Translation: he wanted to know what she was saying about him.
“I hate to interrupt.”
“You do not!” Zoe almost snorted her response. “Sit down.”
“So demanding. See what I put up with?” Felix sat and promptly ordered a martini as a waiter passed by.
For the next couple of hours, Felix did all the talking. Luke listened intently as her flamboyant friend recounted what information he’d gathered about him over the years. Luke was the high school lover . . . the man she left behind. All true, and nothing that wasn’t more than an elephant in the room during most conversations. Luke paid close attention when Felix reminded Zoe of a brief affair she’d had over a year before during a filming session in New York. His name was Gary. He was a production assistant infatuated with her, and she was attracted. She didn’t often mix business with pleasure, but Gary had been the exception. As Felix pointed out, he resembled Luke in many physical ways.
The affair lasted several months.
When Gary started asking for more, she cut the relationship off.
No matter who she met, she’d always been too emotionally distant for anything long-term.
Felix insisted on paying the bill and promised to “drop by” River Bend the next time he drove through. Considering no one ever drove through, the likelihood of him doing so was slim.
With Felix’s arm looped through Jo’s as they exited the restaurant, Luke sauntered up next to Zoe and whispered, “So, Gary looked like me, huh?”
She slid her wide rimmed sunglasses over her eyes and stared straight ahead. “We’re not discussing this.”
Luke laughed and mimicked Felix by tucking her arm in his.
“I can’t believe how fast the weekend flew by.”
Luke sat back as Jo and Zoe said their good-byes before they moved through security and onto the flight that would take them both back to Eugene.
“You need to ditch that uniform and come here more often.”
“The same goes for you,” Jo told her as she bent down to tug her duffel bag over her shoulder.
“Tell Mel and Miss Gina I said hi.”
“I will.” Jo looked over at Luke and said, “I’ll see you at the gate.”
She left the two of them alone.
When Zoe turned her gaze on him, nerves sat on the surface of her smile.
“I’m glad you came,” she said.
“I am, too. I see why you like it here.”
“You do?” She seemed surprised.
“Lots going on . . . good friends, great food. Everything you like.”
“I suppose.”
“And none of your family drama.” Which was the real reason she enjoyed Dallas so much.
“They do have a way of reaching me here.”
“Not easily,” he said.
Zoe glanced beyond him where Jo had disappeared in a sea of people walking through security. “Well, you don’t want to miss your flight.”
He opened his arms for the obligatory friend hug. She stepped into them as he folded her close. Luke wasn’t sure who sighed first . . . him, or her. With a deep inhale he sucked in the feel and scent of her and rested his cheek on the side of her head. He considered telling her he missed her, that he wanted a chance.
He didn’t.
With a fortifying sigh, he ended their hug.
Moisture gathered behind her dark, soulful eyes. He wanted to call her on the tears.
He didn’t.
It was his turn to pick up his backpack and sling it over a shoulder.
Zoe watched his every move with a forced smile.
“Tell your parents I said hi.”
“I will.”
“Good-bye, Luke.”
Yeah . . . he wasn’t about to say those words to her again. Instead, he saluted her with two fingers and turned.
He managed three steps before swinging back around.
Luke didn’t give her a chance to back away, didn’t offer an out. He dropped his bag at her feet and pushed both hands into her hair before taking her startled lips with his own. If he thought their hug had made her offer a moan, it was nothing compared to the one they both hummed with their kiss.
She was honey on his lips, sweet and savory and open to explore.
He remembered this. The way she bent into his embrace, the way her timid hands fanned on his chest. The way her nails dug deep when she wanted more. He deepened the kiss long enough to make sure she knew he wasn’t saying good-bye.
This was hello.
Not the kind of greeting they’d shared when they were kids, but the kind adults who knew what they wanted shared at the beginning of something good.
He tasted her tongue, vaguely aware of those people passing by without comment.
As his body hardened in response to her frame pressed against his, he knew he needed to back away. When he did, her head was tilted up toward his, her eyes closed, her lips slack with wanting.
Zoe’s eyes fluttered open and he rested a finger on her lips.
“I’ll be back,” he told her with a wink.
He wanted her back.
The information took root inside his brain and he smiled.
Before she could utter a syllable, he lifted his bag a second time and strutted as he walked away.
The temperature inside the studio felt as if it were ten below zero, hence Zoe and September sitting at a tiny outside table between the buildings usually reserved for those who smoked.
“You’ve been awfully quiet these days.”
September pulled Zoe from her thoughts of Luke in slow degrees. “Hmm?”
“Man, you are distracted. Is everything okay?”
A feral cat regarded the two of them from several yards away. “Everything is fine.”
It registered that September was still talking, but for some reason Zoe couldn’t stop watching the gray and white cat long enough to concentrate on what her friend was saying. As if sensing it was on display, the cat stuck its nose in the air as it passed through the sun that gleamed between the buildings before resting in a shady spot under a lone tree.
“. . . about a man, isn’t it?”
Zoe caught the word man. “What?”
September waved a hand in front of Zoe’s face. “Hello?”
Zoe closed her eyes and forced herself to concentrate. “I’m sorry. I’m distracted.”
“Obviously. I said, this is about a man, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” There was no use pretending. “First, he shows up like fog on the beach, and then he kisses me. Who does that?”
September smiled. “Is that a rhetorical question? Cuz I think lots of men do that if they know what they want.”
“He doesn’t want me. I’ve changed. I’m not the same girl.”
“How about we start at the beginning. Which man are we talking about?”
Zoe was sure she looked at September as if she were missing a few screws. “Luke. You know . . . Luke!”
She raised a hand. “Never heard of a man named Luke in your life.”
“From River Bend.”
“Still have no idea who you’re talking about.”
It dawned on Zoe that perhaps she hadn’t spoken of Luke with September at all. “We went to school together. Took me to prom. We made out in the back of his truck behind Grayson’s farm until the sunrise. He was my first . . .” Her first everything.
“That sounds sweet.”
“Exactly. Like candy. Yummy, delicious . . . but too much and it will make you fat and stunt your growth.”
September’s face twisted in a scowl. “That doesn’t sound appetizing.”
Zoe thought of how he’d walked away at the airport. Full of poise and confidence. The self-assured man she’d known in school. “Oh, he’s appetizing. His hair is always a little too long. Doesn’t like to shave on the weekends.” She touched her cheek, thinking of how that scruff on his face felt against hers when he’d kissed her. How had she forgotten how much she liked those kisses? “
Broad shoulders and gorgeous blue eyes. I was the envy of all the girls back home.”
“So what happened?”
“I moved away.”
“College?” September asked.
“Kinda.” She sighed.
“So Mr. McHottie floated in like fog and kissed you after all these years?”
“Yes. Who does that?”
“Someone who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid of distracting you to get it.”
His parting words sang in her head like a tune. “Then he said, ‘I’ll be back.’ Like he’s the Terminator or something.”
September simply laughed.
Would he come back?
She could avoid him by not going home, but she couldn’t avoid him if he came to her.
And now that Mel was back in River Bend, and Miss Gina called every couple of weeks to ask how to cook something as simple as gumbo for her guests, Zoe wasn’t sure she wanted to stay away from the place where she grew up. She could visit more often, soak in the cooler weather during the warmest Texas months.
What was she thinking? She was setting roots in Dallas. Buying a home, for God’s sake.
One of the grips poked his head out the back door. “You’re wanted on set, Zoe.”
Right. On set . . . something River Bend didn’t have.
One week later Mel called, giggling like a schoolgirl and talking so fast Zoe could hardly make out her words.
Wyatt had popped the question.
A small engagement party was forthcoming and when could Zoe drop everything and fly in?
Three weeks after Jo and Luke’s visit, Zoe was driving out of Eugene, where she’d rented a car through Alamo—the irony didn’t escape her—and was taking the two-hour drive back home.
And unlike any time before, she did so with a smile and a little ray of hope.
Chapter Six
Miss Gina’s Bed-and-Breakfast looked exactly as it had when she’d last seen it. The throwback from the sixties VW van sat polished in the gravel drive, Miss Gina’s baby she’d kept in pristine condition for as long as Zoe could remember.
She no sooner parked her car and stepped out than the screen door on the inn slammed shut and Hope bounced from the steps with her energetic Labrador, Sir Knight, flying by her side.
“Auntie Zoe!”
She knelt down to capture the girl in a hug. “Look how big you are!” Melanie’s daughter was eight now, and Sir Knight was less than a year. A full-grown puppy, which meant he was big, bouncy, and uncoordinated.
“Mom and Uncle Wyatt are getting married!”
Zoe petted the dog while encouraging him to keep his overly large paws on the ground and not her slacks. “You’ll be calling him something other than Uncle Wyatt before you know it.”
Hope had her mother’s blonde hair and easy smile. “He says I can call him Dad now.”
“Do you?”
Hope shrugged.
Zoe didn’t get the opportunity to question her further before the screen door bounced against the frame a second time.
Miss Gina stayed behind on the porch while Mel ran down the stairs much like her daughter had moments before. “I’m getting married!”
She shoved her hand in Zoe’s face before offering a hug. “Look!”
It was sparkly and round and sat like a crown on Mel’s size six ring finger. “It’s about time.”
Mel squealed; the excitement in her voice had Sir Knight barking at their feet and running in circles.
“Can you believe it?”
“It would have been harder to believe if it didn’t happen.”
The wind whipped Mel’s hair in her face, which she swiped away in irritation. “Thanks for coming.”
“You couldn’t keep me away.”
Mel passed her a brief look of doubt before looping her arm through Zoe’s and walking them up the steps of the old Victorian that had been more of a home to both of them growing up than the ones they slept in as children.
In a tie-dye skirt and a billowing blouse that belonged with the car from the sixties, Miss Gina hugged her with more strength than most women her age. Not that she was old. Probably in her midsixties, but none of them had the guts to ask her. “What is this . . . three times in the past year you’ve been back? I’m starting to think we don’t suck anymore.”
“Bite me!” Zoe said without venom.
The floral scent of the parlor, or living room as it turned out, brought back a million childhood memories when Zoe stepped inside.
“Have you been by your mom’s yet?” Mel asked, leaving her small suitcase by the stairs leading to the rooms.
“No. Plenty of time for that later.”
“Probably good to have some of my lemonade before that visit,” Miss Gina said.
The red pitcher sat on a silver serving tray begging for attention. “Let me wash my hands.”
From the floral wallpaper to the scented soap she’d expected at the bed-and-breakfast, Zoe smiled into the feeling of home. No matter where she had landed in the past decade, nothing felt like Miss Gina’s.
She returned to the parlor and accepted the tall glass of “lemonade.” The vodka infused lemonade, or perhaps it was better to call it lemon infused vodka, tasted better than any cocktail at the fanciest restaurant in Dallas. “Is it me, or is this the best stuff ever?”
“It’s the best.” Mel toasted her glass. “I’m getting married!”
Zoe could see how the weekend was going to go.
“So what is the plan?”
Mel set her glass down. “Wyatt’s parents are flying in tomorrow. My dad is coming the night of the party.”
Zoe was a little surprised. “Have your parents met Wyatt?”
“We met my mom in Eugene at Christmastime, my dad was here for the . . .” Mel’s voice trailed off. She glanced at her daughter, who played with the dog, half listening to their conversation.
Mel mouthed the word trial.
The silence in the room became apparent, and Hope glanced up from playing with the dog to find the three of them staring at her. The man who had lured Hope away from the bed-and-breakfast and left her to die on the side of a cliff was standing trial for kidnapping, attempted murder, and murder charges for the death of Hope’s father. Zoe knew there had been a pretrial and also knew that it would probably be over a year before the courts knew what to do with the man. He was wanted in London, which was trying to extradite him back to his home country. The Oregon courts didn’t want to risk him going home and slipping through the British system. It helped that Wyatt’s father was a high-powered criminal attorney, usually on the defense, but in this case more than happy to switch teams and go for the dirtbag’s throat.
The three of them resumed the conversation, omitting any mention of the trial.
“So your dad is coming but not your mom.”
“No, she said the wedding would be soon enough to see my dad.”
“For God’s sake, it’s been ten years.” Miss Gina slugged back a big portion of the contents of her glass.
“Eleven,” Zoe corrected her.
“Even better. Remind me to smack your mom when I see her.”
Zoe laughed. “You’re gonna have to stand in line, Miss Gina.”
“Just do it after the wedding. No drama before.”
It was nice to see her friend glowing.
“So what are you and Wyatt thinking? Church, garden . . . courthouse steps?” The last suggestion produced the look Zoe was going for.
“Bite your tongue.”
“Well?”
“We’d like a garden wedding . . . but the weather is unpredictable.”
“So a church?”
“I suggested a tent,” Miss Gina added her thoughts. “If nature wants to sprinkle your special day with liquid sunshine, you have a place to hide . . . if the sun comes out to play, you open up the sides and enjoy the shade.”
“I think we need to come up with a guest list before we decide. Wyatt’s family has a lot of nee
d to invites.”
“Half of River Bend will expect to find an invite in the local paper.”
“Have you seen my backyard?” Miss Gina added. “There’s plenty of room.”
It was vast, even with the guesthouse she’d commissioned Wyatt to build last summer. Beyond the few acres designated to the bed-and-breakfast was a lot of open space. The closest home to the Victorian was a mile away.
“We have a lot to consider,” Mel said. “Besides, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. This weekend is about our engagement. We have time to talk wedding after this first party.”
“So where are we holding this shindig?”
Miss Gina rolled her eyes. “Here, of course. I was thinking cocktails, appetizers. I liked those shrimp puffs you made last year.”
“Who said I was cooking?”
“Don’t start with me, girly. I have the kitchen all stocked with your favorites, and this one”—she hooked a thumb in Mel’s direction—“doesn’t cook, and everything Sam touches is fried or overbaked.” Sam owned the local diner and only real restaurant in town.
“There are plenty of cooks in River Bend,” Zoe offered one last argument, not that she’d relinquish her spot in Miss Gina’s kitchen for anything.
“Yeah, but there is only one chef.”
The No Vacancy sign was posted at the entry to Miss Gina’s property and then again on the front door. The rooms slowly filled up with family and close friends the day before the engagement party.
Miss Gina refused payment for the rooms but happily accepted the helping hands of those there for the event.
Hope ran around like the perfect little hostess, happy with the attention bestowed upon her.
Zoe had been in River Bend just over twenty-four hours before she left Miss Gina’s to visit her own mother.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love the woman; she did . . . but as the oldest child, Zoe always felt as if the roles between them were somewhat reversed. She’d been forced to take care of her younger siblings early in life. Helped her mom with a budget, something Sheryl was notoriously bad at, and the cooking and cleaning when her mother worked long hours.
Even now, Zoe sent money home to her mom every month to help pay the bills.
Her mom had made some serious miscalculations in her young life. Education wasn’t possible when she found herself pregnant at sixteen . . . the man she married, Zoe’s dad, went on to father all three of them, then handled the stress by being a mean drunk who used his fists to get his point across. The day he went to jail for the last time both labeled her and saved her.
Staying For Good (A Most Likely To Novel Book 2) Page 6