he didn’t remember them ever looking so cold.
Brett must have noticed his sister’s switch in attention, because he glanced over his shoulder as Zan approached their table. When Zan put his cup on the table, the other man didn’t say anything, but he did slide along the bench to allow Zan space beside him.
The movement was begrudging and Mac’s stare still so very chilly.
“Is this any way to greet the guy who knows your deepest, darkest secret?” he joked, settling into place.
When they didn’t answer, he tried out a smile. “The hollowed-out log near the cabins? The secret compartment to keep hidden treasures?”
Brett’s mouth twitched. “God, what must be in there? Mac, didn’t you stash that unicorn Beanie Baby in the hole, sure it would be worth a mint in a few years?”
She made a face.
Brett pointed at Zan. “And it’s where you hid your Molotov-cocktail supplies, so they’d escape your grandfather’s detection.” His expression turned serious. “Hey, about that. Condolences on his passing.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Zan stared into his cup of dark brew. “And the same to you for the loss of your mother.” Though Dell Walker had passed about two years before Zan left, his wife hadn’t died until after Zan had been gone from the mountains. It was the Walker parents who had provided the warm influence an orphan needed in the earliest years, though to be fair, his grandfather had never complained about the kid foisted on him late in life.
When he’d left the mountains he hadn’t parted harshly from the elderly man, but they’d kept in touch only on a semiregular basis. While they’d actually met up a few times, twice in London, and then in Prague and Lisbon as well, Zan hadn’t been at his side when he’d died.
Nor had he returned directly upon the man’s passing, when he might have managed to stop his cousin from running amok. “You heard about Vaughn?”
Brett flicked a glance at his sister. “Actually, my wife and I were involved in his capture.”
His attorney had shared that the old man’s will had left a lot of furniture and memorabilia to the Mountain Historical Society, which had auctioned off the items in a very successful fund-raising effort. But Vaughn Elliott, bitter that he hadn’t been named in the document, had taken it upon himself to recoup the “lost” objects by stealing them from the winning bidders.
Zan frowned, thinking that over. “God, I’m sorry. Grandfather left his entire estate to me, and Vaughn didn’t take it well.” He cleared his throat. “I hope you won’t be offended that I’ve retained good defense counsel for him.”
“Out of your own pocket, I suppose,” Brett said.
“It appears Vaughn ran through his own monies a few years back.”
His old friend shrugged. “I understand. Angelica and I weren’t injured in the incident... As a matter of fact, you could say it brought us together.”
“Your Angelica?”
“That’s right,” Brett said, his mouth curving in a satisfied smile. “Angelica Walker.”
Zan glanced over at the silent Mac. “What about you? Husband?” At that wedding reception, had he cuddled close to a married person? The nights since, had he been spinning little fantasies—and he had, no point in pretending otherwise—about some other man’s woman? His stomach churned at the thought and a chill rolled over him. He pushed his coffee away, no longer interested in it. “Well?”
Mac held up both bare hands, clearly showing she wore no rings, wedding or otherwise.
His world tilted again... Christ, was that really relief? Before he could convince himself otherwise, Brett had his own question. “So, back in town, huh?”
“Yeah. And I’d sure like to spend a little time with my favorite mountain family. Not to mention meet your wife.” He glanced over at Mac. “I confess I crashed your wedding reception for a few minutes.”
“What? You should have spoken to me.”
“I didn’t want to draw attention to myself on someone else’s special day. But I’m surprised Mac didn’t mention it to you. We, uh, had a moment.”
Brett’s brows rose. “I’m surprised she didn’t mention it to me, either.”
“I forgot all about it,” the woman said. “I was there with Kent Valdez, remember? He occupied my thoughts.”
“Kent Valdez?” Zan could remember the guy. “Wasn’t he president of the Future Pig Farmers of America or something in high school?”
Color washed up Mac’s beautiful face, and for the first time her blue eyes looked heated. “Are you really going there?”
Zan felt woozy again, but that didn’t stop him from running his mouth. “C’mon. He was a head shorter than you and harassed all of us as the self-appointed hall monitor.”
Mac glared. “The only one who is small right now is you.”
Had they ever argued when they were together? Maybe she was mad about that little surprise move he’d made on her at the wedding. “Take it easy,” he muttered. Why was his head pounding so?
Mac’s spine straightened. “Take it easy? Pl—”
“Maybe we should save this for another day,” Brett put in hastily.
“I don’t know why.” Zan pressed his fingers to his temple. “I’m only trying to catch up with old friends, for God’s sake.”
“That’s why you’re back, to catch up?” Mac asked.
Her image was wavering again. “I’m here to manage some details of Grandfather’s estate. It should take a week or two. Then I’ll be gone again.”
“Of course you will.”
There was subtext to the four words that couldn’t penetrate the throbbing in his head. His skin flashed hot then cold and the roots of his hair began to hurt. He rose to his feet, one hand on the tabletop to keep him steady.
“Zan?” Brett questioned. “Are you all right? You don’t look so good.”
He didn’t feel so good, either. “Uh...” The room was revolving around him.
“Do you need—”
“Just some fresh air,” he said, trying to shake off the dizziness. “I’ll see you later.”
Then he began to walk away, all the pleasure he’d felt in seeing the Walkers again tarnished, but he couldn’t figure out why.
He glanced back at Mac. She was watching him leave, but the expression on her lovely face didn’t exactly shout warm welcome, that was sure.
They said a person could never go home again... Apparently he couldn’t even go back to the place that had been the next best thing.
Or
