His hand clenched so hard around the pencil, it was a wonder it didn’t snap. The way he was going, he was going to have to buy stock in a damned office supply company.
“Marin . . . if you’re trying to piss me off, you’re doing a damn good job. I’m not banging Abby.”
A few seconds passed and then Marin sighed. “Zach, would you lighten up? It’s not like I think you’re fucking her and writing her name on the boy’s locker room door, okay? I know what she means to you. What I’m trying to get at is this . . . she’s falling for you. Hard. But she doesn’t know how serious this is for you. And she needs to.”
“Fuck.” Shoving back from the desk, he got up and started to pace. “And then what, Marin? When I tell her that I’ve loved her forever and that freaks her out, then what do I do?”
His heart lodged in his throat as she pointed out, “Zach . . . sweetie . . . what are you going to do when she doesn’t freak out?”
“Marin . . .” He groaned and dragged a hand down his face as he fought with each answer. Did he want to tell her? Yes. But he didn’t want to scare her off and he didn’t want to—
The buzzer rang.
Scowling, he said, “Marin, somebody’s at the back. I need to go.”
It was more than an hour past closing time so there were just a few possibilities. He thought maybe it could be Abigale, although she usually went to the front. The back of the shop faced out over an empty lot and he didn’t like any of his employees to be out there alone.
He checked through the judas hole and didn’t see anybody.
But the buzzer rang again.
Tension crawled along the back of his neck, making the hairs stand on edge. Bracing a hand on the wall by the door, he glanced at the alarm panel. It was active and engaged. He’d had his place broken into a few times. It would probably happen again—
A fist pounded against the door.
“Yeah?” Zach called out.
As somebody flung himself against the door, Zach hit the panic button on the alarm panel and dodged off to the side.
* * *
The call came in just before one in the morning.
Damn late for calling, but Abby smiled when she saw Zach’s number. She was exhausted after spending most of the day dealing with a bridezilla who practically defined the zilla part.
The one good thing was that the bride’s daddy was rich and Abby had no problem making them pay through the nose for the headache they were giving her.
The bad news . . . she was almost too tired to talk to Zach.
But tired or not, she needed to hear his voice.
“Hey, gorgeous,” she said, smiling a little as she padded into the bathroom. She eyed the tub and thought about running a bath and soaking for a while. It would keep her awake while she talked—
“Hey . . . ah.” His voice was raw, heavy with exhaustion as he asked, “Can you come to the hospital?”
She froze and the cloud of exhaustion cleared from her head. “Hospital?”
“Yeah.” He paused for a second and then in a rush, said, “I’m fine, okay? But somebody busted into the shop while I was there and I got . . . well, I’m here and I . . . Look, I need somebody to take me home. Can you?”
* * *
Her heart dropped down to somewhere in the range of her soles when she saw him. Zach lay half propped up in the bed and the bright fluorescent lights were unapologetic as they highlighted every damned bruise, every damned wound. And there were a number of them.
“Zach . . .”
His lashes lifted, and slowly he turned his face toward her. “Hey, Abs,” he said, his voice thick and rusty. He had a cut on his mouth. That beautiful mouth was busted up, she thought, and her heart tripped up and stopped as she eased a little closer.
“Damn it, Zach, what happened?”
“I got the crap pounded out of me by a couple of punks looking for some quick cash.” Then he grinned a little. “I pounded the crap out of them, too. One of them got away, but the other one is down the hall. Broken leg.”
“You broke his leg?” She gaped at him.
“Well, me and one of the chairs in the break room. I’m