Page 52 of Heart Thief

“That’s true.”

“So why stay here?”

“Because you’re here.”

“You want to be here because I’m here?”

“Yes. Does that scare you?”

“It terrifies me. In a good way.” I swallow. Hard. “Are you the good guy or the bad guy?”

“You have to decide that for yourself.” He holds out his hand. “Come with me and find out.”

I look down at his hand. If I reach out and take his hand, I’m making a conscious decision to be with Zane. This is a turning point and we both know it.

I could ignore him. I could spend my day practicing, like I should. I could turn away and never go down this forbidden path.

But I don’t. Deliberately, I reach out and join our hands.

He smiles, slow and delicious. “Let’s get the heck outta here. Ryker’s ghost is haunting us.”

It does feel like Ryker’s always with us when we’re in the penthouse. We need to escape.

chapter nineteen

~

WE SET OFFon foot. First stop—a little hole in the wall breakfast place where we eat chocolate covered croissants with fresh cantaloupe and honeydew melon.

“I dream of these when I’m out of town,” Zane tells me. “Seriously, I wake up with my mouth watering.”

“I can see why.”

Next, we wander in and out of shops, choosing bright-colored trinkets and various throw pillows, the brighter, the better.

We laugh as we choose each item. We grab vases, ceramic geckos, an owl, a fish, even an elephant. Each one is expertly painted with bold colors and designs. We choose trays and flowers and candle holders, each one a daring statement.

I love each item and would decorate my own home with them. I doubt any of it will remain in Ryker’s apartment, but we’ll enjoy it while we’re there.

Still, each item makes us dissolve into laughter, simply because we both know Ryker will hate them. Stiff, no humor Ryker will not even find them amusing.

We drop off our purchases and pick up Artie. Then we hop into Zane’s Jeep and grab lunch items at the grocery store. After that, we head for Golden Gate Park, where we spend the afternoon at Stow Lake, wandering the wooded pathways, riding the pedal boats, and talking non-stop. Artie loves it, even if he does want to be held nearly the entire time.

As we sit in the sun on a small dock, eating our lunch with our feet soaking in the cool lake water, our jeans rolled up to our knees, Zane says, “This has been a perfect day.”

I finish off our last strawberry. “Yes, it has. Thanks for getting me out of the house.”

“You needed an intervention. But I also love your dedication.”

I let my head fall back as I bask in the sunshine. We chose various fruits and cheeses, along with a baguette for lunch. Our rather European dining choices make me feel as though I’m on an outing in the French countryside.

I sit up and stare at the sun’s reflection on the rippling water. My lips part as I let out a deep sigh. Zane has a calming effect on me.

Unexpectedly, Zane reaches out and takes my hand in his, slowly and carefully lacing our fingers together. Our united hands sit between us on the dock, a question and an answer, waiting to be acknowledged.

While Artie is curled up on his lap, I stare at our clasped hands. I knew we were headed in this direction. I think I knew from the first moment I saw him. Perhaps this was inevitable. With his actions, he’s asking me to recognize it, to say it out loud.

My eyes travel up to his. He doesn’t say anything at first. He simply runs his thumb over my skin, back and forth.

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