Zack

Groaning in frustration, I rub the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. Think, Kate, think. What is it you’re hoping to accomplish?

Opening my eyes, I tilt my face up to look at my reflection. Lonely eyes stare back at me and I realize…I want someone to think I’m pretty.

I want Zack to think I’m pretty.

Never in a million years would I imagine someone as gorgeous as him would ever be interested in someone like me, yet I can’t deny the distinct possibility that is exactly what is going on here. Sure, I’ve been in awe of him since I started working here. His star power, magnetism, and stunning good looks make that almost a given. Add on that he’s a loving and devoted father, and you have one sexy man.

A sexy man that I never once considered would look my way until Sutton got me thinking in that direction.

Dropping the pins to the counter, I run my fingers through my hair, tweak my bangs a bit, and start to turn away from the mirror. New decision made. I’m leaving my hair down.

But something halts me.

Something that occurs to me and makes me consider my actions.

Zack is a man who is still grieving for his lost love. He’s a man who still has issues, as evidenced by what happened in the car last week. A woman would be wise not to mess with a man such as him. He still has too much healing to do.

Except…damn it all to hell…what if I’m the person who is supposed to help him heal? I’ve loved taking it upon myself to get him to open up and succumb to my humor and goofiness. It’s nice seeing him smile. What if I’m good for him?

Fuck it, I think, and then blush because I rarely drop an F-bomb, even in my head.

The hair stays down. Zack is right. There’s no one to hide from anymore.

—
Zack sleeps in past breakfast, so I get Ben fed and dressed; we’re playing in his room when I hear Zack’s feet coming up the stairs, since the master suite is on the first floor. I’m thinking he continued to put a hurting on that bottle of tequila after I went to bed last night and that’s the reason for his sleeping in.

“Hey,” he says as he peeks his head in the door and looks over at Ben. His hair is sticking up all over the place and he still has crease marks on his face from, I’m guessing, his pillowcase. He’s wearing a white V-neck T-shirt and a pair of loose pajama bottoms. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in his sleepwear, as he’s always dressed by the time he comes into the kitchen for breakfast.

And I’m pretty sure I might be eligible for a one-way ticket to hell when I say that Zack Grantham—in pajamas—may be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Morning, Daddy,” Ben says without lifting his head. We’re putting together a shape puzzle and his little tongue is sticking out to the side in concentration.

Zack turns his head to me and I see something spark in his eyes. His gaze roams over my hair and I self-consciously push my bangs to the side. When his eyes come to mine, he merely says, “Nice.”

My lips tip up and I drop my gaze back down to the puzzle, gently suggesting another hole that Ben might want to try to put the star-shaped wooden block into.

“When you get a minute, Kate, I need to talk to you,” Zack says, and my head snaps back up. His face is impassive, not a shred of evidence left there to give me a hint as to what he wants.

I nod and push myself up off the floor. Ruffling Ben’s hair, I say, “Be back in a minute, kiddo. Then we’ll play with something else, okay?”

“ ’Kay,” he says back absently, and I know he’ll be occupied by the puzzle for a bit more.

I follow Zack down the back staircase into the kitchen and he heads right for the coffeepot.

“Want another?” he asks as he holds the pot up.

“No, thanks,” I say as I sit down gingerly at the kitchen table and wait for him to come over with his cup of coffee. Is he going to apologize for what he said to me last night? Tell me he didn’t mean that stuff about my hair being beautiful and that was just the tequila talking?

Zack takes a sip of his coffee as he sits down in the chair across from me, his face still unreadable. He takes a hand and scrubs it through his hair, scratching for a moment at the back of his head while he glances out the window as if best contemplating how to begin. My heart starts hammering with apprehension.

Finally, he drops his hand, leans forward to rest his elbows on the table, and pins me with a direct look. “Um…listen…I’m going to put the house up for sale.”

I blink in surprise at him and a tiny “Oh” pops free from my mouth.

“I need a fresh start,” he says quietly as his gaze drops to his cup, where he fiddles with the handle. He seems to be at a loss for words, so I simply say, “Of course you do.”

He raises his gaze up to mine and I see relief in his eyes. “You don’t think it’s…”

His voice drifts away, unsure of how to say it.

But I know what he’s trying to say, and since I’m not one to hold back, I supply for him, “Too soon?”

More relief filters into his gaze, and his shoulders actually raise a little, as if a weight has been lifted. “I feel guilty. Gina loved this house.”

“And she’s gone,” I point out gently.

He nods in agreement, now letting out a sigh of easement. “People may not understand.”

“You’re not accountable to anyone but yourself and Ben,” I assure him. It’s the God’s honest truth and he needs to hear that.