Zack didn’t want to meet her parents. He hadn’t even wanted to meet her. With any luck, from here on out he’d successfully avoid the Lane clan altogether.
“But hey,” Conan said, and punched Zack in the shoulder, nearly making him spill the distasteful coffee. “I like it that you wanted to protect her. Knowing she’ll have a neighbor looking out for her makes me feel better about her living alone.”
Conan had fists like sledgehammers, and not enough sense to temper his blows. The muscle in Zack’s shoulder leaped in pain. He refused to show any weakness by rubbing it.
And he refused to become Wynn’s protector, though God knew with a smart and loud mouth like hers, she’d likely need a battalion to shield her from retaliation. But before he could find words to express his thoughts, Dani appeared. She hesitated, showing unaccustomed shyness, her soft-bristled brush clutched in one hand, the other on the screen door.
Setting aside his coffee, Zack held out his hand and she skipped to him. He put her on his knee and began brushing her silky hair. “Dani, Conan is Wynn’s brother.”
Dani leaned close to his ear and whispered loudly enough for the birds in the trees to hear, “What do I call ’em?”
Wynn answered for him. “Well, neighbors can’t very well stand on formality, now can they? So, if you don’t mind us calling you Dani, you can just call us Wynn and Conan. Deal?”
Dani twisted, stuck out her hand, and said, “Deal.”
Conan laughed and enfolded the diminutive fingers with his massive paw. Muscles flexed and rolled along his arm, yet Zack couldn’t help but notice that he was very gentle.
After Wynn shook Dani’s hand, too, Dani stated, “Your hair looks funny.”
“Dani.” Her habit of speaking her mind was often humorous, but this wasn’t one of those times.
She blinked at her father uncertainly. “It doesn’t?”
It did, so what could he say? He settled on, “You know better than to be rude.”
Far from insulted, Wynn laughed out loud and shook her head so more corkscrew curls sprang wild. “It feels funny, too. Wanna see?”
Dani looked at Zack for permission, and he could only shrug. Never in his life had he known a woman who behaved as she did, so how was he supposed to know how to deal with her?
Dani reached out, nearly falling off Zack’s knee, and put her fingertips to the bouncing curls. She gave a tentative stroke, and then another. Her brow furrowed in concentration. “It’s soft.” And then to Zack, “Feel it, Daddy.”
Zack nearly choked. “Uh, no, Dani...”
Conan must have had a wicked streak, because he taunted, “Ah, go ahead, Zack. Wynonna won’t mind.”
“Wynonna will loosen your jaw if you don’t stop calling me Wynonna!”
Dani laughed. Zack was a little bemused to realize his daughter recognized the lack of threat in their repartee while he’d been alarmed by it.
“My name’s Daniella, but no one calls me that. ’Cept Dad sometimes when he’s mad.”
Wynn gave a theatrical gasp. “Your father gets mad at you?” she teased, holding one hand to her chest. “Whatever for? Why, you’re such a little angel.”
Dani shrugged. “Not all the time. Sometimes I get into mis...mis...”
“Mischief,” Zack supplied, “and don’t make me sound like an ogre to our new neighbors.”
She beamed at him. “He’s the best dad in the whole world.”
“Much better.” Zack smiled and kissed her soft plump cheek. “She has her moments, and if angels can be rowdy and rambunctious, then the description does fit.”
Conan laughed, but Wynn gave him another of those tender, intent looks. He frowned and turned away.
“You don’t really fight with Conan,” Dani told Wynn, as if Wynn might not be aware of that fact herself.
“I would never take a chance on hurting him,” Wynn boasted. Then, pretending to share a confidence, she added, “Besides, he’s my brother and I love him.”
Dani sat back against her father’s chest and crossed her arms. “I want a brother.”
Zack choked.
Conan handed him a napkin, again staving off the awkward moment. “If you want to hear the real joke about Wynn’s hair,” Conan said, “then you should know that our father is a coiffeur.”
“What’s that?” Dani asked.
“A coiffeur,” Wynn explained, “is just another word for a hairdresser.”
Again and again, they took him by surprise, Zack thought. “That’s...interesting,” he remarked, and gulped down more of the awful vanilla coffee.
Wynn chuckled. “The fact that I won’t let him touch my hair makes him crazy. Which is why I won’t let him touch it, of course. Every time he sees me, he wails like he’s in pain.”
“And when she says wails, she means wails.” Conan sipped his own coffee before setting the cup aside. “My dad is likely to be the only flaming heterosexual you’ll ever meet.”
Zack stared. Flaming heterosexual? Did these two know any normal or mundane conversational tidbits? Couldn’t they go on about the weather or something? Together, they were the strangest people he’d ever met so he had no doubt the parents had to be beyond odd as well. He kept silent.
His daughter did not.
“Does that mean hairdresser, too?” Dani asked.
Wynn quickly swallowed her bite of muffin. “No, Dani, that means he likes to dress in silk and lots of gold chains and he has this enormous diamond earring.”
Oh Lord, Zack thought, and wished he could escape.
“Our mother, on the other hand, is the original hippie. She’s into all things natural and doesn’t wear any jewelry at all except for a plain wedding band.”
“But,” Conan interjected, casting a sly look at Wynn, “she loves my father enough to let him keep her hair trimmed.”
“Daddy would have a heart attack if I asked him to do my hair now. You know that. Besides, he likes to have something to gripe at me about.”
“Does your mom’s hair look like yours?” Zack heard himself ask, curious despite himself.
“Heavens no! I got my hair from some long-deceased ancestor.”
Conan leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “And believe me, we’re all beyond grateful that he is long deceased.”
Wynn shoved at him. “My father’s hair is brown and sleek,
