Staying For Good (A Most Likely To Novel Book 2)

by Catherine Bybee

  Someone caught his arm before he could swing again.

  He heard Zoe calling his name, stopping him.

  Mel and Miss Gina were helping Zoe to her feet, Felix held Luke’s arm . . . and the entire production company was standing in the doorway.

  His breath came in short pants.

  Luke turned his attention to Zane, who was looking at Zoe with what appeared to be remorse in his eyes.

  Miss Gina’s voice rose above everyone’s heavy breathing. “You’re not welcome here, Zane Brown. I don’t know who told your mother not to come on Saturday, but if this is what we can expect, she can just stay away. No one is going to ruin Melanie and Wyatt’s day.”

  Zane’s gaze moved from the women to the crowd, then to Luke.

  Felix pulled him back while Zane jumped behind the wheel and kicked up dirt as he sped away.

  All the attention turned on Zoe the moment Zane was gone.

  She trembled. “I shouldn’t have touched him.”

  Luke reached her in two steps and took over for Mel and Miss Gina.

  Felix waved his hands in the air as he walked in front of them. “Drama is over . . . everyone get that kitchen cleaned up. We have a wedding to prepare for.”

  Zoe couldn’t stop shaking. She’d taken a shower, cleaned the scrapes on the palms of her hands . . . and downed a full glass of Miss Gina’s special lemonade. The trembling didn’t stop.

  “I shouldn’t have touched him.”

  “Stop, Zoe. He pushed you. He had no right.” Mel sat on the edge of the bed while she dressed.

  Jo hadn’t dressed in something other than her uniform in what seemed like forever. “I can bring him in. Just say the word.”

  “No. Please. Tension is high . . . that’s all. Ziggy is spreading shit. My mom is being an idiot.”

  “Don’t justify bad behavior.”

  Zoe knew how her words sounded. Knew the pattern her mother had taken for years. “If it happens again, you have my blessing. Let this go. He didn’t go after Luke when he punched him.” She tried to hide the tremor in her hands and failed. “Good God, I feel like I need a Xanax.”

  Mel grasped both hands in hers. “It’s okay. You have a right to be shook up.”

  “I’m sorry, Mel. I don’t want any of this touching you.”

  Mel looked at her as if she were crazy. “You mean everything to me, Zoe. I hate that this is happening to you. But I’m glad I’m here to hold your hand and talk trash about the whole lot of them.”

  Zoe pulled her into a fierce hug. “I love you.”

  Mel hugged her back. “I’m already taken.”

  The three of them worked their way downstairs together. The voices in the living room faded from whispers to nothing when they entered.

  Jo called out everyone in the room. “Could you be more obvious?”

  Luke was on his feet and at her side. “Feel better?”

  “I’m fine.” She took his hand, knew he had to feel her shaking.

  Felix winked at her from across the room. “You get the award for crazy family, Zoe.”

  “Let’s just keep Ziggy from showing up.”

  Jo sat on the arm of the sofa. “I’m already on that.”

  “Oh?” Wyatt had joined the group and sat beside Mel.

  “A couple of my friends from Waterville agreed to keep an eye on things.”

  Zoe read through those lines quickly. “Not a bad idea. I’m sorry it has to be that way.”

  “Enough, Zoe. Not your fault. I don’t want to hear another word.” Mel used her Mom voice.

  Zoe bowed out.

  Luke pulled her closer.

  Felix leaned close to Mel. “How do you get her to stop arguing so easily?”

  “Practice.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Waterville was the next closest anything to River Bend. It was three times as big, with a lot more anonymity to suit the needs of Ziggy Brown.

  Jo was certain it was only a matter of time until the man pushed his limits and found himself in the town where he’d committed the crime that put him away for close to two decades of his life.

  Jo walked into the tractor supply store and straight to where the semi drivers dropped off their shipments.

  She wasn’t wearing her uniform, something she did with purpose. She was pissed, more than she’d been in a long time, and wearing a uniform would probably set her in the mood to cuff the man she was coming to see. Since she’d promised Zoe she wouldn’t do that, Jo left her badge behind.

  There was, however, a .38 strapped to her ankle—she wasn’t stupid.

  Zane Brown wore the light blue issued uniform shirt with the logo of the store and a belt around his waist to help protect his back.

  Jo was fairly certain her presence in the employee only section of the warehouse caught the attention of a few people. She also knew that when you acted like you belonged somewhere, people seldom called you out.

  She approached Zane, who had yet to notice her walking in.

  He was helping a driver stack boxes half his size onto a dolly.

  The man inside the truck noticed her first.

  That’s when Zane’s startled gaze found hers.

  With one look, she knew he understood this wasn’t a social visit.

  The truck driver eyed her with a slight smile.

  Not gonna happen, buddy.

  After a few more stacked boxes, Zane made his excuses and walked toward her.

  “Zane.”

  “Sheriff.” He said her title softly enough to avoid anyone else hearing it.

  “You have a minute?”

  “I’m kinda busy right now.”

  Jo tilted her head. “You have a minute.” She turned and walked out of the warehouse and into the massive parking lot.

  It took Zane less than a minute to find her side.

  Their eyes locked before he broke his gaze away. “I didn’t mean to push her.”

  “Half a dozen eyewitnesses would disagree.”

  Zane shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “How is she?”

  “She’s hurting, Zane!” Jo pushed two fingers into her own chest. “Right here. I don’t know what crap Ziggy is feeding all of you, but he is going to destroy you.”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  “Oh? And how are you going to stop it? I have every right to pull you in right now. With your record, you’d be in just long enough to lose this job and meet some new friends who might have bunked with your dad.”

  Zane had the good sense to look worried before he did a great job of studying the dirt on his steel-toed shoes.

  “I need two things from you.”

  Zane lifted his chin, and she continued, “None of you show up for the wedding. Zoe doesn’t need the stress and Mel deserves her day.”

  He nodded. “And the other?”

  Jo glanced around the truck yard. “You have a set schedule here?”

  “Late shifts Tuesdays and Thursdays. Early days Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays for shipments.”

  “Six a.m. Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “River Bend High on the track.” Jo patted his arm, made sure he understood this wasn’t negotiable. “Bring your running shoes.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Jo lifted both her palms to the sky and moved them in opposing directions. “Life is full of options, Brown. You meet me at six on Tuesday or I meet you . . . your choice.”

  Jo turned on her heel and was fairly certain she heard Zane cuss at her as she walked away.

  The rehearsal and subsequent dinner went off without a hitch. Even the former Mr. and Mrs. Bartlett pulled it together long enough to get through their first dinner together in eleven years.

  Mel made the menu choices and Zoe made it happen. Well, she directed her soon to be overworked staff to make it happen.

  And Jo played maid of honor.

  Mel didn’t want to pick between them for the top spot, but the certi
ficate of marriage only had one line for a witness to sign on the bride side. Zoe backed out to give Mel the ease of knowing she wasn’t offended. Besides, Jo lived in River Bend and deserved the honor.

  Once the dinner was over and the majority of guests who weren’t staying at Miss Gina’s had left, Zoe and Mel left the inn to have their final night as single women at Jo’s house.

  They opened a bottle of wine Zoe had been saving since she arrived in River Bend and paired it with microwave popcorn.

  The singular focus was on Mel.

  Zoe watched her all night and couldn’t help but think she glowed.

  They dressed down the second they made it to Jo’s house. Braless, with their faces clean of makeup, they turned on music they all enjoyed and curled up in Jo’s living room.

  “It’s really weird drinking in this house, Jo.” Zoe looked at the mantel, which held the flag that was once draped over Sheriff Joseph Ward’s casket. It sat in a triangular frame with a plaque given to her the day of the funeral.

  Zoe would never have considered drinking in Sheriff Ward’s home unless invited by his own daughter.

  Jo gave a sideways glance at the symbol that reminded them all of her dad.

  “I didn’t have a problem with that when I was a kid . . . get over it.”

  Mel laughed and lifted her glass for Zoe to fill.

  “I thought wine was safer than tequila,” Zoe said.

  “God, yes.”

  Zoe tipped the bottle to Jo’s glass next.

  “When was the last time we sat around—just the three of us—drinking tequila?” Mel asked.

  “Graduation.”

  Zoe shivered, filled her glass.

  “God, I feel old,” Jo said.

  “High school graduation . . . how is that possible?”

  “It’s simple. Mel went to college.”

  “Lot of good that did.”

  Jo waved her off. “And you moved away as fast as the Greyhound bus could take you.”

  Zoe set the bottle down. “Ironic, isn’t it? I always thought you’d be the one to leave first, and you’re the one who stayed.”

  More than one set of eyes lingered on the flag over the fireplace.

  “Do you think about him?” Mel asked.

  “All the time.”

  They marinated in their own thoughts for a brief moment before Mel said, “Can you believe my parents made it through the night?”

  “No!” Jo protested first.

  “They better continue throughout tomorrow.”

  Jo pushed her feet under her butt on a side chair. “I think Miss Gina put the fear of God in both of them the minute they hit the door of the inn.”

  “And if she didn’t, I did.”

  Both Mel and Jo turned to her.

  “What?”

  Jo and Mel had expectant eyes. “What did you say?”

  “I said . . . ‘You ruined the night of our graduation, don’t screw up her wedding. Whatever issues you might have, deal with away from here.’”

  Mel’s jaw dropped. “You did not.”

  “I most certainly did.”

  “What did my mom say?”

  “She told me I was exaggerating. To which I let her know that we went through a half a bottle of Cuervo the night of our graduation, and you puked for hours the next morning.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did. Why not? It was shitty of them to tell you they were splitting when you were handed your diploma. People can split, that’s fine, but have some respect for life’s milestones.”

  Jo started to laugh until she lifted her hand in a high five.

  “God, I love you.”

  “Yeah, well, I expect the same of you if I ever get married. My family would be a disaster. I’d be better off eloping.”

  “Speaking of . . .”

  Zoe glanced at Jo.

  “Luke? How is that going?”

  Zoe bit her lip. “It’s . . .” She sighed. “Amazing. I’m afraid to say that out loud.” And she was.

  “Why?”

  “I’m going to jinx it.”

  Mel sipped her wine. “How can you jinx it? You’re already in a divisive situation and you’re making it work.”

  “We are, aren’t we?” Her in Texas . . . him here in Oregon. Crazy family, her career.

  “You know what I overheard?” Mel was already reaching for more wine.

  “What?” Jo asked.

  “Felix was talking to that Rupert guy about future features. Have they asked you for more filming at Miss Gina’s?”

  “Felix mentioned it—”

  “Ahhh!” Mel was the excitable one.

  “Mentioned, Mel. Directors do that all the time.”

  A splash of disappointment washed over her face.

  Jo called Zoe out. “You’re just being cautious.”

  “Felix likes anything other than Texas. It helps that he just broke up with his boyfriend. I love him, but a couple of weeks in River Bend and the flowery disposition will wear off.”

  “I like it here,” Mel said.

  “So do I,” Zoe defended. “But Felix is all fancy food and men with the same sexual tastes. How many gay men can we set him up with in River Bend?”

  Jo and Mel exchanged glances.

  “I got nothin’.”

  Mel laughed.

  “He doesn’t have to live here,” Jo said. “Come in to film your amazingness and off to Eugene.”

  The thought had crossed her mind but never went very far.

  “One thing at a time.”

  Mel squealed. “I’m getting married tomorrow.”

  Both Jo and Zoe sat forward, glasses in the air. “To a long, happy, healthy life,” Zoe said.

  “To great sex!” Jo added.

  Mel flapped her feet like flippers in the sea and they laughed.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  For all the events Zoe had managed to be a part of in her life, a wedding wasn’t one of them.

  Never been in one . . . never catered one. Hell, she never believed in one.

  Go time was three in the afternoon. But before Zoe and Jo preceded Mel down the aisle, they had some serious needs to be met.

  Two women from Waterville drove down to ensure they all had pretty fingernails and polished toes. Mel sat in the queen chair with Zoe’s stylist working her hair into an updo. Something they’d all have before putting on their dresses.

  Both Mel and Jo sat with their feet in hot water when Zoe ducked out of Jo’s house to check on the staff cooking their lives away at Sam’s.

  A light dusting of white cloud floated overhead.

  With no makeup, her hair pulled back in a knot, and wearing sweatpants that said Juicy on her ass, Zoe ran in the back door at Sam’s.

  Her impressions came fast. There were four butts cooking in a two-butt kitchen. Pasta boiled on an open flame. Ernie stirred what smelled like a cream sauce. Brenda stood over a prep sink, cleaning vegetables, and Tiffany was yelling out the time.

  “I totally won!” Ernie glanced over his shoulder, fist pumped the air, and went back to his sauce.

  “Won what?” Zoe asked as she made her way to the ovens, opened a door, and then turned down the heat by a hair.

  “They are betting on your OCD tendencies,” Brenda explained.

  “My OCD what? I’m not OCD.” Zoe lifted the spoon in Ernie’s work, dipped a finger, and took a taste. “Perfect,” she said before moving to another station.

  “Yes, you are.” Tiffany removed a Styrofoam cup from the window and turned it around so Zoe could read the writing on the side.

  Everyone in the kitchen had their name scribbled in ink and a time.

  “What is that?”

  Tiffany pointed to her name. “I thought you’d be here an hour ago. Ernie was off by five minutes, but the next time is Dell’s, and she has you down for a half hour from now.”

  “That’s because I thought she was getting her nails done first,” Dell said from the other side of the
kitchen.

  Zoe rolled her eyes, glanced at the money inside the cup, and pushed out her chest. “Ten bucks a bet?”

  “Go big or go home,” Ernie said.

  “You guys are bad.”

  Laughing, she finished her rounds and glanced at the time. “Shit, I gotta go.”

  As she retreated, she heard Tiffany say when she was just out of sight, “Okay, bets for round two.”

  Wyatt and Luke sat on Miss Gina’s back porch, watching a team of busy hands setting up chairs, makeshifting an arbor, placing flowers on every possible surface or rock.

  “What do you think the women are doing right now?” Wyatt asked.

  “I doubt they’re watching TV.”

  Wyatt laughed.

  “It looks nice.”

  “It does. Mel did an amazing job.”

  The tent for the reception sat on the north side of the property. So far, the weather was cooperating, and it appeared that they’d be able to have the ceremony in the sun and dance the night away in the tent.

  Wyatt pointed to a flatbed truck that was bringing in extra tables. “Do you think we should help?”

  Luke shrugged. “I think someone will yell at us if we do.”

  Wyatt swung his feet off the railing and stood. “I could use a sandwich . . . want one?”

  Luke nodded. “That would be great. No mayo.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Mel, Jo, and Zoe all had their hair up, with tiny flowers woven into the fancy knots.

  “I feel like I should take a nap,” Mel said, her eyes closed as the stylist dusted her lids with shadow.

  “No!” Zoe said, her hand placed in the palm of the woman painting her nails.

  “Not unless you can sleep without putting your head down.” It had taken nearly an hour to put Mel’s hair up, and thirty minutes for Jo. Zoe, on the other hand, had hers in place within fifteen minutes. The speed came with practice. And since the on-camera team was there, they were pitching in for all the things women did to make themselves beautiful for a wedding.

  “I said I think I should . . . not that I would.”

  Mel’s hand displayed her nerves as it tapped on the edges of the chair.

  “Nervous?”

  Mel looked at Zoe without moving her head. “Excited.”