Free Casual Affair (Timid Souls Book 2) by Melanie Munton

and I could never steady my footing.
    “Text me the details,” was my curt response before I hung up the phone, cutting off Zane’s infuriating chuckle.
     
    ##
     
    “You’ve got to be joking me,” Zane grumbled when I knocked down all ten pins, getting my fourth strike of the game.
    I turned around, beaming a huge smile at him as the rest of his team broke out into applause. “I tried to tell you.”
    “Yeah, be happy, Mr. Price,” his receptionist Denise said. “She’s picking up our slack,” she added, gesturing to her girlfriend.
    “I think we may have to permanently replace Lyle with her,” said another one of his co-workers, a man named Randall who seemed to be the unofficial captain of the team, despite the fact that Zane was the boss. I took Lyle to be the one who was out of town tonight.
    I smiled at Randall and turned back to Zane to find his gaze locked onto me, his eyes narrowed in thought. “What?” I asked warily.
    He slowly shook his head, a small smile spreading across his face. “Nothing. You just constantly amaze me. Is there anything you’re not good at?”
    I laughed, very much aware of our legs rubbing up against each other. “Now that you mention it, I’m a terrible linguist. I was never able to learn another language and barely passed high school French.”
    He leaned in closer, looking interested in learning more about me. “What else? What else are you less than proficient at?”
    I squinted my eyes up at the ceiling. “Well, I have to think about it. I mean, the options are so limited.” He rolled his eyes at that but didn’t say anything, just waited. “Um. Well, I definitely wasn’t born with a green thumb.” When his brow furrowed in confusion I explained, “I have zero gardening skills. I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever owned. And accordin’ to Felicity, I’m also terrible at doin’ the dishes.”
    A laugh rumbled from deep within his chest, making me want to wrap myself up in his arms for some idiotic reason. I had to distract myself from thoughts of that nature, and it had been a struggle all evening.
    “What about you? What are not good at? Besides bowling and darts and shuffleboard and—”
    “Okay, that will do,” he interrupted, raising his hand to silence me. I tried not to smile, I really did. He glared at me but acted like he was thinking about my question. “Scrapbooking.”
    “Scrapbooking?”
    He nodded once. “Scrapbooking. I’m a God awful scrapbooker. My mum loved it, though.” He smiled as he said it and had a far-off look in his eyes, like he was somewhere thousands of miles away. But it also looked sad, too, which made my chest tighten.
    “I tried to make her a scrapbook once when I was in secondary school.” He laughed to himself and continued. “It was a mess. It looked terrible, nothing like the ones she used to make. But when I gave it to her, I had never seen her look so happy. She must have known how hideous it was, but she said she loved it and that it was the best gift anyone had ever given her.”
    I smiled, imagining a younger Zane trying to make his mama happy. “Do you get to see her often back in England?”
    His expression hardened and he dropped his gaze to the floor. “No. She died just a few months after I gave her that scrapbook. Breast cancer.”
    My entire face fell, my heart suddenly aching for this man. I had no idea. I suddenly remembered the night we met and him telling me that it was just him and his father now, but I hadn’t considered why his mother wasn’t around. And I also didn’t realize until that very moment that anytime he had referred to his mother, it was always in the past tense.
    “I’m so sorry, Zane.”
    He looked back up and smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s okay. We had a lot of good years with her. I’m just glad she’s no longer suffering. And it was ages ago, anyway.”
    But it still hurts.
    You could see that in his eyes.
    “What about your father? Do you get to