Crosscheck Page 9

  Mara burst out laughing, a hint of chocolate at the corner of her mouth from her own pastry. “What did I say?”

  “I will never doubt you again,” he groaned as he took another bite, this one much bigger.

  She grinned and ran her thumb along the side of her mouth, capturing the chocolate there. “Dang straight, Zane.”

  He paused again, this time looking at her with more intensity than he usually spared off of the ice.

  She stilled. “What?”

  “You’ve never called me Zane,” he told her in a low voice, feeling the rumble of it more than the sound. “Ever.”

  “Sure I have,” she scoffed with a wave of her hand.

  He shook his head firmly. “No. You haven’t. You haven’t called me anything.”

  Her eyes went round. “Oh.” She swallowed once, and his eyes darted to the movement of her throat. “And?”

  He dragged his eyes back up to hers, heat coiling within him. “I like it. A lot.”

  Mara exhaled, and he wished to heaven he could translate the sound. “Okay,” she murmured.

  Zane smiled slightly and nodded back. “Okay.” His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he ignored it, going back in for more of his scone.

  “Get it,” Mara told him.

  He looked up at her. “What?”

  “Your phone,” she clarified. “I heard it buzz. Get it. It’s fine.”

  She was generous, but he knew it was probably The Pit being obnoxious. “No, really . . .”

  She gave him a hard look, which he was learning she was quite good at. “It could be Hope. You get a pass on the checking-your-phone thing. Get it, or I’ll come over there and do it.”

  Zane quirked his brows at her. “That sounds like a more interesting idea.”

  “Zane . . .” Mara scolded like she might have done with Chip.

  He laughed and pulled his phone out. “Fine, fine.” He glanced at the screen, then frowned. “Crap.”

  “What?”

  He met Mara’s eyes with a sigh. “Josie. I forgot she has a hair appointment, and she is demanding I come home so she isn’t late. I neglected to tell her I was coming here with you.” He grimaced, looking down at their half-eaten scones. “This isn’t how I imagined this going.”

  Mara waved a hand again. “It’s fine! Absolutely fine, no worries whatsoever, I’ll just . . .”

  His phone buzzed in his palm, and he glanced down, fully scowling now.

  “Oh dear. More?”

  “Valentines,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “We have to do valentines today.”

  “Well, yeah,” Mara said in confusion. “That is this coming week. You should have picked up a box at the store.”

  He shook his head again. “Hope wants to make valentines. Josie’s bowing out, the traitor, and I have zero artistic ability or desire. Oy, this is bad.” He squeezed his eyes shut and put his phone to his head.

  “I could help.”

  His eyes sprang open, and he looked up at Mara. “What?”

  She gestured lightly, her face clear of irony or suggestion. “I could help. Arts and crafts with a five-year-old sounds like a riot. I’ll just come to your house and crank a few out, good to go, problem solved.”

  Zane blinked at her. “You’re serious.”

  Her hands gestured in a much more sarcastic way this time. “Duh. Let’s go.” She slid out of the booth, grabbing her pastry in one hand. “I mean it, let’s go, Daddy-o. I’ve seen Josie irritated. Do you want to see that tomorrow?”

  He laughed at that, unable to believe this woman had not only met him here but was now demanding he get up so she could come home with him. To help his daughter make valentines.

  If he hadn’t been hooked on her before, he was getting there now.

  He grinned up at her and made his way out of the booth, reaching for his leftover scone as he did so. “Fine. You’ll follow me there?”

  Mara smirked at him. “I might have cyber-stalked you, Zane Winchester, but I didn’t physically stalk you. Yes, I’m following you.”

  “So you did look me up. Well, well, well . . .” He folded his arms, daring her to refute it.

  “Heck yeah, I did,” she shot back, completely unfazed. “And the photos don’t begin to do you justice.” She quirked her brows and strode for the door.

  Zane grinned after her, laughing for no reason whatsoever.

  Yep. He was hooked.

  So, so hooked.

  “It’s okay, it’s fine. It’s fine. You just invited yourself to Zane Winchester’s house. For arts and crafts.”

  She sighed loudly and shook her head. “You idiot.”

  There was really no other word for it. She hadn’t even been thinking when she’d suggested it; it had just seemed the logical thing to do. He didn’t want to make them—would probably butcher them—and it would crush a creative girl like Hope to not have the exact valentines she wanted. He would have given his all to the effort, but ultimately, it wouldn’t have been a great outcome.

  Artistically speaking.

  Not that the art was the most important thing, but it did help.

  Mara could help there.

  But it was Zane. She had invited herself over to his house.

  If their brief date at the bakery was any indication, she’d embarrass herself twelve more times and catch on fire at least three.

  And yet . . .

  He actually seemed interested in her. He stared at her a little too long, asked questions with too much interest, and teased her a little too freely. She knew she was shamelessly staring at times and that her quips were a little too frequent, but she was used to saying things without thinking.

  Hence the driving to his house for valentine making.

  She shook her head on an exhale as she followed his SUV into a neighborhood, expecting to see grand houses with gated driveways.

  This was not that kind of neighborhood.

  The houses were moderately sized, clean and well-kept but hardly luxury. They all had either a traditional farmhouse look or more of a plantation style, but they all blended together seamlessly. Some were older than others and some had clearly been redone, but all in all, it was a classic neighborhood that had been around for a while. More than that, there were people milling about in their yards, kids bundled up and running around, and a few people out on walks with their dogs.

  This was where a hockey superstar lived?

  Zane pulled his SUV into the driveway of an older yet renovated home, the facade a perfect blend of the styles she’d seen. The second-story terrace in the center called to Mara’s more Southern roots and tastes.

  She’d have taken a mug of cocoa and a rocker up to that terrace and stayed for hours looking at the stars.

  What would Zane think of that?

  She shook her head and pulled into the drive behind Zane, turning off the car and gripping the steering wheel for a moment.

  “You’re crazy, Mara June,” she told herself, sounding very much like her father when she did so.

  That made her frown.

  “Shut your piehole,” she muttered as she clambered out of the car, fidgeting with her hair as nerves washed over her.

  Zane was waiting for her in the garage, smiling in invitation but seeming to let her have a moment.

  Great.

  She covered by looking up and around at the house, nodding in approval. “Subtle, tasteful, and classic.”

  “Thank you, I do try.”

  Mara blinked and looked at him dryly. “The house, Zane.”

  He shrugged, his eyes widening innocently. “What did you think I meant?”

  Now Mara rolled her eyes and came over to him. “Incorrigible.”

  “How can a house be incorrigible?” he asked, turning to lead her into the house.

  Without thinking, she slapped him on the back. “You, genius!”

  He laughed in protest and darted forward, away from her. “Oh, I’m sorry. I get so confused.”

  “Clearly.” She hu
ffed in faux irritation but couldn’t help grinning. Zane’s playful side was definitely an attractive one.

  Not that he had an unattractive side.

  She’d have to rank his various sides by attractiveness sometime, just for organization’s sake.

  Zane didn’t even pause at the door to the house, pushing it open as though it were completely normal for him to bring a random woman over to the house.

  Oh gosh, what if this was normal?

  Her toe caught the edge of the threshold of the door, and she barely caught herself on the frame before she actually stumbled into his house. Which would be perfect, because then she could turn and run out to her car for an escape.

  But that would also require her to fall flat on her face in front of Zane, which would pretty much be death.

  “Hello?” Zane called out as he strode into the kitchen, apparently missing Mara’s almost disastrous moment. “Where’s the chaos that was threatened?”

  “Oh, it’s coming, buddy!” a familiar voice rang out, twang in full force. “You have no idea how lucky you are.”

  Mara winced as she moved fully into the kitchen, the warm off-yellow color of the walls offsetting the antique-looking white cabinets in a perfect way, though it would clash with her blush horribly.

  Figures.

  Josie was grabbing her tan slouchy purse from the table while shrugging into a burgundy fleece, her attention entirely focused on getting out the door. “Hope’s had an early lunch, and everything you’ll need for valentines is in her cubby. I donated a shoebox for the efforts, it’s on the stairs. Don’t do anything about dinner, Mama’s bringing chili.”

  Mara bit her lip as she slowly, casually made her way to the massive island in the kitchen, resting her hands on it, waiting for the reaction she might fear most.

  Josie looked up then, digging for her keys in her purse. She stopped, her eyes flicking from Mara to Zane and back again. A small smile lit her lips, and she removed her hand from her purse, pointing between them. “Oh . . . oh, I like this. Yeah. Yeah, this is good.” She nodded repeatedly as she came around the table and went by Zane to grab a bottle of water from a minifridge on the counter.

  Patting Zane on the shoulder, Josie nodded again to herself, sighing as if in relief. She smiled at Mara and reached out a hand to pat the top of hers. “Hey, Mara. Nice to see you again.”

  Mara swallowed with difficulty, her throat completely parched. “Hi, Josie.”

  Josie winked, then moved past her for the door, whistling a song to herself that Mara could still hear echoing in the garage when the door was closed.

  “Right,” Zane said slowly in the suddenly awkward space. “So that’s Josie.”

  “Yeah,” Mara replied. She nodded shakily, tension spreading across her neck and shoulders. “Yeah, I know.”

  They shared a strained smile that reflected the awkwardness Mara felt curling in her stomach.

  Zane suddenly cleared his throat before calling, “Hope! Hopey-Dope, where art thou?”

  “Coming!” a cheery little voice shouted as a series of pattering thumps sounded from above them.

  “Where art thou?” Mara repeated with a wry look.

  He returned the look without shame. “She’s my princess, so . . .”

  She couldn’t argue with that, and she smiled without really meaning to. “That’s sweet.”

  Zane smiled back, ruefully this time. “I was kidding . . . but if you like that, I’ll keep it up.”

  “I should have known,” she muttered. “Are you ever serious, Zane Winchester?”

  “Oh yeah.” He leaned on the island, a swagger of sorts entering his frame. “When it matters most, I am as serious as they come.”

  Shivers tingled at the base of Mara’s spine, but she refused to give in to the sensation. She placed her hands on the countertop herself and leaned towards him, eyes narrowing. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” she whispered.

  Zane lowered himself to resting on his elbows, bringing his face closer to hers. “Is that a challenge, Miss Matthews? I can assure you, I have a very, very long history of owning every single challenge thrown down in front of me.”

  The shivers were going to ripple across her entire body soon, but she wasn’t going to let him know that her knees were already shaking. “Sure,” she managed to say, keeping her voice low. “If you want it to be.”

  “Oh, I think I do want,” he murmured with a very slow smile. “And I think you do too.”

  Well, the shivers burst into flames at that, scorching everything from the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair.

  “Do I?” she asked of no one at all, her voice still low, her eyes on his.

  Yes, she did.

  Hells yes she did; the fire said so, and her breathlessness echoed that.

  If Zane’s smile was any indication, he saw that in her face at this moment.

  Whoops.

  “Daddy, is it time for valentines now?” Hope asked as she darted down the stairs.

  Zane straightened away from Mara, almost jerking to face his daughter. “Guess so, pumpkin. First you need to say hi to someone.”

  Hope looked at Mara and gasped. “Miss Mara! You came over to my house!”

  There was nothing to do except grin at her for that. Mara pushed back from the counter, hands on her hips. “I sure did! How about you give me a tour?”

  “Yes!” Hope dashed over to her and took her hand, tugging her out of the large kitchen, through some french doors, into a dining room. The house was arranged in a formal layout, but the atmosphere was so relaxed it was hard to think of it as anything but comfortable.

  “This is the fancy room,” Hope told Mara in an important voice. “We never eat in here unless it’s Christmas, Thanksgiving, or a birthday. Or if lots of the family is here. Aunt Penny loves to eat in here when she comes. Josie says it’s cuz she’s pretendous.”

  Zane coughed a startled laugh behind them. “Pretentious, sweetheart?”

  “Pretendous, yeah,” Hope replied. She returned her attention to the room. “And over there is my piano!”

  Mara looked, and sure enough, an old but utterly classic piano sat tucked in a corner, framed photos across the entire top. “Are you a musician, Hope?”

  “Yep!” She nodded happily, pulling Mara over to the instrument. “Daddy says I can start taking lessons when I’m six. Claire’s mommy will teach me, and we’ve had that piano my whole life and no one can play it except Gramma Annie.” She pointed at a picture of an older woman pushing her in a swing.

  “She looks so fun!” Mara told her, smiling. She looked at the rest of the pictures, her brow furrowing as she saw more grandparents and a ton of adults and other kids.

  Was this all family? It was huge!

  And which of these were Hope’s mom? Or were any of them?

  “Grandpa Charlie can play too, baby,” Zane reminded her softly from behind them.

  Mara glanced back at him, seeing him leaning against the french doors, hands in his pockets, a smile on his lips. “Your dad?”

  His eyes flicked to her, the smile tightening. “No.”

  And that was all he said.

  Hope tugged on Mara’s sleeve. “Grandpa Charlie is my extra grandpa, Miss Mara. I’m that special, I get an extra.”

  Mara smiled at her and ran a hand over her hair. “You are so lucky. What other rooms do you have, huh?”

  Again, she was tugged along, this time to the foyer, though just in passing on the way to the next room, which was locked.

  “This is Daddy’s exercise room,” Hope told her in a very serious tone. “I can’t go in there without a grown-up.”

  “Seems wise.” Mara nodded in approval. “We have that rule at the gym, don’t we?”

  “It’s a good rule,” Zane pointed out.

  Hope was already moving on, pulling her down a hallway off the main portion of the house. “This is Josie’s room, and her bathroom.”

  “Let’s not go down there, Hopey,” Zane called, a
smile in his voice. “Mara doesn’t need to see that. How about the TV room?”

  “Okay!” Almost spinning on her heel, Hope changed direction and yanked Mara’s arm to follow.

  Mara looked at Zane as she passed him. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  He nodded with a cheeky grin. “So much.”

  “Jerk.”

  He dipped his chin in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”

  “This is the bestest room ever, Miss Mara,” Hope assured her as they entered. “Look!”

  Mara’s eyes went wide as she took it in, and she was inclined to agree. One wall was almost ceiling to floor windows with an incredible view of a backyard and tons of trees in the distance. In the fall, it must be breathtaking.

  A huge sectional took up most of the room, with a massive flat-screen TV on the wall opposite, just above a stone fireplace, shelves of movies on either side. Pictures of family decorated the other remaining wall, a montage of laughter, love, and apparently chaos. Some stunning beauties in the family—and she recognized Zane in a number of them. For such a private guy, there were a lot of pictures everywhere.

  Interesting.

  “This is the blanket closet, Miss Mara.” Hope released her hand and darted over to a door next to the photos. She opened it wide and gestured grandly to shelves of blankets. “Just look!”

  Mara grinned as she came over: patchwork quilts, fleece-tie blankets, and some Sherpa throws almost filled the entire thing. “That is amazing! How do you pick one?”

  Hope giggled and pointed at a blue-and-purple patchwork quilt. “This one’s my favorite.”

  “I like that one too,” Mara told her with a wink. “Where did you get it?”

  “Grandma Rae and Papa Tom,” she reported proudly. “And this one is from Gramma Annie and Papa Wayne. That one came from Aunt Julie, this one is from Uncle Kyle and Aunt Reeree . . .”

  Mara was beginning to get dizzy with names, and she was relieved when she heard Zane.

  “Hope, Mara is going to help you with valentines,” he interrupted with the gentle firmness of a father. “Why don’t you go get what you need from your Imagination Station?”