“I got it, I got it,” Adam assured him, holding the phone high over the shrubs just as the front door opened. Ryder almost doubled over in laughter he fought to keep quiet.
“What are you—”
“Oh, Miss Woody, I mean, Woods, I mean, Diana.”
Wyatt nearly fell on the ground he was laughing so hard.
“Zane Tucker?” The familiar voice that brought back hours in detention hall floated through the night air. “What on earth are you… Are those roses?”
“Um, yes, ma’am, they are.”
“I’m gonna die,” Ryder whispered, fighting hysteria.
“And should I call the police and perhaps have you talk to Lieutenant Stonecipher about why you are trespassing and defacing my property in the middle of the night?”
“Ooh, she’s so hot when she’s pissed.” Wyatt punched Adam and made the phone wobble, but it was forgivable, because moments like this happened once in a lifetime.
“No, ma’am, you should not call him.” Zane’s voice reached him loud and clear. “This is not trespassing or defacing.”
“Like hell it’s not,” Ryder mumbled between laughs.
“What would you call it? A new service in town? Midnight flower delivery?” She always did have a wicked sense of humor, which only made the woman more attractive.
“I’d call it…” He cleared his throat. “A favor from a secret admirer.”
“Not so secret,” Wyatt whispered.
“Is that so?” Miss Woody asked. “Well, considering the circumstances, I’d like a little proof of that, if you don’t mind. Maybe take the secret out of secret admirer?”
Wyatt and Adam looked at each other. “He’s so screwed,” they whispered in unison.
“Well, I can show you the receipt. You can see that these weren’t purchased by me, but by an anonymous, uh, suitor. Here, let me show you.”
Zane had the receipt? Son of a bitch.
“‘Paid in cash,’” she read. “By ‘a secret admirer.’”
“Um, yes,” Zane said. “I’m doing this as a favor for a friend.”
“Who might that be?” Miss Woody demanded, a little of the edge gone in her voice.
“I can’t say, ma’am. Because, well, if I told you, he’d have me killed.”
She choked a soft laugh.
“But he sent this with his love, and I had to help the guy out, you know. He’s shy and isn’t sure how you’d feel about his interest.”
“Oh, Zane.” Her soft sigh drifted their way. “That’s so sweet.”
“But he is smitten, ma’am. I can tell you that.”
“Well, that’s very…” She laughed a little self-consciously. “You sure you won’t tell me who it is? This is starting to get a little…curious.”
“I can’t break the code of honor, Miss Woods. I’m sure you understand.”
“You’ve always been such a good guy, Zane Tucker.”
Adam, Wyatt, and Ryder looked at each other in shock and disgust.
“I see that hasn’t changed as you’ve grown older. Thank you. This gesture has made my night.”
Zane backed away, giving a half nod-bow thing like he was some kind of hero. “My pleasure, ma’am. Good night, now.”
“Good night.” She bent over and took one of the roses, smiling up at him before stepping inside and closing the door.
“What the ever-lovin’ hell just happened?” Wyatt asked.
“Zane Tucker happened,” Ryder said as they stepped out from behind the bushes.
“Oh yeah.” Zane walked up to them, grinning from ear to ear. “What a shock. I came out smellin’ like a rose.”
They all practically attacked him, but he turned and almost outran them all to the waiting truck.
Adam didn’t even try to catch up with him, but walked past the porch, grabbed a red rose, and met them all as the guys piled into the bed of the truck where Bailey was, the whole lot of them laughing like it was some kind of midnight hayride.
God, he loved them all.
He opened the passenger side, grinning at Jane waiting behind the wheel.
And he loved her, too.
“I heard it was a huge success,” she said, laughing.
“For Zane,” he replied, leaning over to kiss her and offer the rose. “This is for you.”
“Aww, thank you. My not-so-secret admirer.”
He cupped her face in his hands. “I lied to you once.”
She inched back. “Only once?” she teased.
“Only one time. And it wasn’t really a lie, but oh man, it was wrong.” He stroked her cheek, looking into the dark pools of her eyes.
“What was it?” she asked.
“I told you that you weren’t what I was looking for.”
“Ah, yes, the big rejection when I tried to get the job.”
He almost put his mouth over hers. “You, Jane Anne McAllen, are exactly what I’m looking for.”
“Oh, Adam.” She curled her hands around his neck. “You’re exactly what I’ve been looking for my whole life. It’s like I’m finally home.”
“Then you’re staying? For sure?” His heart kicked up, knowing that was all he wanted in the world.
“You can’t ever get rid of me. In fact, I’m going to help Bailey design the inside of the restaurant, and Hildie told me there are new homes going up not far from here and Garrison Construction wants to hire a designer and—”
“Let’s buy one of those houses and live in it together.”
She inched back. “Are you serious? Are you sure?”
“How can you even ask that? I love you, Jane. I’m going to love you forever.”
She closed her eyes and sighed as if she’d been wrapped in a warm blanket on a cold night. “I love you, too, Adam.” She pressed her lips to his, deepening the kiss.
“Hey!” The whole truck shook as someone banged on the back cab window. “I just bet everyone in this truck that you’ll be married before summer’s over. Did I win or lose, Brother?”
Adam gave a questioning look to Jane, who bit her lip and held his gaze long enough, the question hanging over them.
“Jane?” His heart hammered as he waited for just the slightest nod to confirm what he already knew.
“I want kids,” she whispered. “I want to cover them in love and security. I want a home we never leave. And I only want to change my name one more time.”
“Jane Anne Tucker. I love it. I love you.” He pulled her closer and looked back at Zane. “You won again,” he called out. “As always.”
His friends howled in wild laughter…just like the old days. And the woman he loved gave him one more kiss…just like the new days that waited in their future.
Adam already knew they’d be the best days of his life.
* * *
Did you enjoy ADAM by Roxanne St. Claire? Be sure to check out her other novels, including the popular Dogfather Series and the whole world of Barefoot Bay! Visit her web site for book lists and excerpts! www.roxannestclaire.com
Read on for an excerpt of ZANE, the next 7 Brides for 7 Soldiers book!
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ZANE
by Christie Ridgway
HERE’S A SNEAK PEEK…
The sound of his name jerked Zane Tucker from his contemplation of the view of the Snake River outside the diner windows. His foot kicked out, catching the legs of the empty chair across from him and sending it crashing to the floor. “Hell,” he muttered, clambering to his size 14 feet to right the thing, even as he glared at the intruder into his little private reverie. “What do you want?”
“Touchy, touchy,” the buzz-haired guy said.
He looked familiar to Zane, but just about everyone looked familiar in his small hometown of Eagle’s Ridge, Washington situated near the Blue Mountains. With only ten thousand total residents and a single high school, the thirtyish man standing beside his table, wearing an annoying smirk, had to be someone with whom he’d grown up.
Oh, yeah, he thought,
a name popping from his memory. Smerkman. Andy Smerkman.
“What’s up, Andy?” Zane said, dropping back into his seat. He tried to sound pleasant. He was a friendly, easygoing sort of man. Everybody said so, and it was a prerequisite in dealing with the clients of the adventure watersports business he ran with his twin brother. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“On a visit to the olds,” the guy said. “You know, my parents. Stopped in here at No Man’s Land for a coffee before heading back to Seattle.”
Andy Smerkman, he of the visit to the “olds”—who the hell said that?—was clearly angling for an invitation to join Zane at his table.
If memory served, Andy had always been a lousy fisherman.
“Have a good one,” Zane said, picking up his own mug of brew and hoping Smerkman would catch the hint.
Instead he scraped out the chair on the other side of the rectangular wooden table and slid into it. “I heard your brother found himself a lady and it looks permanent.”
Zane grunted. Still a surprise, but it was true. The only thing Adam had ever taken seriously was work—first as a rescue swimmer with the Coast Guard, and then with refurbishing their old boathouse as a youth adventure camp for at-risk kids. But when his Jane had showed up at A To Z Watersports, Adam’s legendary focus had widened.
“I heard your sister lassoed the town golden boy, Ryder Westbrook.”
Bristling, Zane sent out another glare. Like all big brothers, he felt protective of his little sister, Bailey. “He was lucky to catch her eye.” And Bailey seemed so happy that even though the Tuckers had been feuding with the Westbrooks for years, Zane could only be pleased for her. She’d been put through the wringer by some NYC asshole, but she’d come home and found the best man for her.
“And I’ve also heard that you’ve been moping around town ever since your sister and your brother found true love.”
What? Outrage filled Zane’s chest, hardening his muscles to cement. “Moping?” he growled out.
“Uh-uh,” Smerkman said, looking up as Brenda Morgan, who ran the diner alongside Zane’s dad, bustled near with a steaming carafe of coffee. She filled the waiting empty mug then topped off Zane’s.
Smerkman smirked again. “Word is you’re walking around looking all lonesome since you’re now the babe-less Tucker twin. The only Tucker sibling without a soulmate.”
Don’t punch the guy, Zane commanded himself, even as his fingers curled into fists. He was a friendly, cheerful, easy-going sort. Everybody said so. But everybody now was saying he was looking lonesome? And worse, perhaps pitying him?
Brenda slanted Zane a sympathetic look. Damn it! Did she feel sorry for his babe-less self too or was it mere sympathy for having to share space with the dim-witted Smerkman?
The bells on the diner door caught Zane’s attention. A pair of men entered, and he lurched to his feet, setting the mugs on the table rattling. Patrons looked over in some alarm, but he was accustomed to that. Zane was a big man at six-four, two-twenty and he tended to boom and clatter his way through life.
Though he didn’t try to frighten little kids or overwhelm fragile women, it just happened that way. He was athletic on and in the water—a true riverman to his marrow—and actually adept on mountain trails too.
It was only being indoors that gave him trouble. Probably because of the early years of inactivity that severe childhood asthma had forced upon him. Now grown and grown out of the condition, walls and roofs could no longer contain him comfortably.
“Where are you going?” Smerkman said, as Zane headed toward the newcomers taking stools at the counter.
Away from your recap of local gossip. Any more comments on the alleged state of his psyche and he’d be in danger of taking a swing at that annoying face and its irksome smirk. “Gotta see a guy about a bet.”
His rugged rubber soles sounded loud on the scarred wooden floor as he paced toward the newcomers. They swiveled around as he came to a stop behind them. “Wyatt,” he said, nodding at the man on the left. Then he fished for his phone and brought up a photo. He brandished it in the face of the guy on the right. “Look here, Denver.”
Denver—his name was actually Mike, but he went by the place he’d hailed from, before he came to the Eagle’s Ridge area to work at a dude ranch—groaned, loud and long. He was around twenty-two, a decade younger than Zane. “You didn’t really do it, did you?”
“Proof is in the picture, buddy.” He turned the phone so Wyatt could have a look too. “Dressed up that life-size statue of town founder John Westbrook at one end of Sentinel Bridge. In broad daylight, as stipulated, and I didn’t get caught, also as stipulated.” Zane didn’t add that he’d released the leash on his dog who then provided a helpful distraction by galloping through the nearby park, chasing squirrels, knocking over trash cans, and wreaking other general but benign mayhem.
Wyatt shook his head. “Nothing stops Insane Zane.”
A nickname he’d been given all those years ago during a semester of high school detention, in honor of the crazy bets he was in the habit of making. “Don’t you think the statue looks good in that spangly Wonder Woman outfit? I thought the headband was a nice touch.”
Looking as if he was fighting a smile, Wyatt shook his head again. “I thought the quarrel between the Tuckers and the Westbrooks had simmered down now. Aren’t you afraid something like that will start it up again if people find out the statue-defiling perp was you?”
“Nah. Not a chance. Not with Ryder and Bailey our own happy-ever-after Romeo and Juliet.”
“About that…” Wyatt hesitated. “You doing okay?”
Zane narrowed his eyes. “I’m doing great.”
Smerkman, who now stood at Zane’s elbow, had the balls to put in his two cents. “Moping,” he said. “Heard it from my mom who heard it from my aunt—”
“Take off the boots,” Zane said over him in a steely voice, his gaze on the fancy cowboy pair on Denver’s feet. Anything to deflect the conversation and his renewed desire to punch a wall—or at least Smerkman’s nose.
Maybe he’d been a bit out-of-step lately, especially since Adam had coupled up with Jane. It was…odd, a life change, to have both siblings now pledged to romantic partners. Perhaps he’d experienced a little loneliness in recent days too, but by God, he wasn’t moping in a way that anyone should be noticing.
He had more pride than that.
“Zane.” Denver glanced down at his fancy footwear. “I really can’t see why you’d want them. You’re more of the hiking boots type.”
“You’d not be entirely right,” Wyatt told the other man. “You’re talking to a former Army Cavalry Scout.”
Denver’s eyes went wide. Yeah, it had been a surprise to Zane’s family too. Not that he’d opted for military service, that was a familiar route for the young men of Eagle’s Ridge which had been founded by veterans of World War II. But despite all his ease on the water, he didn’t go Coast Guard like his twin or aim to become a SEAL like Wyatt.
“I was a kid,” he said, shrugging. One who had watched hundreds of hours of old Westerns when he’d been cooped up inside the house until he was fourteen. “There’s spurs. And a Stetson. Look it up.”
Denver blinked. “You rode a horse?”
“No. Recon specialist. Until I tore up my shoulder and came home after ten years in. But enough stalling.” He sent a pointed look at the boots. “Hope your socks don’t have holes in them.”
The kid from Colorado took his time taking off the tooled leather, but Zane remained unmoved. “That should teach you not to make bets when you’ve had a beer too many.”
“That should teach you to never make a bet with Zane,” Wyatt said.
Zane turned to his old friend, another of the West Side kids who’d grown up on the “wrong” side of the river, just like him. Wyatt had spent years as a SEAL but then arrived in town a couple of weeks ago, fresh out of the Navy. “How are you settling in to civilian life?”
Wyatt shrugged. “O
kay.”
Which said nothing at all. “Have you considered your next move?”
“A job, you mean?” Wyatt shrugged again. “Something will come up.”
Zane eyed the other man’s fit form and the bouncing knee that proclaimed he was used to doing and not dithering. He could relate. “Maybe we could find you something on the water—”
“I’m not up for that,” Wyatt said quickly, then cleared his throat. “I’ve had some other offers. Right now I’m just spending time with Gran. She’s getting on, you know.”
His grandmother had raised him after his parents died. But Wyatt talked about the older woman as if she was a doddering elderly, not the vital senior citizen that Zane knew to be active in her church’s social club and other endeavors around town. As Denver handed him the boots, Zane took them in hand while studying Wyatt’s closed expression.
Something was up.
“I don’t know that your granny requires a round-the-clock caretaker,” he said. “She’s getting about just fine, I’ve seen her myself.”
“She needs me,” Wyatt said stubbornly.
“Maybe some of the time,” Zane conceded, glancing again at the man’s bouncing knee and then at his stern-jawed face. This guy needed to lighten up. “But you have some free hours for a gig as a rodeo clown, don’t you? I have a contact. The job promises plenty of action, danger, and the weird face paint too. As a matter of fact, I bet—”
“I’m good, Zane,” Wyatt said sharply, too sharply, without even a hint of a smile. Then he ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that. Coming back home…it’s made me a little edgy, I guess.”
“I’m glad I got out of this town,” Smerkman declared. “Because it’s made Wyatt edgy and Zane’s moping—”
“I’m not moping!” Hell, that didn’t sound pleasant or friendly or the least bit calm. Zane could feel every customer in the diner staring at him, and guessed if he looked that their gazes would be filled with pity. The need to knock something down rose inside him and he sucked in a breath to push it back. “You know what? I gotta go.”
Fully aware of the stares from every corner of the room, he made his way to the rear of the restaurant. Was this how it was going to be? Slowly smothered in sympathy by those around him because he was the un-partnered Tucker?