Page 20 of You Belong With Me

“If your other one is switched off, then it’s really still only one phone,” Faith pointed out. She waved the stack of papers at him. “Here, take these and I’ll leave you alone. At least I can report back to Mina that you’re still alive.”

“Given I saw her walking Stewie past the studio this morning, she probably knows that already.” It had been kind of nice to think Mina was checking up on him. Especially when he knew she wouldn’t come up and disturb him. Mina was a painter. She knew all about holing up to work.

“She worries.” Faith’s mouth quirked and he wasn’t entirely sure if Mina was the only one who worried.

He took the messages, trying not to feel too pleased that Faith had brought them to him. “What about you?”

“I worry that my entire phone system might be going to melt down,” she said. But then she looked up at him, biting her lip. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” he said. “Just don’t want to get caught up in the circus. Makes more sense to keep moving on with the plan, you know? I’m sorry you’re getting hassled.” They’d grown up with fame, knew the downsides of it. But he’d chosen to stay in the spotlight, and she’d stepped a few degrees sideways. She didn’t actively avoid it in the way Mina did, but even so, she shouldn’t have to deal with his fallout.

She nodded. “Okay. But you don’t have to be a hermit. Come up for dinner tonight.”

Another olive branch. Which meant he had to take it. “Thanks. I didn’t stock up on enough groceries to keep hiding out here much longer.”

“The grocery store delivers. Lou saw press in Cloud Bay today. Hopefully they get bored soon. But we won’t let you starve.” She hesitated. “How’s the writing going?”

“I’m going surfing.”

She grimaced. “That good, huh?”

“Early days. Need to shake some cobwebs off, I think.” Faith would understand that. And it seemed she did because she nodded at him.

“Whatever works. Enjoy the surf. Dinner’s at seven.”

When Zach walked through the open patio doors into Faith’s kitchen, Leah almost spilled the wine she was pouring.

Crap. What was he doing here? What was this, national-Zach-Harper-darkening-her-doorstep-out-of-the-blue week?

“Leah,” he said, coming to a halt just inside, looking just as surprised as she felt. “Hi.”

She finished pouring the wine. Took a large swig of it. “Hi,” she said brightly. “Wine?” She held up the bottle, still too caught out by his appearance to think of anything else to say. She tried not to look at the stairs. Faith was upstairs, changing her T-shirt because she’d spilled red sauce on it. She needed to change faster.

Zach shook his head, walked past her, and stopped at the fridge a couple of feet away. “Ah. Beer. I knew Caleb would have some.” He cracked a bottle, took a swallow. Then another.

Was he nervous? What did he have to be nervous about? He’d turned her down. End of story.

“Bad day?” she asked. Dammit. When would she learn not to poke the bear? She was supposed to be ignoring Zach Harper. Consigning his far-too-pretty ass to the depths of whatever fiery hell would take him, burning the memories she had of him—past and present—and getting on with her life. That didn’t involve asking the man how his day had been.

Zach grimaced. “Wrestling with a song.” He didn’t offer more. She didn’t ask. Song writing was way too close to the subject of producing. She definitely wasn’t going to be asking him who he’d found to work with. She might be dumb enough to poke the bear, but she wasn’t going to hand it a stick to whack her back with.

Wine. That would be good. She drank again, hoping like hell Faith would reappear before she put too much wine in her currently empty stomach. The pasta sauce simmering on the big stove smelled amazing. Having spent the week eating at the studio, while she worked with Nessa and her band, she was looking forward to a meal that didn’t come in takeout cartons or pizza boxes.

She eyed Zach. What the hell did you talk about with a musician when you were determined to avoid the subject of music? Did he like sports? She wracked her brain but it stalled, too busy cataloguing just how good he looked in the dark green shirt he wore loose over dark jeans. He’d rolled the cuffs up, putting his arms and tattoos on display. Dammit. It was like he knew her secret weakness. A very stupid part of her wanted to walk over to him, run her hands up his arms, peel off his shirt, and bite one of his tattoos.

She’d done that once. When he’d been deep inside her and she’d?—

Nope. Stop. Not thinking about that. She dragged her eyes up to his face. His hair looked kind of windswept. Like maybe he’d been?—

“Surfing!” she exclaimed. God. Had she said that aloud?

“Pardon?” Zach said.

“Er, have you been surfing since you got back? You used to like that, right?” Wow. She sounded like an idiot.

He looked amused. “Right. And, yes, actually. I went this afternoon. ’Round to Shane’s place.”

“Any good?” Cloud Bay didn’t have world-class surf but the beaches on the farthest end of the island where Shane King’s house stood on the top of high cliffs, got some good waves. She’d surfed there herself. Not yet this season though. That would require remembering what free time was. Since the divorce she’d been throwing herself into the studio. Easier than sitting around at home alone. Apart from the odd girl’s movie night with Faith and Ivy and, occasionally, Mina, which was about as wild as the four of them got now that the other three were all hooked up, it was all work, work, work.

---