Zaiden Read online

  “Did you want to stop for breakfast?” he offered. I shook my head, knowing how particular he was about getting to locations by a certain time.

  “No. I’m good. I have a power bar in my bag.”

  “You sure?” he double-checked. He almost looked genuine. Like he cared about me eating properly.

  “I know you like being the first to arrive to a shoot.” I shrugged and silently gasped when his hand touched my denim-clad thigh.

  “I don’t want you to go hungry,” he gently said, his eyes warm and filled with kindness and something else. Something I had seen peeks of, and like usual, watched disappear all too quickly as he looked ahead at the road. I swallowed hard, trying to tamp down how he was making me feel. How that small gesture reminded me exactly of why I would miss him once I moved on from working with him. But cutting ties would be the easiest.

  Cold turkey. Otherwise I would never get over him.

  “I’m fine,” I bit, sounding too terse for my own good, but I couldn’t help myself. Sadness always came off as anger with me. His hand stilled and lifted, hovering over my thigh. “I’m sorry.” I found myself apologizing, breathing easier when his hand returned and gave my thigh a light squeeze. “I’m just tired,” I lied. There was no way I could just blurt out ‘I love you.’

  “Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged, and I caught a glimpse of his elusive dimple. “Rest.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled and shifted in the passenger seat, getting comfortable and closing my eyes.

  I wasn’t tired. I was naturally a morning person, but somehow in the peace of his car combined with his steady driving, I found a way to drift off to sleep.

  ***

  “Honey…” a deep masculine voice called out to me, “Wake up. We’re here.”

  That’s Zaiden’s voice, I noticed in my sleep-induced haze as I opened my eyes to see him right in front of my face.

  “Hey. I must have knocked out.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Come on, we’re here.” He winked before slipping out of his car. I looked out my window and frowned.

  We aren’t at the beach.

  “What’s going on?” I asked the moment he opened my door and I stepped out of the car. I looked around.

  We were in the mountains. Surrounded by beautiful tall pines, a gorgeous cabin in front of us.

  “What do you mean?”

  “This isn’t the location from the email,” I pointed out as I took in the serene environment.

  “It was changed. I sent you the update,” he replied but quickly looked away from me.

  “I didn’t get anything.” I frowned. Unlocking my phone, I refreshed my inbox; a small growl escaped from my throat.

  “No reception?” he asked. I knew he was smiling without having to look at him.

  “Not one bar,” I answered. I noticed we were the only car parked in the drive. “Where are the stagers? And what about—”

  “Like you said, I like to get here first,” he answered, leaving me standing by the car as he walked away and toward the house.

  I followed him. He opened the front door, and I found myself speechless.

  “Wow…” I gasped as I stepped deeper into the house. “Z, this place…” My voice drifted off into silence as I took in the home.

  I couldn’t believe it.

  The place was beautiful.

  If an architect and an interior designer had read my mind on the perfect place to live in, they would have built and put together this exact place. Gorgeous. Open concept. Beautiful, newly redone kitchen that beckoned to be used. Amazing natural light that filtered through all the huge windows.

  “This shoot is for candy?” I double-checked with him. Now standing here, the location didn’t make sense.

  “Ka Lama,” he mentioned, and I turned back to him.

  “The Hawaiian candy store?”

  “Mhmm …” he muttered, and I didn’t miss the way he looked slightly unsure of himself.

  “Z?”

  “Would you like to see the backyard?” he asked. I looked up into his eyes before nodding.

  When he held his hand out for me to take, my heart hitched in my chest. Something about his hand extended for me felt different. He had held my hand before; in jam-packed airports he’d grabbed my hand on numerous occasions as we rushed from one terminal to the next, or at crowded events like concerts or charity functions. He had never asked for it; he had just taken it in a protective manner. Or that was how I usually reasoned it.

  We stepped through the kitchen and out to the backyard, silently walking hand in hand in the cool weather as we followed a trail. Then he suddenly stopped.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked, breaking the comfortable silence between us.

  “We’re here.”

  “Here? Zaiden, this doesn’t make any sense. It’s a Hawaiian candy campaign—” A finger covered my lips, and I scrunched up my face.

  “Turn around.” I did as he asked, and my eyes felt like they were going to pop out of my head.

  “Do you like it?” he asked. I shivered. His body was flush against my back, his lips at my ear. An electric current rushed up and down my spine, making my toes curl in my shoes, and it had nothing to do with the low temperature in the air.

  It was all Zaiden.

  His body heat shielded my back from the cool breeze blowing in the open field with beautiful deep green pine trees surrounding us.

  “It’s...” It was beautiful. I opened and closed my mouth at the sight in front of me, but no words came out.

  The stunning setup was like something out of a girly daydream I’d had a long time ago. Just like the house we had just left.

  A dream come to life, I thought to myself.

  A picnic was set up, but not just any picnic. It looked like the picnic to end all picnics. What from afar looked like all my favorite desserts sat at different levels on a beautiful glass table. In front of the table was a huge, luxurious, champagne-colored mink-like blanket draped over the ground, surrounded by bright white throw pillows made of all sorts of different, beautiful fabrics.

  I forced myself to look away and stared at the top of my shoes. I was wearing Converse. Dingy and old but beyond comfortable for work. This was what today was supposed to be. Work. But somehow, today was more than I could have ever imagined. Like a dream I never let myself hope for. And I had no idea how to react.

  “Say something,” he urged behind me, and I looked back up, the picnic setup still there and not a figment of my imagination. I turned to face him.

  “I....” I started to say something but couldn’t find the right words.

  Looking at him, I saw his dark eyes intensely set on me. Eyes I wish could really see me but over the past twenty-four months hadn’t seen me for more than what I did as a career. I shook my head and cleared my throat. “Ka Lama is candy.”

  “It is,” he responded, giving nothing away, which left me feeling unsettled.

  “Hawaiian candy,” I pointed out. This shoot was supposed to be on a beach, not my dream mountain escape come to life.

  “Right.”

  “Did the stagers get something wrong last night?” I asked, beating away the hope this was somehow something more.

  “No.” He shook his head, taking two steps closer to me, his hands in his pockets. “Merry Christmas Eve, honey.”

  “What?” I swallowed hard. Z calling my honey made my insides melt. It always did.

  “Do you remember last year on the plane from Paris? After Christmas?”

  He didn’t have to remind me.

  We had worked right through the holiday. The weather had messed up an outdoor shoot and everything had been delayed. We made it back two days before the new year. I remembered everything about that trip; I couldn’t have forgotten if I had tried. It had been what I had thought, at the time, a turning point.

  The way we had sat close and whispered so many of our dreams and goals, I could have sworn there had been sparks in the air with the way h
e had looked at me. His eyes on my mouth had made my lips tingle and ache for his kiss. I could have sworn he had finally seen me.

  Instead, we’d landed and headed hand in hand to baggage claim only to find a leggy raven-haired model we had worked with on the job before waiting for him. He had looked surprised for a moment before turning to me, and I had known he didn’t want me there. He wanted to go home with the model, so I’d lied. I’d said I had a friend picking me up, grabbed my bag from baggage claim, and waved at a stranger before I got lost in the holiday travel crowd.

  “You were exhausted. You probably don’t remember.” He almost looked disappointed as I snapped back to the present. “We were talking and I asked if you could imagine what your dream holiday would look like...”

  “No. You asked me what my dream holiday date would look like,” I corrected him, glancing over my shoulder. Holy shit. Is that what he has done?

  Was this a date?

  “Michele.” The tone in his voice made me clench my thighs together. I turned just in time to watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down. I licked my lips.

  Something was happening.

  Something big.

  Meaningful.

  “That still doesn’t explain all this,” I pointed out, not wanting to misinterpret exactly what he was trying to do here.

  “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

  “This is more than nice, Zaiden.” I pointed at the picnic and couldn’t help myself as I walked toward the table filled with treats and my favorite pink champagne.

  “How did you...” I had so many questions running through my head. “Oh, my god!” I exclaimed, my eyes locking on my favorite cookies in the entire world. Cookies I had made him stand in a three-hour line for once. Cookies you could only buy in New York, not in Southern California.

  “How the hell did you do this?”

  “I had help.” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

  Zaiden Klausen did a lot of things, but he didn’t ask for help. Ever.

  “That would mean you had to ask someone for help.” I spoke without thinking, teasing him. The sound of his deep chuckle made me turn and watch him. He was so damn good looking.

  “I did,” he shared, and my smile faltered, unable to believe my ears. “I asked for help.”

  “For me?” I asked. My hands trembled.

  “For you,” he whispered, his voice raw with unspoken emotion. I shivered.

  “Why?” I found myself asking, scared and excited to know the answer.

  “Because what you’re feeling right this instant, if I’m assuming correctly, is happiness. You deserve to feel like that every damn day.”

  “Zaid,” I said softly, unable to tear my eyes off him, even as he became blurry behind my unshed tears while his words played on repeat in my head.

  “I know I’m not easy to be around.” His face scrunched up. “I can be difficult to work with.”

  “Zaiden.”

  “Please.” He took one hand out of his jeans and put it out to stop me. “And even though I’m not what some would call a walk in the park, I thought you were happy. But I was wrong. For that, I’m sorry, Michele.”

  “I wasn’t unhappy,” I admitted truthfully, hating that he thought I didn’t enjoy working for him when that couldn’t be the further from the truth.

  He looked at me for a long minute and then shook his head before he started his short trek toward me. I stood straighter as he approached.

  When he grabbed my hand, we both looked at our fingers, intertwined with one another. The way his hand felt in mine was indescribable. A sense of something so beautiful I couldn’t possibly describe washed over me. And even though a small red flag was waving to and fro, I couldn’t stop myself.

  This was my chance. The only man who had ever made me feel like this was standing right in front of me, and from what I gathered he was offering me, he wanted to hand me the only thing I had craved for the last two years. And I was going to take it.

  “I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted, once again taking me by surprise. My heart raced in my chest. Did he mean that? Really and truly mean it? His free hand cupped my face gently, so damn tenderly my mouth went dry and I couldn’t get myself to utter one word. “Give me today. Let me give this to you.”

  “This?” I croaked.

  “A day.”

  “What about the shoot?” I stupidly asked. I don’t give a crap about the shoot.

  “There is no shoot.” His lips twitched as if he thought I was being cute. “Today is about you.”

  “Z...” I whispered.

  “Please,” he whispered, his voice steady. The depth and heat in his eyes made me dizzy.

  This was it. My chance. One day. One stolen moment.

  What was the worst that could happen?

  Zaiden

  He saw the moment she gave in and nodded.

  Leading her to the blanket on the ground, he didn’t let her hand go.

  “Sit,” he ordered and then winced at how bossy he sounded. “Please,” he added and didn’t miss the way she looked down to hide her smile from him as she sat down on the blanket.

  “It’s my favorite color,” she pointed out, and he cleared his throat.

  “I know.” He quickly shrugged off the detail he had made a point of giving her.

  He had worked harder than he ever had getting all the details set up for today to be all about Michele and her preferences. He grabbed the cookies he knew she had eyed and quickly added fruit and other pastries she liked to the plate before taking it over to her.

  “Here you go.” He got comfortable sitting next to her.

  “You didn’t get anything for you.” She frowned, and he loved how caring she was. It was one of the many things he loved about her.

  “I’ll pick off your plate.” He winked at her and couldn’t help but laugh at the way she rolled her eyes at him.

  It was a running joke between them. He always ate off her plate, and she picked off his. She looked at him, then down at the plate and back at him, but she didn’t say anything. “What’s the matter? Is that not the right cookie?”

  “Everything here is my favorite,” she quietly observed, and he held his body still. A mix of shyness and pride washed over him, which was a completely new sensation for him.

  “I know.”

  “How?” she questioned, clearly mystified.

  “I pay attention.”

  “You do?” The surprise in her face was a beautiful sight. Her eyes were filled with wonder and so much hope he knew he wasn’t wrong about his feelings for her. He knew right then and there, there had been a reason why he had never fallen in love before.

  “Babe, I’ve been around you five to six days a week since you started. You don’t think I know you like strawberries but hardly pick at apple slices?”

  “But—”

  “Like I said, I pay attention, Michele.”

  “Why?” she asked. He stilled.

  He needed to charm her before he laid things out for her. He needed her to see the other side of him. A kinder side she, and only she, brought out.

  “Coffee! I didn’t grab you any. Give me a sec.” He popped up and grabbed two mugs of coffee from their twinkling drink station. He prepared each cup of Joe specifically to their tastes before sitting back down with her.

  “Thank you.” She took the mug with both hands and breathed in the aroma.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “This is all so pretty,” she wistfully shared as she looked out to the dip of the mountain in front of them. “We should make a toast or something.”

  “Let me.” He lifted his mug and watched her lift hers a mere inch away from his. “To you and… new beginnings.” His voice went two shades deeper; he didn’t miss the way she blushed. Her cheeks were the perfect shade of pink before she clinked her mug against his.

  They drank their coffees and munched on snacks as they talked about the past. They reminisced about all the exotic and not so
exotic locations they had traveled the last two years.

  They had started off sitting next to each other, quickly finding themselves closer and closer together. He hadn’t let go of her hand once they put down their mugs, and she hadn’t protested. After an hour, he couldn’t handle it anymore. With his plan set in motion to finally give in to his feelings about her, it was like all the self-control he had built throughout the past months had diminished.

  “Zaid?” Every fucking time she spoke his name, he had to fight against getting hard.

  Except today.

  Today, he was done fighting how he felt for her and keeping it a secret. He lifted her hand and covered it with both of his.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked. His gaze met hers.

  This was his opportunity.

  “Do you know what I thought about you the first time I saw you?” he asked, stroking the top of her soft, delicate hand back and forth.

  “Oh gosh,” she laughed. “I’m kind of scared to guess,” she joked light-heartedly, but he could see the nervousness she was trying so hard to hide in her eyes.

  “Guess.”

  She shook her head and looked away. Her free hand stroked the plush material of the blanket before she looked at him. “That I was a hot mess who had no idea what she was getting into,” she answered with a chuckle, trying to kid around, but he knew she meant it. And it killed him. She wasn’t even close.

  “You were in those Chucks,”—he pointed at her shoes—“faded jeans cuffed at the ankle, a red flannel shirt over a black tank top,” he recalled, feeling his lips quirk up at the memory. “Your hair was a lighter blond than it is now and thrown up in this rockabilly hairdo you sometimes whip up, all wrapped up with a thick black headband.”

  “What?” she whispered, but he ignored her and kept talking.

  “You came in. We were at some warehouse downtown doing a—”

  “Vogue shoot.”

  “Yes. You came right up to me, ignoring everyone around us, put your hand out, and said, “I’m Michele, and I’m about to color your world.” He was fully smiling, and she was looking at him as if it was the first time she laid eyes on him.

  “I was such a nerd.” She winced, her cheeks bright.

  “You were a breath of fresh air,” he corrected her, and her lips parted as a soft gasp escaped from between them. Damn. That little sound. He wanted to figure out what he could do to make her do it again and again.