“Maybe I should just think about doing it on my own.” But that thought left her cold. She wanted a family. With all that entailed. A father for her kids . . . a partner. Somebody who would make her laugh. Make her think. Keep her company when she wanted it and if she was in a bad mood, leave her alone. Somebody who could blow her mind away in bed and still be a friend.
“You want a fairy tale.”
Roger had been okay in bed, but he hadn’t exactly been a friend, something she could acknowledge . . . now. The only guy who had ever really made her laugh, made her think, kept her company when she needed it, and left her alone when she wanted . . . hell. That was Zach. But he was her best friend.
When the alarm sounded sometime later, she yelped in surprise. Panic surged through her, until she realized it was the regular alert.
The annoying little computerized voice announced, “Disarmed.”
There was only one person it could be. She’d deactivated Roger’s code and even if she hadn’t, he wouldn’t come by this late without calling.
Zach, on the other hand . . .
He appeared at the door, gold-streaked brown hair falling into his eyes, five o’clock shadow darkening his jaw. The faded black t-shirt he wore left much of his arms bare, leaving his tattoos visible.
She’d never, ever tell anybody that she absolutely adored the way those tattoos looked.
Not in a million years.
“Hey,” she said, smiling. He was one of the very few people she didn’t mind seeing right now. Maybe even the only person.
The phone started to ring again.
Without saying anything, he ambled over to it and glanced at the display. A sneer curled his lip and he glanced at her. “She who shall not be named is calling.” A wicked smile danced across his face and he asked, “Can I talk to her? Pretty please?”
A laugh bubbled out of her and she grinned at him. “I don’t care. As long as I don’t have to.” She wondered just how in the world her mother had gotten her number. Again.
Zach grabbed the phone halfway through the second ring. “Heya, Blanche!”
Abigale propped her arm on the back of the couch and watched as he leaned against her desk, one arm folded over his chest. It had his bicep bulging and the scrolled design there caught her eye. Something warmed inside her. Shifted. Frowning, she looked away from his arms and watched his face.
“Yes. She’s here . . . Nah, I can’t put her on the phone. Why? Oh. She doesn’t want to talk to you. As in . . . ever. Remember that deal about how you kind of, sort of tried to keep her away from all the money she’d earned? How you tried to whore her out for any and every damn part that you could get? Expected her to go weeks living on nothing but water and salads because she was getting too female?” He didn’t look so happy now. Fire snapped in his blue eyes and a growl had edged into his voice.
Okay. Maybe she should—
“Then there was that shit about how I caught one of your fucking boyfriends trying to paw her. Remember that? Oh, you fucking bitch, don’t you tell me I don’t know what I saw—yeah, you do that. Crazy piece of work.” He slammed the phone down and then looked over at her.
“Your mom doesn’t remember me,” he said soberly.
Abigale lifted an eyebrow at him. “Really? I can’t imagine how she could ever forget you.”
He grinned as he came to flop down on the couch. He settled down and stretched out long, jean-clad legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankle as he rolled his head over to look at her.
He had something in his hand. A book, she noted. He glanced at her journal and then up at her face. Some of the heated anger had faded from his eyes. Some. Not all.
Abruptly, she reached out and touched his cheek. The rough stubble abraded her palm as she said quietly, “Always my knight in shining armor, Zach. Thank you.”
A dull red flush crept up his cheeks. “I’m no knight, Abs.”
“You’ve always been mine.” She shrugged and pulled her hand back. Tucking the pen back into her journal, she closed it and tossed it onto the table in front of them. “You and I both know what that boyfriend of