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.”
The beach was wide where the restaurant would sit, far enough from the water to avoid high tides. A rock embankment jutted out to the left, where pelicans rested, scoping out their next meal. Above them and across the road, far up on the cliffs sat zillion-dollar homes overlooking the coastline.
“Do you want to get out?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“Hold on,” she said, killing the engine and climbing out. She reached into the backseat and grabbed his crutches, then strolled to his side of the car. He was lifting himself out of his seat by the time she got there. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
She waited for him to get his bearings, and they moved through the sand until they reached the beach side of the restaurant. “So this is Zane’s on the Beach.”
“Yep. Gonna be.”
“I suppose it’s good that you’re branching out. You’ve become a regular entrepreneur.”
“Can’t sing forever.”
Why not? Willie Nelson, George Strait and Dolly Parton weren’t having career problems. And neither was Zane. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not eager to go back to doing what you love to do?”
It was a personal question. Maybe too personal, given that Zane didn’t react to it at all. He simply stared at the ocean, thinking.
“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“Don’t apologize, Jess,” he rasped with a note of irritation. “You can ask me anything you want.”
Okay, she’d take him up on that. “So, then, why are you searching for something else when you’ve established yourself as a superstar and you have fans all over the world waiting for your return?”
He closed his eyes briefly. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m tired of being in my own skin.”
It was the most honest answer he could’ve given her. Zane was hurting. Still. And he didn’t know how to deal with it. “I get that. After my disastrous breakup with Steven, I felt totally out of options. I didn’t know who to trust, what to believe. I couldn’t make a decision to save my life. That’s why when I had to get out of Dodge, I let my mother take over and make arrangements. After she did, I didn’t have the gumption to argue with her. No offense, but visiting you wasn’t even on my radar.”
He chuckled. “Should I be insulted?”
She softened her voice. “You made a point of keeping away from the entire family after Janie...”
He winced at her honesty. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so blunt. “It’s not for the reasons you think.”
“I know why you did it, Zane.”
He put his head down. “I was having a hard time.”
“I know.” He’d been swallowed up with guilt. Janie was five months pregnant when she lost her life. Zane was touring in London, and Janie wanted desperately to travel with him. Zane had given her a flat-out no. He didn’t want her away from her doctors, on a whirlwind schedule that would sap her energy. They’d argued until Zane had gotten his way. He’d loved Janie so much, trying to protect her and keep her safe. It was a tragic irony that she’d died in her own home on the night Zane had performed for Prince Charles and the royal family. Momentary grief swept over his features. He’d probably feel the guilt of his decision until his dying day. But there was no one to blame. No one could’ve known that Janie would’ve been safer in London than resting in her own sprawling, comfortable ranch house while Zane was gone. Her mother had recognized that. Jessica recognized that, but Zane wouldn’t let himself off the hook.
Braced by the crutches under his arms, Zane let go of one handle and took her right hand. Lacing their fingers, he applied slight pressure there, squeezing her hand as they stared at the ocean. “I’m glad you’re here, Jess.”
Peace and pain mingled together, a bittersweet and odd combination of emotions that she was certain Zane was experiencing, too. They’d both lost so much and shared a profound connection.
Afternoon winds blew her hair onto her cheek and Zane touched her face, removing the wayward strands, tucking them behind her ear. “It’s good to have someone who understands,” he whispered.
She nodded.
“You can trust me,” he said.
“I do.” Strangely, she did trust Zane. He wasn’t a threat to her, not the way every other man in the universe might be. She had learned some harsh lessons about men and about herself. She’d never overlook the obvious the way she had with Steven. She’d never allow herself to be fooled into believing a relationship would work when there were three strikes against it from the get-go.
“This is nice,” she murmured.
“Mmm,” he replied.
Zane released her hand, and they fell into comfortable silence, watching wave upon wave hit the shore. After a minute, he turned her way. “Do you want to see the inside of the restaurant?”
Her gaze was drawn to the framed, unroofed, sandy-floored structure behind her. “I sure do!”
He laughed. “Follow me, if you can keep up.” He hobbled ahead of her. “I’ll give you the grand tour.”
* * *
Zane folded his arms and leaned back in the booth of Amigos del Sol—friends of the sun—watching Jess pore over the menu items of his favorite off-the-beaten-path Mexican restaurant. It was a small hacienda-style place known for making the most delicious, fresh guacamole right at the table. “Everything is great here, but the tamales are out of this world.”
And the guacamole was