Sweet Montana Christmas (15 page)

“I tried to make it better, so I took a chance and called her while I was on patrol. I was listening to her, and I missed the announcement of the Alert 4.”

Sue Anne frowned.

“That's an FAA drill. We have to meet the criteria of getting things done in three minutes. Depending on the reason we fail, or the number of times the airport fails the test, the FAA could require us to do it over or fine the airport.”

He cracked his knuckles.

She winced.

“Sorry. Bad habit. Unfortunately, this was a retest for Denver.” He shook his head. “The first time they failed, someone got up from the sleeping area, turned off the alarm, and went back to bed.”

“Really?” She laughed.

“Yep. Have it on the authority of the FAA itself.” He allowed his lips to turn up, grateful for the ease of tension.

They enjoyed their meal for a few more moments.

“Did you mess up the second test because you weren't paying attention?” Her gaze was steady.

“Yep. I was late, and that screwed it up for everyone else. I felt terrible, but they were pissed. They had every right to be.” He took another long gulp of his drink.

There, that hadn't been that bad, had it? It only felt like he'd ripped out his hair in a very sensitive area. Of course, he still hadn't told her everything.

“They fired you?” she asked, leaning forward, compassion in her eyes.

“No, nothing as overt as that.” It had been worse. “They gave me all the shit jobs and bad hours. The rest of the squad shunned me as much as they could. No more invites to go to the bar with the guys. Not that I had ever gone out with them before, but it was my choice.” The chief was right, he'd never gelled with the team, and when he'd made a mistake, they weren't there to support him.

Another gulp of beer finished it. He thought about getting another, but he was driving. The last thing he needed was to be pulled over. Besides, alcohol was a sneaky demon. After his screw-up and the subsequent escalation of fighting with Erin, he'd started the slide down that slippery slope. He'd won the first round with that particular devil and didn't want to step into the ring for another.

“Sounds horrible. Everyone makes mistakes. Couldn't they see that?” She was tensed, as if ready to take on anyone who dared attack him.

 “It was their way. What if it had been the real thing and not a drill? People could have died. I didn't like it, but I understood it.”

“Couldn't you have ridden it out?”

“I didn't think so. Besides, things went south with Erin after that. It was better to leave.”

He reached for the empty glass but shifted to water instead.

“You can have another beer, you know,” she said.

“I'd rather not.” He heard the curtness in his tone.

She sat back in her seat.

Great. Now he'd offended her. He ran his hand through his short hair.

“Look, I'm not very good at this. I thought Erin was the one. I was ready to propose to her.” He leaned back in his chair and blew out. “But after I screwed up at work ... well, nothing I did was right anymore.” Truth was, he wasn't very pleasant to be around, and he couldn't blame Erin for that.

Sue Anne didn't say anything.

“I guess I was partly to blame. I shut down and stopped attempting to keep the relationship going.”

“Any regrets?”

“Of course.” He shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it now.” He needed to shift the conversation, or she'd think he was a hopeless loser. “I'm back on track, doing well at the airport. It was just a bump in the road.” A bump that still caused an ache in his chest for his failure to man up.

 “Do you like making chocolate?” he asked, hoping she'd take the hint to change the topic.

 “Yeah. Sounds silly, but it makes me happy. Building a business gives me confidence in myself as a person, not just a woman.”

Some of the tension between them dissipated.

“So you don't need a man,” he said cautiously. Was that the right thing to say?

“I didn't say that.” She smiled. “I'd like a relationship someday. But right now, just like you, my career comes first. I'd say we're perfectly matched.”

 “So what are you suggesting?”

“Let's just be friends like you want. We both enjoy a lot of the same things. It would be fun to get out.”

“Friends, huh?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds good to me,” he said. Of course, there were those kisses. Were they still off limits?

• • •

Friendship? What had she been thinking?

With the passion Zach had demonstrated when he'd kissed her, she doubted he'd be content with a simple friendship for long.

Neither would she.

The problem was that ultimately they wanted different things. If she were truthful with herself, she didn't want a friendship that didn't have a chance of blossoming into a real relationship and eventual commitment. Zach, like most guys she knew, wanted a friendship that probably led to the bedroom, no strings attached.

She smoothed her skirt. He wasn't alone in that desire, and if his kiss was any indication, getting to the benefits part sooner rather than later wouldn't be too bad.

But it was a risky move. She could try to keep her heart neutral, but chances were good she'd get hurt, just like she had in the past. Most guys could do sex much more casually than women.

Still, it had been a long time, and she missed the intimacy. She stared at his hands, imaging them on her skin.

Worth the risk.

Maybe she was imagining things. Maybe they could just be friends.

Should she bring up limits on physical contact?

God, it was all so twisted. She wanted more than he had to give, but she didn't want to let him go. While remaining simply friends would be the smart thing to do, she'd miss those kisses.

“Okay, friend, how about a movie next Saturday night?” she said lightly.

“Have to work,” he said, shaking his head. “But I'll be off Sunday afternoon if you want to do a matinee.”

Even better. Afternoon movies weren't as romantic as evening ones. She should be safer.

Like sex never happened in the afternoon. What was she thinking?

“Okay,” she said.

“You pick, then.”

“Trust me?” Her heart fluttered a little. The right movie could make a wonderful date, the wrong one could be a disaster in spite of the popcorn, unless the relationship lasted long enough to turn disasters into humorous stories.

Relationship? No. This was only a friendship.

“I'll trust you this time,” he said and picked up the check the waitress had dropped off.

“Let's split this,” she said. “That's what friends do.”

He pressed his lips together, was silent for a moment, then shook his head.

“Nope. Can't do it. I invited you.”

“But that breaks the rules.”

“Rules? We haven't made any rules.”

“Well, we should,” she said. “How else are we going to make sure we stay friends without this becoming something else?”

“So you want to split the expenses right down the middle?” He drummed his fingers on the table.

“Yeah, like my girlfriends and I do.”

“But I'm not your girlfriend,” he said.

No. He most certainly was not. Her heart beat a little faster as she thought of all the ways he was definitely
not
like a woman.

“On one condition,” he finally said, disrupting her thoughts.

“What's that?”

“This one's on me.”

It was a dangerous precedent, but having someone treat her was a nice change. She could lean on him a little bit without bending the friendship rules she was laying out in her mind, couldn't she?

“Okay.”

• • •

Zach maneuvered the Cherokee out of the apartment parking lot.

Friends. That's all they were ever going to be.

Simple.

Easy.

He had a goal and a plan to get there. He was sticking to it. Once he got the position he wanted, he could look for the right girl.

Then why was it he had a nagging feeling his mother wouldn't approve of his “friendship” with Sue Anne? He could almost hear her accuse him of “trifling” with Sue Anne's feelings.

Only his mother could get away with a word like “trifling.”

He pushed his conscience, in the form of his mother's voice, aside.

A movie shouldn't be hard to handle. Sue Anne had found a suspense film that sounded good. A little shared popcorn, an enjoyable movie, and home.

Maybe he could get another chance at those adorable lips.

Just a friendly kiss. Nothing more. Besides, she hadn't brought up the issue about physical contact again. He was in bounds of their agreement so far.

He ignored the imagined sound of his mother's sputter.

He turned the car onto Third Street. Looked like they were ramping up for road construction. Spring must really be here.

Good Foods had a display of flowers in the window.

Nope. You didn't bring flowers to a friend.

He eased to a stop as the light turned red and cranked up the radio and sang along to “Chicken Fried.” The singer didn't need to worry about competition. Oh, Zach could carry a tune. Barely. Good enough for cars and showers.

Could Sue Anne sing? There was so much to learn about her—so much to explore—like what kind of music she liked.

He was still humming when he pulled up in front of the chocolate shop. The place was coming together. New metal tables and chairs adorned the front porch, and a row of petunias lined the walk. It looked like a snapshot of his happy childhood in Iowa.

After following the path around the back, a bouncing Sugar greeted him, which made his smile deepen.

“That's a good girl,” he said, opening the gate and scooping up the squirming animal.

Sugar licked his face.

He laughed.

His laughter must have alerted Sue Anne because she opened the door.

God, she was hot. Tight-fitting jeans and a blue sweater showed off her gym-toned figure. Her dark hair curled around her face, and her lips were painted a pale pink.

Would she be open to spending the day in her bed instead of the movies?

Get your mind on business, Crippin.

“Hey,” she called. “See you've found Sugar.”

“More that she found me.” He put the dog down. “Are you ready?”

“Let me get Sugar inside. C'mon girl.”

Sugar yipped and looked up at Zach, her backside wiggling madly.

“I don't think she likes that idea,” he said and picked up the dog again.

“Thanks,” Sue Anne said as she took Sugar from him and set her inside. As soon as she closed the door, a wild yapping ensued.

“Definitely doesn't like the idea,” Zach said.

Sue Anne chuckled.

She caught him up on the chocolate shop doings, and he told her about some of the more bizarre incidents at work.

Just like good friends.

He was going to pull this off.

Only a few people were scattered around the movie theater. The warm weather must have lured them outside to take hikes or work on their yards. Garden stores did a booming business this time of year.

“One bag or two?” he asked as they stood in the popcorn line.

“Definitely two,” she said. “We're only friends, remember?”

“Don't friends share popcorn?”

“Not in Texas, they don't. The society ladies would be horrified.” Her green eyes sparkled with humor.

“Since this is Montana, though, you want to break a few rules?”

“Probably not the best idea.” She placed her order for a medium popcorn and soda pop. Before he could do anything about it, she took out a twenty-dollar bill. “I'll pay for his, too.”

The clerk looked at him expectantly.

“I'll have the same.”

“You're not supposed to pay for my food,” he hissed while they made their way down the long hall to the individual theater.

“You paid for the tickets,” she hissed back.

“I did,” he said with a smirk. He'd gotten around her prohibition by ordering them online before he picked her up. He wasn't sure why he was making such an issue of it, but splitting the check annoyed him.

“How do you feel about Christmas?” she asked after they'd settled into their seats.

“It's only April.”

“This is a very important holiday for me. If you're going to be my friend, I need to know how you feel about it.”

“Is it going to ruin the friendship if I say it's an overrated holiday?”

“It would put us on dangerous footing.”

“Then it's a good thing I like it” He leaned back in his comfortable seat. Going to the movies was almost like watching it in a living room these days. Except for the big screen. And the popcorn.

And the girl.

He snuck a peak at Sue Anne.

She was studying him like he was a bug specimen.

He reviewed everything he'd said to her about Christmas. Nope. Hadn't said anything stupid.

God, women were a minefield.

He turned his head just as the lights dimmed.

“What?” he whispered. “What did I do?”

“Nothing.” She smiled. “We can talk about it later.”

The worst words a woman could say to a man.

He fidgeted through the first part of the movie, but then the tension of the film got under his skin. In spite of the fact there were no major car chases or gunfights, he was gripped by the story and forgot his impending execution.

The only irritant was a strong desire to hold Sue Anne's hand, but to do that easily, he'd have to move her armrest out of the way.

Her drink sat in the cup holder—a paper and liquid moat.

Friends.

The heat from her body next to his was scorching that whole theory. Why had he ever thought he could sit in the dark next to her hot presence without a reaction? He shifted in his seat and came up with a dozen ways to torment the villain in the movie. That helped.