Page 11 of Deep Waters
“I don’t think I’ll fit,” I said gently.
“We’ll make room,” Zach volunteered, scooting back until he pressed against the wall. Hana snuggled closer and patted the bed again, her dark brown eyes liquid with silent entreaty.
I slid onto the bed next to her, aware that I was half in Zach’s arms as I fought gravity and the edge of the tiny bed. He wrapped me closer, sandwiching Hana between us until she squawked.
“Too tight! Let me breathe!”
“Oh. Sorry. Who put you here?” Zach asked, glancing down quizzically at Hana.
“You did!” the little girl squealed in delight, giggling.
“Oops. Now, where was I?”
Hana babbled about their place in the book, and he resumed his tale. His deep voice spun a story at once magical and sweet. I was plastered against him and Hana, his left hand on my hip holding me in place. He held the book up in his right, Hana helping him flip pages as she listened, rapt.
And dammit if he didn’t really do the voices. He turned the frog into a British dandy that made Hana laugh. But it was his surly fox that kept me on edge, aware of every inch of his long body. Our feet tangled, one of his strong calves covering mine. Hana curled up into a tight ball, leaving me entirely too much Zach-owned real estate on the small bed.
His voices and Hana’s laughter became a soothing background to my thoughts, which wandered from what to cook for dinner this week to how to keep the kids distracted from their grief. Hana’s bed was warm and cozy. Zach’s hand on my hip kept me from feeling like I’d roll off. I let my eyes close. Just for a minute. Soaking in the way Zach’s deep baritone washed over me.
Hana wiggled. I was vaguely aware of her climbing over me. Probably to go to the bathroom. I listened for a moment, still half-asleep. The drugging effects of fatigue pulled me under again, and I snuggled into the warm weight next to me, the steady heartbeat beneath my cheek lulling me back to sleep.
Light filtered into the room, a weak beam striking me in the face. I wiggled, turning to escape the glare. My bed rumbled, and I stilled. My eyes popped open. Zach’s face was next to mine, his expression soft.
“Hello.” Slowly he stretched, yawning. His big body arched beneath me.
Hana.Where was Hana?
I scrambled out of bed, searching for the little girl. A phantom fear had me worrying that we’d somehow squished her for real. I whirled, spotting her curled up on the beanbag in the corner of her room, fast asleep.
I bit back a curse. My stand-in-parent-of-the-year award was definitely at risk. What kind of guardian pushed her kid out of her own bed on her first night home without her mom?
I tiptoed closer, tucking Hana’s blanket around her. She slept on, cheeks flushed.
Behind me, I heard Zach shift, Hana’s bed squeaking as he rose to his full height beside me. He blinked sleepily at me before grinning.
“Good morning, Captain. You look like the cuddly little fox from our story this morning.”
Self-consciously, I smoothed my hair, sure it looked like a rat’s nest, no matter what he said. Painfully aware that I wanted his words to be true.
“Flirt,” I said without heat.
Something flickered in his eyes. Maybe a moment of hurt.
I slipped into Jia’s room, dressing for the day in fresh coveralls and a San Juan Marine Repair tee before joining Zach downstairs.
He extended a mug of coffee with a crooked smile, his left dimple flashing, his hair still mussed and standing on end. My stomach dipped to my toes, leaving me woozy like I had my first-ever bout of seasickness.
Clearly, I needed the caffeine badly if I was lightheaded. Yep. The caffeine.
His fingers brushed mine, and I bobbled the cup, sloshing hot coffee over both our hands. “Shit. Sorry.”
I flushed. Zach had handed me hundreds of tools while I had my head stuck in his engine, troubleshooting. I hadn’t dropped a single wrench or screwdriver from him. Ever. One sleepy smile over our morning coffee and he had me feeling like my fingers were coated in LubriMatic, unable to grip anything.
He set the mug aside, plunging our hands under the sink faucet. The cold water jetted out, covering our fingers. The angry red patch on my index finger faded quickly, the water easing the sting. His bulk brushed my back, hovering just behind me. I shivered, the contrast of his heat and the icy water the wake-up I needed.
This was Zach. My friend. My summer parenting partner. Just because we were playing house with Jia’s kids didn’t mean he wanted more than that. I was the one making things awkward.
“Better?” his murmured question brought me back to myself.
