The Gratitude Guarantee (Boyfriend in the Bargain #4)

11. Zach

11

ZACH

B renna leads me up the stairs, pausing at a hall closet to pull out an old sleeping bag with stuffing poking out of one corner. She carries it into her room without turning on the lights, and I stop at the door as I did earlier.

“Did you not hear what I said this afternoon about your dad’s warning?” I tease.

She gives me a withering look. “You’re only passing through my room to another destination.”

Intrigued, I watch as she pushes aside the curtains and opens her window, shoving the sleeping bag through. She sits on the sill and swings her legs out, vanishing into the darkness. I take a few steps toward the window, but apparently, I’m not moving fast enough for her because her head pops back in.

“Are you coming?” She quirks an eyebrow before disappearing again.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust once I get outside. Brenna has unzipped the sleeping bag and laid it out flat on a gentle slope of roof that I’m guessing covers the front porch. The slopes are steeper on either side of us in the traditional Tudor style, but this small section is nearly flat and easy to maneuver. Brenna lays back on the sleeping bag with one arm behind her head and pats the empty space beside her.

I accept her invitation with a smile she probably can’t see and look up into the night. The sky is clear and more stars than I would have expected for this close to town twinkle in the velvety blackness.

“This is nice. I don’t know if I’ve ever gone star-gazing before.”

“Really?” She turns her head toward me. “You’ve been to a bunch of different countries but never bothered to look up at the stars?”

“When you put it that way, I kind of sound like an idiot.” I chuckle. “Or like someone who can’t appreciate what’s in his own backyard.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. It just surprised me.”

“Looking at the stars seems like something you should do with another person, not by yourself,” I say, slowly reasoning out and explaining my thoughts at the same time. “I guess I’ve never had the opportunity to do this with someone else who would enjoy it too.”

It’s quiet for a long moment, and I’m afraid I’ve made her uncomfortable with such a personal confession until she finally speaks.

“I get that. I used to do this all the time when I was a teenager, but you’re the first person I’ve ever shared it with. You’re right, it’s better with someone else.”

The warmth that blooms in my chest gives the chill in the November air a run for its money. I start counting all the stars I can see despite the obvious futility of such an action, allowing my mind to wander as I do. I can’t help but notice that it seems determined to wander in a certain direction—namely, toward the woman lying beside me in the dark.

A question occurred to me when she came back downstairs in her comfy clothes after dinner, looking all cute and relaxed. Why have I never asked her out? She’s beautiful, friendly, smart, and I’ve had plenty of opportunities when we’ve run into each other at the gym. So how in the world has it never once crossed my mind to ask her on a date? Me, the guy who is determined to find Ms. Right and turn her into Mrs. Dawson. It doesn’t make any sense.

And now that I’ve thought of it, I can’t get the idea out of my mind. Which is excruciatingly annoying for someone who is committed to not dating for the next six weeks. But I clearly remember her saying she wasn’t interested in a romantic relationship right now, so maybe it’s for the best that I can’t ask her out if she would only say no anyway.

Desperate to think about anything else, I fumble around for a topic of conversation.

“I don’t think you ever told me what you do for a living,” I comment. And yes, I know that the topic is still Brenna, but at least it’s about her professional life instead of her love life and how I might slot into it.

“I’m an associate at a corporate law firm.”

I wait for her to elaborate but she doesn’t oblige. “Do you like your work?”

“I’ve always wanted to be an attorney. I was lucky to get this position straight out of school.”

Interesting—she didn’t really answer my question. Her reply was polite and diplomatic but told me nothing about her feelings toward the job.

“So you enjoy being an attorney? What do you do on an average day?”

She snorts softly. “What do I do or what am I supposed to be doing?”

“Are those two things different?”

She shifts restlessly. “You know what? Let’s not talk about work right now. We’re off for the holidays, so let’s just enjoy it.”

“Okay.” Far be it from me to press when she’s clearly uncomfortable with the topic of work. Although I have to admit, I’m more curious now than I was to begin with. “What do you want to talk about?”

“What was your major in college?” she asks, turning on her side and propping her head on her hand. “You said you went, but I’m not sure what type of degree is most helpful for a lawncare professional.”

I chuckle. “That’s a very nice way of asking ‘Why’d you waste your time on college if you’re just going to mow yards?’”

I can just barely see her shaking her head in the dim light from the window. “I didn’t mean it like that at all. I guess what I’m trying to ask is, what’s your story? How’d you come to own your own lawncare business?”

“I’m actually a CPA. Well,” I amend. “I was until my license expired earlier this year.”

“Really? I can’t picture you as an accountant.”

“Neither could I.” I smile as she huffs an amused laugh. “I worked in an accounting firm for three years and I hated it. I thought, ‘There’s no way I can do this for the rest of my miserable life.’ About that time, I started working part-time on the weekends for a buddy who needed some extra help in the summer with his landscaping business. Eventually, I decided that even though it was hard work physically, it beat being chained to a desk all day. So I quit my office job and started pulling in clients of my own until I built my income up to my goal. That’s pretty much it.”

“Have you ever regretted it? That’s a pretty big professional pivot.”

“No, I would make the same choice again. The only thing I wish I would have known beforehand is that working for yourself has a whole different set of challenges than working for a boss.”

“Like what?”

“Like being responsible for every aspect of the business, which makes it difficult to turn it off and relax. This is the first vacation I’ve taken in almost three years,” I tell her with a laugh.

“Gosh, now I feel like I need to make this trip special for you if you’re calling this a vacation.”

“I’m having a great time,” I assure her truthfully. “This is very relaxing.”

We fall into silence again, long moments stretching comfortably between us as we stare at the sky until a high-pitched beeping sends my heart rate into overdrive and causes Brenna to startle violently. Her feet kick up as she lunges for her phone to silence the pie alarm, and I watch one of her slippers go sailing through the air and over the edge of the roof.

“Oh no!” She bolts up and gapes after it. “These are my favorite slippers!”

I try not to laugh at the despondency in her voice, as if the cherished footwear has just tumbled into a black hole instead of into the yard. “I’ll go get it. You check on the pie.”

We climb back inside and go back downstairs, splitting up in the foyer. I let myself out the front door and walk out into the yard, my eyes on the second story as I try to figure out where we were so I know where to look. Based on my best guess, I walk along one end of the long front porch, scanning the grass and flower beds and trying not to shiver. After being outside for nearly an hour, the chill is starting to get to me. When I reach the end with no luck, I turn my attention to a grouping of bushes under a window between the porch and the driveway.

I don’t see it, but it must be in there because it’s not in the yard. The only thing for me to do is dive in—metaphorically. A closer inspection reveals the bushes to be holly, which are not as spiky as some plants, but are also not to be taken lightly. I tap the flashlight icon on my phone and kneel, pushing gently into a small gap in the prickly foliage. Sure enough, I catch a glimpse of something shoe-shaped against the house.

I vaguely register the sound of a car behind me as I lean farther, reaching for the prize. A set of headlights flashes, illuminating the front of the house, quickly followed by an alarmed shout. My fingers close around the slipper and I lean back, withdrawing from the bush and pushing myself upright. I see a car parked in the driveway, the lights nearly blinding me, and a man outlined behind the open driver’s side door.

“Don’t you move,” the man yells. “I’m armed and my wife is calling the police right now.”

Instinctively, my hands fly up in a gesture of surrender, one still clutching a fuzzy, leopard print slipper. My heart is galloping and a cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck as lights start glowing from the windows of the house. The front door flies open, discharging Kevin, Elaine, and Brenna onto the porch behind me.

“What’s going on?”

“Stay back, Dad,” the man in the driveway warns. “You have a prowler right in front of your bedroom window. Don’t worry. Heather is on the phone with the police right now.”

Kevin leans over the porch rail and squints into the darkness. “Elaine, turn on the outside lights, please.”

She complies and floodlights illuminate the yard. “It’s me, Zach,” I call, though I’m sure he can see me clearly by now.

“Zach? Ben, you tell Heather to let the police know there’s been a misunderstanding.” Kevin steps off the porch and stops beside me. “You can put your hands down, son.”

I comply, my shoulders slumping in relief.

“This is Brenna’s boyfriend, Zach,” Kevin explains, moving toward the newcomers. “I don’t know what he’s doing out here,” he says with some puzzlement evident in his voice. “But he’s our guest.”

“Brenna’s boyfriend?” Heather practically leaps from the car, her eyes trained on me with undisguised curiosity.

I take a step forward and give her a little wave. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you, though I would have preferred a more typical introduction.”

“Why are you holding a slipper?” The shouting man—Ben—asks with a frown. I can’t tell if he feels foolish for sounding a false alarm or if he’s still suspicious of me. Could be it’s a little bit of both, which is probably fair, given the circumstances.

“It’s a long story, but Brenna lost it and I was getting it back for her.”

Heather lays a hand on my arm and laughs. “I can’t wait to hear the whole story.”

“It’s really not that interesting.” Brenna’s voice behind me makes me turn, and we all watch as she hobbles down the stone walkway with one bare foot. I hold her slipper out wordlessly when she reaches us, and she takes it and slides it on as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Almost before both of her feet are on the ground, Heather has her arms around her sister and the two of them are chattering like magpies.

“It’s so good to see you! I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“He’s…new,” Brenna hedges. “Where are the girls?”

“Oh! I told them to stay in the car because we thought Zach here was up to no good, but clearly, that’s not the case. I’ll go tell them they can unload now.”

Heather dashes around the car and opens the back door. Seconds later, two squealing preteen girls emerge.

“Aunt Bee!” The younger girl throws her arms around Brenna’s waist. “We thought there was a burglar, and I told Bella that it was lucky we got here when we did or else he would have stolen all Nan’s jewelry and Pop’s signed baseball.”

The older sister rolls her eyes and corrects her sister patronizingly. “Nobody else would care about that baseball, Kenzie. Thieves want electronics and other stuff they can sell.”

Kenzie shrugs. “That stuff too.”

Brenna puts her hand on Kenzie’s shoulder and smiles. “Luckily, there was no burglar—just Zach.”

The girls turn in unison, as if just now noticing my presence, and study me with narrowed eyes. If I were her real boyfriend here to actually meet and impress her family, I would be squirming right now under their appraising stares.

“Zach?” Bella’s tone is skeptical and unimpressed.

“Hi, Bella.” I hold out my hand to her just like I would an adult. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She hesitates for about two seconds, then shakes my hand. Kenzie is much more accepting, pumping my hand confidently when it’s her turn.

“Hi, Zach. Are you Aunt Bee’s boyfriend? Mom said she needs one, so it’d be good if you were.”

Brenna’s head swivels to Heather who has the grace to cringe slightly under her sister’s glare. I keep my focus on Kenzie and say, “I know she doesn’t need me, but I’m lucky that she wants me here.”

“Do you like cats, Zach?” Kenzie asks, abruptly changing subjects.

“Sure. I don’t have one of my own, but my neighbor has a fluffy gray one that likes to nap on my porch sometimes. I got a little bag of kitty treats to give him when I go outside and see him there.”

“I like you,” she pronounces, then scampers back to the car.

“She’s obsessed with cats,” Bella says with another eye roll. “That’s literally all she cares about.”

“That’s not all she cares about,” Heather corrects her older daughter. “But she does really like them.”

“So, if I’d answered differently, we might not have been friends?” I ask.

“Pretty much,” Brenna confirms with a laugh. “Determining whether or not someone likes cats is her own brand of litmus test to see if they’re a good person or not.”

“There are worse ways to assess a person,” I say with a shrug, amused and glad I passed the Kenzie quiz.

“Bella, why don’t you go get your bag out of the car and take Kenzie inside,” Heather instructs. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Bella complies, and as soon as she’s out of earshot, Heather turns to me. “So, Zach, what are your intentions toward my sister?”

“Heather! You just met him!” Brenna lays a hand on my arm and looks up at me. “Do not answer that. My sister sometimes has a hard time remembering that some things are not her business.”

Heather holds her hands up, much like I was doing a few moments ago, and ducks her head. “Fine, fine. I won’t ask any questions…for now. But you should have told me about him, new or not.”

“Well, we all know about him now,” Elaine cuts in, moving to stand between her daughters and loop an arm around each of their waists. “Come on, girls, let’s get out of this cold. Heather, I’ll help you get your bags.”

They move to the rear of the car, leaving Brenna and me standing on the walkway alone.

“Sorry about that,” Brenna says. “Heather can be a handful sometimes.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you have people who care about you enough to ask uncomfortable questions. I’m also glad I didn’t have to answer.”

She chuckles at this, then suddenly her eyes widen. “Oh, I need to go hide our pie before someone sees it!”

She dashes up the walkway and into the house without another word.

Kevin catches my attention and introduces me to Heather’s husband, Ben.

“Sorry about the misunderstanding,” I offer as I shake his hand. “For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t want to come up against you if I was a real burglar. I was sure you were about to take me down when you yelled that you were armed.”

“I’m glad it had the desired effect,” Ben replies with a pleased smile. He leans in to whisper conspiratorially, “It was a bluff. The most dangerous thing I’m armed with is an unusually sharp credit card.”

Kevin and I laugh. “It was a good bluff. Remind me not to play cards with you.”

The three of us move to follow the women inside. Brenna’s earlier comment that the fun would start when her sister’s family arrived springs to mind and I grin to myself. It seems she was right. Things just got much more exciting. I’ve been here less than five hours and I know one thing for sure—there won’t be a dull moment with this family.