“...with a friend,” she said, answering his unasked question.
Ah. Ex-boyfriend, probably. And based on her tone of voice, the breakup hadn’t been easy.
“Have you been there? To Alaska, I mean?”
“Yeah. College pal and I backpacked and camped in Denali after graduation, before we enlisted with the marines. Alaska was our last hoorah, in case...” In case we didn’t make it home, like some of my guys.
Her slow nod told him she understood. “Where did they send you?”
“One tour in Kuwait, three in Afghanistan.” He hated talking about this stuff. Too many regrets. Too many hard memories. “Mind if I ask you a personal question?”
“It’s a free country, thanks to men like you.”
He never knew how to react when people said things like that. He’d enlisted because, after earning a business degree from Colorado State, he couldn’t picture himself at a desk, balancing the Double M’s books, or taking orders from his younger cousin, Nate. How heroic was that?
He set both forearms on the counter, putting his face a foot closer to hers. “How did you know it was safe to let Alex leave?”
“I didn’t.” She sat back, running her fingers through her bangs. “But as you pointed out, he’s a great kid. If he says you’re okay, that’s good enough for me.” Summer branded him with those big dark eyes, then frowned slightly. “That’s a big fat lie. Letting him leave was a test.”
He was mildly surprised. “Is that so? And did I pass?”
A quiet, melodic laugh passed her lips. “Oh, I wasn’t testing you.” Her brows drew together, and he read it as a sign that the subject was closed. “Besides, I’ve never met a marine who couldn’t be trusted.”
Oh, he could name a few. Zach knew one guy who’d survived hand-to-hand combat, only to return home so mentally scarred that he’d turned to whiskey for comfort. Another, plagued by nightmares of the things he’d seen, chose drugs to help him forget...and chose crime to help fund his addiction. There were a few skeletons in Zach’s own closet, too, but what would be gained by admitting it?
Summer picked up a cookie, held it out to him. “They really are good, if I do say so myself.”
He understood this gesture as another signal to change the subject. When he reached for it, his fingertips brushed hers. She inhaled sharply, a quick little gasp, and snapped back her hand so fast, the cookie broke. A succession of emotions skittered across her pretty face, from shock to dread to embarrassment.
“Guess your sister isn’t the only clumsy one.” Summer brushed crumbs into an upturned palm and ate them, then grabbed another cookie. “Let’s try this again.”
This time, Zach was careful not to touch her. He took a small bite and decided that if she signed up for a self-defense class, he’d pass her off to Emma. Somehow, he’d summoned the patience to help his sister cope with her male-induced skittishness, but Summer was a stranger. Besides, what worked for Libby might backfire with Summer.
“Wow,” she said. “Just look at that frown. Don’t you like chocolate chips?”
“Of course I do. Sorry. They’re good. Really good.” He met her eyes again. Those enormous, long-lashed, brown eyes. Zach swallowed. Hard. If he admitted his part in Libby’s attack, Summer might never give the classes a chance. And he couldn’t think of a person who needed them more.
Zach sipped his coffee. “Your recipe beats my mom’s all to pieces, but if you tell her I said that, I’ll deny it.”
Either she didn’t get the joke, or saw it as proof of his blatant dishonesty, because Summer got up and riffled through a drawer.
“I really am kind of clumsy sometimes,” she said, patting her thigh, “thanks to this bum leg.”
They hadn’t been talking about the leg, or clumsiness, so he didn’t understand why she’d mentioned either.
She plucked a sandwich bag from its box and added, “Do you think it’ll be a problem? If I enroll in classes, that is?”
He still didn’t get the connection. “The leg? No, it won’t matter at all.” Dave Reece was the only other person he knew who favored one leg the way Summer did. He’d earned his limp stepping on a land mine, and now he wore a prosthesis. Jeans hid her legs, so he had no way of knowing if she’d been fitted for one, too. If so, she’d earned it in a battle of an entirely different kind.
“One of my students is in her mideighties. And Emma, my assistant, teaches two kids who wear leg braces.”
“Emma?” She began filling a second bag. “I thought Alex was your assistant.”
“Well, he helps out. A lot. But until he earns his certificate, I can’t let him work one-on-one with students. Insurance regs, you know?”
“I didn’t realize credentials were a requirement for self-defense instructors.”
“They are in my studio.”
“Once a marine,” she said, smiling, “always a marine, eh?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” He shrugged one shoulder and returned her grin. “Well, that might be part of it.”
Zach wrapped his hands around the mug. “It’s just that I won’t take a chance that my students could get hurt in class—or afterward—because an instructor lacks experience or maturity. It’s my responsibility to figure out what each person needs to learn. Some instinctively know how to spot danger before it happens. Some need to be taught what to look for. Because self-defense is as much psychological as it is physical, and involves a whole lot more than stance and protective maneuvers.”
He hadn’t said anything funny. At least, he didn’t think he had. So why were her eyes glittering with amusement?
He cleared his throat. “What?”
“So Alex was right.”
“About?”
“You really are the Amazing Zach.”
“The Amazing... He called me that?”
“No, but that’s the impression I get whenever he talks about you.”
He felt the heat of a blush creep into his face. And how must that look? Big, tough, battle-scarred marine, sitting here all pink-cheeked, like a starry-eyed teenage girl. If he hadn’t already finished his coffee, he’d take a sip now, just so he could hide behind the mug.
“I call him my one-man PR firm,” Zach admitted. “But from the sound of things, he goes overboard from time to time.”
“We’ll see about that.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“We’ll see if your teaching skills are as amazing as Alex says they are.”
So, she’d decided to enroll in classes and begin accepting help? Good!
Summer zipped both plastic bags, slid them near Zach’s elbow then stood at the end of the counter and faced the front door.
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