Once a Marine. Loree Lough

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      Well, no one would accuse her of being overly subtle. But he hadn’t planned to stay this long, anyway. Zach got to his feet and helped himself to one of the bags. “Thanks. These will make a great breakfast, dunked in coffee in the morning.”

      “Not the healthiest breakfast, but it’s your stomach,” she said, picking up the second bag. “Would you do me a favor and bring these to Alex on your way out?”

      He was tempted to do it, but thought better of it. “Lesson number one—there are some things that, no matter how difficult, you need to do for yourself.”

      Her jaw dropped.

      “Alex only lives next door,” he said quickly.

      Blinking, she snapped her mouth shut and took a half step back. He’d only told her what she needed to hear. So why did he feel like such a heel?

      “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll stand at the end of the sidewalk and keep a close eye on you while you deliver the cookies. Will that make it easier to go outside?”

      For a second there, it looked like she might take him up on the offer. But pride must have gotten the better of her because she pulled back her shoulders and said, “No, you’re right. I should do it myself.” Her chin lifted a notch. “Don’t worry. You needn’t babysit me.”

      When you’re right, you’re right, he thought. But he didn’t have time for moodiness. Zach grabbed the door handle, but a wood-framed photo on the foyer table stopped him. “Your folks?” he asked, pointing at it.

      Summer nodded.

      “I recognize them from a couple movies.” He nodded. “Must be cool, having parents who are big stars. Ever been on the set when they’re filming?”

      “A few times. Mostly when I was a kid, and they couldn’t line up a sitter.”

      “What are their names again?”

      “Susannah and Harrison Lane.”

      She crossed her arms over her chest again, and Zach decided it was her shut-out-the-world stance.

      He held up the baggy. “Well, thanks for these. And for the coffee, too.”

      “No problem.”

      He’d read the phrase, her smile never made it to her eyes, in a couple of novels, but it had never made sense to him...until this moment.

      “There’s a beginners class starting up on Monday evening. If you get there at five-thirty or so, you’ll have plenty of time to fill out the enrollment forms before we get going at six.”

      “I’ll be there.”

      He almost believed her.

      But if she hadn’t left the house in who knew how long, how would she get to the studio?

      “Do you need a ride?”

      “No,” she said resignedly, “I have a car. I open the garage door once a week and start it, to keep the engine from getting all gummed up. And when my parents are in town, they drive it.”

      Something about her posture and sad eyes reminded him of the war-orphaned kids he’d met while deployed. She’d taken a beating. Maybe even more than a beating. But if those youngsters could pick their way through rubble and find ways to survive, so could a full-grown woman who lived in a luxurious town house in one of the nation’s most prestigious ski resorts. He might be tempted to feel a little sorry for her...if she wasn’t doing such a great job feeling sorry for herself.

      “Guess I’d better head out.”

      “See you Monday,” she said, closing the door.

      Fractions of a second later, he heard the bolt slide into place. “Can’t deliver cookies through a steel entry door...” he said to himself.

      Would he see her on Monday? Or had she only made the promise to get rid of him? For her sake, he hoped she’d been serious. Hoped, too, that if she showed up, she’d stick with the program. Because if anybody needed some confidence-building lessons, it was Summer Lane.

      “Strange woman,” he muttered, taking out his keys. “Gorgeous, but strange.”

      He turned the key in the ignition, and as the pickup’s motor came to life, he pictured her unenthusiastic reaction to stepping outside, even long enough to deliver a zipper bag of treats to her next-door neighbor.

      If she met him halfway, he could show her how to strengthen muscle, help build her self-confidence; teach her how to feel in control of her surroundings. But dealing with her scary brew of emotional issues? That was Libby’s field, not his.

      He had three choices: call Libby and ask for tips on dealing with a woman like Summer, or get online, as he’d thought of earlier, to find out what he could about her past. Easiest of all, he could avoid her altogether. It wasn’t likely she’d show up on Monday, anyway. He knew better than most that she couldn’t hide from the evil in the world, but if she wanted to spend the rest of her days trying, he couldn’t talk her out of it. Didn’t want to talk her out of it.

      At the stop sign half a block from her town house, Zach peered into the rearview mirror, and almost didn’t believe his eyes.

      There stood Summer, sandwich bag of cookies in one hand, the other raised to ring Alex’s doorbell.

      “Well, good for you, Summer. Good for you.”

      It wasn’t much, but it was a start. He was happy for her, and strangely proud, too. What was it the sages said about every journey beginning with a single step? She’d finally taken it, and—

      A car horn blared behind him. Startled, Zach waved a quick apology to the driver and took his foot off the brake. He was halfway home before reality dawned: going to Summer’s house had been a stupid idea. Because now, like it or not—and he did not—he was committed to helping her.

      From kindergarten on, teachers and parents alike praised him for coming to the aid of others: the new kid, too timid to play kick ball at recess; the boy in the wheelchair who couldn’t reach a book from a high shelf; the girl with thick glasses and an overbite he’d invited to junior prom because no one else would. In marine boot camp, that same tendency earned him the nickname Champ, aka Champion of the Underdog. He’d used his precious few off-duty hours to coach the smaller, weaker guys who often got stuck with kitchen patrol or latrine duty when they fell seconds short of passing muster during drills.

      If his mom hadn’t done such a good job drilling the “do unto others” rule into his head, he wouldn’t be in this fix. “Thanks, Mom,” he said, grinning despite himself.

      Helping others made him feel good, even when he hadn’t been around to see the positive aftereffects. But getting involved had gotten him into serious trouble, too. He pictured Martha, and instantly shut down the memory. It wouldn’t be like that with Summer. Zach accepted his fate, much as he’d accepted every awful assignment from his superiors.

      But he didn’t have to like it.

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