Free The Heart of a Hero by Barbara Wallace Page A

the distance back between them.
    Behind her, Jake swore, the curse mild in volume only.
    “Bad news?” She looked at her fingers. They were trembling.
    “It’s nothing.” She didn’t have to see his face to know the answer was a lie, and a bad one to boot, but she let it slide.
    A couple beats passed. She imagined him studying the call screen on his phone. “You asked what I wanted,” he said finally.
    She turned back around. “Yes, I did.”
    “What I want is to be left alone.”
    Of course he did.
    “What’s so funny?”
    Funny? Zoe realized she was chuckling aloud at the predictability. “Nothing.” Her turn to lie poorly. “I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s your polite way of saying, stop asking questions.”
    “Nothing polite about it. Look,” he asserted, preempting her when she opened her mouth to respond, “it’s not personal. I don’t… Relationships are no longer on my radar.”
    “I understand.” Another poor lie. In truth, aman like Jake shutting himself off didn’t feel right. Especially when instinct told her that hadn’t always been the case.
    Still, now was not the time to push the point.
    “Tell you what,” she said. “From now on we’re strictly handyman and home owner. No more personal questions.”
    Emotion flickered in the depths of his eyes. He was surprised that she agreed so easily, no doubt. “Thank you.”
    “No problem. For what it’s worth, I recently made a similar vow myself.”
    “That so?” Now he definitely looked surprised.
    “Surely you didn’t think you’d cornered the market on wanting solitude, did you?”
    “No.” He regarded her for a moment. “Your divorce was more than expensive.”
    More of a statement than a question, Jake’s comment brought with it a surprising feeling of understanding.
    “It came with a lot of costs,” she said.
    “Doesn’t everything?”
    They looked at each other with nothing but the pitter-patter of rain on the tarp filling the room. Zoe tried to read his expression, but failed. Whatever thoughts were running through that handsome head, they remained hidden from the world.
    “Do you want a second sandwich?” she asked atlast. He hadn’t finished the first, but Zoe couldn’t think of another excuse to speak.
    “No, but thank you.” Pushing himself to his feet, he stumbled slightly and fell forward, catching his footing a few inches from where she stood. The aroma of bay rum and masculinity wrapped itself around her body. Hooded eyes looked down at her, finding her mouth again.
    “I—I should be going,” he said. “Thank you for the sandwich.”
    She waited until he’d slipped around the blue tarp before letting out the long breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “You’re welcome.”
     
    The rain moved in for the rest of the day.
    For a long time after Jake’s departure, Zoe stood in the living room staring at the doorway, as if he might walk back in. He didn’t.
    Eventually she returned to the work waiting for her. While she still didn’t feel like she had answers, her looming deadline left her little choice but to write something. Hopefully her readers would find her advice passable even if she didn’t.
    Outside, the blue tarp waved and buckled. Heading into the kitchen, she saw Jake pulling the plastic sheeting away from her windows. His hair and clothes were wet. Every so often he’d wipe the rain from his face.
    Surely he didn’t have to remove the plastic rightnow. She could live with a shrouded house. Her eyes traveled to the coffeemaker.
    No, he was out there because he wanted to be. She’d already trotted out once today with that silly picnic. She was not going to act like some smitten groupie or beg for his attention. If Jake wanted to be left alone, she would honor his request.
    Instead, she poured a cup of coffee, returned to her laptop and focused her attention on the people who wanted it.
     
    The plastic sheet rippled in the wind, making maneuvering difficult, but