His eyes warmed, and he pulled her closer. He lifted her chin and kissed her softly. “For a long time I wasn’t sure who the real me was. Nobody in Hollywood talks to me about anything real. They talk about movies and women and parties and awards that I don’t give a rat’s ass about. It’s easy to be the wild guy. Good-time Zane, the partier who lives life on a whim. But when I came home for your parents’ anniversary party in the spring and we went fishing with your dad, things changed.”
He looked down at the papers in his hands, and when he met her gaze again, his eyes shone with new light. “Not a single person in your family asked me about acting, or the latest gossip, or what movie I was doing next. You mentioned wanting a bookstore in your bakery one day, and Talia and I brainstormed about ways to get through to kids who have trouble with academics so they don’t end up feeling lost. It’s so different when I’m here. Ben and I played basketball, and Piper gave me hell about anything she could. And your mom tried to get me to use her Sweetwater Spice soap. Remember?”
He laughed, and it brought a lump to Willow’s throat.
“You remembered . . .” All that?
“And more. Your dad asked me what my goals were for this year, and when I answered, I realized I had told him the truth. Not the Hollywood bullshit I spewed out in LA. You guys know me in a way no one out there ever could.”
“That’s called family,” Willow said softly, knowing it was a touchy subject for him.
Emotions swam in his eyes. “Yeah. Being back here is torturous bliss. It’s the place I desperately wanted to escape to prove myself, and in doing so, I got lost. But you never let me fully disappear. You were always there, a text away, turning me down but reminding me of the person I really was. I am not acting with you, Wills. Maybe sometimes when you’d blow me off and I needed to suck it up to remain sane I’d hide behind that fun-guy mask. But not now. No.”
“Z—”
He touched his lips to hers in a tender kiss that felt as though he was sealing a vow.
LYING NEXT TO Willow, listening to the even cadence of her breathing as she’d slept in his arms, had changed everything for Zane. He knew she was worried about his reputation, but he also knew, from every second they spent together, that she was it for him. Willow was as real as real could be, and he didn’t just want to show her how much he loved her; he wanted to be the best man he could for her. He’d gone out to the balcony to read over the project he’d been toying with recently.
“After talking with your dad, I went back to something I’d started—and put away—a long time ago.” He laid the papers he’d been holding in her lap and placed her hand over them.
She glanced down with confusion in her eyes.
“Go ahead, take a look.”
She picked up the papers and scanned the title page. “Beneath It All? A screenplay by—” Her eyes widened. “You wrote this?” She flipped to the first page without waiting for an answer.
Anxiety crawled up his spine. “I haven’t shown it to anyone, and it’s probably crap. It’s gritty and not at all like what you’re used to seeing in the theaters.”
“Shh.” She leaned her back against his side and pulled her feet up on the cushion. The blanket parted, revealing a flash of skin between her breasts.
“Wills, are you naked under there?”
“Mm-hm. Shh.” She flipped the page and continued reading.
He ground his teeth together. Well, that took care of his nerves. Now he was too busy thinking about her naked to worry about what she thought of the screenplay.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WILLOW PULLED THE last tray of muffins from the oven and set them on the cooling rack with the others, filling the oven with two more cakes to bake. She set the hot pads on the stainless-steel table, then grabbed the powdered sugar and sprinkled it over two trays of doughnuts, inhaling the sugary sweetness she knew she’d never get enough of. She pushed the trays of doughnuts off to the side and pulled two trays of mini tarts from the other oven. The heavy door complained with a piercing screech.
“You need to get that fixed, baby girl.”
Willow startled, nearly dropping the tarts. “Mom, you scared me half to death. It’s fine, just noisy.” The oven was on its last leg, but she wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to it yet, and she needed to save a little more money before she could replace it. She slid the trays onto the table as her mother placed a box on the butcher-block counter at the other end of the kitchen.
“I’d say you’re too sentimental, but I can’t. Look at who you’re marrying.” Her mother sighed. “I’m happy for you, honey. And holy moly! There are roses on every surface out there. He really did fill the bakery with roses. I thought the girls had exaggerated. It smells even more heavenly in here than usual. Plus . . . bodyguards?” Her mother’s springy blond curls framed her face.
Willow rolled her eyes. She was glad the crowds were gone, but it still felt weird to have Zane’s brawny security guys standing in front of the bakery. She’d given them each a muffin and coffee when she’d arrived. They were nice, if not a little stoic.
Her mother’s wide-legged pants nearly swept the floor as she went to check out the muffins. “I made you some of that jasmine body butter you love so much.”
Her mother had been making soaps, shampoos, and fragrances since Willow was a little girl. It had started as a hobby, but the ladies in the community had quickly caught wind of her lovely fragrances, and before Roxie knew what was happening, she had more requests than she could handle. Now she sold them in local stores and did a moderate amount of online sales as well. She claimed to put magic potions into some of her fragrances, only she never told them which ones. It was a running joke in the community. Whenever someone got engaged, someone always blamed it on Roxie’s wares. Willow had enough of her mother’s handiwork to stock an entire store. “I have plenty of the lavender lotion you made me a few weeks ago. You should give that to Bridgette.” Mini tart shaper in hand, she began pushing the centers of the tarts down to make space for the cream cheese filling. “You’re early today.”
It was seven o’clock Monday morning, and although Willow was at the bakery every morning by five o’clock preparing for the 8:00 a.m. rush, her mother, who babysat Louie, rarely came by before seven thirty, when Bridgette arrived to open her flower shop.
“It just hit me. We have a wedding to plan! And I wanted to drop off the body butter. You know how soft the jasmine body butter makes your skin.” Her mother waggled her brows.