Beneath the Scars by Melanie Moreland

at them and I wasn’t sure she really wanted to while we were eating either.
    “All right,” she agreed easily. “Whatever makes you happy. It’ll be ready when you get back.”
    I walked down the hall, her words echoing in my head. Whatever makes you happy.
    I wasn’t sure there had ever been a time in my life I was happy.
    I honestly didn’t know if I knew how to feel that way.
    Until she entered my life.

    “This is good,” I complimented Megan. “Especially considering how limited my supplies are at present.”
    “Do you want to go into town tomorrow and get some things?”
    I swallowed the mouthful of omelet as I nodded. “I’ll call Mrs. Cooper and arrange what I need. I have to get some things at the gallery.”
    “Why do you have to call ahead?”
    My hand tightened on my fork. “Not everyone is as accepting or polite about how I look as you are, Megan. It’s pretty quiet this time of year, but I always call ahead and tell her what I need. She has it all ready and I pick it up from the back. I also use the rear entrance of the gallery.”
    “You seem comfortable with her and Jonathon. He mentioned you’re a friend of his wife,” she stated gently. “Ashley, I think he said her name was?”
    “I knew the Coopers…before.” I cleared my throat and shifted in my chair, already feeling uncomfortable. “Ashley and Jonathon have always been kind.” My eyes met hers directly. “Others have not.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    “Don’t feel sorry for me,” I snapped. I hated pity.
    “I’m not feeling sorry for you. I said I was sorry people chose to be unkind because of your scars. There’s a difference,” she snapped right back. A dull flush tinged her cheeks, her eyes glinting and fiery with annoyance as she frowned at me. Despite her anger, I found her incredibly attractive and my lips quirked.
    “What?” she spat at me.
    I shook my head as I chuckled and grabbed the bottle of wine to top up our glasses. I might be low on food, but I never ran out of wine. “I was thinking how I wanted to capture you on film again, looking exactly like that.”
    “Like what?”
    “Like a kitten trying to act like a tiger. All growls and swipes of your little paws as you hiss at me, putting me in my place.” I reclined back, taking a deep swallow of my wine as I gazed at her over the rim of the glass. “You’re very sexy when you’re angry. Did you know that?”
    “Stop it.”
    “It’s true. Your eyes flash, and the color on your cheeks is sublime. Your glare, which I’m certain you mean to be angry, is more of a turn on than anything.”
    “I am angry at you. You twist everything I say.”
    I tilted my head in acknowledgment. “I know. It’s a bad habit I picked up after years of being lied to.” Lifting her hand, I kissed the knuckles. “I apologize. I’ll try harder.” I placed another kiss on her skin. “But I still want to capture you when you’re angry.”
    Rolling her eyes, she stood up, taking our empty plates. “Somehow, Zachary, I have a feeling you’ll get what you wish for without much effort.” She sighed as she walked to the sink. “You seem to be able to make me angry faster than anyone I’ve ever met.”
    I closed the distance between us in two large steps. Cupping the back of her neck, I brought her mouth to mine. “Anger is simply another form of passion,” I murmured against her lips.
    “A tiring one,” she returned in a whisper. “And I won’t ever lie to you.”
    “Everyone lies.”
    “No, they don’t. Whatever world you were in where they did, I’m glad you’re out of it.” She paused, frowning. “I’m glad you’re here—with me.”
    I didn’t want to talk anymore. I didn’t want to think about the past, or groceries, or even what was going to happen tomorrow. All I wanted was to lose myself with her again. To block out everything else.
    I picked her up, striding down the hall with her cradled in my arms, my mouth covering hers.
    She