Love on a Summer Night Read online

  “How’s work going, anyway? Law and order being maintained?”

  Dean shrugged. Yeah, Zander knew the feeling. He had six more months of shrugging to do. He couldn’t imagine another fifteen years. His friend leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “It feels like there’s more and more politics every year, you know?”

  “Yep.”

  They paused their conversation long enough for the waitress to bring them both coffee and for them to order lunch, then Zander changed the subject. “How’s the social life? Still seeing that doctor?”

  Dean shook his head. “Nah. It was good while it was good, but then it wasn’t. For the best that it ended.”

  Zander recognized the look on Dean’s face—relief that the break-up hadn’t been ugly, and maybe some disappointment that the casual relationship hadn’t continued with ease. But none of the angst that their brothers Jake and Rafe had felt over not having a better half. Even Tom and Matt and Sean made noises about getting married and having kids someday. Dean and Zander, on the other hand, were both bachelors. For life, Zander would have said a week ago. He’d never thought about settling down. Guys in the forces did it, but he thought they were crazy.

  One fascinating night and one frustrating afternoon with a single mother later, and the word bachelor left a sour note in his mouth.

  Faith’s serious face popped into his mind for the umpteenth time. He’d fallen asleep thinking about her and her kid. Getting involved with a single mother was a terrible idea in general—one who’d been widowed and hauled herself back from that, built herself a career—because he’d looked her up, and holy shit, was F. Davidson doing well—and a new life…that wasn’t someone a dedicated bachelor should mess with.

  His gut tightened, and he shook his head. He was hungry and needed that cheeseburger. Nothing else.

  “How about you?” Dean asked over the rim of his coffee mug. “Leaving anyone behind out West?”

  Zander shook his head. “Nope.”

  “I hear you chatted up a friend of Ryan’s yesterday at the barbeque.”

  Fucking small towns. “Who told you that?”

  “Who didn’t?” Dean laughed. “Faith Davidson, right? She’s pretty. Lives in Tobermory? I’ve met her a few times through community outreach events.”

  Zander gave his friend a thousand-yard stare. They weren’t talking about Faith. That ache in the pit of his stomach intensified. Where the hell was his cheeseburger?

  “Not my type, of course.” Dean kept going, because he apparently had a death wish. “Maybe Matt’s—”

  “Shut up.”

  Dean stopped for a few seconds, and when he started again, he’d dropped the badgering edge to his words. “Ryan says you met her two nights ago?”

  Zander rolled his eyes. “You’re a bunch of old gossips.”

  “Nah, man. I’m not going to report back to anyone. I’m just curious.”

  He didn’t believe that for a hot second, but he had to give the guy something or he wouldn’t stop. “She’s a writer. I stopped at Greta’s on the way in—”

  “For pie?”

  “Of course.” And a last bit of peace and quiet, although he hadn’t minded in the least giving that up for an hour with Faith. “And apparently I looked like a guy who knew his way around weapons.”

  Dean’s eyebrows hit the ceiling. “What?”

  “She writes novels. Demon slayer books. Wanted to know about katanas and sawed-off shotguns.”

  “Huh. Maybe she’s my type of girl after all.”

  “No.”

  “But she’s your type?”

  “She deserves so much better than either of our ugly mugs.” Zander took a deep breath and pointed at the approaching waitress. “Now eat your damn lunch and leave me alone.”

  The cheeseburger hit the spot, but it didn’t get rid of the twinge inside. The one that said he shouldn’t hide the fact that he wanted Faith, even if they couldn’t happen for a dozen good reasons.

  “Listen, about Faith…” He trailed off and rearranged the now-empty dishes in front of him. “There’s something about her. I don’t know what it is, but it’s enough for me to want to figure it out. So fair warning: any Foster who starts nosing around her is going to get their ass kicked.”

  Dean just laughed. “Man, you don’t think we already knew that? That’s why Ryan called me. Not to gossip. To tell me that the north end of the peninsula had been marked by a Minelli.”

  “Not to gossip?” Zander snorted. “The lot of you can’t help yourselves.”

  Dean just grinned. Then he crossed his arms and changed the subject. “Listen, about the security business—I might have a proposition for you.”

  “Yeah?”

  Dean shifted in his seat, then pulled out his wallet. “Not here. Let’s head outside.”

  They paid and headed out to the gravel parking lot. Zander had parked his bike in one far corner, and now that the lunch crowd was thinning out, he could see Dean’s truck backed in to a spot in the opposite corner, military-style.

  “What’s up? You thinking of a career change?” Zander asked with a chuckle.

  Dean wasn’t laughing. He gave Zander a hard stare and nodded. “Yeah, I might be.”

  “Shit.” No wonder he didn’t want to talk about it in the diner. “I’m not sure this security thing is viable for one person, let alone a partner. I can’t promise you anything.”

  “Not asking for a promise. Tell me more about your sister’s ideas.”

  Zander scrubbed his hand over his face and into his hair. “She thinks I should use the fact that I’ve met Hope Creswell once and Trojan horse my way into being some kind of celebrity bodyguard.”

  Dean laughed. “Right. You can’t do that.”

  “Thank God, you get it.”

  “But you could—we could—start a local firm that sub-contracts to some of the big hitters.”

  “What?” Zander stared at Dean, who stared right back with a bland, mildly amused smirk on his face.

  “That never occurred to you? There are firms all over the place that get accredited with the top international security companies, and when a star lands in the area, the smaller firm is the one that provides the local bodyguard.”

  No, that hadn’t occurred to him. “Huh.”

  “And as Dani pointed out…that’s a need from time to time around here. Brewsters sent up security from Toronto for the film shoot.”

  Damn. He owed his sister an apology. “Right.” He rolled his shoulders, refusing to let the encroaching tension settle in. “That sounds more complicated than what I originally envisioned.”

  “Don’t want to settle your roots too deep here?” Dean crooked one eyebrow. “When are you going to get that we don’t want to let you go, man? That’s where I’d come in. If you want to take off for a while, I’d still be here.”

  “That doesn’t sound fair.” And it wasn’t that he needed to run away, exactly. Not permanently. He was going to buy a God damned house after all. Maybe. “We just need a generous vacation plan.”

  “Sure.” Dean grinned and held out his hand. “We can talk more about this, but give it some thought, yeah?”

  “Deal.”

  “I’m off tomorrow as well. Think you can squeeze me into your schedule? I’d like us to sit down with an accountant I know and talk about a possible business structure.”

  “You’ve been giving this more than a bit of thought, eh?”

  “Sure have.” Dean squinted into the sun, then looked toward the town, and the glittering blue lake in the distance, visible above the low-lying buildings because the town ran down the hillside to the harbour. “I’m getting too old to care about the shit they send us out to do sometimes. I’d keep this town safe…the peninsula, too, but that’s not all the job is. There’s a lot of political shit, and it ends up with good people dying.”

  Zander knew about the grow-op raid that had gone sideways, of course. His brother had been shot, and Ryan Howard’s wife had died in
the crossfire. A lot of folks had strong opinions about what had gone down that day, none aimed at the officers themselves, but the fallout had to still be draining.

  Dean kept talking, and Zander let him. He’d learned over nine tours in Bosnia and Afghanistan that talking was the best thing for the demons. Let them out.

  “Last week we had to raid a farm for not pasteurizing milk. Nobody got hurt, but a lot of community folk came out, and there were legal, registered weapons on the farm. And the tactical response team was called. Over fucking raw milk. It was a shit show. I don’t know…I think if I can’t do it with my whole heart, then I need to get out of the way and let some younger, smarter, braver kid have a shot.”

  “Takes a brave man to admit that.” Zander clapped his hand onto Dean’s shoulder. “And an even braver one to think about going into business with me. You know I’m a wild kid at heart, right?”

  “Hey, this way it won’t get awkward if you go speeding past me on that death trap you call a bike.”

  Zander just laughed. “Where should I meet you tomorrow?”

  Dean backed up a few feet, smirking. “I’ll text you the address. It’s in Tobermory.”

  Of course it was.

  — FIVE —

  FAITH woke before dawn and pounded out two chapters. She didn’t even blink until Eric politely tapped at her office door and announced it was time to take a break that she realized her family had also gotten up.

  “Breakfast time, huh?” She grinned at her son as he tugged her toward the kitchen.

  “Yep. Then Grandma says you need some sunshine.”

  She probably did. “Want to go to the park?”

  “Can I ride my scooter there?”

  Faith pretended the request didn’t make her palms sweaty and nodded. “Sure. We can try out the new knee and elbow pads I ordered.”

  She wasn’t going to let her fear stop her son from living his life and getting outside.

  She would, however, buy stock in as much safety equipment as possible. If it didn’t have a serious social life downside, she’d happily suit him up in bubble wrap.

  In the kitchen, Miriam had coffee brewed and tomatoes sliced. Faith pulled eggs and thick-sliced ham from the fridge, only to have them whisked from her hands a second later.

  “Pour yourself a cup, honey. I’ve got this.” Her mother pushed her toward the coffee pot and Faith stifled a protest. If Miriam wanted to make breakfast, who was she to say no?

  But sometimes—on a day when her daily word count had been met before anyone else woke up, when the rest of her day would look nearly normal, with a trip to the park and maybe finger painting or Lego building or rock collecting—maybe on a day like that, she could make breakfast for her son.

  Even if he had come to get her and if he hadn’t, she wouldn’t have noticed the morning slipping by.

  “Thanks, Mom.” Faith sighed. She couldn’t have her cake and eat it, too. She was blessed and needed to get over herself.

  “What’s on your agenda for today?”

  “We’re going to the park first. Then Eric has that back-to-school prep afternoon thing at the library. My day is wide open, really. Need to do some laundry, and order back-to-school stuff for Eric.”

  Miriam lowered her voice, careful not to be heard. “Remember he needs elastic waist—”

  “Mom!” Faith bit her lower lip and nodded. “I remember. We’ll look at the online stores together after I pick him up and he can choose what he likes.”

  The nearest mall was an hour away, and it wasn’t particularly good. Other than groceries, everything she bought was delivered by courier companies. She didn’t miss fighting crowds to only find out her size was out of stock, although shopping online required a fair amount of advance notice when she needed something specific.

  Miriam cracked three eggs into the frying pan, then threw out the shells before sliding a look back at Faith. “So if I wanted to go out for the afternoon and evening…?”

  “You don’t need to ask me if you can head out.” She could feel worry twisting her mouth down at the corners, but she couldn’t fight the frown. “Have I been asking you for too much?”

  “No. No! Really not. You and Eric are all I’ve had, and being able to help has been a gift to me. I’m happy to spend as much time as I can with him.” Miriam set down the ham she’d just picked up and turned to face Faith. “With both of you.”

  “Don’t make me cry so early in the day,” Faith sniffed, then they both laughed. It had been a standard refrain as they established their new normal. No more tears. They’d cried enough for a lifetime. “Go have a day to yourself. You deserve it.”

  After breakfast, Eric helped her do the dishes—too much soap, and both tea towels got soaked before anything could be dried, but that’s what the dish rack was for—and he went and put on long pants without any complaint.

  Faith looked down at her black yoga pants that she might have slept in and her tank top that had seen better days. It was an unseasonably cool morning, but as the sun rose, it would warm up and if she wanted to take off her hoodie at some point…

  She laughed at herself. It was clearly mid-book, race-to-the-deadline season if she was bemoaning having to put on clean clothes. She jumped in the shower real quick to wash off the grumpy writer, and came out refreshed and ready to be Mom for the rest of the day.

  But she’d just thrown her last pair of yoga pants in the laundry, so she’d be a mom who was flashing a fair bit of leg in cut off jean shorts, apparently.

  This seemed like not a big deal at all until they’d been at the park for an hour and she heard the rumbling growl of a motorcycle slow down, then stop.

  Zander’s tall, broad form was unmistakable, even from fifty feet away. Even with his helmet on.

  Heat snaked across her chest and down her arms, making her fingers tingle. He looked impossibly fine swinging his long leg off his bike. He pulled off his helmet and set it on his seat before running his fingers through his hair.

  He was wearing jeans and a dark t-shirt. She was torn between wanting to run her hands over his tan, corded forearms and yell at him for having all that exposed flesh.

  Stupid, handsome idiot.

  He lifted his hand in greeting and her breath jammed hard in her throat. She swallowed uselessly against it and waved back, nerves still sparking erratically in her arm.

  The Zander Effect.

  It was real and dangerous.

  He strode toward her, and her eyes gobbled up the way his muscled thighs flexed beneath the denim that fit him perfectly. Look somewhere else, she told herself, but dragging her gaze up only meant she got to sigh over how good the man looked in soft cotton. All of a sudden, her legs felt doughy and far too pale, and she worried if her own t-shirt clung too tightly to her never-seen-a-gym midsection.

  Maybe it was his unexpected intrusion into her day or the aforementioned Zander Effect and how uncomfortable it made her, but either way she was rattled. By the time he stopped in front of her, she was feeling suddenly snappish. Like how dare he look that good and make her ogle him.

  So instead of saying hello, or something equally polite and normal, she went with, “What are you doing here?”

  He gave her a half-smile and enough of an eyebrow lift to show he saw right through her. “I had a meeting with an accountant. Nearby.”

  “Ah.” That wasn’t any of her business, and it wasn’t what she’d meant to ask, anyway. “I mean, here, in this park.”

  He gave her a funny look. “I saw you.”

  “So?” She was being rude, like a teenager with her nose out of joint, but he threw her off-kilter.

  His lips twisted a bit, a hint of a smile that threatened to get a lot bigger, and his eyes crinkled at the corners as he held her gaze. “So when I see you somewhere, Faith, I can’t head in the opposite direction without saying hi.”

  Oh. His words pulled at her insides, once again waking up those parts of her body she’d all but forgotten, at least in a real-li
fe, with-a-real-man kind of way.

  “Don’t look so surprised,” he said on a rough exhale. His smile disappeared and he shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “I’m not…” Well, she was a little surprised, but it wasn’t her primary reaction. Unexpectedly turned on, yes. Achingly drawn to him, definitely. Painfully aware he was just visiting for a week…yep. He at least deserved the bit of honesty she could safely give him. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  He nodded, his gaze holding hers, boring deep.

  “Is that your son?” He changed the subject, and like a world-class spy or your average four-year-old, Eric picked up on the inclusion of himself in the conversation and came running.

  He stopped between them, like a tiny guard throwing himself in front of the queen, and stared up at Zander, equal parts suspicion and curiosity on his face. “Who are you? I don’t know you.”

  She could always count on her son to call a spade a spade. She bit back a grin, but her amusement shifted to a bittersweet ache when Zander dropped into a low squat and held out his hand. “I’m Zander.”

  “He knows Maya’s dad,” she interjected.

  Eric nodded solemnly, his sunglasses sliding down his nose a bit more with each bob of his head until Faith just reached out and took them. “Okay. I’m Eric. I’m almost five. Do you like spaceships?”

  Zander nodded solemnly. “Sure do. You ever been on a spaceship?”

  Eric giggled, his dimples popping hard at the silly question. “No.”

  “I have.” Zander lowered his voice and leaned in. “But not in space. Not yet.”

  “I know,” Eric said, equally serious now. “No civilians.”

  “That’s a big word for an almost five-year-old. You know about civilians?”

  “I have a spy base I go to. We learn about stuff like that.” It was his imaginary playscape, where he disappeared when he needed to retreat from the world. Faith heard about the spy base on a nearly daily basis.

  “Ahhh.” Zander nodded. “Well, I’m not exactly a civilian.”