THE PENGUIN KILLER by Vonnie Davis ~ Chapter Three

 Jump to the first story

Vanessa took sick time from teaching for a week while her face slowly returned to normal. Zack's attentions continued, much to her suprise. Two or three times a day, he'd text her something comical or surprisingly tender. In the evenings, they would either visit his family or stay in to watch a movie and share a pizza or Chinese.

 

One night they'd watched "My Cousin Vinny," and she'd laughed at how Zack had most of the lines memorized. When he stood and mimiced Marisa Tomei, stomping her foot as she ranted about her biological clock ticking...ticking...ticking, Vanessa nearly rolled off the sofa in hysterical laughter. She--Vanessa, the sour woman she'd become--was slowly returning to her old self, someone who laughed and joked and saw only the good things in life.

To his credit, Zack kept things light. He’d hold her close during a movie or entwine his fingers with hers as they walked into his mother's or sisters' homes, yet nothing more. Well, except for those mind-numbing goodnight kisses, which she relived over and over. Even so, she was impressed with the respectful way he treated her and also with the little ways he surprised her. The other teachers were still talking about the red and white carnations in a penguin planter he'd had delivered to the school.

Slowly the darkness that had moved into her soul when David left lightened and morphed into a pale rainbow, its colors turning more brilliant every day. Was her next-door neighbor the reason? Or was time merely the healer it was touted as being?

Yesterday after she got home from work, Zack opened her car door, extending his hand to help her out. He planted a warm kiss on her lips. “Hey, Sugar, how was school today?” As usual, he'd jogged out of his half of the duplex when she eased her car to the curb.

“I swear the kids get more rude as time goes on.” One girl had called her a bitch today. A boy had thrown her trash can against the chalkboard.

He slung his arm over her shoulders and walked her to her door. “Thank goodness the kids have a teacher like you. I know you care about them. And I'm sure they can sense it too, deep down.”

“They take a toll on me. Right now I could go to bed and sleep till noon tomorrow.” They stepped onto her porch, and she removed her mail from her mailbox. Two catalogs, a bill and what appeared to be a Christmas card. She slipped a finger under the flap of a green oblong envelope to pull out the card. “I'm afraid I'm headed for teacher burn-ou…” Her stomach clenched and her vision field narrowed to a pinpoint on the picture of her ex-husband standing behind a woman, his hands splayed over her very pregnant belly.

A wounded cry clawed its way free from her clenched jaws.

“What is it?” Zack read over her shoulder. “Dave and Brittany Baker? Your ex? Your ex had the gall to send you a Christmas card with a picture of his pregnant wife on it?” Many expletives followed. All of which she agreed with and doubled in her livid mind.

Twin tears plopped onto the glossy picture.

He turned her around. “No, Nessa. No tears. Not for him.”

“I begged him to start a family.” She pounded a fist against Zack’s chest. “Begged him.”

“Just think, if he’d agreed, you’d be raising that child alone."

"Why? Why wasn't I enough for him?"

Zack glanced away for a beat before narrowed eyes focused back on her. "You have a choice here. You can let him control you. Cry and get all depressed again over his deliberate attempt to hurt you.” He placed his hands on her arms. “Or you can rip that thing up and not give it another thought. Is he worth controlling your life?”

More tears fell.

Zack's voice lowered. "Are you going to give him more importance than what's happening between us? Because I won't compete with another man." His forehead was wrinkled in question and his lips narrowed with annoyance.

Her stomach tensed. What if she lost him over this? She couldn't bear it. "No. No, I'm not."  

“Then don’t let him hurt you or come between us." His hands cupped her face and pulled her to him. "We've got something special growing here. The power of it is getting stronger everyday. Tell me you feel it, too."

He was right. She'd been happier since the day she'd killed his penquin than she'd been for well over a year. "You make me happy, Zack." She kissed his jaw and rubbed her cheek against his. "You're very important to me."

A loud sigh rumbled from his chest. "Your best revenge is to lead a happy and healthy life and not give him a second thought.” His fingers sifted through her hair. "Your best bet is to be with me." His forehead touched hers. "I don't want to lose us. You mean too much."

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "You’re a good man, Zack Romano. It would take twenty of him to measure up to you.”

 ****

Vanessa read the text and laughed.

Joleen, one of the science teachers at the middle school, leaned across the table in the teachers’ lounge. “You seem happier these last couple weeks. Want to share the text?”

She glanced at her friend and smiled. "'Hey, Penguin Killer, I can't wait till I play Santa at the civic center tonight. Wanna come sit on my lap?’”

“Penguin killer?” Joleen’s eyes widened. "Was there a special meaning behind those flowers he sent you?"

“Long story, but I fell on one of his inflatable penguins two weeks ago and broke it. The man loves to tease.” Although he hadn’t been teasing last night. A warmth spread through her body. No, last night he’d made love to her with slow deliberate moves and sweet words of praise. She’d never experienced anything like it.

This morning she woke to a text on her phone. “Look outside.” She hurried to her bedroom window, and her heart stuttered before flipping over and sighing. Zack's bear, holding the inflatable heart, had been moved to her side of the yard and faced her house rather than the street—an obvious private message.

“Vanessa. Vanessa!” Joleen snapped her fingers in front of her face. “Where were you? I have to say, I’m glad to see you act like yourself again. You’re smiling more. Laughing often. Are you and Santa getting serious?”

Were they? They’d taken their budding relationship to the next level last night. The man was very important to her—his larger than life persona, rough edges and all. He was like a big teddy bear under his boisterous exterior. Tender, caring, affectionate. She smiled. Very affectionate. He was so different from any man she’d ever known.

“I think we are. Zack knows I’m gradually coming out of a depression. We’re moving cautiously, getting to know each other.”

Joleen dipped her head toward Vanessa’s cell. “So, how are you going to answer him?”

“Now you don’t think I’m sharing everything with you, do you?” She winked and keyed in, “Will Santa have a special present for me?” She pressed “send” and smiled. Having someone in her life again felt good. Although everything about this man felt like more…more exciting, more fulfilling, more comforting.

Her cell chimed to indicate an incoming message. “Oh, Sugar, you have NO idea.” She laughed out loud. After last night, she did have an idea, and the idea appealed to her very much.

A few hours later, she stood behind the refreshment table at the civic center, poring punch for the senior citizens and watching Zack handle the long line of rambunctious kids. He laughed and teased in typical Zack style. Hugs were plentiful as he handed out gifts. He really did have a caring heart. Hadn’t he helped her through some rough times?

“Oh, young lady.” Zack’s dark eyes were riveted on her. He made a beckoning motion with his finger. “You want to come tell Santa what you want for Christmas?”

Adults in the large room clapped and hooted.

The heat of a blush sauntered up her face as if to announce to the whole center she was embarrassed. She shook her head.

He tilted his and motioned to his lap, his slow, sexy smile causing delightful sensations.

Oh no, not in front of everyone.

“Oh, is Santa taking older kids now?" One senior lady patted her silver hair. "I sure wouldn't mind sitting on his lap. Have I got a list of wishes for him." She winked at Vanessa. "Did you knit a scarf for him like you did all the senior citizens here?”

"No. No...I...ah..." Her gaze swept around the now quiet center. Everyone was watching her, waiting for her to go to Santa.

“Go on, now. Go give that cute-looking Santa a Christmas thrill.” The older woman jerked her head in his direction.

Vanessa walked toward the sexiest Santa she’d ever seen. His grin widened as she got closer. Feeling all eyes in the center were on her, she sat on his lap. “I’ll kill you for this.”

He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “You nearly killed me last night, Sugar. Now, tell me, what do you want from Santa this year?”

Warmth seeped from his body into hers. His hand made slow, circular movements on her lower back. Brown eyes, like melted chocolate, studied her.

A long sigh escaped. “A promise.”

He tilted his head as if to examine her remark. “And what would that promise be?”

“That I can sit on Santa’s lap again next year.”

A large hand cupped her neck and brought face near his. “Bet on it.” Warm lips touched hers for a heart-stopping moment as the party attendees cheered and hooted. He pulled back and removed a wrapped gift between his leg and the side of the chair. “Santa has something special for you.” He extended a gold foil-wrapped box to her.

She fiddled with the red ribbon. “Am I to open it now?”

“Yes.”

Her heart pounded in her ears as she unwrapped the gift. Inside the box was an ornament with two penguins standing next to a Christmas tree. Across one penguin was painted “Sugar.” “Zack” was on the other one. At the base of the ornament were the words, “Our First Christmas Together.”

“I love it.”

“And I love you, Sugar. I have since the moment you killed my penguin and for darn sure since the moment you smiled at me." He twisted a strand of her hair around his index finger, a shy expression tensing his face. "I know you need to take things slow. I'm good with that.”

Vanessa placed her palm to his fake beard. "I'm good with that, too." She leaned in and kissed her dream Santa, the man who helped carry the old Vanessa back to the land of the living.

 

Find out more about my writing at http://www.vonniedavis.com

 



THE PENGUIN KILLER by Vonnie Davis ~ Chapter Two

 Jump to the first story

       To Vanessa's surprise Zack scooped her into his arms and carried her up the steps to her half of the duplex as if she weighed no more than a gnat. “I’ll get you inside and put some ice on your face. You know you’re going to have two big shiners from the box’s impact.”

“Thiners? You mean black eyeth?” No, please, no! She had school tomorrow.

      
He stopped at her door and peered down at her. Those brown eyes of his fairly danced with humor. “Yes, black eyeth.” He shifted, raising his knee to help balance her as he reached to open her door.

      
Her pride stung. “I don’t enjoy being made fun of.”

      
His boots clomped on the wooden floor in her hallway. “I’m not making fun, Nessa. What I’m trying to do is lighten your mood a little. You take everything so seriously. Just once I’d like to see you smile.” He settled her on the sofa, tugged her grandma’s afghan off the back of the couch and covered her. “Be right back. I’m going for ice packs and my tool box. I can see you’re not up to putting the bookshelves together tonight.”

      
"You're right. I'm not. Thankth for your help." She sighed, thinking of how she'd never have gotten out from under that heavy box. "And for taking care of me, too."
       
"That's what neighbors do, isn't it?"
       
"I thuppoth. Tonight ithn't turning out like I'd planned. I wath going to make candy later, for the old people at the thivic thenter."

      
"Yeah, I saw your name on the sign-up sheet down at the center. Boxes of homemade chocolates and knitted scarves for the senior citizens, if I recall correctly."  His dark eyes locked on hers, making her uncomfortable. "I'm playing Santa at the community party and giving out presents to the kiddies. It's nice doing things for others, isn't it?"

      
When she nodded, the movement of her head made her stomach lurch. "We do tho much for children at Chrithmath, we forget the older people. If only we did thingth for each other all year round." She almost smiled. That was something the old Vanessa would have said and believed with all sincerity, not the grumpy Vanessa who'd lived in her heart this past year.

      
Ten minutes later, she lay with a sack of frozen peas over her face, peeking out from under the Green Giant on the bag to watch the giant on her living room floor, methodically positioning every board and hardware item across the carpet. She tried not to focus on the way his jeans hugged his thighs and butt. In fact, her hands itched to cup his mighty fine behind. Surprised at her lustful thoughts, she pinched her eyes shut.

      
“Those aspirins taking care of the pain?”

      
“Uh-huh.” They weren’t taking care of the desire though. She hadn’t thought of a man in that way in a year. Why now? Why him?

      
“What do you like on your pizza?”

      
"What?" She lifted the bag of peas to look at him. He held his cell in one large hand, his gaze focused on her. Was he inviting himself for dinner? The man was putting together her shelves. The least she could do was feed him. “I could cook.”

      
“After what just happened to you out there? Nonsense. You need to rest.” His one dark eyebrow rose. “Pizza toppings?”

      
Oh my, those dark eyes of his. It was almost as if he could see right into her soul. “Ah…muthroom and extra cheeth.”

      
Zack dialed and joked with the person on the other end of the line. “You want my order or not, you degenerate slime ball?” His laughter, loud and booming, just like him, ricocheted off the walls. “Give me an extra-large pizza. Heap everything on one half and mushroom and extra cheese on the other.” Pause.“Yeah, I’m sharing it.” His gaze swept to hers and a slow, sexy smile spread that made her insides flutter. “That’s for me to know, buddy. It’s someone I’ve been trying to charm for a while.”

      
She jerked the bag of peas off her face, her eyes narrowed at his insinuation.

      
He winced when he saw her expression. “How’s it goin’ with her? Ah…not so good.” He picked lint off his flannel shirt in a self-conscious gesture. After he gave the person on the other end of the conversation her address, he snapped his cell shut.

      
She rose on her elbows, her head pounding with the effort. “Who…who were you juth talking to?”

      
Suddenly he was very busy. A broad shoulder lifted. “Ah, my cousin, Vinny.”

      
“Great, my life ith juth like a bad movie.”

      
“Hey, that was a great flick. Ever see it?”

      
She pressed the peas back over her face and laid back against the pillows. “No.”

      
“I’ll bring it over some night and we’ll watch it together.”

      
“No.” She was not letting this man into her life.

      
Evidently he chose to ignore her reply. “I see you haven’t decorated for Christmas yet.”

      
“I have, too. Thee my pointhetta on the coffee table? And my tree in the corner?”

      
He snorted. “That’s not a tree, it’s a plastic branch with tiny look-a-like ornaments clinging to it for dear life.”

      
“Ith a tree. I thupoth you’ve got a giant one in your houth, juth dripping with ornamenth.”

      
“Damn straight.”

      
She peeled back the bag of peas and shot him her school teacher glare.

      
He cleared his throat. “Ah…yes, ma’am, I do.” He gifted her with his sexy smile again, and she slid the bag of peas over her mouth so he wouldn’t see her smile in return.

      
“Where do you want the shelves?”

      
The empty box of pizza sat on the coffee table, along with four empty beer bottles. A mellow feeling had invaded Vanessa’s cells. She sat in the corner of the sofa, the afghan over her legs while she knitted the final rows on her last red scarf for one of the senior citizens.
     
“Againth that thmall empty wall to the right of the doorway.”

      
“You got it, Sugar.”

      
She didn’t even tense at his calling her Sugar. As he’d assembled the shelves and they’d shared a pizza, they’d spent time talking. Somewhat rough around the edges, he had a charming way about him. He contained a special depth, which surprised her.
      
The muscles bunched across his back as he lifted the shelves and positioned them in the center, just like she wanted. “Perfect.” And the shelves didn't look bad either.

      
“Will you fill this big thing with books or family pictures?”

      
“Bookth. Maybe a picture of my grandma. She raithed me.”

      
His phone chirped. “Yeah. Whoa! Whoa, calm down. Speak slower, Maria.” Pause. “Where do you think she went?” Another pause. “Okay, I’ll go find her.” He snapped the cell shut. “My teenaged niece is driving my sister nuts. I need to go play the strict uncle.” Tossing his tools into his toolbox, he glanced her way. “You going to be okay here alone?”

      
“I’m alone here every night.” After all, she wasn’t helpless.

      
He moved beside her, bent over and ran fingertips down her cheek. “You’re welcome at my place anytime.” Then darn if he didn’t wink at her. “Take care of yourself, Penguin Killer.”

      
Her front door closed and her house returned to its normal, quiet size. He had a way of filling it with his essence so the walls shrank inward to envelope her. Her quiet, lonely place was warmer with him here—or was it simply her frozen heart that felt warmer?

****

When Zack knocked on Vanessa’s door the next morning, he wasn’t sure how he’d be received. She was a moody somebody, yet something about her appealed to him in a big way. The woman was wound so tight, he had an itch to unwind her to see what lay beneath her prickly exterior.

      
Someone had hurt her badly by his estimation. She had a force shield around her thicker than the Great Wall of China. Yet last night, she’d opened for him—and smiled. Lordy, but her smile was a heart stopper. Last night after he’d gotten back from taking his sullen and defiant niece home to his sister, he’d tossed and turned in his bed, wondering what it would take to make Nessa laugh.

      
Now he wasn’t so sure she’d even answer his knock.

      
Nessa’s door creaked open, and tear-filled hazel eyes greeted him. She wore baggy sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. Her long brown hair, normally worn in a tight bun of some type, hung over her shoulders in soft curls. But it was her face that tore at him. It was almost completely black and blue, even her lips bore a bluish tinge.

      
“Morning, beautiful.” Really what else could he say? Bruised or not, the woman was gorgeous in his eyes.

      
She looked away and blinked. Her chin quivered.

      
Before he thought it through, he enveloped her in his arms. “It’ll be okay, Sugar. The bruises are only temporary.”

      
“I look awful.” She burrowed into him, which felt incredibly good.

      
He rested his chin on the top of her head. “You’re not going to work today?”

      
She shook her head.

      
“I’m off, too. I worked a couple double shifts over Thanksgiving so a co-worker could go visit family out of state. He’s taking over for me today.” Jason hadn’t been too happy when he called in the favor owed. But once Nessa didn’t leave for work at her usual time, he thought she might need him. “Get your coat and we’ll go out for breakfast.”

      
“Like thith?” She pulled back to look up at him. “No way. I look like I was in thome cheap barroom brawl.”

      
“Come on. I’ll take you to my place. I’ll make you whatever you want. Eggs. Pancakes. French toast.”

      
“Frenth totht?”

      
He took her hand and kissed it. “Yeah, Sugar. Frenth totht. Come on.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I’ll even show you my ornaments.”

      
The corners of her mouth twitched. “Let me put on thooth.”

      
“And cover up those pretty pink toenails? No way.” He picked her up and carried her to his side of the house and perched her on a bar stool at the counter between the kitchen and dining room. “Talk to me while I cook. Coffee? Or would cold juice feel better on your lips?”

      
“Juith, pleath.” She huffed out a breath. “I hate thounding like thith.”

      
He set a glass of juice in front of her. “It’s only temporary.”

      
Her gaze swept to his large tree in the corner of his dining room. “Wow, thath a big tree.”

      
He walked around to her side of the bar and leaned against it, folding his arms over his chest. “What can I say? I like big. I turn into a kid at Christmas. My whole family knows what a holiday nut I am, and they buy me stuff. Ornaments. Garland. Yard decorations.”

      
“Oh, tho that explainth it.” She sipped her juice in dainty amounts.

      
“What? My little outdoor display?”

      
Her hazel eyes swept to his. “Little?”

      
He laughed at her prim response. “I like big. Well, except for women, then I like prickly.”He bent and kissed the top of her head. “Prickly with beautiful hazel eyes. Guess I better make you that French toast I promised.” He turned, but stilled when fingers coiled around his arm.

      
“Ith that how you thee me? Prickly?”

      
“I see you as wounded. Emotionally dead, trying to find your way back to the land of the living.” He tucked two fingers under her chin and tilted her face toward his. “We’ve all been there, one time or another. Some can bounce back with little effort. Others need more time.”

      
“I feel lotht. Like Dave took a part of me when he left. I can’t theem to get beyond it.”

      
They’d talked about both of their failed marriages last night over pizza. He told her how his ex decided her career was more important than having children. Nessa’s restless husband found love elsewhere. Evidently the man’s promise to be faithful held no permanency.

      
“This part of you he took, maybe another man could replace that part with something stronger. Something that makes you happier.”

      
She sucked air and her eyes widened.

      
Whoa, man, you’re moving too fast here. Play your cards close to your vest, as grandpa says. Scare her, and she’ll probably run back to her place in her bare feet.

THE PENGUIN KILLER by Vonnie Davis ~ Chapter One

 Jump to the first story

She had just one wish for the holidays—for her new neighbor to drop dead.

 

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the most charitable, joy-holly sentiment, but the man was slowly driving her insane. Since Zack Romano moved into the other side of her duplex, her quiet existence had evaporated. The man was simply too big, too friendly and too boisterous. If he invited her over for one more of his weekly family get-togethers, she’d scream. His family, which had to include half the town, was just as loud as he. She was seriously thinking of having their common wall soundproofed.

 

Vanessa Baker snatched several bags of groceries off the passenger seat of her car, turned toward the sidewalk leading to the brick duplex and groaned.

 

Her wacko neighbor had done it again.

 

She rolled her eyes. Where had nutso found the room?

 

He’d added another blown-up decoration to his ever-growing menagerie of inflatable lawn ornaments. His half of their postage-sized front yard was a mish-mash of cheap holiday embellishments. She eyed his newest addition and gritted her teeth so hard her jaw ached. Someone please tell me what an air-filled heart held by a bear has to do with Christmas.

 

Weren’t the half-dozen angels singing the same chorus over and over sufficient for yard decorations? Or the three deer with their heads bobbing out of beat with said angel music? There was the eight-foot-tall snowman next to the six-foot Santa. Wasn’t that enough?

 

Her gaze slid to the green, blown-up, evil-looking Grinch with eyes that glowed yellow in the night, and she groaned. Beside it, Santa wore shades and rode a motorcycle. Animated elves worked at a toy bench and a gaggle of blown-up penguins marched along the sidewalk. Inflatable candy canes and round ornaments the size of basketballs hung from his half of the porch roof. Dozens of strands of lights were strung around every porch pillar, window and across his half of the roof to highlight Santa in his sleigh pulled by six reindeer.

 

What an ugly looking mess.

           

            Thank goodness there were only twenty-seven days remaining in December. Their house had to be the joke of the neighborhood. Was it any wonder traffic had picked up on her once quiet street?

 

She carried her groceries up the wooden steps to her porch and smiled at her simple and tasteful pine wreath with its red bow decorating her front door. Evidently Mr. Decorate-Every-Inch had never heard the adage “less is more.”

 

After putting away her groceries and changing clothes, Vanessa hurried back outside to tackle the large box in her trunk. The salesman at the hardware store had groaned and grunted when he loaded the carton containing five-foot high wooden bookshelves. Seeing him struggle worried her. Frankly, she hadn’t given any thought to how heavy the box would be for her to drag inside her home.

 

In years past, her ex-husband handled the heavy work, but Dave and his dark moods moved out last Christmas Eve. With all that followed—learning he moved in with a woman he met online and taking with him all of their savings—she was more than happy to see this year limp to a close.

 

Twenty-twelve had nearly destroyed her.

 

Perhaps it had.

 

The giggling Vanessa her friends all loved had been replaced by a crabby, cynical, complaining woman. At the top of her New Year’s resolution list was “find the giggling Vanessa again.” Maybe by next October, she would.

 

She unlocked her trunk and studied the best way to remove the large carton and get it inside to her living room. How difficult could it be? She wrapped an arm around the box and pulled, hoping to hug it to her side. It barely budged.

 

Shoving the sleeves of her sweatshirt up to her elbows, she put every ounce of her strength into the job. By the time she’d tugged and pulled enough of the carton out of the trunk to allow gravity to upend it onto the street, she was sweating. Then she bent, putting her shoulder to it, held her breath and lifted the heavy item on an exhale and a loud grunt. Vanessa staggered under the weight across her shoulder. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. The carton weaved her back and forth. For a few seconds all she could do was stagger.

 

She made it up the step of the curb to the sidewalk, nearly dropping to her knees with the effort.  Her thigh muscles quivered with the strain of the weight, and she gritted her teeth. “Come on, Vanessa, you can do this.” Thank goodness the walkway to her steps was only ten feet long. She tried not to think of the four steps to her porch.

 

A loud rumble roared down the street, and her stomach clenched. Her neighbor’s behemoth truck—big and loud just like its owner—swerved to the curb.

 

“Nessa! Don’t. I’ll carry that in for you.”

 

How many times do I have to tell him my name is Vanessa. She turned to inform him she didn’t need or want his help. Her movement threw her load off balance. Arms clasped around the box as she fell backwards. Her back slammed on the hard ground. A loud pop sounded as the box thudded across her face. Pain exploded in her nose and head.

 

“Nessa! My God.” Knees pushed into her side. “Here, let me get this off you.” Zack lifted the box off her as if it were no heavier than a bag of air.

 

Wet warmth flowed over her lips.

 

“Oh, Sugar, looks like your nose is broken.” Strong fingers moved from the bridge of her nose to its tip. The pain made her eyes cross. “Hold on, let me get my first-aid kit.”

 

His heat was gone and running footfalls sounded on the concrete. Slowly the spinning stopped, and she blinked to bring things into focus. Was her face smashed? She gingerly fingered her forehead, nose and cheeks and grimaced when she pulled back a blood-covered hand.

 

Zack settled on his knees next to her again. “Some people bleed more than others when their nose breaks. Don’t be alarmed.” His voice was calm and authoritative as he snapped on latex gloves. Cool alcohol wipes were gently pressed across her face.

 

“Ith my noth broken?” My God, was that her voice? Why was she speaking with a lisp?

 

He was shining a light in her eyes. “Good retina response.” Chocolate eyes lowered to within inches of hers, minty breath swept across her face and a lock of dark, wavy hair fell across his forehead. The corners of his mouth twitched as if he were trying not to smile. “And, yes, Sugar, your noth is broken. I’ll do my best to set it so it’s still pretty and straight.”

 

“Thet it? No!”

 

Zack gave a nonchalant shrug. “Set might be an extreme word. I’m just going to make sure it’s straight.”

 

Fingers slowly pressed into her nose. More stars exploded behind her eyes. “Don’t touch my broken noth.” She batted away his hands.

 

“Do you want to be called ‘witch’s beak’ the rest of your life?”

 

“Witheth beak? Ith it that bad?” What would her students think? She could just hear her eighth grade math students calling her names and laughing at her. Still, did this yay-hoo know what he was doing? “If my noth needth thet, I want a profethenal to thet it.”

 

He tore open a paper packet and removed two gauze cylinders. “I’m an EMT. Believe me, I’ve handled worse than a broken nose.”

 

EMT? Was that why he charged out of his house at all hours? Not that she was one to notice or watch his broad shoulders move with an easy grace when he ran.

 

He shoved the gauze up her nose.

 

More fireworks exploded in her head.

 

“Ow! You big thithead. You hurt me on purpoth.” Her one hand tightened in a fist. If he hurt her again, she was going to belt him.

 

Those brown eyes of his held humor. “Thithead? Sugar, we don’t know each other well enough for such intimacies.”

 

“Thop calling me ‘thugar.’”

 

“Can't." His fingers were more gentle now. "It's part of my plan. Maybe if I keep calling you Sugar, you'll start getting sweet on me."

          "Yeah, right."

           "Do you have pain anywhere?”

 

“I think my back might be broken. I heard thomething pop when I fell.”

 

Zack’s hands stilled. “Are you in pain?” His dark eyebrows furrowed. “Move your fingers for me. Good, that’s good.” He shifted to her feet and wrapped his hands around her sneakers. “Push your toes into my hands. Excellent. Now your heels. Good, good.” His fingers slowly worked their way up her legs, probing, exploring.

 

“Thop feeling my legth.”

 

“I’m checking for broken bones.”

 

His hands squeezed her thighs and she shot him a dirty look. “You’re coping a feel, you thex fiend.”

 

“Are you enjoying this?” His gaze swept to hers.

 

“Thertainly not.” Well, maybe a just a teeny-tiny bit.

 

“Then I’m not copping a feel. When I do, you’ll enjoy it. Believe me.” His hands swept over her ribs in an expert manner.

 

“You pompouth jerk. You are tho full of yourthelf.”

 

"And your're so cute when you're miffed about something. Which I gotta admit is most of the time." Evidently satisfied she had no broken bones, he rolled her slightly and peered under her back. “I found the source of the popping noise.”

 

“Oh?”

 

He heaved a sigh. “Yeah, you killed one of my penguins.”