as possible.
About a month ago, when he’d been eating alone at The Twisted Jalapeño, Grace Torres had stopped at his table to tease him about looking stern and hyperalert. “At least three patrons have asked if you’re here tonight to take down a criminal,” she’d said. “I would take it as a personal favor if you could at least pretend to relax and enjoy my food.”
Smile, he reminded himself as he cut across his lawn into the Comers’ front yard. Be friendly. He wanted to coax Alex into seeing things his way, not scare her. That outdated monstrosity of a car was in the driveway, so he assumed the Hunts were home.
He knocked at the front door, calling “Hello?” for good measure. “It’s Zane.” He could understand a single woman not wanting to open the door to unexpected visitors after dark.
There were footsteps on the other side, followed by the metallic rattle and click of the chain being unfastened and the dead bolt being unlocked.
Alex greeted him in a resigned tone. “Mr. Winchester. What brings you here?”
Her eyebrows were raised in a quizzical expression. They were a ruddy gold, much closer to the color of Belle’s red curls than to Alex’s dark hair. Many women liked to experiment with different shades, but he couldn’t help wondering how Alex looked with her natural color. Beautiful, he imagined.
She would be beautiful anyway if her features weren’t so often pinched with apprehension.
Realizing he’d yet to speak, he gave her a broad smile. Friendly, approachable. “I, uh, have something to discuss with you. Can I come in for a second?”
“Hi, Mister Zane!” Belle joined her mother at the door. “Want a hot dog? We’re eating dinner.”
“I deduced that,” he said, trying not to laugh at the little girl’s colorful cheeks and chin.
She wrinkled her nose. “What’s ‘deduce’?”
Alex glanced down at her daughter, the tenderness in her gaze transforming her appearance. “It means using clues to figure something out. The mustard and ketchup all over your face are pretty big clues.” She stepped back, allowing Zane inside. “If you’re done eating, Belle, go upstairs and wash your face. You can play in your room while Mr. Winchester and I talk.”
When Belle frowned, obviously not pleased at being banished, Zane added, “Listen to your mama now.” The little girl hesitated, then nodded and scampered up the stairs. At Alex’s surprised expression, he said, “Hope I wasn’t out of line, telling her what to do. Force of habit.”
“From parenting Eden?”
“From the job, actually. In law enforcement, we provide backup for each other.”
Alex would do anything for her daughter, but she had to admit, single parenting could get difficult. On Belle’s occasional Holy Terror days, it would be nice to know someone else had her back. Bath times and bedtimes might be easier if she could depend on a partner. Cover me, I’m going in.
Zane gave her an expectant smile. “So where can we talk?”
Maybe the reason for his dropping by was as simple as letting her know about a neighborhood garage sale. But her self-preservation instincts wanted to manufacture an excuse to shove him back out the door. This was the first time she’d ever seen him without his omnipresent white hat. His dark hair was appealingly rumpled, and he wore a black T-shirt with jeans. Inexplicably, she found him more dangerous like this than if he’d shown up with a gun and badge. At least the badge was a reminder that she couldn’t let her guard down.
“Let’s go in the kitchen,” she said. “But if you don’t want Belle to overhear, it might be easier to pass notes back and forth on a sheet of paper. As I told Tess Fitzpatrick today, my daughter has some sort of sonic superhearing.”
“Oh, you know Tess? That’s great!” He beamed at her. What was with him tonight? Spokespeople for teeth whitener didn’t smile this much. “Making lots of new friends in town?”
Not especially. It was difficult to bond when you were lying about who you were and considered the day a success if you’d managed not to speak to anyone. She went into the kitchen, busying herself with rinsing dirty dishes and loading them into the washer.
He leaned against the island behind her, far too close for her peace of mind. “Anything I can do to help?”
Leave. “No, I’ve got it.” She cringed at the abrupt edge in her voice. “Thanks anyway, Mr. Winchester.”
“Zane,” he corrected. “I’d like to be on that list of new friends. After all, we’re neighbors. Plus, we’re in the same boat.”
The Texas Ranger and the failure-to-appear outlaw mom? They weren’t even in the same ocean.
“With both of us raising girls on our own,” Zane said, “you and I have a lot in common. We know how stressful single parenting can be. When was the last time you had a night out, just some adult conversation and a few hours to relax?”
Warning sirens clanged in her head. All his smiling tonight...had he been flirting with her? “Are you asking me on a date?” She lost her grip on a slick wet glass. It hit the tile floor and shattered.
Zane swore under his breath. “You’re barefoot. Where can I find a broom?”
“Laundry room around the corner,” she said, feeling clumsy and foolish. If she didn’t want to draw attention to her and Belle, she had to stop overreacting to everything. But the thought of Zane asking her out caused her head to spin.
While she waited, she bent to pick up the largest pieces. She wondered if she could find the Comers a replacement glass that matched the one she’d broken. “Ow!” A drop of blood bloomed on the tip of her finger.
Zane hurried back with a broom and dustpan. “Did you step on a piece?”
She pointed to the large jagged hunk of glass that sat on the counter. “I was getting the biggest pieces out of the way to make sweeping up the shards easier.”
He set the broom against the island and reached for her. “Put your arms around my neck.”
“What? No, I—”
But he was already lifting her as if she weighed no more than Belle. Alex’s heart thudded in erratic tempo. When was the last time a man had held her? Up close, she realized just how green Zane’s eyes were. Not blue-green or a diluted hazel, but clear and—
“There you go.” He righted her next to the kitchen table and took her hand in his, examining it beneath the Comers’ funky chandelier. “I don’t see a sliver. First aid supplies?”
She waved her free hand toward the kitchen drawer where she kept Belle’s adhesive bandages.
He chuckled when he found them. “You want one printed with polka-dotted puppies or kittens wearing crowns?”
Alex sank into a chair, wishing she could rewind to when she’d first opened the door and do everything differently. For starters, I wouldn’t open the door. “Surprise me.”
He returned a moment later with an adhesive strip and antibiotic ointment.
“Thanks.” She didn’t meet his eyes as he took her hand. His grip was warm and strong and he was slow to let go of her after he’d bandaged the cut.
“Alex?” His voice was a husky rumble, and she couldn’t help wondering how he would sound saying her real name.
She stiffened at the mental slip. For all intents and purposes, Alex is your real name. Keep it together.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable earlier,” he apologized. “I just thought maybe you’d like to have dinner sometime. You’re new in town and don’t know anyone. And...I’d really like to get to know you.”
Their gazes locked. For a moment she desperately wanted