Page 51 of The Devil's Scars

“After I feed you. I’m not leaving until you take what I’ve brought you, so you might as well open the door… it’s a nice night, and your front porch has an awfully comfy chair to just hang out in.”

She sighed, feeling mutinous and mulish, like an utter brat. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

She jerked the door open, and Scars grinned down at her, all sexy-hot muscles and devastating charm. He was wearing well-worn jeans, a tight blue t-shirt that made his eyes stand out in that hard, scarred face even more, a jean jacket, and his Road Devils cut on top. In one hand, he held a large pizza box; she saw a bottle-shaped paper bag tucked under his arm. He was so achingly huge and strong, and the way he just towered over her in her bare feet made Zoe feel impossibly feminine and fragile.

“Hey, beautiful,” he drawled. “How you doin’?”

“Don’t call me that, Scars,” she snapped, hating the jolt of desire in her stomach. “I told you that already.”

“Wasn’t talking to you, Zoe, so stomp down on that monster ego.” Scars stepped into the house, and she sniffed appreciatively at the delicious smell of super-cheesy and -gooey pizza. “I was talking to this sweet peach.” So gently, so impossibly carefully, he reached for Keira’s tiny hand, shook it with two of his fingers. “Hey, little lady. You’re Keira, I guess?”

The baby gurgled, kicked her chubby little legs against Zoe’s body, totally selling her Mom out by smiling at Scars with every ounce of her cuteness. He returned her smile, then winked.

“The way I hear it, kiddo, is you had a birthday yesterday. I also hear that you like bunnies. Is that true?” He cocked his head at Keira, then with a flourish, produced a pink rabbit from his jean jacket pocket. He handed it to Keira and she took it with a shriek of utter capitulation. Right away, she dropped the teething ring and bit the stuffed animal’s left ear, grinning widely the whole time. “Yeah, I guess my intel was solid.”

In response, the baby gurgled again, adding to the mess on Zoe’s shirt. Despite her shock and anxiety at Scars’ sudden appearance, and despite the fact that she was about as unsexy as humanly possible in her baggy jeans and messy ponytail, Zoe found herself smiling too. Keira’s sweet little laugh always had that effect on her: if there was anything better in the world than baby giggles, Zoe had no idea what that might be.

Scars seemed to find the gurgles adorable, too. He gazed at Keira, taking in her blonde curls and large brown eyes. He looked at Zoe, then back at the baby.

“She’s got your hair, huh?”

“She’s got Hailey’s hair,” Zoe corrected him as she reached down to retrieve the teething ring at her feet. “It’s just that me and my sister had the same hair. Got it from our Mom.”

“The brown eyes are from your sister, too?”

“Yeah.”

Scars nodded. “So can I set this pizza down?”

“Oh… yeah, of course.” Zoe waved in the direction of the kitchen. “Over there’s good.”

He wandered off and started to open and shut cabinets, taking down plates and wine glasses, clearly at home. Zoe wondered how many times he’d been over here, maybe drinking beers with Silver and the boys in the backyard. She trailed behind him, glanced down at Keira. The baby was watching Scars avidly, now hugging the bunny tightly.

“You’re making goo-goo eyes at him,” Zoe whispered, kissing Keira on the top of her head, wondered if she was talking to her daughter or to herself. “You’ve fallen for the charm, have you? Careful, little flower – careful of any man who comes bearing gifts, and especially this one.”

“I know you’re vegetarian,” Scars said as she reached the kitchen. “Rebel told me.”

“Yeah.”

“So I got you a pizza with double cheese, mushrooms, and mild red pepper. Cool?”

“Yeah. Damn near perfect, actually. Almost what I’d order myself.”

“What’d I miss?”

“Black olives.”

“So I did OK.” He flashed her that gorgeous, rare, knee-weakening grin, the one that was fast becoming her personal kryptonite, then turned his attention to the drawer, on the hunt for the corkscrew. “Right?”

“You did OK,” she agreed, starting to soften a bit despite her reservations about the man. She told herself that hunger was making her weak and foolish. “Thanks.”

“Sure. I figured you’d need a bit of a treat, now that your friend’s gone back to Fargo.”

“I won’t say no,” she said. “Extra-cheesy pizza beats leftover, limp pasta in marinara sauce, hands-down.”

“No kidding, right? There isn’t much that pizza doesn’t beat, really.”

---