his friend answering the call of duty and willing to risk his life in service to his country, Zeke didn’t want Patrick to have to worry about his little sister back home. So Zeke had made his friend that promise.
And then, two years ago, Mollie had shown up at his door, her bright eyes ravaged by tears, to tell him that Patrick was never coming home.
His best friend was dead, and the promise Zeke had made—along with the reminder of Patrick’s final visit home—weighed on Zeke so heavily that the crushing pressure on his chest made it hard to breathe.
He looked down, startled by the cold press of a nose against his hand followed by the familiar weight and warmth of a sturdy canine body leaning against his leg. Reaching down, he ran his palm over Charlie’s silky golden head, taking comfort in the easy, quiet companionship.
“You need a new best friend.”
His heart cramped a bit at the softly spoken words, and he looked up to find Mollie watching him, her gentle soul reflected in her blue-green eyes. Logic told him neither she nor the dog by his side could possibly know what he’d been thinking. But from his own experiences with Shadow and with the service dogs at the veterans’ support group where he volunteered, he knew how intuitive animals could be.
And as for Mollie... Patrick was a tie that would always bind them together. Zeke didn’t need to tell her he was thinking about his friend. Not when Patrick was always there between the two of them.
* * *
The steps were perfect. The raw wood was sanded to a smooth finish awaiting the stain or paint of her choosing. Mollie had no doubt that each step and rise was strictly to code and not a single degree off.
But that was Zeke. All straight lines and precise measurements. His massive toolbox lay open at the top of the stairs. Inside, each red plastic section held a specific size of nail, screw, nut or bolt. Everything properly labeled and carefully maintained, and nothing like her junk drawer, which held a random mishmash of items that may as well have escaped from the island of lost tools.
“You could have waited for me, you know. I would have liked to see how you figured out how to cut the stringers...just in case.”
“It’s not that hard.”
She held up a hand as Zeke went on about maximum riser height and tread depth, cutting him off by saying, “I get it. You’re brilliant.”
And he was. Zeke was the smartest person she knew, and not just book smart. If there was anything he wanted to learn—and Zeke tended to want to learn everything—he could pick up a how-to book or watch a few online videos and know all there was to know about cutting stringers, building a fence or replacing a faucet.
“You don’t have to worry.” He stomped a booted foot against the lowest tread. “Trust me, these suckers are solid. They aren’t going anywhere.”
“Well, no. Not unless I tear them out again.”
“Tear them out? Why would you do that?”
“Because they’re too perfect!” The old steps, though lacking in structural integrity, had made up for their rough, splintered surfaces with character. They’d had knots and dents and a weathered finish that matched up with the rest of her house. “I’m going to have to replace the deck, the door, the back half of the house to try to get everything to look half as good as your steps.”
Zeke only grinned. “Sounds like I have my work cut out for me the next few weekends.”
“No, Zeke. You don’t. It’s my house. My responsibility.”
For a brief second, a shadow seemed to cross over his handsome features before he offered her a confident smile. “Of course it is, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help out around here, does it? How else am I going to pay you back for all the delicious meals you make me?”
Mollie hardly considered herself any kind of gourmet chef, but she did like to eat. She also liked to cook, especially if it meant cooking for Zeke.
Though if there was any truth to the old adage the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, Zeke would have fallen for her back when she was in the eighth grade and he ate all the cookies she’d made for a bake sale.
“You can’t tell me you don’t have some mouth-watering meal already started.”
“I may have thrown the ingredients for chili into the slow cooker before I left this morning.”
His gaze narrowed. “What kind of chili?”
Mollie rolled her eyes. “Tofu,” she said. “What do you think?”
Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “I think you’d better be lying.”
“It’s ground sirloin.” Though she did occasionally like to switch things up with a white chicken chili or ground turkey, she knew better than to lean too far in the healthy food direction.
Zeke had complained more than once that the tall, model-thin women he dated in Raleigh loved dressing up and going out to dinner and yet refused to order anything more than a small salad and ridiculously priced bottled water. He swore he broke up with his last girlfriend after she invited him over for pizza and then served vegetable toppings and soy cheese on a cauliflower crust.
He didn’t have to worry about that with Mollie on any score. She hated cauliflower and loved thick-crust pepperoni pizza covered in mozzarella. She was not tall, she was not thin and no one would mistake her for a model.
All of which made her perfect for Zeke. The perfect buddy, that was.
Mollie swallowed a sigh as she stomped up the expertly crafted steps and led the way into the kitchen. She was greeted by the smell of slow-cooking beef, onions and garlic, and by the exuberant head to tail wagging of her black-and-tan coonhound.
“Hey, baby girl! I missed you, too.” Mollie reached down to run her hands over the dog’s floppy ears. After the initial greeting, Arti immediately set about sniffing every inch of her denim jeans. By the time the dog was finished, Mollie was certain the hound had figured out every person she’d talked to and every dog she’d stopped to pet in the hours since she’d been gone from the house.
Fortunately, Arti was not the jealous type. Mollie only wished she could say the same when Zeke bent down to say hello and her dog had the fantasy-inspiring pleasure of throwing herself against that broad chest, nuzzling his neck and even stealing a quick kiss.
“Crazy dog!”
Of course, Zeke’s laughter as he pushed Arti away and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand was very much the response Mollie anticipated if she ever acted on that fantasy.
Crazy Mollie...
Zeke had been over for dinner at her house often enough that she didn’t need to tell him where to find the soup bowls, glasses or spoons. They moved around each other in the small space with Mollie ducking beneath his arm as he reached into an upper cabinet, sidestepping his broad form as she pulled the toppings from the refrigerator and swatting his hand when he tried to sample a bite of chili straight off the wooden spoon.
It was all so
