Moonlight Beach Bachelors: Her Forbidden Cowboy

She followed the direction of his gaze and honed in on the vast view of the ocean. The sounds of the sea lulled her into a soothing state of mind. It was a place to find infinite peace, if there ever was such a thing. Her nerves no longer throbbed against her skin. These past few days, she’d been much calmer. Were time and distance all she’d needed to get over Steven Monahan? Geesh, Jessica felt at one with nature and started to believe. A chuckle rose from her throat at the notion. She was beginning to sound like a true Californian.

“Crap! Damn things.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she witnessed Zane’s crutches fall to the ground. The slap echoed against the wood deck. Zane was off the chair, bending to pick them up and trying to keep weight off his bad foot. It looked like a yoga move gone bad. She moved quickly, her legs eating up the length of the deck to get to him.

“Zane, hang on.”

He stumbled and fell over, landing on his bad hand. “Ow!”

By the time she reached him, he was on his butt, cursing like the devil, shaking out his wrist. She kneeled beside him. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

He tilted his head toward her. “You mean other than my pride?”

She smiled. “Yes, we’ll deal with that later. How’s the hand?”

“I managed to catch the fall on the tips of my fingers, so the wrist should be fine.”

He moved his fingers one by one as if he was playing keys on a piano. So much for keeping his hand immobilized. “Maybe your doctor would be a better judge of that.”

“Now you sound like Mariah.”

“I knew an old goat like you once,” she said, putting his right arm over her shoulder. “Let me help you up.”

“I knew the same goat,” he bounced back. “Smart critter.”

“Pleeeze. Okay, are you ready? On three.” She swung her arm around his waist. “One. Two. Three.”

His weight drew her toward him, the side of her face against his chest, her hair brushing his shirt. He smelled like soap and lime shaving lotion. His heart pounded in her ear as she strained to help lift him.

Zane did most of the work, his brawny strength a blessing. Together, they managed to stand steady, Zane keeping weight off his foot by using her as his right crutch. Once again, just like the other night, she was wrapped tight in his arms. Ridiculous warmth flowed through her body. She couldn’t explain it except she felt safe with him, which was silly because this time she’d done the rescuing. “There,” she said, satisfied she’d gotten him upright. “Now, we’re even.”

His arm over her shoulder, he turned to her with eyes flickering. “Is that so?”

Well, maybe not. She was getting drunk on him, minus the alcohol. “Yes, that’s so.”

“I could’ve gotten up on my own, you know.”

“It wouldn’t have been pretty.”

He laughed. “True.”

“So, I’m glad I was here to help. Show a little gratitude.”

He wasn’t a man who liked taking help. That was part of the problem. His gaze roamed over the deck where he’d spent most of his day, and she sensed his frustration.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asked.

“Sure. Where would you like to go?” Mariah said he didn’t like to go out, so she couldn’t let this opportunity pass by. If he needed some breathing room, away from his gorgeous house and his familiar surroundings, who was she to deny him?

“Anywhere. I don’t care. Are you up to driving my car?”

“I can manage that. I’m going to get your crutches now, okay?” She didn’t wait for an answer.

She released him and he stood there, balancing himself for the two seconds it took her to pick up both of his crutches and hand them over. Tucking one under each arm, he pointed a crutch toward the door. “After you.”

Three (#u4556d30e-f269-5c3c-b65e-d9c987081b99)

To her surprise, Zane picked his silver convertible sports car for her to drive over the black SUV sitting in his three-car garage. The other car, a little blue sedan, had to be Mariah’s car. Jessica helped him get into his seat, taking his crutches and setting them into the narrow backseat before closing his door.

As soon as she climbed behind the steering wheel, she understood why Zane didn’t venture out much. Sitting in the passenger seat, he was encumbered by his foot, broken in three places, which required him to be extremely careful. He also put on a disguise. Well, a Dodgers baseball cap instead of his signature Stetson and sunglasses wasn’t much of a disguise, but she knew where he was coming from. He couldn’t afford to be recognized and surrounded by fans or paparazzi. In his condition, he couldn’t make a fast getaway. “Why am I driving this car?”

“More fun for you.”

“You mean more scary, don’t you? How much is this car worth, just in case I wreck it, or—heaven forbid—put a scratch on it?”

He smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s insured.”

Stalling for time, she fidgeted with her glasses and took several deep breaths before she turned to Zane. He was still smiling at her. At the moment, she didn’t enjoy being his source of amusement.

“Here goes.” With the press of a button, the engine purred to life. Zane showed her how to adjust her seat and mirrors using the control buttons. Once set, she supposed she was as ready as she would ever be. She pumped the gas pedal and gripped the steering wheel. She’d never driven anything but a sedan, a boring four-door family car with no bells and whistles. This car had it all. A thrill shimmied up her legs...all that power under her control.

She backed the car out of the garage and made the turn into a long driveway that reached the front gate. Upon Zane’s voice command, the gate slid open, and she pulled forward and onto the highway. She drove along the shoreline, keeping her eyes trained on the road and her speed under thirty miles per hour.

His back was angled against the passenger door and his seat. She sensed him watching her. He’d opted to keep the top up on the convertible, for anonymity, she supposed. Even though he’d not had a hint of scandal to his name, every time Zane went out, he risked being photographed. Putting the top down on his car in the light of day would be like asking for trouble.

She didn’t dare shoot him a glance, keeping her focus on the road.

“What?” she asked finally. “Your grandmother drives faster than me?”

“I didn’t say a word.” His Texas drawl seeped into her bones. “But now that you mention it, I think my great-grandmother drove her horse and buggy a mite faster than you.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny. Maybe I’d drive faster if I knew where I was going.”

He sighed. “I’ve learned that sometimes, it’s better not to know where you’re going. Sometimes, planning isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Some roads are better not mapped out.”

After that cryptic statement, she did look his way and found him resting his head against the window. His sunglasses hid his eyes and his true expression. The mood in the car grew heavy, and she didn’t know how to answer him, so she buttoned her lips and continued to drive.

After five minutes of silence, Zane shifted in his seat. “Wanna see the site of the restaurant? The framework is up.”

“I’d love to.”

He directed her down a side road that wound around a cove. Then the beach opened up again to a street that faced the ocean. Unique shops and a few other small restaurants sparsely dotted the shoreline before she came upon the skeletal frame of a building.

“There it is. You can park along the side of the road here.” He gestured to a space, and she swung the car into the spot.

“This is a great location.”

“I think so, too. On a clear day, there’s visibility for miles going in either direction.”