and to make sure she got the help she needed, he drove her to every appointment. When the psychiatrist recommended outings, Zach bought tickets and sat through operas, the ballet and stage plays. Whatever it took, he told himself, to fulfill that promise to Buddy. In time, she got better, and he told himself Buddy would rest easier knowing that Zach and Martha had fallen in love. Well, Zach thought grimly, he had fallen in love, anyway.
“You remember what she did,” Libby was saying, “after you stood by her through all that misery?”
Like it was yesterday.
“And what about those months you worked as a bouncer to pay your way through college, when all those flirty girls came running to you for protection?”
Yeah, he remembered that, too. For the most part, their fears had been legitimate, so he’d felt no remorse, escorting drunken brutes out of the bar. He’d kept a lid on his temper and got the job done without physical confrontations. He hadn’t even considered roughing up those guys.
That wasn’t the case, though, on the night Libby’s roommate was drugged. Wasn’t the case when Libby herself was attacked, either. He’d wanted to choke the life out of the animals who’d abused them, because the way he saw it—the way he still saw it—no man should get away with mistreating a woman. Ever. Period.
“So your quest to help this latest damsel in distress,” she continued, “just proves one thing to me.”
If she thought he intended to ask what it was, Libby had another think coming.
“You’re still suffering from KISAS.”
Knight in Shining Armor Syndrome. Zach harrumphed. He hadn’t liked the title when she first labeled him with it, and he didn’t like it now.
“Don’t psychoanalyze me, Libs. I’m not one of your patients.”
“No, you’re my brother, and I don’t want to see you hurt again. If I could wish just one thing for you, it’d be that you’d hang up your superhero cape, once and for all. This Summer person probably isn’t anywhere near as vulnerable as you think she is. But even if you’re right, and she’s a big tangled mess of trouble and baggage, you can’t save her. Only she can do that.”
He sighed, and Libby did, too. She only has your best interests at heart, he reminded himself. Unfortunately, she was right. Again.
“Have dinner with me tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll make all your favorites...stuffed shells, garlic bread, meatballs. If you bring a bottle of my favorite wine, I’ll even bake my famous cheesecake. And you have my word—no lectures.”
“Sounds good,” he said. “What time should I be there?”
“Seven?”
He decided to arrive at six so that if anything needed slicing or dicing, or involved a hot oven, he’d volunteer to do it for her.
He was about to sign off when he heard her say, “You know I love you, right? And that I only nag you because I want you to be happy?”
“Yeah, I know. Love you, too, kiddo.”
Happy. What a peculiar word, he thought, hanging up. For some people, happiness was found in life’s simple things, like music or travel, or tending a garden. For others, it could only be achieved by satisfying their every whim.
It wouldn’t take much to make him happy. A humble house with a fenced-in yard, so he could get that golden retriever pup he’d always wanted. Two or three healthy kids. A strong, loving woman to share it all with. And no way Summer was that woman.
Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you, Marshall? What he knew about her would fit in one eye. She was a looker, no one could deny that. Smart, too. And not one to squander what she’d earned as a voice-over actress. Instead of spending her money on frivolous trinkets, she’d invested in the town house and filled it with things that turned it into a warm and welcoming home.
Don’t think about that stuff, you idiot. Instead, focus on the way she recoiled when you touched her.
He felt bad about what she’d gone through. But Libby was right. He needed to hang up his superhero cape. Put away his armor. Admit that he couldn’t rescue every damsel in distress.
In truth, he no longer wanted to rescue all of them.
Just the one with a smile as warm as her name.
“SO WHERE ARE your folks?”
“Having lunch in town with friends.”
Rose laughed. “I didn’t know Vail had any vegan restaurants.”
“Oh, they always manage to find something organic on the menu,” Summer said.
Rose tapped the folded edge of Zach’s flyer on the counter, nodding as she munched a cookie. “You know what I think? If you’re dead-set against ever going out of the house, you could make a handsome living, selling these cookies. I’ve never had any quite like them. What’s your secret?”
Summer chose to ignore the “never going out” part of the observation. “If I told you,” she said, topping off her neighbor’s coffee, “it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, now would it?”
“No, I’m serious. You could sell them to restaurants. I’ll bet a few local bakeries would even buy them. They’re that good!”
“I can see it now.” Both hands forming the corners of an imaginary sign, she pretended to read, “Summer Lane, founder of Chips Off the Old Block.” Grinning, she shook her head. “Thanks, but no, thanks, because then I’d be obliged to fill orders. And fight off the reporters clamoring for an interview with the next Mrs. Meadows, Cookie Queen.”
Rose threw her head back and laughed, a little too long and way too loud to sound sincere. But Summer overlooked that, too, because she wouldn’t have offended her for the world.
“You’re a hoot, girl.” Then she got really serious, really fast. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that your parents are here. It drives me crazy, thinking of you over here alone all the time, wasting that delightful sense of humor and all that gorgeousness. But if I said something like that in front of them, only God knows what sort of Pandora’s box I’d open for you.”
“I appreciate your discretion.” Summer had heard it all before. She glanced at the clock.
“I’d better get supper started. They’ll be back in time to eat.”
“Oh. That’s right. And you can count on them to be punctual.” Sarcasm rang loud in her voice. “Like they were punctual last night, when you went to all that trouble to fix them a full vegan meal—which they didn’t eat because they stopped at a restaurant on the way here, without bothering to call and let you know they were running late.”
“Oh, it’s all right,” Summer said. “They fell all over themselves, apologizing when they got here.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “But won’t they be surprised when I reheat the entire meal tonight.”
She saw no point in telling Rose that her parents’ guilt had provided the perfect way to sidestep another In Your Own Best Interests speech about the dangers of skipping orthopedist appointments, or yet another lecture about why she should find a therapist who’d force her to get out of the house.
But how she’d avoid all that tonight was anybody’s guess.
“Well, I don’t envy you.”
Rose was still holding Zach’s flyer. She had that look in her eye, and Summer had a sinking suspicion it was behind all this chitchat.
“So how long did Zach stay this time?”
Summer should have known Rose would have seen his truck out front. Was it