Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

LIVE-IN HOUSEKEEPER WANTED

Private bedroom and en-suite included as well as meals.

Ability to cook: desirable. Duties include: assisting with cleaning, washing and feeding animals occasionally. One and a half days off per week, rota negotiable.

Apply by telephone in the first instance.

****

We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

At least, that’s what Zahra Haynes would have said if she had a dog. Or any other kind of pet. As it was, she’d have to settle for speaking to her ancient Fiat as she pushed the little car, weighed down with all her worldly possessions, up the dirt track to the ranch in Texas which would be her home for the foreseeable future.

The car turned past an enormous cedar elm tree, branches swaying in the welcome breeze, and the ranch house came into view. Set all on one level, huge wooden beams and stone supports elevated it above the ground. Three chimneys ran the length of the house. Big picture windows opened out onto a sturdy wooden balcony. The guardrails had seen better days - and when she got closer, it seemed the whole house needed various levels of attention. Ivy crept up the wooden pillars, and weeds surrounded the stone supports. One half of the house appeared weed-free, like someone had been making an effort.

My new boss, maybe.

Captain Caleb “Call me Cal” Syverson hadn’t given her too much detail on the phone. He’d outlined the situation (father died, mother unable to look after the ranch herself, and Cal, and whoever else he lived with were unable to look after the ranch and her at the same time) roughly, and Zahra had spoken to him enough that she thought he’d treat her fairly. 

Without her asking, he’d offered to put her in touch with some references, but she hadn’t followed up on it.

If Zahra was honest with herself, she’d been willing to move across the country to live with a stranger, no questions asked. She’d wanted to escape, and currently, Capt Syverson held all the cards to an easy route.

They’d agreed on a six week trial - either party could then end the contract for any reason.

Zahra stopped the car a few metres from the house. As she opened the door, a large man appeared on the balcony and started down the stairs towards her.

His hair was cut military short, but the buzz cut suited his face of planes and angles, and his full beard. He was broad - broad enough so she could have used his torso as a body pillow, if the fancy had struck. He wore a dark green henley - damn thing fitted him like it was painted on, outlining muscles to make James Bond jealous - unbuttoned at the top, and some ancient jeans, ripped at the knee. Work boots that had seen a lot of mud and sand hugged his feet. Zahra met his gaze - ocean blue eyes - as he came closer.

The man held out a hand. “Miss Haynes?”

She shook it. His palm was callused, his grip firm but gentle. “Capt Syverson?”

“You can go ahead and call me Cal. No need for ceremony here.” He released her hand and Zahra lifted her palm to shield her eyes from the sun. Even sunglasses couldn’t compete totally with the Texas sunshine. “Where should I park?”

“You can put her ‘round back, my truck’s there. You’ve got your own entrance, you’ll see it by the garage,” he directed with the gesture. “C’mon inside once you’ve parked, you must be thirsty.”

Zahra swallowed. She was parched; hadn’t realised how much until just then.

She followed Cal’s directions. Once parked, she saw another set of stairs going up to the balcony that led to a smaller door currently blocked off with a display of pot plants.

Moving around them, she entered through the main door, nearly tripping over a calico cat, who mewled with displeasure.

“I see you met Ranger,” Cal called. Zahra headed towards his voice and found him in a wide, sunny kitchen. The work surfaces were scratched and chipped but clean, and he handed her a large glass of lemonade with fresh mint stuffed between the ice cubes. She took a long drink, as did Cal.

She wouldn’t have been human if she didn’t notice the way a drop of condensation from the glass ran down his throat.

“I’m sorry about your father,” Zahra began, even though she’d said it on the phone.

“Thanks. I’m sorry about yours, too.”

Zahra looked away, pushing down the rising tide of emotion. “Thank you.”

“So, ah - like we agreed,” he drawled. “Six weeks, and if you’re not happy, no hard feelings. And the same goes for me. If it’s not working out, I’ll cut you loose with an extra week’s pay for your trouble.”

“Sounds good.” Sweat pooled between her breasts from the long drive. She could feel her hair sticking to her neck. “Could I freshen up, maybe shower? It’s been a long journey.”

Cal chuckled. “Good thing my Mama’s asleep. If she could see my lapse in manners, I’d never hear the end of it. C’mon, I’ll give you your keys so you can unload whatever you need. Can I give you a hand?”

“I think I’ll shower first.”

“Sure.” He turned to walk through the house. Zahra let herself look for just a moment at what the denim of his ancient jeans did to his spectacular ass, and then she made herself focus on the house. It had clearly been lived in for many years. Plenty of photo frames and knicknacks littered shelves. The decor was aged in each room they passed and Zahra caught a glimpse of a rocking chair, wood shiny and smooth with age, a knitted throw of rainbow colours draped over it and a stack of books on the seat.

“Here we are.” Cal turned a corner and pulled a ring of two keys from his pocket, offered them. 

“Thanks.”

He stepped back and she turned the key in the lock.

A sort of studio greeted her. Small sitting area with a coffee table, TV, bookshelves with a few paperbacks on them. A kitchen stood on the left hand side by a picture window with pretty daffodil-yellow curtains, open to the sunshine. Another door on the right. 

“That leads to the bed and bath. The second key on the ring opens your back door. No one comes into your space without your permission.”

He held her gaze on that last sentence, and Zahra believed he was a man of his word.

“When do I meet your wife?”

Something passed over Cal’s handsome face for a second, but then his expression was unreadable again, those ocean blue eyes calm as a summer’s day. “No wife. Just me and my Mama - you’ll meet her at dinner.”

“Okay.” He was so tall and broad and he filled the doorway almost entirely. Zahra swallowed past the desire that pooled in her mouth just from being near him. “Well…. I guess I’ll freshen up, then.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Cal dropped Zahra off back at the ranch house, telling her to rest after her long journey and that they’d work something out for dinner when he got back from checking the perimeter fences.

Zahra’s stomach was already protesting, and she hadn’t forgotten that the job ad had mentioned that cooking was desirable.

Like her new boss.

She climbed the steps up to the house and almost tripped over the cat - again, bastard - on her way through to the kitchen. The late afternoon sunlight streamed into the room, warming it to humid, and Zahra let out a sigh of relief when she opened the fridge and cold air bathed her.

“You won’t find much in there.”

Zahra barely contained a curse at the female voice. She turned to find a silver-haired woman with Cal’s eyes leaning heavily on a cane, standing in the kitchen doorway. “Um, hi. You must be Mrs Syverson.”

The older woman smiled. “Mrs Syverson was my mother. You can call me Tessa. And you’re Zahra, our new housekeeper.”

Zahra offered her hand, but Tessa waved her off, opting to embrace her instead. Zahra tensed, but then relaxed into the hug.

Tessa chuckled as she let Zahra go. “I’m afraid I’m a hugger, and too old and crotchety to try and change.”

“It’s okay.” Zahra turned back to the fridge. “I’m trying to figure out what to make for dinner.”

The large fridge boasted two sticks of celery, a six pack of Rainout Hazy IPA, one ancient carrot, a chunk of cheese, two onions, and half a bag of spinach. “What on Earth does he eat?” she murmured.

“He eats most days at the diner out in town,” Tessa replied, and Zahra jerked, having forgotten the older woman was there. “I’ll be happy to have him eat in his own house.”

Zahra pulled out the cheese, one onion, the celery and the bag of sad-looking spinach. “Do you have wine, and rice?”

“Take a look in the pantry,” Tessa gestured. “If there’s wine there, open it.”

Doing as she suggested, Zahra twisted the cap off a bottle of a Burklee Hill Vineyards white, set it on the counter. “Thanks. I’m going to make a risotto, I think.”

Tessa settled into a chair at the scarred kitchen table, weathered from years of family use. “I’ve missed having another cook in the house. I loved to cook, but my hands are too bad, now.”

Zahra glanced over, not wanting to patronise the older woman by showing pity, but wanting to say something, include her somehow. “Well, I haven’t made risotto for ages. Give me some pointers?”

Tessa sighed. “You really want advice from a dried up husk like me?”

“I want advice from an experienced husk like you,” Zahra said solemnly.

Tessa laughed out loud. “Touche. Okay. Let’s cook.”

As she measured rice, Zahra glanced back at Tessa. Her thick silver hair was piled atop her head in a messy bun, her blue eyes sharp like her son’s. “I’m sorry about your husband.”

Tessa stared straight ahead for a second, staring out into the horizon. “It’s all still so new. Sometimes I wake up and for the first five minutes, I forget he’s gone.”

“I felt like that for a long time after my mother died. Or I’d go to tell her something and then remember I couldn’t. If only wishing could bring them back.” She started to chop the celery with a paring knife, tears blurring her vision for a moment, her eyes burning.

Tessa was quiet for a long time. Then she said, softly, “Wishing can’t bring them back, but remembering can. Remembering brings them back to us, just for a few wonderful moments.”

Tears spilled on to Zahra’s hands and she angrily swiped them away with her forearm. She opened her mouth to reply, but then the sound of the screen door slamming and the falls of Cal’s boots made the words stay her tongue.

To occupy her mind, Zahra opened the fridge again and poured three glasses of chilled water, setting one by her cooking station, and the other two on the table.

“Hey, Ma.” Cal appeared in the kitchen doorway, pulling his ball cap off and shoving it in the back pocket of his jeans. He crossed to Tessa and bent to kiss her cheek. “Nice nap?”

“They get longer and longer,” she sighed.

“You behaving yourself around Zahra?” he asked mildly.

 “Am I ever badly behaved?” Tessa asked archly. Cal snorted, and then Tessa added, “Zahra’s making risotto.”

“So I see. I’m amazed we had the ingredients. Thanks for the water.”

Zahra looked over her shoulder at him. The henley clung to his sculpted chest, damp with sweat from the day’s exertions. In the triangle of skin the v neck revealed she could see curling, dark chest hair. If she licked him, right there , would he taste salty? Smell like the outdoors, tall grass and sunshine?

Arousal tightened her belly and she bit her lip, refocusing on the food. “I’ll need to go to town tomorrow, get some proper food in.”

“I’ll take you,” Cal offered. He lifted the glass tumbler to his lips and Zahra made herself look away as he drank.

Please do. The words thankfully stayed in her mind and didn’t make it to her tongue. She’d better stay off the wine at dinner. “Er, thanks, that’d be great. Just until I find my way around.”

Cal leaned against the table and folded his arms across his broad chest. The sunlight bathed his face, made his eyes the purest blue Zahra had seen in a long time. He smiled slightly, and the lopsided-ness that small expression somehow made him even more perfect. “Anything I can do?”

Did he have to have such a sexy drawl? Jesus. “Do you have any herbs?”

“I have a little garden,” Tessa spoke up. “Oregano, parsley, the usual.”

“Parsley’d be great.”

Cal snapped to it, and she heard his footfalls on the steps as he did her bidding.

Zahra sighed in relief. How she was going to handle living in close proximity to that tall hunk of sexual temptation, she had no idea.

She drank some water.

“My son is a very good looking man,” Tessa began.

Zahra spluttered the water in her mouth, a cough jerking the glass in her hand. “Uh…. of course.”

“You’ve noticed,” Tessa said admiringly.

“Hard not to.”

“He had a rough time in the Army, but he’s a good man. He might seem gruff, but he’d never hurt you. Of course, unless you asked him to.”

Zahra choked on her second swallow of water. So much for Cal’s mother behaving herself. Maybe she’d need the wine after all.

Chapter Text

Cal poured the wine into his mother’s glass, then Zahra’s, and finally his own. The chirp of cicadas hung in the air as they ate on the raised balcony of the ranch house. All the day ranch hands had gone home, and the few that stayed on site were eating in their own lodgings a mile down the road.

Zahra sat back with a sigh, pleased with the risotto. Considering she’d had very little to work with, it had come out well, the fresh parsley lifting the simple ingredients.

“That was the best home cooked meal I’ve had in sometime, Zahra,” Tessa smiled, patting her stomach. “Needless to say, I’ve never had the like since Cal moved back.”

Cal dropped into his seat, ballcap shading his eyes. “Ma.”

“I know, I know, you were serving your country. But would it kill you to learn not to burn the chicken fried steak? It’s my favourite.”

Cal muttered something that sounded like I’m a soldier, not a damned chef.

Tessa tapped his hand. “No language at the table, Caleb Jonah.”

His eyebrows went into his hairline, but he nodded. “Yes, Ma.”

Zahra watched the exchange with silent amusement. Cal was the biggest man she’d ever seen, but he still deferred to his mama on table manners. A proper Southern boy.

Tessa sipped her wine and then grabbed her cane, getting to her feet. “It’s past time I was in bed. I enjoyed your company tonight, Zahra. And your cooking.”

“You’re more than welcome, Mrs Syverson.”

“ Tessa, ” the older woman insisted. “It’s bad enough I look in the mirror and see my mother. I don’t want to be called by her name as well.” She grinned toothily. “I’m making a list of food I’d like from the store. Be sure to get it from me before you leave.”

“Yes’ ma’am.” Zahra smiled.

“Need a hand, Ma?” Cal asked as he stood up.

Tessa waved him off. “Give me the illusion of competence, Cal,” she chuckled as she shuffled away into the house.

Cal took off his ballcap and raked his fingers through what there was of his military-cut hair.

“She’s a strong woman,” Zahra said admiringly.

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Cal sighed. “Her head’s so big, her shoulders can’t hold it up.”

Zahra doubted that, but she smiled at the image. “Do you really burn the chicken fried steak?” she teased.

Frowning, Cal set his cap back on his head and sighed, lifting his wine glass. She watched his hands cup the delicate stem, wondered how his calluses would feel on her skin. How his body would feel on hers between soft, thin cotton sheets. “It didn’t seem to matter any, not when most of my time was spent trying to keep my men alive.”

Zahra sobered immediately, her heart clenching. “Cal, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t sweat it.” But he looked down, the ballcap hiding his eyes, and Zahra missed the startling blue of them. “What time do you want to go to the store tomorrow?”

She picked up her own wineglass, more to have something to do than because she wanted another sip. A hint of almond danced on her tongue, soothing. “You’re the boss. And I don’t mean that in a sassy way. What’s on my slate for tomorrow?”

He met her gaze, and Zahra could drown in the endless blue of his eyes, the colour of the ocean on a sunny day.

“Well, y’all could help me feed the animals before we have breakfast, first thing. Help yourself to whatever’s in the cupboards. I normally make myself a breakfast taco or eggs and bacon, so you want in, I’ll make extra for you.” A smile turned up the corner of his mouth. “I don’t usually burn the bacon.”

“That’s okay. I like my bacon crispy.”

“Great.” Cal stood up, started to gather the plates. 

Zahra grabbed his wrist, stayed his hand. “I’m the housekeeper now, right? Let me do this.”

“You cooked,” he hedged.

“You hired me to cook and clean. You can wash up after breakfast tomorrow, if you really want,” she smiled.

The setting sun cast a shadow over his bearded jaw, and Zahra suddenly wanted to kiss him, drink in the taste of him, lick the wine from his tongue, scratch her fingers through his beard.

Instead, she let go of Cal’s wrist. “Honestly, let me.”

“Thank you.” He held her gaze for a hot second, and then stepped back from the table. “Good night, Zahra. If there’s something you find you need, help yourself to anything in the house. I mean it.”

“Thanks, Cal.”

She let herself watch the sway of his hips as he left the table and disappeared into the house. Holy God, what a man. Then bent herself to the task of cleaning up after dinner, loading the dishwasher, scraping the plates. She corked the wine, put it back in the sad fridge. What did Tessa eat? She’d make sure that the gem of a woman got every damn thing on that list.

Exhausted from her journey and the social obligations of today, Zahra dragged herself to the little apartment within the big house, shutting the door on a long sigh.

She opened the window, leaned out, looked at the stars that were just winking into sight in the huge expanse of Texas sky, smudges of greys and blacks and red, as far as she could see. 

The cicadas’ song and the twitter of birds relaxed her as she slowly undressed to just her underwear before slipping into the bed.

And if she touched herself to the thought of the scrape of Cal’s beard, to the endless blue of his eyes, it was only because she needed to relax her muscles enough to sleep. And if his deep Texas drawl crept into her dreams, it was only because her brain was processing the big day she’d had.

When she woke up, some time in the middle of the night, Ranger was curled at her feet on the bed, purring to beat the band, and Zahra thought: note to self - close the window.

Chapter Text

Cal woke early, as usual - the habit had been drilled into him by Uncle Sam, and old habits died hard. 

The sun was just starting to rise over the horizon, rays casting reds and pinks and yellows across the huge canvas of the sky. The clock struck six a.m as he padded into the kitchen - sparkling clean.

Had it been this clean since he’d come back from deployment? The surfaces all but sparkled. When Zahra said she’d clean up after dinner, he hadn’t expected her to deep clean the entire damn kitchen.

Shaking his head, he opened the fridge - then remembered that it was empty. No bacon or eggs.

“Well, shit,” he muttered, and started to root around the cupboards for something else to eat.

After five minutes, he found oatmeal, opened the bag, sniffed. It smelled all right. Oatmeal didn’t go bad, did it? Even out-of-date oatmeal would taste better than MREs. 

He decided to put the theory to the test, and measured out enough oatmeal to feed the three of them, then put a pot of strong coffee on.

His mind wandered to Zahra as he worked. The graceful way she moved. The soft cadence of her voice.

My father’s in jail.

He hadn’t asked many questions, although she’d given him the bare bones on the phone interview. Embezzlement and shame. Who wouldn’t up sticks like she had?

Beyond her kindness to his mother - couldn’t she be a trip sometimes - there was her unquestionable beauty. He hadn’t missed the way her gaze had lingered on him. There was something there, but only a certain kind of man rolled in the hay with an employee.

Cal wasn’t going to follow his father’s footsteps. There’d been enough heartbreak in the Syverson family.

Ranger hadn’t made his appearance yet. Usually the damned cat was up with the rooster, meowing plaintively about being half starved to death.

The crafty feline had probably gone to bunk with Zahra.

Lucky bastard.

A door elsewhere in the house creaked, and a few minutes later, Zahra appeared in the kitchen doorway, wearing a long flannel shirt and pyjama shorts. Her hair was tousled from sleep, her face rosy, and desire tightened Cal’s gut so quickly that he couldn’t catch his breath.

“Morning, Cal.”

“Uh, mornin’,” he stammered. Jesus, he sounded like an untried boy. “You want oatmeal? My grand plan to make bacon and eggs sort of… fell flat.”

She pushed a hand through her hair. “I - sure, that sounds-” her words turned into a gasp as Ranger ran full pelt into the kitchen, knocking her off kilter. In a flash, Cal abandoned the oatmeal pan and deftly caught her against his chest. She felt tiny, barely reached the top of his shoulder, the fine bones of her wrists like a delicate bird in his hands.

But she had inner strength that belied her size.

Zahra looked up into his eyes, blinking. “Ah, sorry. It takes me a while to wake up in the morning.”

“Damn cat,” he agreed, looking for it.

The animal sat on the windowsill, licking its genitals.

Cal righted Zahra and cupped her shoulders. “You okay?”

“Yes. Thanks. Um, I’ll pour the coffee?”

They got to work separately, the smell of the cooking porridge filling the kitchen.

“What do I even put in this?” Cal asked, stirring the oatmeal without any optimism.

Zahra glanced over. “Well, let me have a look in the cupboards.” She set a mug of coffee down by his elbow as she opened one of the big wooden doors.

Cal looked down. The coffee was black, steaming hot. She’d moved around him like she belonged. Wasn’t that something?

“Here we go…” She started gathering little packets in her hands, and then ferreted around in the drawer by her feet for a bowl. “Dried goji berries, some cinnamon sugar, a few walnuts….” She grabbed the mortar and pestle she’d used for the risotto and crushed it all up. “Add this when the oatmeal is done. It’ll really lift it.”

Cal eyed the bowl she held out suspiciously. “That sounds like something those TV chefs say.”

“Probably, but doesn’t make it less true.”

He took the bowl, turned the heat down, dumped the stuff in. The smell of cinnamon started to drift up to his nose. Okay. It smelled good. Not as satisfying as the smell of frying bacon, but a man had to take what he could get.

Tessa entered the room just as Zahra set a little cup of lavender on the table, a sort of centrepiece.

The older woman’s cane scraped against the floor and Zahra hurried to hold a chair out for her.

“Breakfast made, I see. A body could get used to this. And healthy oatmeal, too,” she praised. 

Cal rolled his eyes. “I didn’t miss that side-eye, Ma. We’re out of bacon and eggs, as you well know.” He dished up the doctored oatmeal, noting that while he’d been finishing it off, Zahra had set out cutlery and folded kitchen paper as napkins.

The whole thing looked… nice.

No one had done this for him, or his mother, for a long time.

As he sat down, he met Zahra’s gaze as she picked up her spoon. Heat snapped in her dark eyes, and he had to adjust himself under the table to cover the fact that just a hint of attraction on her face had his body at half-mast. God help him if she actually touched him below the belt.

“Costco after I show you the ropes of animal feeding time?”

“Sure.” Zahra spooned up some oatmeal, her tongue flicking out to lick a rogue goji berry. Cal groaned inwardly. “Whenever you’re ready. You’re in charge.”

Hell if that didn’t go straight to his groin.

“Something wrong, Cal?” Tessa asked, her tone innocent in a way that said she saw everything. “You look kinda constipated.”

Chapter Text

Once again, Zahra found herself entirely too close to her Greek God of an employer in his Jeep. The vehicle was solid and broad, like Cal, but his denim-clad thigh was still right there and all she had to do was move her hand across-

“It’s not far.” Cal’s deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

She needed to stop thirsting over Cal Syverson, even though his mother seemed to heartily approve.

“Thanks for taking me. I’ll go on my own, next time, of course.”

He sent her an unreadable look and stopped at a red light.

They’d fed the animals together after breakfast, working together smoothly even though they hardly knew each other. What did that mean?

Zahra’s head hurt, and it was no longer from the long journey here. Cal turned her around, messed her up inside, and she couldn’t see through the storm of her emotions.

“Can’t say I’m gon’ miss the Costco run.”

Zahra bit her lip to stifle a giggle.

Cal glanced at her as he took a right turn. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m just imagining you, with your mom’s list, trying to find half the things in vain and refusing to ask for help.”

He scowled. “I don’t need help to find damn Grape Nuts.”

“But did you find them last time?”

He looked away. “They must’ve been sold out.”

Zahra turned her laugh into a cough. “Right.”

“Go ahead and laugh. You’ll be doing it from now on,” he groused, but Zahra heard the smile in his voice all the same.

He parked up outside the store, the huge building looming, casting a long shadow in the early morning sun, already hot at eight thirty in the morning.

Zahra swung out of the passenger door and tried not to obviously ogle Cal as he closed the driver’s door and locked it. Today he wore a black Queens of the Stone Age t-shirt over battered black jeans that hugged his magnificent ass like a lover. His ball cap was pulled over his buzz-cut hair, the brim just drawing more attention to his vivid blue eyes.

“Easy to get lost in here,” Cal grumbled as they headed for the cart storage area. 

Zahra grabbed one. “You can stay in the car, you big baby.”

“Watch it,” he muttered. “You’re still on probation.”

She rolled her eyes because that was so not true, and pushed the cart through the big automatic door of the store.

Tinny music played from the overhead speakers and Zahra stared up at the various hanging signs for the myriad number of sections and sub-sections, blu-tacing Tessa’s list plus her own to the cart handle.

“Fresh produce first,” she decided. Cal trailed along after her, drawing his fair share of interested female glances as they walked together.

“Do you get hit on a lot when you come here?” Zahra asked idly, adding a 6-pack of peaches to the cart.

“I guess. Don’t all guys, when they go buy food?”

“Uh, no,” Zahra snorted, tossing in a packet of goji berries. “Not at all. Look at you, a big hunk of man, buying stuff to care for your family. That’s attractive.”

“It’s boring, is what it is.”

“Which is why seeing you makes it interesting. And now all these women think we’re together and they hate me.”

A slow grin spread across Cal’s face. “It’ll go faster if no one tries to speak to me.” He slung an arm around Zahra’s shoulders.

The brush of his arm against the back of her neck made the tiny hairs on her skin stand up on end, made lightning awareness at the contact zing through her, but she said nothing, but froze, trying not to show how much she wanted to climb him like a tree, right there in Costco, and fuck him into next week.

Cal sensed her discomfort and moved immediately, chagrin turning his mouth into a frown. “Uh, sorry. I was just teasing. Won’t happen again.”

“No problem.” Zahra tried for breezy but her words sounded terse even to her own ears. “It’s really fine. Let’s go get some vegetables, shall we?”

Their easy camaraderie didn’t come back in the veg section, so Zahra gave Cal half the list and sent him away. As he walked off down the cereal aisle, she already missed him, and gave herself a mental shake. You’ve had spots for longer than you’ve known this guy .

She made herself focus on Tessa’s list, picking up a multi-pack of chicken thighs, and steaks, then seeing an offer on a grill pack, she grabbed that too.

When she eventually found Cal again, he was surrounded by three women in the freezer section. They looked like lionesses circling a dying zebra.

For a second, Zahra thought: he’s a big boy, he can cope. Then, she remembered his face when she’d frozen at his casual touch, and decided, what the hell. She could ride to his rescue just this once.

“ There you are, cupcake,” she called down the aisle.

Cal turned, relief parading over his face. “Hey, ah, sugar,” he responded, then began to extricate himself from the vultures. “Sorry ladies - looks like I’m gon’ have to say goodbye for now.”

One of them blew him a kiss as he walked towards Zahra as fast as those long legs would carry him.

“Cupcake?” he asked, once they were out of earshot.

“I couldn’t resist.”

“You’re forgiven. Thanks. Listen, about earlier..” His gaze searched hers, his blue eyes serious. “I didn’t mean anything by it, and I’ll never touch you again without your express permission. I’m not that kind of man, Zahra.”

“I know.” Zahra settled a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry too, I overreacted. But thanks - my impression of you is that you’re a good man, and you’ve done nothing but confirm that since I arrived.”

They passed the rest of the shopping trip in a sort of awkward silence, but when they were seated back in the Jeep, Zahra turned to Cal. “I have something to say.”

He quirked a brow up.

“When you put your arm around me earlier-”

“Zahra, I swear, it won’t happen again.”

“No, no - just listen,” she added hurriedly. “It isn’t what you think. No one’s hurt me - not like that. I froze because….”

His gaze stayed steady on hers. “If I’ve done wrong by you, tell me,” he said steadily.

She licked her lips. This could change everything. “I froze because I’m very much attracted to you, Cal.”