“Hi,” I called. “I realize you may not allow dogs inside. I just wanted to—”
“I won’t tell if you don’t.” She beamed a warm smile at me before darting a quick glance over her shoulder. “It’s slow today and I’m the only one back here now. As long as you’re both well-behaved, I think we could make an exception. Just this once.”
“Thank you.” I felt worn out and wretched, so I welcomed the kind gesture. I murmured to Sir Duke as we approached the glass counters to examine their contents, doing my best to keep his inquiring nose away from the reflective surfaces.
“Isn’t he the cutest thing ever?” She grinned at Sir Duke.
I looked down at him. He was a big dog and easily reached the waists of most folks, so I’d never heard the term “cute” applied to him before. Sir Duke, having just recovered from a cataclysmic case of the shits behind a bush mere minutes before, sent me a guilty expression before looking away.
“He has his moments,” I said, noticing my vowels were going softer the more time I spent here. “Got any recommendations?”
“I thought you wanted to try a Ring of Fire,” a voice said from the side.
I turned, not at all surprised to find Zora Leffersbee lounging at a side table. She looked beautiful, but her expression was slightly pinched. A mug of coffee, steam still escaping, sat in front of her next to an uneaten muffin. Her hair was slicked back into a ponytail of tight curls, a few wisps framing her lovely face. She wore an old university T-shirt stretched deliciously across her full breasts and matching shorts. I averted my eyes from her shapely legs with some effort. But not before briefly daydreaming about those legs and just how good they’d felt, so many years before, wrapped around—
Shit.
I was in trouble.
“We’re fresh out of those, hun,” the woman at the register called.
Zora smiled. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure you could find some other trouble for him to get in.”
I smothered a wholly inappropriate retort about exactly the kind of trouble I wanted in and guided Sir Duke over to her table without another thought. I was unwilling to believe in coincidences anymore when it came to her. I was tired of fighting fate.
Her expression brightened as Sir Duke approached. “So this is the distinguished gentleman.”
I hesitated once reaching her, realizing I’d never asked her how she felt about dogs, never mind one as big as Sir Duke. But she surprised me, sticking out her hand so he could scent it.
“He is a sweet old man.” She grinned at my hound and I was unaccountably glad.
“He is, although I’ll have you know he’s still in his prime.” I stroked his flank and watched the two of them get acquainted. Sir Duke got bolder, unashamed to rub against her leg and beg for pets. She obliged him.
“You mind if we join you? I won’t let him harass you the entire time.”
“He’s fine. And yes, you’re both welcome.”
“Mind if I leave him here with you?”
“Sure.”
I surrendered the leash to her and headed over to the counter. The clerk helped me select a dozen cookies, some strange creation called a dill pickle muffin, and a fat square of brownie. Remembering Zora’s weakness for all things red velvet, I selected a thick slice.
Walking back to the table, tray in hand, I almost stopped in my tracks at the sight in front of me. Zora and Sir Duke, suddenly fast friends. He sat at her feet while she smiled down, baby-talking him.
And suddenly my day was stratospherically improved. What would it be like to come home to this sight? Would seeing her at the end of the day always lift my burden, the way it did just now?
God. I’d almost had it all, all those years ago.
“Good stuff here,” I announced. There was barely enough room to arrange it all on the table. “They even had a dog treat for Sir Duke.”
“Really?” She grinned down at him. He’d curled up under the table, resting his mammoth head on her feet. “I was just thinking that he shouldn’t be left out of all the fun.”
“I’ll give it to him at the end of our walk. He’s got a sensitive stomach and can’t really eat after exercising.”
She blinked at me. “I can’t believe you went out of your way to adopt a geriatric dog with a sensitive stomach.”
I shrugged. “We all come with baggage, right?”
She stared. “I guess so.”
“You want any brownie?”
She peered at the contents of my wax paper. “I should say no.”
I tore off a hunk of brownie and planted it on her side. “It’s Sunday. It’s not a day for shoulds.”
“You too, huh?”
“What?”
“You still look stressed. You’ve got that tired look you’d get when you were working too much and studying all night. Still not sleeping, huh?”
I watched her, thinking we both needed to put each other out of our misery. If I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stop calculating how much better it might be between us this second time around . . . well, I hoped she was similarly afflicted.
“Are you? Sleeping? What’s keeping you up at night?”
Her eyes widened briefly before her gaze dropped to the table. “Just a lot on my mind.”
“Me too. Feels like I can’t quite escape all the memories of this place. I’m realizing now that most of my favorite memories from Green Valley and growing up were with you.”
She kept her gaze on the table. “Well, all that was a long time ago.”
“Was it? Feels like only yesterday to me. For instance, I know you never really planned to eat that bland, dry-looking muffin over there.”
“Watch yourself. Nothing is dry or bland here.”
I bit back a smile at the playful challenge in her voice, relieved to feel us slipping into a familiar rhythm. “Fair enough. But that’s why I got you the red velvet cake.” I slid the plate over to her and enjoyed the way she bit her lip in response. “Because I know you. I know you’ll always treat someone else, always go the extra mile for someone you love while denying yourself.”
“You don’t know me,” she said, and it sounded like a dare. “Not after all this time.”
I decided we were at a place where I could poke back a little. “Are you gonna tell me you didn’t just get in a fight with Tavia?” Her face slackened and her expression went blank as she gaped at me.
“How—?”
I swallowed back a smile at her obvious surprise. “You’ve got the look you always got when the two of you went a few rounds and your post-sugar soother is already in place.” I handed her one of the forks. “Might as well indulge in a form of sugar you’ll actually enjoy.”
Her mouth fell open. One of the curls in her ponytail slid free. I fought the urge to touch it, to test its softness.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” I took a bite of brownie. Salt and sugar launched a dual attack on my taste buds.
It was divine.
“You’re right.” She held up her cell phone and waved it briefly before returning it to the surface of the table. “Just got off the phone with her. She’s having a hard time understanding what the words ‘no’ and ‘resigned’ mean.”
I shoved more brownie in my mouth. We were going to need another one soon. “Some things don’t change, huh?”
“I guess not,” she said, and I couldn’t interpret the look that suddenly crossed her face. “I guess that’s how it is with families.”
I felt a twinge of frustration and sadness, sensing her obvious distress. Zora had always been bothered by the fact that she and her sister weren’t close, even though she’d come to understand that they were simply very different creatures with sharply contrasting personalities.
“I think so. I’ve got a cousin, Emily. She’s so much younger than me, and really, she’s more of a sister. I love her, but I have no idea how we made it this long without us choking each other.” I laughed.
“Accurate. Audre’s away at UCLA, but I want to
kill Walker and Tavia on a daily basis.” She fiddled with a crumpled napkin. “I’ve been meaning to ask you . . . why did you pay for Carly’s son? For his senior trip?”
I blinked at the abrupt topic change. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She reached over, lightning fast, and pinched my forearm. I let out an unmanly grunt, then captured her hand in mine before she did any more damage.
And I held onto it. Her gaze settled on our clasped hands and didn’t move away.
“Now who’s the bully? You haven’t changed at all with your schoolyard intimidation tactics.”
She tugged at her hand in mine. “I was never a bully. Let go.”
“No, you can’t be trusted. I’ll hold on to this until I feel safe again.”
Teasing her, touching her . . . damn, it felt good.
“Why’d you do it?” she repeated, having abandoned her efforts to free her hand.
I heaved a sigh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But if a person were to do something like that, I imagine it’s because he or she wanted to help out a single mother. I had a single mother. I remember how hard it was for her, trying to do everything on her own. And I remember what it was like being a son who wanted more than anything to protect and help his mother. For a kid in that position, one of the worst things you can do is make him feel like a charity case. So whatever you do for one, you do for everyone.”
Her gaze moved over my face as she bit her lip. “What you did, was incredibly kind. I wondered . . .” She looked away, out to the street outside and back to me again. “Are you ready to talk now? About what happened and why you went away?”
“Well, isn’t this cozy.”
Startled, we both looked up.
Jackson James stood at our table, brows raised pointedly at our joined hands.
Who’d have guessed that Jackson James would save my ass in this moment?
I relinquished my hold on Zora and sat back to get a good look at him, this man she claimed to love.
Zora was right, he’d changed. A lot. He wouldn’t pass for the class shrimp anymore, judging from the way his shoulders filled out the sheriff uniform. I’d never liked the classmates who teased him, and I’d spoken up on his behalf on more than one occasion. We’d never really become friends, though, because Jackson had had more than a little asshole about him for years.
He certainly looked different now. I wondered how else he might have changed, and what the hell Zora saw in him.
Jackson smiled the toothy grin I remembered, but his gaze was flat and without expression as he watched me. Cop’s eyes.
“Nick! It’s been a long time.”
I made a deliberate effort to relax. “It has. Good to see you.”
“You did good for yourself, didn’t you? I looked you up.”
I nodded back at him. “Same can be said for yourself.”
“Nah, I don’t think I’ll ever be on Fortune’s ‘40 Under 40’ list.”
“Who says you need to?” I had no desire to follow this conversational trail.
“You’re right.” He smiled wider. “Who needs all that money when you’ve got the love of a good woman?”
He paused meaningfully.
I let silence fill the space he apparently expected me to fill.
From the corner of my eye, I watched as Zora’s gaze bounced between us while she rabidly chewed her lower lip.
“I don’t know if you’d heard that Zora and I are together. Have been for a while now. I’m not sure how I pulled it off, but . . .” He gave a slow smile, one intended to provoke. “But here I am. And damn sure happy to be reaping the rewards.”
I looked down at Sir Duke. He’d lifted his head from Zora’s sandal and fixed Jackson with an unflinching stare.
Jackson followed my gaze to the seventy-pound dog half-hidden under the table, leaning on Zora’s legs. I caught the briefest twitch of the thumbs he’d tucked into his belt loops.
Sir Duke stared back.
I smiled, loving Jackson’s obvious discomfort.
Good dog.
Jackson looked back at the register. “Since when do they allow dogs in here?”
“It’s good to see you, honey.” Zora gave him a meaningful glance, her tone full of . . . something.
He whipped around, face lighting with recognition as if he’d just realized she was there. Keeping a wary eye on Sir Duke, he picked his way to Zora’s side.
As I watched, he lowered his head to Zora, ostensibly to kiss her. Her eyes widened at his approach. She flicked a wide-eyed glance in my direction, turned her head to Jackson’s descending head . . .
The speed at which it all happened made it all the more funny. Their faces met in a collision of foreheads and teeth, both of them pulling away from the ridiculous farce with pained expressions.
It was the funniest thing I’d ever seen and went a long way toward staving off any irritation I might have felt about this display of affection. Jackson reared back, his hand on his lip. Zora rubbed her forehead, frowning.
“Damn, Jackson,” Zora muttered, just loud enough for me to hear.
“You bit me,” he stage-whispered, his fingers tracing the inside of his lip. “I was trying to kiss you, not get my lip chewed off.”
“It was involuntary, I didn’t expect you slam into my head,” Zora hissed, her words only just reaching me.
I watched them, fascinated. These were two people who didn’t kiss all that often, if at all.
“You’re right, Zora,” I said, smiling at them both. Their heads snapped back in my direction. “It is magic when a couple’s nonverbals match, isn’t it? That right there? Pure synchrony.”
Zora narrowed her eyes at me. Jackson shot me a dark look as he straightened, then one of those sly “aw shucks” looks I’d always hated slithered across his face.
“Well. I keep telling Zora that Daddy doesn’t like it when she bites, but what can I say? She’s passionate.”
I didn’t miss the murderous glance she sent his way at that pathetic and highly inappropriate attempt at recovery.
Yep. Still an asshole.
“Oh, I have some idea,” I said, giving him a bland smile. I inspected Zora’s set face. “Z, didn’t you do a video testimonial about that?”
Jackson’s face froze. We both knew exactly what video I was talking about.
“Guess ‘Daddy’ needs a map to find the spot sometimes, huh?”
“Listen,” he began, all traces of congeniality gone, “you don’t—”
“Ugh.” Zora’s face crumpled. “What’s that smell?”
I sat back, laughing. I knew exactly what it was.
Sir Duke, with his impeccable timing, had launched one of his world-famous stink bombs. My dog didn’t spare Jackson the slightest glance, but turned around in a wide circle and managed to back Jackson up a few feet with his perfectly aimed, smelly asshole.
I barked out another laugh.
“He stinks,” Jackson grated, hands on his hips. “I—” He tucked his nose into his uniform shirt, audibly choking. “I’ve got to go anyway.” Turning to the empty front counter, he yelled, “Isn’t this some kinda public health violation? The big ole dog in here, smelling up the place?”
Sir Duke rested his head on Zora’s knee, his eyes big and luminous.
I’d never loved my manipulative dog more.
“Why don’t you get some fresh air, Jackson?” I made sure my face was perfectly straight when I added, “We’ll be all right in here. I want to hear more about the inspiration for Zora’s research.”
Chapter Fifteen
Nick
Retracing my steps to Zora’s office a few days later, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. She was missing right before an important off-campus meeting.
Which wasn’t like her.
Nellie had initiated an email sharing details about focus groups for beta users of our app. Zora responded to the first few exchanges where Nellie provided the initial detail
s. Subsequent emails where Nellie asked Zora to take me along with her? Unanswered.
I tried to push aside my growing concern. Zora was an adult, a superhuman at that. She was fine. We no longer had a relationship in which it was appropriate for me to worry about her.
But some habits died hard. Even twelve years later.
By the time I reached her office door, I was kicking myself for going along with Nellie’s plan. I didn’t need to be ferried around like a guest. I had a rental car in perfect working order. I knew the way to Green Valley.
Not that I’d turn down an opportunity to spend time with her, even if it was just the drive from Knoxville to Green Valley.
Her office door was very slightly ajar. My knock nudged it open in slow degrees.
“Knock, knock.”
At first glance, I thought her office was empty.
It was still enough of a disaster area that my gaze caught on several different areas before I could methodically search the room’s contents.
A paper bomb had detonated. Sliding mounds of paper covered every possible surface of the desk. Tucked away in a corner, the meeting table and chairs were burdened with towering stacks of stuffed folders. More stacks of paper straddled the entire length of the floor-to-ceiling window. Individual sheets were tacked to a corkboard, while others fanned out only inches away from the door’s threshold. The printer in the corner had apparently regurgitated more pages than the holding tray could handle.
Even the framed copy of her favorite Zora Neale Hurston quote hung crookedly on the wall: Research is formalized curiosity. It is poking and prodding with a purpose.
I shook my head, hand on the knob. Zora had kept her room in perfect order growing up. All of her assignments and syllabi were always organized with color-coded folders and binders. She’d created an innovative filing system for all of her college applications.
Sure, time had passed. She might have changed. But this much? I doubted it. This extreme of a reversal was unlikely.
It was hard to reconcile the previous version of her with the chaos I stood in.
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