way you can take it a box at a time and figure out what you want to do with everything.”
He returned with the plates. “Thanks. But I’m good.”
“Of course,” Lucy said. “Zane, you’re doing a great job. I know your mom is looking down on you from up there, appreciating all your hard work.”
He frowned. “It is what it is. It has to be done. So I’m doing it.”
“Be sure and let me know if you need any help sorting things out,” Lucy said. “You know I’m here for you.”
A small smile lifted the corners of Zane’s mouth. He lifted his glass to her again. “Yes, you are. If I didn’t say so before, I appreciate it.”
“I know you do.”
She thought about pointing out that sometimes she knew what he needed better than he knew himself, but she kept that bit to herself. Instead, she occupied herself taking the food out of the bag and opening the various containers. Better to show him than tell him. Her heartbeat kicked up a little bit. Yes, definitely better to show him.
* * *
Zane watched Lucy put her empty plate on the coffee table, kick off her flip-flops and pull her knees up to her chest. She looked small sitting there like that on his couch, with her long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and her face virtually free of makeup. Since her attention was focused on the movie, Zane had free rein to watch her. It was a good thing, too, because tonight he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He loved her smile and her laugh and the way her eyes got big when the movie surprised her, even though she’d probably seen it dozens of times.
His reaction to her baffled him.
This was Lucy. Lucy. He had to be out of his damn mind to be looking at her like she was anything else than a little sister. Ethan Campbell’s little sister. Ethan Campbell, his friend—a guy who was more like a brother to him than his own brother.
Lucy threw back her head and laughed at something in the movie that Zane hadn’t heard. All that registered with him was the music of her laugh; it surrounded him, lifted him up, made him feel as if everything just might be okay. All he could see was the delicate curve of her neck and the way her upper lip was slightly fuller than her bottom lip. How had he never noticed that before?
Despite all his screwups, he must’ve done something right to have someone as good and pure as Lucy in his life.
“You doing all right?” She’d caught him watching her. He could see that her eyes were slightly misty from laughing.
“Fine,” he said, even though he was feeling a weird kind of off-kilter right now.
He took a fortifying sip of his bourbon. The ice had melted and watered it down.
“Do you like the movie?” she asked.
“Not really.” He smiled to make it clear that he was yanking her chain.
She shifted so that she was facing him, her tanned legs tucked underneath her. “We can switch to another one if you want.”
He waved her off. “You’re enjoying it enough for both of us. So no worries.”
He took another sip and she mirrored him, picking up her glass and raising it to her lips. She closed her eyes as she drank. He had the ridiculous urge to reach out and run a thumb over her cheek to see if her skin was as smooth and soft as it looked. He didn’t know because he’d never touched her like that.
This is Lucy, man. Be cool.
The world really was upside down if he was suddenly wanting to touch Lucy Campbell in ways that were decidedly unbrotherly, but he had to be honest with himself—that was exactly what he wanted to do. Even if he hadn’t realized it until now. Since she’d been back in Celebration, it had never been so clear to him that Lucy was a grown woman who was decidedly not his sister.
He picked up the bottle and refilled his glass. As he started to set it down, he realized Lucy was holding out hers even though most of the original pour was still in it.
“Are you going to be okay to drive home later?” he asked as he filled her glass.
She shrugged. “We have a lot of movies to watch. And if I’m not, I can just spend the night here.” She patted the sofa.
“Or I can call you a cab,” he added quickly, as much to chase away the thought of her spending the night. “People might talk if they see your car parked here overnight.”
She laughed. “Let them talk. I didn’t realize you were so worried about your reputation.”
She held his gaze as she reached over to set her glass on the table and missed the surface by a fraction of an inch. Bourbon sloshed over the edge and the ting of crystal hitting the wooden edge of the coffee table sounded just before the glass fell. She caught it a split second before it hit the carpet. Good reflexes. She must not be that drunk.
In an instant she was sitting up straight, both feet on the ground, simultaneously blotting the spilled liquor with the white paper napkins that came with the takeout and examining the glass for signs of damage.
“Oh, my God. Zane, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that. I’m such a klutz.”
“Don’t worry about it.” His hand touched hers as he commandeered the napkins—not so much because he was worried that there might be a stain, but because he didn’t want her to feel bad. “It won’t hurt the carpet. The bourbon will probably be an improvement.”
He laughed.
“No.” She shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. “This is your mom’s good crystal. I would’ve never forgiven myself if I’d broken it.”
He stopped blotting. “It’s just a glass. It’s nothing special.”
“Of course it’s special. It’s beautiful. And it was hers.”
He shook his head. “I gave her the set for Christmas a few years ago, but she never even used them. I just took them out of their original box when I was in the kitchen.”
Lucy blinked. “But they’re so pretty. I can’t believe she didn’t love them.”
“She did. Or at least she said she did. But she never used them because she said she was afraid something would happen to them.”
“Yeah, someone like me would break them.”
Zane waved her off. “Said she was saving them for a special occasion. Or, I don’t know, something ridiculous like that. She was never particularly comfortable with nice things. God knew her louse of an ex-husband didn’t even help with child support, much less spoil her with personal gifts.”
Yeah, that was the poor excuse of a man Zane and his brother, Ian, were loath to call father. He preferred to not even think about the jackass who maintained that Dorothy had gotten pregnant with Zane on purpose. That she’d trapped him. He was so busy carrying around the chip on his shoulder, he seemed to think he was exempt from supporting his family. Never mind he’d gotten her pregnant again after they’d been married for a couple of years. It
