Keepsake (True North, #3)

by Sarina Bowen

Even now that I had a good job and friends who were good to me, I was never going to forget that I’d been bound up like the man in the story and tossed off the premises. Part of me was always waiting for it to happen again.

someday Audrey will be able to keep an eye on the kids while she cooks whatever gourmet feast she’s whipping up.” My gaze went toward the front of the house as I pictured that. And when I checked Griff’s face, there was a secretive little smile on it.

“I’ll get it for her,” I offered, picturing Griff’s basement. The place resembled a torture chamber. I didn’t know if Lark’s nightmares could be cued by basements, but it was better if we never found out.

“You are adorable,” she said. I liked the sound of that for a few seconds until I realized that she’d said the same thing to a puppy we met at the Hanover market the week before.

Even though Lark didn’t always wake up, she calmed right down when I spoke to her in the night.

I felt a surge of warmth in my chest. Even though I knew my role was coincidental, I comforted her. Not someone else.

“Come here,” I whispered. She did, too, burrowing closer, resting on my arm. I shifted her partway onto my chest. When I turned my head, my nose grazed her sweet-smelling hair.

“We have a very unusual friendship.” “That’s right,” I whispered. And I won’t lie—the fact that she’d said we were friends made me ridiculously happy.

I smiled against the pillow, loving Lark’s touch, and the way she sounded all fired up in my defense.

I glanced down to find Lark listening to me with a soft expression on her face, and I was never more certain that God’s earth was a special place.

I got more sleep than I had in Boston, and Zach was the reason why.

“I’m sorry anything happened to you at all,” Griff rumbled. “Sure wish I could make it better.” “You are, though,”

And, damn, Zach’s torso in a wet T-shirt was a thing of beauty. His abs were cut like the antique washboard hanging in Ruth Shipley’s kitchen.

“You okay?” “Sure.” I moved a little closer to him. If I couldn’t lean up against the wall and regain my composure, he was the next best thing.

I tipped my head back, and it bumped into Zach’s comfortable shoulder. “Did you do this?” He shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. “Someone once told me that nothing bad ever happens when the Chili Peppers are playing.”

“You want me to scare her off?” I volunteered. “How?” “How?” I scoffed, stepping in front of him. “Put your arms around me.” “Plot twist!” Kyle said gleefully.

I took Zach’s handsome face into both my hands, and tugged him downward until his smooth lips brushed mine. Zach’s body went absolutely still.

His arms slowly tightened around me as our lips came together. And that’s when my body forgot that this kiss was supposed to be a diversion.

God, he was just so freaking hot,

“You know what? I think I see someone coming to bug me, too. Can you take care of it, Lark?” He held out his hands to me. I opened my mouth to tease Kyle, but then lost my train of thought, because Zach was giving him a death glare. Zach, who was ornery to no one, was looking at Kyle as if he’d like to kill him. Weird.

Zach had been so generous to me these past few weeks. It killed me to think that I’d screwed up our friendship.

Zach stepped into my personal space so quickly I didn’t have any time to react. My backside collided with barn wood at the same moment his hand cupped my cheek. In the nanosecond before he kissed me, I took a fast breath and inhaled the scent of hay and clean flannel. Then his hungry mouth took mine. Oh. Oh, wow.

As one of the Shipleys might say, holy shit.

Kissing Lark was not something I’d ever meant to do. Griff had said very clearly that the girl is off limits. But, hey—she started it.

Though I’d known the Shipleys for years now, I was still astonished at their generosity toward one another. No wonder I was still dragging my feet on coming up with Plan B. There wasn’t anywhere I wanted to be other than here.

Just the thought of her made my stomach flip over.

She seems to trust you.”

“Quite the kiss she gave you last night.” My gut tightened. “That was just a joke.” It was supposed to be, anyway. Griff chuckled. “The best jokes have a basis in the truth. Looked pretty realistic if you ask me.”

“Aw, I think you like her. Make sure you let my sister Daphne down easy.” “Griff! Jesus.”

I didn’t know I was so easy to impress. But two kisses had me walking around trying to keep the dreamy look off my face.

I valued his friendship far too much to let things get weird. But, hey, if he wanted to try it again, I’d probably hurl myself into his arms.

“I’m glad you slept through the night,” he said softly. “I want that for you.”

I always felt relaxed with him, because he already knew I was a wreck. I didn’t have to pretend. And he seemed to like me anyway.

“Open sesame,” I said, reaching over toward his side of the seat with a chunk of muffin. I raised it toward his mouth. He opened up and I fed him the bite. Then he grabbed my hand and kissed the palm.

Chemistry was something I hadn’t felt in a long time. It was even nicer than I remembered.

I was feeling quite relaxed for nearly the whole time until Leah popped by to ask Zach a question, “You have Maeve, right?” Zach’s hands froze on the half-gallons of cider he’d pulled from the ice bin. “I haven’t seen her all morning.”

“Miss? Maybe you oughta sit down?” That sounded like a great idea. I grabbed the edge of the table with both hands and sort of eased myself downward. My ass hit the ground, and then everything went black.

I closed my eyes and cursed. “That a bad word!” Maeve chirped.

I grabbed the edge of the table and prepared to haul myself up. Zach wasn’t having it. He leaned down and grabbed me off the lawn, one hand under my knees, the other at my lower back.

He smiled for the first time since my little incident, and it changed his face back into a more recognizable landscape. “I’m like, ‘Maeve, we’ve been looking everywhere!’ And she says, ‘Look, Zacky, kitty’s name is Cocoa!”

I’m not very good at saying no to you.”

We stared at each other for one long beat. Then he took a step closer and I grabbed him into a hug. A tight one. He was so warm and steady against me that I inhaled like someone surfacing again after being underwater for too long. He kissed my hair and sighed.

“I lean on you too much,” I whispered. While leaning on him.

“Whose problem do you want to be, then?” Right. “I seem to be yours, I guess. I’m sorry.” His hand plucked mine off the seat and gave it a squeeze. “You can be my problem any time.”

The bra became airborne, landing at my feet. White lace. Now I’d be picturing her in nothing but that with great frequency, damn it.

I waded in very slowly, mindful of the slippery rocks. Wiping out like a loser while she watched wasn’t part of my plan.

The next couple of weeks I spent a lot of time trying not to kiss Lark. I didn’t kiss her at the Montpelier market, even when she brought me a sandwich and laughed at my terrible jokes. I didn’t kiss her when we were kneeling very close together, sanding the baseboards in the bungalow kitchen. Alone. And I certainly didn’t kiss her when we beat May and Dylan at cards. Twice.

She leaned in to hug me over the coffee table, and I hoisted her over it and into the air.

I might have kissed her then, in front of God and everybody. I was that far gone for her.

Whenever she touched me, I felt as if I’d loved her my whole life.