Heartbreakers: Treat Her Right / Mr November

He ran a hand through his hair and mumbled, “I worked pretty late last night,” and left it at that. He wasn’t with it enough yet to start rehashing the past evening’s events. He pushed the screen door open and stepped aside. “Come on in.”

She looked behind her. “Conan will be right along. He’s getting some muffins out of the oven. He’s a terrific cook.”

Conan-the-massive cooked?

The woman held up a carafe. “Fresh coffee. French vanilla. I hope that’s okay?”

He hated flavored coffees. “It’s fine,” he lied, “but totally unnecessary.”

“It’s the very least I can do now that I know I got you out of bed.”

If she hadn’t, he thought, perhaps he’d have finished that sexy dream and not been so edgy now. But as it was, he couldn’t quite seem to get himself together.

She hesitated at the door. “I really am so sorry. This is my first house and I’m equally stressed and excited and when I get that way, I unfortunately get—” She shrugged in apology. “—loud.”

Her honesty was both unexpected and appealing. Zack forced a smile. “I understand.”

Yet, she still held back. “I don’t mean to barge in. If you have some cups, we could sit here on your porch. We’ll share one cup of coffee, chat a little, and that’s all, I promise. It’s a beautiful morning and we are all awake now, right?”

Great. If he kept her and her husband outside, he could probably get rid of them quicker. “Good idea. Have a seat and I’ll go get some cups.”

Just then, Dani came dashing down the steps. Zack turned, saw her small feet flying, and said softly but sternly, “Slow down.”

She skidded to a halt on the second to the bottom step, gave him a quick, offhand, “Sorry,” and looked up at the woman as she finished approaching. “Hi.”

Wynn’s face lit up with her smile, making those golden eyes glow and the color in her cheeks intensify. “Hello there!” Kneeling down in the doorway, she said, “It’s so good to meet you.” She held out a hand that Dani took with formality. Zack watched in awe. “I hadn’t realized I’d have another female for a neighbor. The Realtor only told me that a single man lived here.”

“I’m Dani. My mom died,” Dani said, “so it’s jus’ me and Dad.”

Given half a chance, Dani would voice anything that came into her mind. Normally he didn’t mind, but this time it rankled.

Her sweater was hiked up in the back and the left leg of her jeans had caught on a cotton sock. Zack smoothed the sweater, tugged the jeans into place, and frowned at her hair. His daughter, bless her heart, had the most impossible baby-fine, flyaway blond hair.

Then he glanced at Wynn again and revised his opinion. Dani had difficult hair, but definitely not the worst.

Softly, probably because she realized Dani had touched on a private topic, Wynn said, “Well, I’m very glad to have you for a neighbor, Dani.” She glanced up at Zack warily. “And your dad, too, of course.”

Zack took his daughter’s hand, not about to leave her alone with a virtual stranger, and said, “Wynn, if you’d like to make yourself comfortable, we’ll get the mugs and be right out.”

Wynn stood again, stretching out that long tall body. Zack’s gaze automatically dropped to her legs, but he quickly pulled it back to her face even as a wave of heat snaked through him. She was married, he thought guiltily, and he had no intention of ogling a neighbor anyway.

Rather than looking put out by his quick, intimate perusal, Wynn smiled. “Sounds good,” she murmured, her eyes warm. She turned back to the porch, giving Zack a back view of those strong shapely legs and tight bottom, and the screen door fell shut behind her.

Dani stared up at him, but he shook his head, indicating she should be quiet for a moment. When they reached the kitchen, he plunked her onto a chair opposite him and took a moment to pull on his shoes. That accomplished, he looked at his daughter. “Juice?”

“Apple.” Dani swung her feet, then tilted her head. “She’s not taller than you.”

“No, not quite,” Zack said, locating a tray beneath the sink and loading it with three mugs, a glass of apple juice and a bowl of cereal for Dani. “It’s close, though. She looked me right in the eye, but she had on thick-soled shoes and I was still barefoot.”

Dani squirmed. “I want my hair in a ponytail like hers.”

He smiled. Maybe a female neighbor, even a very big one with corkscrew hair, wouldn’t be a bad thing. Eloise, Dani’s sitter during Zack’s working hours, was a very kind, gentle and attentive woman. But she was old enough to be Zack’s grandmother, with bluish hair and support hose—not a woman to inspire a young girl.

Zack’s company was mostly limited to Mick and Josh, and though Josh knew everything there was to know about legal-aged females, he knew next to nothing about four-year-olds. Since Mick had married, Dani got to visit with Delilah now and then, and the two of them had really hit it off, which proved to Zack that Dani needed a woman around more often.

For Dani’s sake, he’d decided he needed a wife. But finding someone appropriate was proving to be more difficult than he’d thought, mostly because he had so little time to look.

When he did have time, he didn’t run across any suitable women. A wife would need to be domestic, neat, lovable, and she’d have to understand that his daughter came first. Period.

“A ponytail it is,” Zack said, forcing his mind away from that problem. He stroked his big rough fingers through Dani’s fine hair. “Why don’t you go get your brush and a band, and then come out to the porch?”

“Okay.” She slid off the chair and ran from the room again. His daughter never walked when she could run. She was never quiet when she could talk or laugh, and she always fought naps right up until she ran out of gas and all but collapsed. She exuded constant energy, and she had an imagination that often left him floored.

She was his life.

Wynn and Conan were arguing again when Zack opened the screen door. He stalled, uncertain what to do as Wynn poked the bulky bruiser in the chest and threatened his life.

Ignoring most of her diatribe, Conan said, “Ha!” then flicked her earlobe, hard.

Zack’s mouth fell open, seeing the physical byplay.

Before he could say anything, Wynn lit up like a live wire, clutching at her ear. “That hurt!”

“Well so does your pointy little finger trying to bore holes in my chest.”

“Bull.” She leaned in to him, nose to nose, and deliberately gave him another, harder prod. “You can’t feel anything through that layer of rock and you know it.”

Conan rubbed his chest, opened his mouth to say God-only-knew-what, then noticed Zack. He scowled. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself in front of your neighbors, Wynonna.”

Frozen half in, half out of the door, Zack just stared. Domestic troubles? God, he didn’t want to be involved in this.

Wynn rushed forward and took the tray from him. “Just ignore Conan,” she said, “he’s a bully.”

Conan ran both hands through his blond hair, which Zack noticed wasn’t the least bit frizzy, and growled. His eyes turned red and his face blue. “Wynonna, I swear I’m gonna—”

He reached for her and Zack, without really thinking, stepped between them. The tray in Wynn’s arms wobbled, but she maintained her grip.

“Look,” Zack said, not sure if the woman would need any help or not, “this is none of my business, but—”

Wynn rudely pushed her way around him. “You’re gonna what?” she taunted Conan. “What else can you do?”

Conan reached for her again, and Zack grabbed him. “That’s enough,” he roared.

Zack hadn’t had enough sleep, he was still disturbed by the calls he’d made the night before, and he had no tolerance for petty bickering.

And he absolutely, positively, would not put up with a man hurting a woman, not even a pesky too-big neighbor woman he barely knew and who looked like she could damn well defend herself.

Silence fell. Conan, with one brow raised, stared at Zack’s hand wrapped around his thick wrist. Zack had big hands, but still, his fingers barely touched.