“I’ve got some things on my mind.”
“Some things or some one ?” Brent asked, following Zander to his bike. “And why didn’t you ever tell me about her?”
Zander scratched behind his ear. “No reason to. She’s someone from a long time ago. From another life.”
His answer was really no answer at all, but he knew Brent would understand.
When Olivia discovered an unformed lump of West Virginia mountain clay and brought it home to shape into Zander Baron, Brent’s first instinct was to resent the intrusion of the country-bred stranger who had become his mother’s latest project. But Brent’s head for business had prevailed, and he had accepted Zander’s role in their lives, with the two ultimately becoming friends. Truthfully, Brent was Zander’s only friend, and he felt guilty for not having shared the one good thing in his past with him.
Brent’s hybrid car, a sunset-orange Lexus GS, was parked alongside Zander’s motorcycle. He paused at the driver’s door, toying with his keyless remote. “It’s all gonna come out someday, you know, probably sooner than later. And you don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”
“I know,” Zander said hastily, mounting his bike. He absently ran his hand over the handlebar. The Confederate Hellcat, the first thing he’d purchased with his very first big paycheck, had been hand-built in Alabama to his specifications. Having money in his pocket for the first time, he’d gone a bit spend crazy, but the silver and black beauty beneath him was far and away his favorite purchase. He’d often thought about driving into Dorothy, announcing his return with the roar of the Hellcat. But there was no reason to return to Dorothy now, not with Faith in Los Angeles.
“I’ll give you a call after my mother finishes working her magic,” Brent said, getting into his car. “Hopefully, what she comes up with won’t be too painful.”
“I can handle it, whatever it is,” Zander said. “I’m the strong, tough movie star, remember?”
Chapter 3
“I can’t do this,” Zander said, the heels of his boots wearing a path in his living room carpet. “I won’t.”
Brent snorted. “What happened to Mr. Tough Guy? I’ve never seen you like this. Zander Baron, scared of a woman.”
Zander glared at him. If some other man had made such an accusation while reclining on his dark-brown leather sofa he would have found himself bleeding profusely, but Zander realized Brent’s baiting was deliberate.
“I’m not afraid of her,” Zander insisted. “And she’s no ordinary woman. She’s…”
He left his response hanging. He had no idea what Faith was anymore. She had been in the deepest reaches of his heart and head for years, but he hadn’t seen or talked to her. The Faith Wheeler who had hurled angry questions at him at the Reunion press conference was not the girl he’d known in Dorothy.
Or was she?
“The only way to take control of this situation is to meet it head on, find out what the reporter wants—”
“Faith,” Zander interjected. “Her name is Faith.”
“Once we find out what Faith wants, maybe we can turn this situation our way,” Brent said.
“I don’t see how.” Zander drained the last of his Ned’s Pale Ale. His fondness for the West Virginia Brewing Company product was one of the very few things he hadn’t left behind when he left Dorothy. At Olivia’s hypocritical insistence, he had given up smoking, but he refused to abandon his home state brew. As if doing something illegal or illicit, he had to order his beer from the distributor through Brent, so that nothing connected him directly to anything associated with West Virginia.
“You two have history, right?” Brent asked. “There are a couple of approaches you can take. One, appeal to her memories of the friendship you two once shared, or…” He raised an eyebrow and tipped his head in some wordless communication Zander was meant to understand.
“Or what?” Zander said,
“Some things or some one ?” Brent asked, following Zander to his bike. “And why didn’t you ever tell me about her?”
Zander scratched behind his ear. “No reason to. She’s someone from a long time ago. From another life.”
His answer was really no answer at all, but he knew Brent would understand.
When Olivia discovered an unformed lump of West Virginia mountain clay and brought it home to shape into Zander Baron, Brent’s first instinct was to resent the intrusion of the country-bred stranger who had become his mother’s latest project. But Brent’s head for business had prevailed, and he had accepted Zander’s role in their lives, with the two ultimately becoming friends. Truthfully, Brent was Zander’s only friend, and he felt guilty for not having shared the one good thing in his past with him.
Brent’s hybrid car, a sunset-orange Lexus GS, was parked alongside Zander’s motorcycle. He paused at the driver’s door, toying with his keyless remote. “It’s all gonna come out someday, you know, probably sooner than later. And you don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”
“I know,” Zander said hastily, mounting his bike. He absently ran his hand over the handlebar. The Confederate Hellcat, the first thing he’d purchased with his very first big paycheck, had been hand-built in Alabama to his specifications. Having money in his pocket for the first time, he’d gone a bit spend crazy, but the silver and black beauty beneath him was far and away his favorite purchase. He’d often thought about driving into Dorothy, announcing his return with the roar of the Hellcat. But there was no reason to return to Dorothy now, not with Faith in Los Angeles.
“I’ll give you a call after my mother finishes working her magic,” Brent said, getting into his car. “Hopefully, what she comes up with won’t be too painful.”
“I can handle it, whatever it is,” Zander said. “I’m the strong, tough movie star, remember?”
Chapter 3
“I can’t do this,” Zander said, the heels of his boots wearing a path in his living room carpet. “I won’t.”
Brent snorted. “What happened to Mr. Tough Guy? I’ve never seen you like this. Zander Baron, scared of a woman.”
Zander glared at him. If some other man had made such an accusation while reclining on his dark-brown leather sofa he would have found himself bleeding profusely, but Zander realized Brent’s baiting was deliberate.
“I’m not afraid of her,” Zander insisted. “And she’s no ordinary woman. She’s…”
He left his response hanging. He had no idea what Faith was anymore. She had been in the deepest reaches of his heart and head for years, but he hadn’t seen or talked to her. The Faith Wheeler who had hurled angry questions at him at the Reunion press conference was not the girl he’d known in Dorothy.
Or was she?
“The only way to take control of this situation is to meet it head on, find out what the reporter wants—”
“Faith,” Zander interjected. “Her name is Faith.”
“Once we find out what Faith wants, maybe we can turn this situation our way,” Brent said.
“I don’t see how.” Zander drained the last of his Ned’s Pale Ale. His fondness for the West Virginia Brewing Company product was one of the very few things he hadn’t left behind when he left Dorothy. At Olivia’s hypocritical insistence, he had given up smoking, but he refused to abandon his home state brew. As if doing something illegal or illicit, he had to order his beer from the distributor through Brent, so that nothing connected him directly to anything associated with West Virginia.
“You two have history, right?” Brent asked. “There are a couple of approaches you can take. One, appeal to her memories of the friendship you two once shared, or…” He raised an eyebrow and tipped his head in some wordless communication Zander was meant to understand.
“Or what?” Zander said,
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