Still the One (3 page)

Katie decided to ignore the question. “May I help you with something?”

“Well, now, that just depends,” the shorter one said. “You ever party with your old lady?”

The other one gave a phlegmy cackle. Katie felt her face flame.

“Your mama, she sure knows how to party.”

Oh, God. Her mother had a drinking problem, and when she drank, she didn’t always remember what she did.

“Know what I hear? I hear she’s hot and heavy with the mayor now,” the taller one said.

Katie’s mouth went dry. She’d known the news was all over town, but being confronted with it head-on made her want to barf.

“Yes, sir, you’re your mama’s daughter, all right. The family resemblance is right there for all to see.” His eyes locked
on her breasts in a way that had made her feel as if he could see through her shirt. “Yesirree. Your mama’s mighty fine, but
I do believe you’ve got an even nicer pair of…”

“Leave her alone,” said an authoritative voice from the back of the store.

The men turned as Zack strode up. The shorter one squinted at him. “Who the hell are you?”

“The mayor’s nephew. And he’s not going to like hearing that you two are spreading nasty rumors about him.”

The short one spat in the trash can. “We don’t care what he likes and don’t like.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’ll care to know that when folks tick him off, he gets the police to follow them. Before they know it,
they’re being stopped for speeding or reckless driving or worse, and it’s their word against the cop’s.”

The two men looked at each other.

“We were just havin’ some fun,” the tall one said. They both edged toward the door.

“You picked on the wrong girl.” Zack’s brow lowered into a badass scowl. “Now get the hell out of here and don’t bother her
again.”

The door banged behind them after they scurried outside. The tires of their dirty red pickup threw up a rooster tail of gravel
as they squealed out of the parking lot.

Zack plopped the can of Coke on the counter. “When you said you were used to being bothered, you weren’t kidding, were you?”

“No.” To Katie’s chagrin, tears sprang to her eyes.

Zack’s eyes went all warm and sympathetic, which made a lump the size of a bullfrog form in her throat.

“Hey—don’t let them get to you. They’re just a couple of losers.”

“But what they said about my mom…” A tear snaked down her cheek. She scrubbed it away with her fist.

“They’re full of bull.”

“No.” Katie drew in a ragged breath. “It’s true.”

He just kept looking at her with that same warm, nonjudgmental gaze. “So? Your mom’s not you. None of us get to pick our relatives.”
His mouth curved in a wry smile. “If we did, I’d sure ask for another set.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Mine parked me here for the summer because neither one wanted me around.”

The frankness of the remark disarmed her. “Where are you from?”

“Chicago.” He’d grinned at her, and his smile had worked its magic.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Are you really the mayor’s nephew?”

He’d given a rueful nod. “He’s married to my mom’s sister, sad to say. He’s another relative I’d disown if I could.”

She’d given a tremulous grin, and his smile had widened. In the heat of it, she’d forgotten how to breathe.

She had to remind herself to take a breath now.

Rachel’s gaze darted from Zack to Katie, then back to Zack. “Have you and Katie stayed in touch all this time?”

“No.” Zack turned his blue eyes on her, and a flame of heat licked her neck. “We have some catching up to do.”

Yeah,
thought Katie.
Maybe you’d care to explain why you left town without a word, phone number, or forwarding address the day after we first
made love.
Katie’s spine stiffened against the old hurt.

“Well, you two run along—and take your time.” Bev flapped her wrist at them. “After Eula, I’m free for the rest of the afternoon,
so I can take your next appointment. You’re going out to the retirement home later anyway, right?”

“Um… right.” Katie felt an irrational urge to dash out the back door.

“Ready?” Zack asked.

No.
But if he was moving here, she’d have to talk to him sooner or later. Might as well get it over with.

Besides, he could no longer hurt her. Everything between them had happened nearly two decades ago. She’d handled things then,
and she could certainly handle them now.

Couldn’t she?

She forced herself to smile. “Sure.” Grabbing her purse and umbrella, she followed Zack to the door.

The lunch rush was over, but the quaint Main Street café painted in the town’s namesake color was still half full as Katie
stepped through the door with Zack. The three men in coveralls perched at the yellowish-green Formica counter looked up, as
did most of the other patrons seated at the green tables in the gumbo-and-fried-seafood-scented restaurant. Katie wondered
how long it would take before her mother-in-law, Annette Charmaine, heard that she’d come here with an unfamiliar man.

Not long at all, Katie thought with chagrin as she spotted Nellie from the drugstore at the front table. Oh, and wouldn’t
you know it—the long-nosed, horse-faced woman was seated with three elderly ladies who lived at the Sunnyside Assisted-Living
Villa, where Annette was staying while recovering from knee surgery and multiple fractures after a bad fall.
Great, just great
, Katie thought, giving the women a feeble wave and a feebler smile.

The waitress, a busty blonde named Cindy, looked Zack over with frank curiosity, then raised an eyebrow at Katie. “Hi, Katie.
Who’s your friend?”

“This is Zack Ferguson. Zack, this is Cindy.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Zack’s dimple flashed.

Like all women, the waitress seemed to melt under his smile. “Not from these parts, are you?”

“Not until now,” Zack replied.

Cindy’s painted-on eyebrows rose higher.

“Zack just bought the old Ashton house,” Katie felt compelled to explain.

“Oh, my! We all wondered who was moving into that place.” Cindy set the pitcher of water in her hand down on the counter and
sank down on a barstool, as if she were settling in for a long chat. “So what brings you to Chartreuse?”

Katie cut in, not wanting to risk him giving the same response he’d given at the salon. “Actually, Cindy, Zack and I are in
something of a hurry. Could you bring us a couple of cups of coffee?”

“Uh—oh, sure. Sit wherever you all want. Would you like a piece of pie to go with your coffee?”

“No, thank you,” Katie said. Whatever Zack had to say to her, he could say it quickly and be done with it.

“Looks to me like she’s already found something sweet,” murmured a blue-haired lady at Nellie’s table. The other women giggled.

Katie felt her skin color. She decided to take the high road and pretend she hadn’t heard the remark.

“Let’s go over by the window,” Zack suggested.

Katie had forgotten how he’d always been a take-charge kind of guy. She used to like that about him, but now it seemed like
a liability. This time, she wouldn’t surrender any control.

“The back is quieter.” Decisively heading in that direction, she selected the seat facing the wall so she wouldn’t have to
wave greetings to everyone who walked through the door.

Zack sat down across from her and folded his hands on the plastic chartreuse place mat. The sight of his hands sent a rush
of fresh adrenaline pumping through her. Oh, God, those hands—large, tan, and long-fingered. She’d watched his big, masculine
hands that summer—watched them pop the tops on Coke cans; watched them steer his car as he drove her home after work; watched
them shuffle and deal cards as he taught her to play poker. She’d spent most of the summer watching his hands and fantasizing
about what they’d feel like on her body.

When she’d finally felt them, they’d exceeded anything she’d ever imagined.

And then he’d disappeared. Just up and left. Not a word, not a phone call, not a note. Nada.

She closed her eyes for a moment and pushed down the memories. Why the heck was she thinking about all that, anyway? She was
no longer a starry-eyed girl with a fatal attraction to bad boys. She was a grown woman who’d known the love of a good man.

She straightened her spine and leveled a cool gaze at him. “So… what really brings you back to Chartreuse?”

Cindy flitted up, bearing two green ceramic coffee mugs. She set them down and fussily adjusted them, then fished a fistful
of Moo-Cow creamers out of the pocket of her chartreuse apron and put them in the small bowl on the table. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Cindy,” Katie said, hoping to send her on her way.

But Cindy didn’t budge. She put a hand on her hip, cocked her head, and gazed at Zack. “You know, you look really familiar.”

“I hear that all the time,” Zack said. “Guess I just have one of those faces.” He flashed that disarming smile. In the face
of it, Cindy retreated, a goofy grin plastered on her face.

Zack’s smile faded as he looked at Katie. His eyes held something she couldn’t quite place. Before she could figure it out,
it was gone, replaced by his inscrutable poker face.

“She’s probably seen you on the cover of the tabloids with a model or an actress,” Katie said.

“That’s one reason I don’t travel in those circles anymore.” He reached for his coffee. “Too much of a hassle.”

“Yeah, I hear it’s really tough work, lying on the beach with Kirsten Dunst,” she said dryly. She immediately regretted letting
him know she’d seen the tabloid stories. She didn’t want him to think she’d deliberately followed his activities.

Zack grinned. “That whole Hollywood scene looks like a lot more fun than it is.”

“I’ll bet.”

“And I’ll raise you a hundred.”

She felt like she’d gotten sucked into a time warp. He’d said the same thing that summer, every time she’d used the familiar
figure of speech. Her usual response had been, “You’re on.”

Well, he wasn’t on. Not anymore. She wasn’t interested in playing games with him—word-wise or any other wise. She reached
for a container of creamer. “I forgot I’m talking to a professional gambler.”

“Actually, I’m not playing professionally anymore.”

“Oh, no? Have a run of bad luck?”

Zack took a sip of coffee. “You know I never believed in luck.”

Yeah, she did. He’d explained the complex system of card counting he used, based on some higher math formula she’d never fully
grasped. “I figured Winning Strategies, Incorporated, was just some kind of tax shelter. It’s a real company?”

He nodded. “It’s a risk-management consulting firm. Companies hire us to figure out the statistical odds of business ventures.
We try to come up with all possible scenarios and calculate the chances of each one occurring.”

“So you’re still playing the odds, huh?”

“Pretty much.” His mouth curved into a grin.

It was weird, sitting across from him, getting zapped by that megawatt smile. It stirred up all kinds of old warm feelings.
It was just emotional déjà vu, though. She couldn’t genuinely be harboring feelings for someone she didn’t know, and she no
longer knew Zack at all.

Not that she’d ever really known him. She couldn’t have. The Zack she’d thought she’d known never would have dumped her the
night after they’d shared the most intimate experience two people could share.

He set down his mug and leaned forward. “I read about your husband. I’m so sorry.”

The mention of Paul jolted her. “How did you find out about that?”

“I googled you.”

She turned her wedding-ring set on her finger, aligning the solitaire over the simple gold band. “When?”

“The first time was years ago,” he admitted. “I saw your wedding announcement in the
Chartreuse Gazette,
and I figured… Well, you’d been married about a month, and I figured you wouldn’t want to hear from me.”

She tried to imagine how she would have reacted to a call from Zack at that point, and couldn’t.

He looked down at his coffee cup. “I googled you every now and then through the years, then again last week.” He looked up,
his eyes blue pools of sympathy. “I’m really sorry for your loss.”

Katie poured creamer into her cup and watched it spread through the dark liquid, lightening it, wishing her thoughts would
do the same in her head. Was that why he was here now? Because he’d just learned that she was a widow? Why would that matter
to him? Did he think they’d pick up where they left off? That made no sense. He hadn’t wanted to be with her then, so he wasn’t
likely to want to be with her now.

“From what I read, he was a helluva guy,” Zack said.

Yeah, and she had the posthumous Medal of Honor to prove it. Paul had tackled a suicide bomber in Baghdad and saved the lives
of four troops and several civilians.

Her reaction had been considerably less heroic. For months she’d burned with anger. Why hadn’t he saved himself? Why had he
put strangers ahead of her? Hadn’t he thought about their future, about the family they’d planned? It had taken her a long
while to work her way toward acceptance. The truth had slowly taken root and grown within her: Paul wouldn’t have been the
man she loved if he’d saved himself and left other people to die. He would have come home broken in spirit, which would have
left him more dead than he was now.