Page 40 of Here & Now

He sounded disappointed, unless she was reading too much into it, which was entirely possible.

“Come on in. The door is open.” Her grandma had always left the screen door unlocked during the day so the pool guy could come in, and Bree had done the same.

Zane opened the door and stepped inside. “Aren’t you going to get out?”

“Mm-hmm,” she said, but she didn’t budge.

“I’ll bring you the towel.”

She was about to argue, but he’d already taken it off the chair and was walking toward her.

If only she could be like those women who strutted around in their bathing suits like it was no big deal. She’d seen women of all shapes and sizes do just that, yet she hid like the chicken she was.

He came and stood near the pool steps, holding the towel out like a matador’s cape to a bull. Mustering whatever confidence she could find, she slowly waded over to the steps and emerged from her watery cocoon. Avoiding his gaze, she concentrated on carefully exiting the pool. The last thing she wanted was to slip and fall in front of him.

Once she was safely on the pool deck, she reached for the towel and met his gaze. His eyes were sparkling with amusement, mischief, or both. As he handed her the towel, his gaze shifted down, and she guessed why. The swimsuit stuck to her like glue, and due to his proximity, her nipples had tightened and were trying to poke his eyes out. He’d have had to be blind not to notice.

She quickly took the towel and wrapped it around herself. “Thanks.” She didn’t take the time to dry off. Instead, she padded over to the patio table, dripping wet.

“I can wait if you want to change first,” he offered.

She shook her head. “It won’t take that long for you to read.”

They sat down at the table, and she opened the laptop. “Remember, this is just the first draft. If you see anything that needs fixing, let me know.” She shifted the laptop toward him so he could see the screen better.

He leaned in and began to read.

As he did, she studied his profile, partly to gauge his reaction and partly because he had a really nice profile. Sitting this close, she noticed the dark stubble on his jawline and how his hair curled up at the ends. He also had good ears, nicely shaped and not too big or small for his face. She was a keen observer, and she noticed these things.

He was so intent on reading that she felt free to look her fill, but then he suddenly turned and looked right at her.

“Well?” She couldn’t take the suspense.

“It’s really good.”

“You sound surprised.”

“No, it’s just that you made everything seem so—”

“I went a little overboard, didn’t I?”

He shook his head vehemently. “Not at all. If I didn’t live here, I’d want to after reading this.”

She eyed him skeptically. “Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious. You really have a way with words.”

“It’s just a simple article.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a good writer.”

From everything she’d read, even truly successful writers didn’t consider themselves that good. Regardless of how many accolades she’d received, she constantly doubted herself. It went with the job. “Thank you.”

“Have you ever thought about writing a book?”

“Only a thousand times.”

He chuckled. “Why don’t you, then?”