The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

Zac picked Roxie up at two on Christmas afternoon and refused to tell her where they were going.

That should have been her first warning.

The second should have been the travel mug in his cupholder, the full tank of gas, and the confidence of a boy who had clearly planned something without consulting the person being taken.

Roxie stood beside his truck with one hand on the open passenger door.

"How far?"

Zac kept both hands on the steering wheel and looked straight ahead. "Get in."

"That isn’t a distance."

"You said yes to this date. Remember?"

"I did not agree to leave the state."

His mouth curved. "We’re staying in the state."

"That answer made this worse."

"Relax."

"I hate when people say that right before taking me somewhere against my will."

"You’re holding the door open."

"Because I’m deciding whether to run."

Zac finally looked at her.

His eyes moved over the dark green dress beneath her coat, the boots she had spent ten minutes cleaning, and the loose waves she had fought her hair into that morning.

His expression changed enough to make her forget the argument for half a second.

"You look beautiful, babe."

Roxie tightened her hand around the door. "Suspicious."

"What?"

"You’re distracting me."

"It worked."

She climbed into the truck. "I still want a location."

Zac waited until she closed the door before pulling away from the curb. "You’ll see."

The house disappeared behind them.

Roxie looked back once.

Christmas morning had been quiet. She had eaten toast in the kitchen, answered messages from Karen and Angela, and avoided looking into Claire’s empty room. The bungalow had felt larger than usual, filled with every small sound it made when nobody else was there.

Then Zac had arrived.

Now the heater blew warm air across her legs, Christmas music played through the speakers, and his hand rested near the gear shift between them.

The day already felt different.

She looked at the road ahead. "If this ends in a murder documentary, I’m haunting you."

"I’d follow you into the afterlife."

"That sounds creepy and obsessed."

Zac glanced at her. "You’d like it."

Roxie tried to hide her smile and failed.

They made it twenty minutes before she started complaining about his music.

"This playlist has three versions of the same song."

"They’re different."

"They’re all men whispering about snow. One of them is about a creepy man forcing a girl to stay. Just like what you’re doing."

"That is not what the song is about."

"It absolutely is."

"Don’t ruin it for me."

"It arrived ruined. Let me change it."

Zac laughed. "Leave my phone alone."

Roxie had already taken it from the cupholder.

"Passcode."

"You know it."

"I enjoy making you say it."

"Give me the phone."

She entered the code and opened his music. "You have terrible taste."

She changed the playlist.

The first song came through the speakers loudly enough that Zac flinched.

He reached for the volume.

Roxie slapped his hand away. "Driver keeps his eyes on the road."

"Passenger stops attacking the speakers."

"This date needed help."

"You’ve complained since I picked you up."

"And yet you keep dating me."

"Bad judgment."

She smiled and turned the volume higher.

The drive settled after that.

They argued over music and shared a bag of chips that left orange powder on Zac’s fingers. Roxie bought gummy worms at the first stop and made him eat the green ones because she hated them. He claimed every color tasted the same, which only proved he had no standards.

About an hour into the drive, Zac pulled into another gas station.

Roxie checked the fuel gauge. "You filled up before you got me."

"I need coffee."

"You already have coffee."

"I need better coffee."

They went inside together.

The gas station was crowded with travelers and families buying last-minute snacks. A little girl in a red coat stood near the register holding a stuffed reindeer. Two men in work jackets argued over lottery tickets.

Nobody looked at Roxie twice.

Nobody whispered.

Nobody glanced between her and Zac like they were trying to solve something.

Zac reached for her hand.

He did it easily.

He did not hesitate or check the windows first. He did not wait until they were hidden behind one of the shelves.

His fingers slid between hers in the middle of the store.

Roxie looked down at their joined hands.

Something warm tightened inside her chest.

Zac noticed. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You made a face."

"I have a face."

"A weird one."

She squeezed his hand. "I was thinking about how nobody here knows us."

Zac looked around the store.

A woman carrying two bottles of water passed them without paying any attention.

His thumb moved over Roxie’s hand.

"Feels nice," he said.

That was all.

Roxie nodded.

They stood together near the coffee machine while Zac filled a cup. She leaned against his arm, and he kissed the side of her head without checking who might see.

The cashier called them a cute couple when Zac paid.

Roxie nearly dropped the gummy worms.

Zac only smiled. "Thanks."

Outside, she stared at him.

"You said thank you."

"What was I supposed to say?"

"You could have denied it."

His face changed. "Why would I?"

Roxie looked away before he saw how much the answer affected her.

He opened the passenger door for her with an expression that said he had seen anyway.

They drove for another hour.

The highways widened as they approached the city. Buildings rose beyond the bare trees. Christmas decorations covered the streetlights, and traffic thickened around the shopping districts.

Roxie watched the signs pass.

"You drove me two hours for dinner?"

Zac kept his eyes on the road. "Maybe."

He parked beneath a hotel attached to a tall building covered in warm white lights.

Roxie followed him through the lobby, then stopped when she saw the restaurant entrance.

A hostess stood behind a dark wooden desk. Tall windows looked out over the city. Every table had white cloth, real candles, and glasses so thin Roxie was afraid breathing near them would cost money.

She looked down at herself.

Her dress was nice.

She had thought it was nice when she left the house.

Now she saw women in silk dresses, men in tailored jackets, and a Christmas tree taller than her entire living room.

Roxie leaned toward Zac. "You brought me somewhere with cloth napkins."

"Yes."

"They folded them into shapes. There’s a fucking chandelier."

"I noticed."

"Oh God. They’re judging my coat."

"Nobody is judging your coat."

Zac took it from her before she could change her mind and leave. He handed it to the attendant, then placed one hand against her lower back.

"You look beautiful."

"I look like I misunderstood the assignment." Roxie lowered her voice. "Zac, let’s just go."

"No." His hand stayed against her back. "You look like the reason I drove two hours."

Her face warmed.

Zac smiled. "Come on."

The hostess led them to a table near the windows.

Roxie sat down, picked up the menu, and nearly stood again.

She read the first price.

Then the second.

Then she looked at Zac.

"Did you check the menu before bringing me here?"

"Yes."

"So you knew one meal costs more than my electric bill?"

His smile disappeared.

The words had come out sharper than she intended.

Roxie looked down at the menu.

She had wanted the afternoon to feel easy. She wanted to enjoy the drive, the handholding, and the way Zac had thanked a stranger for calling them a couple.

Instead, one number printed beside a piece of fish made her think about the kitchen table at home, unpaid bills, groceries, and the tips she counted after every shift.

Zac put down his menu.

"I should’ve asked," he said.

Roxie looked at him. "Asked what?"

"What would make you comfortable."

That made her feel worse.

"I’m comfortable."

"You look like you want to escape through the window."

She released a slow breath. "I don’t want to fight about money on Christmas."

"Neither do I."

"This place is ridiculous."

"Probably."

"One dinner should not cost this much."

"I know."

"You clearly don’t."

His jaw tightened slightly, but he stayed quiet.

Roxie closed the menu.

There it was again.

The difference between them.

Zac looked at the price and saw a date.

Roxie looked at it and saw electricity, groceries, and hours on her feet at the Grill.

He reached across the table and placed his hand near hers.

"This is my Christmas gift," he said. "The drive, dinner, the whole day."

"You got me an actual gift too, didn’t you?"

His eyes shifted.

Roxie pointed at him. "I knew it."

"That isn’t the point."

"I’m ordering the cheapest thing."

"I drove two hours so you could order water and bread?"

"The bread is free."

"Nothing here is free."

She looked at the bread basket suspiciously.

Zac leaned closer. "Would it help if I told you I saved for this?"

"I’d tell you you’re lying to make me feel better."

His eyebrows lifted.

Roxie looked at the menu again. "It’s working."

Zac laughed, and the tension loosened.

He slid his hand over hers.

"Order something you actually want," he said. "You don’t have to prove anything to me."

"I’m not proving anything."

"You’re about to order a side salad out of spite."

Roxie looked back at the menu. "Fine."

They negotiated.

Roxie refused the steak that cost enough to offend her personally. Zac refused to let her order soup as her entire Christmas dinner. She eventually chose pasta with chicken, mostly because she wanted it and partly because it sat in the lower half of the price list.

Zac ordered steak.

Of course.

When the waiter left, Roxie looked around the restaurant again.

"You’ve been here before?"

"Once. My parents brought clients here."

"That sounds horrifying."

"It was."

"You had to behave?"

"My mother kicked me under the table twice."

Roxie smiled. "I like that story."

"I was twelve."

"What did you do?"

"I asked why one of the men kept saying synergy when nobody knew what he meant."

Roxie laughed loudly enough that the woman at the next table looked over.

Zac smiled at her.

Then he kept looking.

Roxie noticed after several seconds. "Stop."

"No."

"You’re staring."

"I know."

"People can see."

"I only get to do this here."

Her smile faded.

Zac looked at her openly.

He did not pretend he had been looking past her. He did not glance away and turn toward Mason or Dylan. He did not leave careful space between them because somebody might start whispering.

Nobody here knew Zac Prescott.

Nobody knew Roxie Jones.

Nobody knew about the rumors, Miranda, her scholarship, or every inch of space they had to keep between them in public.

Two hours from Briarwick, Zac could look at her for as long as he wanted.

And Roxie could let him.