in one day.
I should buy a lottery ticket.
Holding Zach’s hand is nothing like Bree’s. His hand is so much larger than mine, his fingers
easily wrapping around me. And the warmth…my god, it feels good. My hands are usually cold from
November to April, always desperately searching for a warm pocket or a hot cup of tea to wrap
around. But none of those come close to the warmth Zach’s radiating. I stare at our joined hands for
