Down by Contact - A Seattle Lumberjacks Romance (10 page)

“I’m not surprised.” The smile in her voice
burrowed right into his heart. Their eyes met. Hers were teasing
and amused, and her nose had come down from its lofty perch. He
liked her like this. Like a real person. A nice approachable
person. He took a step closer, drawn to her by an invisible magnet
of mutual attraction. Scranton snarled and ruined the mood. He
didn’t know whether to thank or strangle the poodle.

Zach turned away. “I’ll have the mower fixed
and be out of your way in a jiff.” He looked her up and down.
“You’re doing lawn work in that?” Not that she didn’t look damn
fine in those form-fitting clothes, but they’d be more appropriate
in a Calvin Klein ad than in his overgrown backyard. His heart
thumped madly, and try as he might, he couldn’t convince any part
of his body how wrong this woman would be for him.

Kelsie looked down at her skinny jeans,
leather flats, and cotton shirt. “What’s wrong with my
clothes?”

“You’ve seen my yard.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Suit yourself, ma’am.” He touched the brim
of an imaginary hat and grinned at his good manners, mentally
patting himself on the back.

“Well, what do you know? You can teach an
old linebacker new plays.” Kelsie rewarded him with one heck of a
dazzling smile, like lightning hitting a tin roof. He puffed up
like a bandy rooster, quite pleased with himself for earning a rare
compliment. He wanted to duplicate that smile, to see it light up
her face again and again. Hell, more than that, he wanted to touch
those full red lips. Just a touch to see if they were as soft as
he’d dreamed. He stepped forward, raised his hand—

Kelsie didn’t blink, didn’t move, except for
a fleeting wrinkle of her brow in confusion, as if uncertain about
his intentions. Zach ducked his head, as the heat rose right up the
tips of his ears. He headed back to the lawnmower, and she tagged
along. He wished she’d stay away, let him get this chore done, so
he could get the hell out of there with what little pride he still
possessed.

“You need to let things go.”

He turned to face her. “Such as?”

“Me.”

“Would you trust you if you were me?”

She tapped her index finger against her
plump lower lip. His throat went dry. “I suppose not, but people
change.”

“Not in my experience.” He’d revealed his
deepest, darkest secrets to her in a night of stupidity. She’d led
him on, probed for information, and gotten plenty. Then she’d
spilled the dirt to her friends, including his father being in
prison for beating Zach’s brother until he suffered severe brain
damage. On the very night his brother finally succumbed to his
injuries, she and her friends used his family tragedy as fodder to
ridicule him. He’d been hurting and looking for a friend. He’d
thought she’d been that friend.

If she had it tough now, well, karma was a
bitch.

“So? You haven’t changed either.” She
leveled an accusing gaze at him.

“Money will never change me, make me someone
I’m not.”

“Everyone has room for improvement.”

“Even you?”

She dipped her head then looked at him
through lowered lashes. “Especially me. I know you have good reason
not to trust me or even like me, but maybe if we work together, we
can achieve our mutual goals in the most painless and expedient way
possible.”

Zach regarded her for a moment. His heart
beat a little faster at her admission. Part of him wanted
desperately to believe her, to fall at her feet and worship the
princess from his dreams. Only she wasn’t a fairy princess, she was
an evil witch disguised as a princess.

“Zach, I’m so sorry about high school. So
very sorry. I didn’t understand how cruel I was because I was too
selfish to see how much I hurt you. You seemed so big, so strong,
so invincible, while I was a screwed-up, insecure mess, needing my
friends’ approval.” She clutched the dog closer, as if it were her
protection. Her deep blue eyes shone with sincerity, but she’d
always been an excellent actress.

Forgiveness balanced on the end of his
tongue, ready to take the plunge and believe her words, but he beat
it back. He’d fallen for her beautiful face and cajoling voice
before. He couldn’t do it again. He’d loved her, and she’d thrown
it in his face, used him and abused in a way as painful as the
burns and beatings he’d suffered at the hands of his father.

“You need to forgive and move on because
you’re hurting yourself more than you’re hurting anyone else.” She
reached out to touch his arm.

He jerked away, desperate to put some
distance between them and build the walls higher. Very few people
in his life had ever hurt him as much as she had. He wouldn’t go
down that road again. The brief flash of regret in her eyes almost
undid him, but he barricaded his heart against her. “Look, I’ll
read your book and learn your lessons, but I draw the line there.
I’m not going to change who I am and what my place looks like for a
bunch of rich people who show up and drink my alcohol and eat my
food for free.”

“It’s for charity.”

“What charity?”

“The homeless, including veterans, families,
the mentally ill. She calls it Hearts for Homeless. It’s Veronica’s
pet charity. She sponsors this gala every year.”

Homeless families?
Indecision
paralyzed him. He almost caved, said fine, he’d cooperate. Instead
Zach stood, pulled the cord on the lawnmower several times until it
started with a huge belch of black smoke and a racket loud enough
to wake the dead. Kelsie jumped back, and Scranton yelped.

With a grimace, Zach bowed. “Your chariot
awaits, madam.”

Then he got the hell out of there.

* * * * *

An hour later, Kelsie pulled the cord on the
lawnmower, just like she’d seen Zach do. Once. Twice. Three times.
Her shoulder ached and a cramp started in one butt cheek and
traveled down her thigh right to her big toe. After several more
body-wrenching attempts, the smoking beast roared to life. She
lined it up with the sidewalk, the least overgrown area, and
pushed, putting her whole body into it. The mower lurched forward.
It bogged down in the first five feet and shuddered to a pitiful,
grinding halt.

Sweat ran between her shoulder blades and
down her spine. Her hair fell out of its once tidy ponytail. After
almost throwing out her back, she managed to get the sorry thing
started again. In another two feet, she hit something. Something
big. A metallic bang and earsplitting screech sounded the mower’s
final cry as it died a slow death after a few backfires and more
ominous black smoke. Grabbing the cord Kelsie yanked hard and
almost dislocated her shoulder as the cord froze in mid-pull.

The beast had mowed its final blade of
grass. She didn’t blame the poor mower. The task was daunting to
woman and machine. She moved it aside and kicked at the grass with
her feet, looking for what she’d hit. Several rusty pieces of metal
lurked in the knee-high jungle.

With a defeated sigh, Kelsie plopped down on
the creaky front steps, put her hands over her eyes and cried.
Flat-out broke down and cried. Scranton slipped off his comfy seat
on the porch swing and crawled onto her lap. His wet tongue licked
the hands covering her eyes. Kelsie only cried harder, deriving
little comfort from her faithful companion of ten years.

She’d broken every fingernail, put a hole in
the knee of her expensive jeans, and lost the battle—and probably
the war—with the blackberries laying claim to the property. The
danged thorny devils wrapped around her legs like Boa constrictors,
dug in their thorns and refused to let go, branding her with nasty
scratches on just about every part of her anatomy.

Kelsie wiped her eyes and sniffled. She
looked up and surveyed the progress she hadn’t made. She wasn’t cut
out for this, didn’t know the first thing about yard work or the
various equipment and tools. The emotional deluge started again.
Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes burned from the tears and
smoke. She heard Scranton growl and glanced up.

“Hey, are you all right?”

Kelsie rubbed her eyes and looked up at
Zach. His hands were jammed in his pockets, and he looked ready to
flee from a sniffling female first chance he got. His handsome face
screwed into a puzzled frown—that same face she’d depended on in
her first few years of high school when he’d been one of her most
loyal friends. Until she’d sold her soul for the conditional
friendship of the most popular girl in school, and the meanest,
Marcela—never to be called Marcie. Marcela’s boyfriend, the team’s
star wide receiver, hated Zach, along with Mark, the quarterback
and the man Kelsie eventually married. Why they chose Zach as the
target of their bullying, Kelsie never knew. Looking back, she
guessed they didn’t need a reason, just hated Zach on principle,
rich boy versus poor boy. She’d tried to walk down the middle, but
eventually they’d forced her to choose. She’d been so awful to
Zach. So very awful.

“Hey, are you okay?” He repeated the
question, looked back toward his pickup, then yanked his hands out
of his pockets and crouched on his haunches next to her.

“I’m okay.” She didn’t sound okay, even to
her own ears. She sounded shaky and defeated.

“You didn’t get very far.”

“It was a homicide.” She hiccupped and
stared down at her scratched and damaged hands.

“Excuse me?”

“The lawnmower. I murdered it.” She gazed at
him through bleary eyes, certain her mascara had run. He managed a
tentative smile then reached out toward her, as if to pull her into
his arms. If only he’d wrap his big strong arms around her and pull
her against the safety of his muscular body. He’d protect her, and
she’d never worry about a thing again. Except this little fantasy
happened to be just that—the fantasy of a delusional woman who
wanted to believe this man who held his grudges near and dear to
his heart would actually forgive her. As if reading her thoughts,
he pulled his hands back and shoved them in his pockets. He stared
at the grass-stained lawnmower covered with soot. “Well, it was old
anyway.”

Kelsie glanced up, sniffling, knowing her
eyes had to be red and puffy. She summoned the same inner strength,
which brought her to Seattle in the first place. “I am doing this
for you. I could use a little help.”

His face hardened, erasing all signs of
sympathy for her plight. “Are you certain? Or are you doing it for
you
, just like always. I got roped into the class, but this
stupid gale wasn’t my idea.”

“Gala.” She couldn’t help the dig. He was
being a stubborn jackass.

“Whatever. Same difference in my book. I
don’t want to do it.”

So maybe he might be a little right. Maybe
she was doing it for herself. The gala would showcase her talents,
build her clientele. Zach didn’t have one good reason to help her,
except—“The proceeds go to homeless families. Don’t you care about
that?”

“I care about my privacy and keeping my
house the way I like it.”

“You’re a stubborn, insufferable man.”

“Thanks. I resemble that remark.” For a
minute, Zach wavered, uncertainty on his face. “I’ll go to someone
else’s gala as my graduation test.”

Most likely the coach would agree to Zach’s
suggestion, but the house and grounds would be an outstanding
location for the type of intimate event she had in mind.

Fortifying her resolve, Kelsie lifted her
head. Out of the ashes arose the fire. Instead of giving up, she’d
beat this damn yard into submission, one way or another. Or die
trying. Shooing Scranton off her lap, she rose to her feet, and he
followed suit. “I’m going to do it, and you, Zach Murphy, are going
to help me.” She jabbed a finger in his chest.

A grudging respect shone in his eyes, along
with something much more dangerous to both of them. “Fine. Hire
someone. I’ll split the costs with you.”

Split the costs? Hardly. She didn’t have the
money for next week’s rent. “You said you never hire someone to do
something you can do.”

“Yeah, but it’d take the entire football
team to get this yard in shape.”

“That’s a perfect idea.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Please.” She grasped his arm. Big mistake.
The hard-corded muscles flexed under her fingers. His expression
changed, went blank for a second. He blinked and stared at her.

Suddenly self-conscious, Kelsie pushed her
hair out of her eyes and wiped her dirty face with an equally dirty
sleeve. “I must look awful.”

“I don’t think so.” He spoke so quietly, she
swore she’d misunderstood him.

“Pardon?” Her heart thumped in her chest,
pounding on its cell walls and begging to be released.

“I like this Kelsie, all messy and sweaty,
not so untouchable, a woman a man could get, uh, comfortable
with.”

“If the man was prone to mud-wrestling.” She
snorted, attempting to lighten the weight of sexual attraction
smothering both of them.

“Don’t tempt me.” His mouth quirked up in a
smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made him so
irresistibly attractive to her.

“You don’t like me.” Her gaze flicked to a
large mud puddle several feet away.

One dark brow crept up his forehead. “You’re
right. But you’re still a hot female with a great body. It’s just a
physical thing.”

“It’s always a physical thing with you.”

“Not always, but now it is. That’s all
that’s left.”

The mood shattered, Kelsie looked away from
those piercing eyes that saw too much. “Are you ever going to
forgive me?”

He frowned and stared at his hands. “Not
sure. I’m struggling with it.”

“You don’t forgive easily.”

“I haven’t met anyone who’s truly earned my
forgiveness. The few times I’ve forgiven they’ve proven they don’t
deserve it.”

“You must live a tragic, lonely life, Zach
Murphy.”