Susan looked up, her scowl lines deep between her eyebrows as she considered. “Has it really been so long? Wasn’t that a wonderful holiday. All three of our children, home at last.”
The unmistakable metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth as Zane bit down harder into his cheek. They didn’t deserve to be reminded that his brother hadn’t been there.
Squeezing his hand to let him know she was on it, Freya smiled, “How was the drive? I hear you can see the glow from the Eastern Washington wildfires on the horizon?”
Craig scooped up their bags and strolled inside, grinning his typical dopey grin, “That was something. We’ve never seen anything like it.”
Nodding, Freya’s hand stayed locked with his, her smile equally forced. Anyone from the area, or with half a brain, really, had been following the devastation. She smiled and responded, “Something, yes. Your flight was uneventful?”
Susan sauntered into the kitchen and stared into the refrigerator.
Releasing Freya’s hand and giving in to the inevitable, Zane followed and rested his hand on the fridge door. “I should have picked up some wine. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking about it. Would you like water or beer?”
His mother pondered, her famous pensive face not diminishing the perfection of her eyebrows. “Is the beer local? I would love something original.”
“It’s original alright,” he muttered.
Craig set their suitcases next to the bed-height air mattress Zane had picked up in anticipation of their arrival. “I’d love one, too. Thanks.”
Susan took her beer and wandered around the apartment, nosy and curious. Good thing Freya had merged her stuff with his. She even checked the medicine cabinet, smiling and commenting on what a cozy home they’d made. As expected, she asked, “This apartment is lovely. Do you know the neighbors that own the house?”
Releasing all the air from his lungs, Zane gulped the first half of his beer and dropped onto the couch. “Yeah. Remember, Asher and his girlfriend are buying the place, so we’re staying here while we find something more permanent?”
Susan nodded knowingly before lowering to the opposite end of the couch, “Oh yes, of course. I remember now. Will you be designing your own place? Or, well, I guess it’s been a while. If you need some creative input, we’ll be happy to help.”
Cheek worn away to little more than hamburger, Zane tried to chew on his tongue instead.Maybe he’d try some Irish moss for the next batch, with some Northwest hops.
Freya glanced out the window, then back again, “We’re not quite there yet. Foothills has some great properties, but we’ll wait for something perfect to open up and go from there.”
Craig nodded, “Of course. You can’t create the design before you know the location.”
Utter darkness. Blackness. Where mysteries began. And where Freya’s imagination took over. Crisp night air cooled the overheated bedroom while dark clouds shifted to conceal the moon.
Scooted until she was about to fall off the side of the bed, she knew Zane was at the opposite edge. He smelled so damn good, that hint of cedar and sex that spun her in a confused tornado. His breath was forced and steady, equally unsettled.
“Zane?” she asked.
“Yeah?”
“You awake?”
He chuckled under his breath. “I am now. The creaking wheels in your brain woke me up.”
“Want to have sex?” Her massive grin scrunched up her nose so far, she squinted.
He groaned, counting so quietly she almost couldn’t tell, slower than the bathroom clock on the other side of the wall.
“I mean, we’re already cohabitating.”
Five more counts. “We’re already going to be damn lucky to get that annulment. The only thing we have going for us is that we haven’t consummated it.”
“I was kidding anyway.”
“No you weren’t.” She could hear the lilt in his voice, the subtle smile as he teased her.
“How do you know?”
“It’s like the handholding. You don’t like being told you can’t do something.”