Wrapped Up in Christmas Love (Wrapped Up in Christmas #4)

Chapter Six

“A bsolutely no public displays of affection. No prying into anything you don’t absolutely have to know. Do not take unfair advantage of my friends or family. Find out what you need to know without making anyone suspicious and don’t you dare do anything that will hurt any of my friends or family.”

Zach eyed a Christmas-red-dress-and-boot-wearing Isabelle sitting in the driver’s seat of her sedan. She was barely in the car before she’d started ticking off items as if reading them from one of her lists. The scent of freshly baked apple pies filled the car.

This was the most fun he’d had in… forever. Spending the next few weeks with Isabelle almost made being on vacation okay. Almost.

“Let’s shut this charade down. The faster, the better,” she continued, glancing both ways before pulling the car out of Hamilton House’s driveway.

“Quit rushing me, Blondie,” he teased. “Our relationship is new and I’m not that kind of guy.”

Her cheeks lit up to match her dress. “You’re infuriating. You know that, right?”

He knew, but his smile stayed in place despite the flashback of the last time someone had pointed out his failings with those exact words. He hadn’t needed his brother’s insights to know that his family didn’t think much of him.

“Just like you know you’re beautiful when you blush, right?” His compliment seemed to throw her off-kilter. Hard to imagine that she wasn’t used to being complimented, but that she wasn’t was apparent. He’d correct that for however long he was in Pine Hill.

She paused, frowned, then sucked in a deep breath. “Don’t flatter me with your smarm.”

“Lackluster smarm,” he reminded, eyeing how her knuckles white-gripped the steering wheel.

“Yes, that.” She stared straight ahead at the road cutting its way through the rolling hills dotted with cattle, horses, and the occasional farmhouse. “Lackluster. Totally and completely. Lackluster. That’s you.”

The corner of his mouth hiked up. “Keep telling yourself that, Blondie, but we both know I’m growing on you.”

“Like a fungus.”

He chuckled, loving her quick wit. “Fungi serve their purpose. Let’s talk about mine. Prepare me for what to expect when we get to Harvey Farm. What exactly is a couple’s shower?”

The car rolled to a stop at a four-way, and she twisted toward him. “First, I have a question.”

“Fire away.”

Her blue eyes pinned him. “Why did you ask me to pick you up from Hamilton House when Bodie and Sarah will be attending the shower?”

He’d known she’d eventually ask. She was too sharp not to.

“They meant to swing by to pick me up after church before driving to Harvey Farms to assist with decorations. They got hung up at church with something Sarah’s father asked her to help him with.” He shrugged. “When they were already running behind, swinging by for me was going to put them in more of a time crunch, so I offered to have you pick me up.”

She considered him for a few moments. “What if I’d said no?”

“You didn’t.” He gestured to her rearview mirror, pointing out the pickup truck that was barreling their way. “We should get to moving.”

Putting on her signal, she turned the car left. Once they were moving along the paved two-lane road, she asked, “How did you get to Hamilton House?”

“Bodie picked me up at the airport. He assured me that it didn’t make sense to rent a car while I was staying with him and Sarah.” Since Zach wasn’t supposed to be driving .

“Oh,” she mused. “That does make sense.”

His answers were all true, but guilt riddled him that he kept the biggest truth from Isabelle. He had to go thirty days without a spell before his neurologist would clear him to drive. Then it would be basic vehicles only and no planes, helicopters, or heavy equipment until he’d gone a full six months.

“Now it’s your turn.” He redirected their conversation to his earlier question. “Brief me. Who is going to be at this shower, and what do I need to know?”

Her nose curled at his brief me . “It’s a wedding shower for Cole and Sophie being given by the Butterflies to where everyone is invited, men and women. As far as what to expect? With those ladies, your guess is as good as mine. They know no limits. If you’d been here last Christmas for Rosie and Lou’s wedding, you’d understand what I mean.” She sighed. “I love them, but that doesn’t mean I’m not upset over their matchmaking after we got back from our business meeting.”

“Romantic Christmas picnic,” he corrected. “Remember that you’re supposed to be welcoming their matchmaking as you’re incapable of resisting me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just so long as you remember to keep your hands to yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He held up his hands.

“And your lips. Don’t think that I’m letting you off the hook for that icky stunt you pulled in the quilt shop yesterday.”

“I never dreamed that you would.” Awful and now icky? He’d never had his kisses called that before. At least, not to his face. Not that his peck on her cheek had been much of a kiss, but no guy wanted his affections classified as awful and icky .

“What was that, anyway?” She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel.

“A lethal silencer.” As simple as the peck had been, he’d replayed it in his mind dozens of times. He’d acted on instinct and usually trusted his instinct implicitly. With Isabelle, he was in unknown territory.

Her gaze cut toward him.

“You needed to get quiet, fast,” he clarified. It was what he’d concluded had been his reason for the impromptu kiss. He was a man used to doing whatever a job required to achieve success. “I silenced you.”

“Lucky for you that it was on my cheek, or I’d have silenced you.” She raised her knee for emphasis.

Even as he chuckled, Zach’s stomach clenched. “Yeah, lucky for me.”

*

Please let today go okay . Isabelle silently prayed as she parked her car at Harvey Farm. She’d wanted to help hostess Sophie and Cole’s shower, but the Butterflies had insisted that she was doing enough and to let them handle the party. The reality was she’d marked off everything that could be marked off her list until closer to the wedding, and until others completed their tasks, such as Zach finding the bride’s wayward father to walk her down the aisle and the Butterflies finishing Sophie’s wedding dress.

Although the sun shined, the air held a crispness that it hadn’t the day before and Isabelle grabbed her jacket from the backseat prior to locking the car’s doors.

His shoes crunching through the grass, Zach joined her. “Smile, Blondie.”

“I can’t.” Pulling her gaze from the event barn in the distance, she crinkled her nose at him. “I’m too worried about what you’re going to do to embarrass me today.”

Rather than come back with some smart comment, he took her hand and turned her toward him. “I enjoy our sparring, Blondie. You’re a worthy opponent. But I’m not going to intentionally embarrass you at your sister’s wedding shower. I’m not all a bad guy.”

“Just mostly,” she mumbled, buying herself a moment to let what he said sink in. To take in the warm comfort of his hand holding hers. His hand should not be comforting.

The gold flecks in his eyes glistened. “Exactly. It’s what makes me good at my job.”

“Yeah, well, just don’t forget that your job is the only reason you’re here today.”

“I won’t. It’s you forgetting that concerns me.”

“No worries there,” she assured. “I would never really date a military man, so you have nothing to be concerned about on that front.”

He gave her a curious look. “I meant you forgetting to pretend to be affectionate toward me, so no one sees through our ruse.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. She should have known he hadn’t thought…

“I’ll stomach my way through it,” she managed, moving around him to head toward the event barn. A breeze whipped at her dress, flapping the long skirt about her knee boots.

“There’s my girl.” He kept pace beside her.

“But only until you find my father.”

“And you teach me to quilt,” he countered.

That he wanted to learn seemed so strange. Not that the quilt shop didn’t have numerous male customers. Just that Zach seemed too larger than life to spend hours at the machine.

“A Quilts of Valor quilt,” he clarified, taking her hand back when she stumbled in an uneven spot hidden by the grass right before they reached the gravel road that led to the event barn. There were a few cars coming up the main drive, so Isabelle didn’t pull her hand free.

“You’d be better off taking Sophie’s class.” Her sister’s enthusiasm for the organization was admirable. “You only refused to be ornery.”

Stepping across the small ditch that separated the grass and gravel, Zach held out both hands and lifted her across the divide.

Oh! He’d picked her up as if she weighed nothing and, surprised, she stared up at him, taking in the angles of his face, the strong line of his nose, the cleft in his chin.

“I refused your offer of signing me up for Sophie’s class because that wasn’t our deal.” He clasped his fingers with hers. “You’re supposed to teach me.”

Standing next to him made her feel dainty and feminine. She bit into her lower lip. “I’m a teacher who knows how to delegate.”

He laughed. “Odd, when I get the impression you have great difficulty delegating most things.”

Isabelle couldn’t argue. She was used to being in charge. Things went smoother that way.

“You’re a bit of a control freak, aren’t you, Blondie?” he asked as they began walking toward the barn.

“I am not,” she defended, despite her previous thoughts, taking care not to scuff her boots or trip in the gravel.

“What’s with all the lists, then?”

“You’ve seen one list, Zach. One.” Not that she didn’t have lots of others, including the one with his name at the top. In bold letters she’d written, Do Not Fall for This Annoying Man .

“Is that it? Your only list? I don’t think so. Your aunt commented on your list-making yesterday. My guess is that you have a list for everything.” Grinning, he glanced her way. “I bet you have a list in your purse that says, Attend Sophie and Cole’s shower , that you’ll mark off later today.”

She clutched her purse close.

Laughing, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m right.”

“Aren’t you always?” she retorted. She tightened her hold on her purse. “In your mind, if nowhere else.”

“Say what you will, Blondie, but that list is there.” He grinned. “What I want is to know what you have written there for when you drive me home? Take the long way home so I get to spend more time with Zach?” he teased in a mimic tone. “Walk Zach to the front door? Kiss Zach good night?”

Frowning, she gestured toward his shoes. “You better hope those are comfortable because I seem to recall it saying, make Zach walk home. Or maybe you could call Santa to see if he will give you a ride home in his sleigh?”

Laughing, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss there. “Thanks for making my visit to Pine Hill entertaining, Blondie. Also, smile. We’re being watched.”

Isabelle fought the urge to look around to see who watched and forced a smile instead.

“Perfect,” he praised, his hazel eyes twinkling. “Now, let’s go be a couple.”

“We still have a bit before the shower,” she reminded, searching for onlookers without moving her head away from his direction. Maybe the Peeping Toms were behind her. It was definitely a possibility since a couple of cars had come up the drive and were now parked near where they had. “We’re early so that we can offer to help.”

His brow lifted. “Afraid they didn’t get something right?”

“No,” she denied, frowning when he laughed. She didn’t pull her hand free, just walked silently beside him as they made their way to the event barn’s entrance. Fresh garland wreaths with red bows adorned the double wooden doors and an ornate tripod sign read, Davis & Aaron shower.

Inside the barn, Isabelle was pleased that at first glance everything appeared in order. Red tablecloths covered the numerous round tables. Holly-encircled candles flickered as centerpieces and gold plate settings added a splash of elegance. A spicy Christmas cranberry scent wafted through the large open room.

“Doesn’t it look perfect?” Sarah came up and brandished a smile at them both. “Maybelle hired that new catering company and they’re on point. The Butterflies are helping with the food, of course, because they can’t resist showing off their culinary skills. But I’m so impressed with how wonderful everything looks.”

“Me, too,” Isabelle admitted, feeling a bit useless. She’d wanted everything to be perfect, but now she had idle time.

“Hello, lovelies,” Rosie greeted, entering the room with a basket full of pens and paper.

Maybelle followed closely, Jeannie in her arms.

“There has to be something we can help do.” Isabelle gave the ladies a hopeful look.

“If you insist. Place a pen and paper in each seat, please.” Rosie handed the basket to Zach. “Isabelle, darlin’, you come with me to grab the other basket.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Zach took the basket and went to the first table. Sarah followed, talking animatedly to him, but low enough Isabelle couldn’t make out what her friend said.

With one last look toward where Zach smiled at whatever Sarah was saying, Isabelle followed Rosie, even though she knew she wasn’t needed to carry the other basket.

“Y’all did a great job,” she praised.

“Of course we did.” Rosie waved her hand dismissively. “We’ve had decades of experience.” Her expression became thoughtful, and she relented. “Well, the other Butterflies have had decades. I’m still in my prime, just a young, fluttery thing.”

Isabelle smothered a smile. “That’s what I thought. Now, are you going to tell me why you wanted me to go with you away from the others?”

Rosie giggled. “Not away from the others, silly girl. Just away from that hunky man of yours.”

Isabelle started to correct her but held her tongue. For the moment, she had to go with the idea that Zach was hers. For Sophie.

“I got the impression yesterday that you Butterflies wanted me with Zach, not away from him.”

“Oh, we do,” Rosie assured. “But I’m not buying it. Hence the need to talk away from the others.”

Uh-oh. Rosie saw right through them. Isabelle wasn’t really surprised. She and Zach were so antagonistic.

“Not only did you look all twitterpated yesterday… today, too, actually,” Rosie continued, leaning against the wall, “but you looked happy.”

Had she? Isabelle didn’t recall feeling happy. She recalled being upset with how they were playing matchmaker and making comments that had made her feel as if she were an old maid.

“But Zach is military.”

“Not active.” Isabelle stunned herself as much as Rosie, whose eyes had widened at the defensive comment.

“Active, not active. That’s never mattered. So, last night I was telling Lou that something was up.”

Isabelle winced. They were barely started and already had been figured out.

“Then I realized the truth on why you’re rushing into a relationship with a man who you usually wouldn’t give the time of day. Not that he’s not gorgeous, mind you, because he is, but I’m worried about you.”

Wavering back and forth on just how much Rosie had figured out, Isabelle chose her words carefully. “I’m fine, Rosie. I promise. Sure, it’s going to be different, but I’m happy for Sophie.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Rosie assured. “You’ve always wanted what’s best for your sister and been willing to sacrifice yourself to make that happen. But what I want to know is if that’s why Zach is really in the picture?”

“Is that why you think he’s in the picture?”

“To convince Sophie that you’re happy and going to be just fine when she moves out?” Rosie gave her a pointed look. “It wouldn’t shock me.”

Rosie’s tone set Isabelle’s brain into motion. “What has Sophie said to you?”

The older woman’s face flushed. “Nothing.”

“Something,” Isabelle corrected, chest tightening. Sophie was worried about her? That wasn’t the way of their world and shouldn’t be now. Isabelle was the one who did the worrying, not the other way around. “You let my sister know that I am ecstatic over her marriage to Cole and that she has nothing to worry about where I’m concerned. I’m good. Better than good. I’m great.”

Rosie’s drawn on brow lifted. “Then you’re not using Zach?”

“Using him?” Her jaw dropped. “Did you seriously just accuse me of using Zach?”

“I saw how that young man looked at you yesterday. He’s falling hard, probably because you plied him with my cinnamon bread, even though we both know that you’d never give your heart to someone with a military background. The poor man doesn’t realize you’d never trust enough to let that happen.” Rosie sighed. “My bread has him blinded.”

Isabelle rubbed her temple. “Let me get this straight… you’re warning me not to break Zach’s heart?”

The irony of it made her want to burst out laughing.

“Well, of course, I don’t want you to break his heart.” Rosie fluttered her lashes. “Although he says the right things and smiles freely, there’s something haunted in his gaze that tells me there’s more than what meets the eye.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Rosie.” There was a lot more to Zach than what met the eye.

Hysteria bubbled inside her, threatening to tumble free. As if a small-town someone like her could hurt a seasoned soldier like Zach. How did that even work that Rosie was worried about him? The Butterflies were her friends. She was the hometown girl and Zach, the stranger. Shouldn’t they be worried that he’d hurt her? Did they think her so emotionally invincible that she couldn’t fall for someone?

She could fall. She had fallen and look where that had gotten her? Realizing she’d just admitted that Greg’s ending things with her had hurt more than she’d ever let herself acknowledge, Isabelle winced, then forced a smile at the woman watching her closely.

“You have nothing to worry about, Rosie. I’m not going to hurt Zach.” He’d have to really care for that to happen. Their relationship wasn’t real.

*

So many people filled the Harvey Farm event barn that Zach wondered if the entire town had shut down for the shower. If so, they’d done so happily. Laughter rang out, breaking above the constant conversation hum. The food was good enough to make everyone smile. Ruby hadn’t been kidding when she’d bragged about it.

Sitting next to him at an upfront table, Isabelle stretched to lean close, as if she was telling him something private. “What were you and Sophie talking about earlier?”

Her breath tickled his ear, causing goosebumps to prickle his skin. He’d stuck close, watching her fret, trying to meet her sister’s needs before Sophie had even realized there was a need. This was their first semi-alone moment, and she hadn’t hesitated to seize it.

“Things.” Tossing a wedding bell shaped mint into his mouth, Zach savored the flavored chocolate candy.

“Zach!” Realizing she was louder than she should have been, she grimaced. “Ugh, at being the center of attention. Don’t they know they’re supposed to be paying attention to Cole and Sophie?”

As many eyes were on them as on the engaged couple. To give credit, they kept their stares subtle. Well, except for the older ladies, and they didn’t mind making eye contact when he’d look their way. Rosie had even winked conspiratorially, and Isabelle’s Aunt Claudia had given him a thumbs-up.

He eyed the remaining goodies on his plate. He’d foregone cake in favor of fruit, nuts, and the mints, but might make another trip through the buffet line for a second helping of everything. He’d be lucky if he hadn’t gained ten pounds by the time he left Pine Hill. He should probably up his workout.

“What do I have in common with your sister to talk to her about?”

Isabelle stared expectantly at him. “Me?”

Nodding, he pushed his chair back, then headed toward the buffet, not surprised when Isabelle followed and pulled him over to a long table that had been set up with photos of Cole and Sophie. He let his gaze run over the pictures. Cole wore various expressions, but Sophie’s face was joyous in each one. Did the woman ever not smile? Then again, she had Isabelle running interference for her, trying to make every day seem like Christmas.

For the sake of their audience, she pointed out a photo of Sophie and Cole horseback riding. “My sister is the kindest-hearted person to ever walk the face of the earth. She sees the positive in everyone. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

The love in Isabelle’s voice was humbling. Not that Zach didn’t feel the same for his family. Or maybe he didn’t, because he hadn’t been able to give up his military career when they’d insisted he do so. He sure hadn’t been able to stand the pity in their eyes when he’d returned home a broken man. Nor had he agreed to work for his father’s company. They’d probably breathed a sigh of relief when he’d gone back to the rehab facility to finish recuperating. Going home when he hated life probably hadn’t been great timing.

“Sophie is lucky to have you. Not many would go to the lengths you do to insure her happiness.”

Isabelle’s gaze lifted, full of questions.

“You’re pretending to date someone you profess to not like so that he will find the father that you don’t want found,” he clarified.

“That about sums it up, but for the record, I more than profess not to like you.” Her chin lifted and she gave him that annoyed look she loved to flash his way. “I really don’t.”

Glad her spunk was back and distracting himself from his family thoughts, Zach grinned. “Keep trying to convince yourself of that, Blondie, but I’m not buying it. I’m fully aware that you waylaid my trip to the buffet so you could walk me straight over to stand beneath the mistletoe. All you had to do was ask and I’d have been happy to oblige you.”

Isabelle glanced up, gasping that there really were green twigs hanging above them. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh, I’d dare,” he assured, wondering why the thought of kissing Isabelle had danger warnings surging the same as if he were in a combat zone. “But you wouldn’t be able to contain your excitement if I kissed you, so I won’t. We already have too much of the spotlight on us.”

“Kind of you.” She snorted, seeming relieved that he wasn’t upholding the tradition.

“I’m a good, decent guy that way.”

“Ha, you keep telling yourself that, but we both know better,” she tossed back, then with one last squinted glare, she walked over to get another cup of Christmas punch.

Knowing they had an avid audience, Zach kept his broad grin on his face as he watched her pick up a pre-filled cup and toss it back as if it contained liquid courage rather than a Christmas cranberry concoction. Once done, she refilled and headed to their table.

How could he feel so protective of someone that he also loved to rattle so much?

Making his way to the buffet, he gathered additional helpings of the meats and vegetables, then rejoined Isabelle.

Along with the others at the table, she was answering the questions on the “Bride or Groom?” papers Zach had distributed earlier.

Rather than scribble answers on his sheet, he took a bite of the holiday-shaped cracker he’d placed a slice of cheese on. “Since I just met the bride and groom this week, I’ll pass.”

“Just guess. Fifty-fifty odds aren’t too bad. It’s in fun, anyway.” She wrote Bride next to Who made the first move? Then wrote, and the second and third and … out to the side of her answer. With the way Cole looked at Sophie, it was difficult to imagine that sweet Sophie had had to do much chasing.

Cleaning his plate, Zach watched Isabelle answer the next couple of questions. “Maybe I’ll just have fun and write maid of honor in each spot.”

Looking up, she frowned. “Have you read the questions?”

“Who planned the honeymoon?” he read out loud. “I’d get that one right with my answer.”

Isabelle’s cheeks pinkened. “Only because Cole asked for help. He wanted to know if Sophie had ever mentioned somewhere she’d want to travel to. Every time he’d ask, she’d just say that where he was is where she wanted to be and where that was didn’t matter.”

He could hear Sophie saying that.

“You told him Paris?”

Jaw dropping, Isabelle shushed him. “I can’t believe Cole told you. I thought he didn’t want anyone other than Andrew and I knowing where they were going in case the Butterflies decided to do a French Flutter.”

“A French Flutter?” Zach chuckled. “I’m right about where they’re going, then?”

Her color heightened as she realized she’d been played. “That was a lucky guess.”

“Not really. Paris is considered the most romantic city in the world. Your sister has probably been dreaming of strolling along Avenue des Champs-élysées, putting a lock on Pont Des Arts Bridge with her true love, and eating crepes to her heart’s content since she was a kid.”

Isabelle’s eyes widened. “Better be careful. You’re sounding a little romantic yourself.”

“I’m the least romantic guy you’ll ever meet.” Romance had never been a priority. Or even a consideration. When it came to ladies, he was a gentleman—his parents had raised him that way—but romance? Nope. Not his style. Nor theirs, really. “I just saw that scenario happen over and over when I was in Paris.”

“You’ve been to Paris?” There was a light in her eyes that made him think that Sophie wasn’t the only Davis girl who’d dreamed of visiting the city of love.

“I’ve been all over the world.” He’d seen fabulous locales and some that had made him wonder if hell was a place on earth. “For the record, I never stepped foot on that bridge, even when it was legal to put locks on it. Never wanted to.”

“I’m suddenly feeling very small town and uncultured.” She gave a nervous laugh, then bragged, “I went to Florida once.”

The truth hit him. “You went to some magical kingdom because Sophie wanted to go?”

Her expression said he’d hit the nail on the head. “You make it sound as if it was torturous. That’s far from the truth. We had a great time. It’s one of my favorite memories.”

Eyeing her, listening to her wistful, yet defensive tone, he asked, “How old were you?”

“Twenty-one.”

The depths that Isabelle had gone to, to give Sophie a good life, shouldn’t shock him, but his realization about the trip still had him staring at her with renewed appreciation. “You brought your sister?”

“The trip was my gift for her high school graduation. Academia wasn’t as easy for her as I found it. She’d worked hard, made good grades, and deserved a getaway to somewhere completely magical.”

Isabelle set the bar high on sibling standards.

“Where did you go on your high school trip, Isabelle?” That he’d called her by her name instead of Blondie should have told him that the question was too personal.

“I worked at the quilt shop all summer, saving as much as I could, so I guess you could say that my senior trip was to Nashville. It’s a great city.”

Where she’d likely found a job, worked while going to school, and pinched pennies to where she’d been able to take Sophie on her dream senior trip. She’d been looking out for her sister her whole life, but who’d looked out for Isabelle? Battling the protective emotions assailing him, he leaned over and wrote maid of honor next to Who would make the better Christmas Tree Angel topper?

Glancing at the question, Isabelle snorted. “I’m no angel.”

Zach disagreed. She was Sophie’s guardian angel.

*

“Cole will be here in a few minutes to pick Mom and I up to take us to dinner.” Sophie put her purse and jacket on a chair’s armrest. “Are you sure you and Zach don’t want to go with us? We’d love to spend time with Zach.”

Isabelle had no doubts. Her sister had been talking about Zach nonstop since the shower, going on and on about how much she liked him.

“Not tonight, but thanks.” At Sophie’s disappointed look, she added, “He really wants to learn to sew. I thought teaching him on Grandma Belle’s old Singer would be a great place to start. No bells or whistles, just high-quality basic stitches.”

“I’d wondered why you weren’t meeting him at the shop.”

Because Zach wanted to look at old photo albums of their father. To do that he had to be at their house, and she’d needed an excuse as to why he’d be there. As much as she hated to admit it, his dating ruse had been brilliant in that regard.

It had been so long since she’d dated that maybe this was good practice in case she ever decided to do so for real again. She doubted many men would find sharing her life exciting. Definitely, a man who’d lived on the edge and traveled around the world, such as Zach had, wouldn’t find her routine, small-town existence appealing.

Where had that come from? She liked her life. Who cared what Zach thought of it?

After Cole picked up her mother and Sophie, Isabelle took out the bag she’d packed supplies into at the shop before leaving that day. She’d pulled a basic sewing kit that had needles, thread, thimble, ruler, scissors, pins, and pincushion, along with a few pieces of fabric remnants.

She’d bypassed several patriotic pieces and chosen pink cupcakes, unicorns, and kittens leftover scraps instead. Eyeing the colorful cartoon print, she suppressed a giggle. If she had to do this with Zach, she might as well have fun with it.

A knock sounded. When she opened the front door, her breath halted at Zach holding and sweet-talking Bobbin. The yellow tabby cat didn’t usually warm to strangers, but he was purring and rubbing his head against Zach’s arm as if he was dipped in catnip. Figured that her cat would like him.

“Okay to bring him in?”

She stepped aside so he could enter. “Bobbin was a stray who adopted our family. We let him come and go as he pleases. He’s happiest that way.”

Once inside, Bobbin happily cradled in his arms, Zach moved from one embarrassing captured moment hanging on the living room wall to the next, studying each one as if he was putting it to memory.

“I’m not very photogenic,” she explained when he paused at her cap and gown senior photo, displayed next to Sophie’s gorgeous smiled one.

“You’re beautiful, Blondie. A photo is always going to pale in comparison to the real deal, but never doubt how attractive you are on the outside, but even better, on the inside. That’s a rare combo.”

“I, um, thank you.” Warm and fuzzy heat fluttered in her belly. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, but I do appreciate your kind words.”

“Nothing kind about telling the truth.” He moved on to a collection of framed snapshots.

Cheeks warm, she moved closer to where he looked and couldn’t keep from smiling at the full of love pictures proudly displayed. “Sophie got a kiddie camera from Santa when she was seven. That morning and every year since, she takes a Christmas morning photo.”

He gestured toward where clearer photos started. “Looks as if she upgraded her camera.”

“Very observant. I gave her a camera for her sixteenth birthday.”

He turned, met her gaze, and his hazel gaze had her stomach flip-flopping. Why was he looking at her that way? As if he could see right inside her to her very being?

Breaking eye contact, she took Bobbin from him. The cat gave her a what-are-you-doing look, slapping her hand with his paw once before wanting down. Isabelle put him down.

Watching the cat head to Sophie’s room, she sighed. “We should get started with your lesson.”

“Aren’t we going to look at the photo albums that have photos of your father first?”

“I suppose we should.” Her flip-floppity stomach contracted into a tight ball. He was right. They should find the pictures first. Her family would likely return within an hour.

“You don’t like sharing personal things, do you?”

Not meeting his gaze, she shook her head. “Not with strangers.”

“We’re not strangers.”

Because he really could read her thoughts and knew her better than anyone?

“Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t be in my house, about to look through my life,” she reminded, walking over to the end table cabinet where her mother kept old photo albums.

“Afraid I’ll learn all your secrets?”

“You already know my worst one.”

His tone had been teasing, but her embarrassment burned deep. Feeling his gaze boring into her, she bent to pull out a stack of albums.

“If your father leaving is your worst secret, then you’re luckier than you think.”

His tone implied that he had secrets far darker. Part of her wanted to ask, but to do so implied an intimacy she didn’t want to encourage. They were business partners. Nothing more.

She placed the photo albums on the coffee table, then sat on the sofa. “Let’s get this over with.”