“Sweetie, you seem worried,” Daze said. “You know you can always stay with us. We have a guest room and the kids love Fred.”
“Aaahhh! Roar! Roar!” came from the other room. Crash! Wa-aa-ah! Then a moment later, “I’m otay.”
Daze held up a finger and headed out to the living room. “All monsters must report to nap duty.”
“Awww…” the boys said in unison.
“Daddy will read you a story,” Daze said. “Not a scary one, Trav.”
“Those are the best kinds, right, guys?” Trav asked.
A few moments and more squeals later, the noise level dropped.
“That’s okay,” Zoe said when Daze returned to her seat. “You guys are pretty busy without me and Fred being in your hair.”
“We don’t mind,” Daze said. “It’s already chaos. You and Fred would blend right in.”
Zoe laughed. “I think I’ll go with Gabe’s place. Unless…” She paused. “Any dire warnings? Things I should know? I’ve heard some rumors, but I know I shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”
Daze cocked her head. “What did you hear?”
“I shouldn’t repeat it. Just tell me what you know about him.”
“Trav always said Gabe was a good guy. He’s been friends with Shane for years.”
“That’s good enough for me.”
Daze held up a finger. “But—”
“What?” Zoe sighed.
“Sweetie, just listen. Trav also said he used to be a shark in the courtroom. He won nearly all of his cases for corporate clients, and let’s just say those corporations weren’t always innocent.”
Zoe shrugged. “So he’s good at his job. No big.”
“The point is he can be very persuasive. Be sure it’s what you want.”
Zoe waved that away. “It’s just a temporary place to crash.” She munched on a chip, then finally asked her real concern, “Is it true about his ex-fiancée?”
Daze cringed. “Gabe won’t say much about it. Shane said she was hit by a truck, but no one’s sure if it was an accident or suicide. And after the collision, the truck driver swerved off the road and smashed into a building. He didn’t live to tell what happened.”
“You think it was suicide because Gabe dumped her?” Zoe whispered.
“We’ll never know.”
So far everything she’d heard about Gabe was true, and she was almost afraid to ask this next part, but she had to know. Had to find out what kind of man Gabe really was. “Did he break up with her because he couldn’t handle her being sick after his dad died? Because of her brain tumor?”
Daze shook her head. “I don’t know. He told Shane very little, and Shane didn’t push because it was such a sensitive subject. But, honey, people do strange things when they’re grieving. His dad had died only a few days before they broke up. She died the very next day.”
For some reason, she was disappointed. She wanted Daze to say Gabe would never do that. That he really was the nice guy he seemed to be, helping others, leaving generous tips, petting her dog.
Daze lowered her voice. “Are you into him?”
“No! Not as long as he’s my landlord.” Maybe she was worrying for nothing. If no other gig panned out, she’d probably be heading to L.A. in a month and none of this would matter anyway.
Daze frowned. “I just worry about you, after this eviction and Eddie.”
“Have I told you I’m on a boy-next-door diet?” Zoe asked. “Only sweet boys next door with side parts in their hair.” She nodded once. “It’s the right thing to do.”
Daze snorted. “Gabe is next door!”
“It’ll be fine.” Zoe ate more chips. “Right? Daze, I need it to be fine.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Daze said reassuringly. “Just, you know, be careful.” She looked into Zoe’s eyes. “Call me if you get persuaded.”
“Yeah.” She blew out a breath. “Yeah, I will. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.”
“It’s good to have a mantra,” Daze said with a grin.
“I’ve also got ‘not my lima bean.’”
Daze sputtered. “What does that mean?”
“My next boyfriend will be good for me like lima beans.”
Daze burst out laughing. “That sounds awful.”
Zoe lost it. “I know!”
When they both calmed down, Daze said, “Call him right now and tell him.”
Zoe grabbed her cell from her purse, pulled out the business card with his number, and dialed.
“Hi, Zoe,” Gabe answered. His voice resonated on a deep, rumbling level through the phone, sending a thrill through her.
“Hi, I’ll take the place. I have to make a few more calls, but I hope to move in this Saturday, if that’s okay.”
“Perfect. I’ll get a copy of the key made.”
“Okay, thanks.” Daze was gesturing like crazy for the phone. “Daze wants to say hi. I’m at her place.”
“O-kay,” he said slowly.
“I’ve got my eye on you, shark boy,” Daze said.
She couldn’t hear Gabe’s reply, but Daze laughed and hung up.
“What’d he say?” Zoe asked.
“He said da-dun, da-dun, da-dun.” Daze cracked up.
Zoe gulped. “Is it wine-o-clock yet?”
~ ~ ~
Gabe was having difficulty focusing on his client Tuesday morning, knowing Zoe would be stopping by soon to pick up her key. The fact that she might only be at his place for a month left the door wide open for him to make a move. He’d satisfy this aching, throbbing lust he had for her, she’d leave, and no one would get hurt. No one would die.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked across the desk at the elderly woman who’d been his first grade teacher. “Mrs. Peters, I’m sorry, but there is nothing illegal about your neighbor having a bird feeder in his yard.”
Mrs. Peters narrowed her eyes behind her pink cat’s-eye glasses. “It’s all well and good to feed birds, but it also brings mice. And ever since my…” She sniffled and produced a lace hankie from her purse. “My sweet Princess died, I’ve had a mouse problem.” She pursed her lips and leaned forward. “I hear them scurrying around my basement. They’re probably building an entire mouse city down there.” She threw the back of her hand over her forehead dramatically. “I couldn’t possibly go down there now. They’re organizing, just waiting for an unsuspecting human to arrive so they can swarm and devour.” She eyed him, waiting for his response to this grisly situation.
“Could you possibly call an exterminator?” he asked.
“And kill all those innocent mice!” she exclaimed.
Gabe didn’t know how much longer he could practice small-town law. He was considering hanging up his law practice and taking up juggling on the back of a bucking bronco. He smiled to himself. It made more sense in its way. Not that he’d ever rode a bronco, or juggled, for that matter.
He brought his attention back to Mrs. Peters. “Have you considered talking to your neighbor about the problem?”
“Pfft. Not like old man Harvey would listen to anything I had to say. The man gets his mail in his pajamas.”
He had no idea what that had to do with anything. “How about another cat?”
“No one can replace my Princess,” she said. “She was one in a million—loyal, affectionate, trainable. Did you know I trained her to use the toilet?”
Did she flush too? He kept that to himself.
“I’ll order some humane traps,” he said with a note of finality, hoping she’d take the hint that this case was now closed. “They’ll trap the mice, but not kill them. And I’ll talk to Mr. Finkle.”
“Who’s going to get rid of the traps?” She lowered her voice, though they were the only two in the office. “You know, once the mice are trapped in there.”
He let out a breath of resignation. Mrs. Peters was a widow, and her only daughter lived thousands of miles away in Oregon. “I will.”
She stood and shook his hand. “Thank you, Gab
e. Nice doing business with you.”
“You too.” Not that he’d get more than a handshake out of it. This town had a strange definition of what a lawyer was for. Aside from a few wills and small-business paperwork, he spent most of his time acting as The Fixer.
He heard the door open and then Mrs. Peters exclaimed, “How are you, Zoe, dear?”
Gabe stood abruptly, then sat again, not wanting to appear too eager. The two women chatted, then Mrs. Peters left, and Zoe was in his office.
“Hey,” he said. Brilliant opening line.
She beamed. God, he loved that sunny smile. “Hey there,” she said. “Got the key?”
He fished it out of his pocket and handed it to her.
She stared down at it for a long moment and then tucked it into her tiny pink purse with a purple flower on it. He loved that she was so girly. He grew up in a house filled with testosterone.
“So, Gabe,” she said hesitantly, “I thought maybe we should talk about the rent. I don’t feel right not paying anything. Just tell me what you think is fair so I’m not caught by surprise. I mean, maybe we should sign a rental agreement.” She warmed to her topic. “A legal contract that spells out exactly what’s expected. I dunno, you’re the lawyer. What do you think?”
“No need,” he said. “It’s still free, and you can stay as long as you need to. At least someone can get some use out of the space.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Is this one of those deals where I think I’m getting it for free, but you really want—” she lowered her voice and leaned forward “—services rendered?”
He chuckled. “What kind of services?”
She straightened and raised her brows. “You know.”
He folded his fingers together on top of the desk. She stared at his fingers. “What would your trumpet player say about that?”
She tore her gaze from his fingers and stared at him with wide eyes. “Jordan? He’d be mad as hell.”
He leaned forward, really needing a straight answer on this guy. “Why is that, Zoe?”
She shifted in her seat. “We go way back,” she said, neatly avoiding the question again. “So you don’t want…” She looked side to side in case anyone was listening in, which made him smile, given that it was his private office, and they were very much alone. “You know what.”
He chuckled.
She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Um, you have to actually answer the question.”
“Do I, Counselor?” he asked in his best intimidating lawyer voice.
She shook her finger at him. “I’ve been warned about you and your lawyerly ways. You’re like a shark.”
His lips twitched. “Daisy told you that.”
“Yeah.”
He smiled. “That’s mighty nice of her to say.”
“Oh, so you don’t deny it? Proud of our sharkiness, are we?”
“It helped me win cases, so yes. That was courtroom Gabe.”
“And who are you now?”
“Just a guy helping out in the community.” She just sat there, studying him across the table, so he added, “Who do you want me to be?”
“Never mind.” She pushed up from the chair, and he snagged her hand.
“Sit.” When she just stood there, looking pissed off, he added, “Please.”
She sat.
“I was just joking around,” he said. “I want you to feel comfortable. I really and truly want to help. That’s all.” He raised a brow, curious if his innocent act worked. Because there was no question that while he did want to help her, he also wanted her. Badly.
She smiled uncertainly. “I guess the whole landlord-tenant thing makes me itchy. You know, after John. Things went south pretty fast.”
“This is purely out of the goodness of my heart,” he said. That might’ve been pushing the innocent act.
She looked at him suspiciously. He didn’t want her nervous and tense around him. He wanted her open and friendly. Really friendly.
“I won’t make a move on you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said. “Honest.”
She pursed her lips, clearly thinking that over.
“Unless you ask me to,” he added, unwilling to completely close the door he really wanted open.
“Okay, let me ask you this.” She hesitated, and he held his breath, knowing she was going to try to corner him into admitting that he secretly lusted for her. “Would you have asked me out if this whole apartment thing had never happened?”
He knew it. How to answer? He’d wanted to, but he’d hesitated because he knew he couldn’t do the relationship thing. That was definitely not what she’d want to hear. It wasn’t personal, he hadn’t asked anyone out since Alyssa died, and he really didn’t want to talk about that. But if he said he didn’t want to ask her out, well, women were touchy about that kind of thing. This felt like one of those does-my-butt-look-fat-in-these-jeans questions. There was only one right answer.
“No.” That was technically true because the apartment thing had happened, and so answering as if it hadn’t happened wasn’t a fair question. It was a loophole. He was trained to find loopholes.
“Oh.” She frowned and looked at his desk.
Now he felt like an ass. “I would love to go out with you,” he answered truthfully. On a temporary basis. “But only if you were comfortable with it.” He crossed his arms, working on looking unattainable. “The only way anything would happen between us is if you made a move on me.”
She stood and flashed a smile. “Then there’s no problem,” she said in a perky voice that made his heart sink. “I’ve got to get to work.” She pulled on her coat and grabbed her purse. “I can’t wait for Fred to have his own yard. See you soon, neighbor!”
“See ya,” he managed.
The door swung closed behind her, and he quietly thunked his head on the desk. Brilliant strategic move, Counselor.
Chapter Five
Zoe sang with a heavy heart at her last gig at her favorite jazz bar in New York City on Friday night. The Blue Tizzy would be shutting down on Monday, as the rent had doubled, and they couldn’t afford to stay in business. Things were rough all over for musicians and the smaller venues that supported them. They finished their last set and she hugged the owner, Judy, who’d given Zoe her very first gig. Judy, a sixty-something jazz fanatic, liked to dress like a flapper from the 1920s Jazz Age. She wore her dyed-blond hair in a cute bob with a rhinestone headband with a rhinestone feather. A shiny silver sequined dress and black Mary Jane pumps completed the outfit.
“I’ll miss you,” Zoe said.
“I’ll miss you too,” Judy said in her rough smoker’s voice. She pulled back, her blue eyes soft. “But I’ll be relaxing in the Florida sun, finally retiring, so it’s not all bad. You make me proud, ya hear? I want to hear those pipes on the radio one day.”
“I’m trying,” she said, blinking back tears. She wanted so badly to make Judy proud. “You know I’m trying.”
Judy cupped her cheek. “I know you are. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come. Remember how your voice shook your first time here?”
Zoe nodded.
“Now you own that stage. Hell, you own the whole damn room.”
“Thanks, Judy.” They chatted for a while, and then she joined her bandmates at the bar.
An older man on her left bought her a drink. “You’re the most beautiful singer I’ve ever met,” the man said.
“Thank you,” she said.
Jordan interrupted, wedging his large body between them. “Excuse me, this is my wife.”
The man held up a hand and shifted further down the bar. Jordan took his seat, his dark brown eyes gleaming with a fire that said don’t mess with me.
She turned to him and whispered, “Jordan, I told you to stop doing that.”
He tipped her chin up with one finger. “I’m just looking out for you, Zoe-bean.”
“I know,” she said with a sigh.
“Don’t drink what he got you,” Jor
dan said, taking the drink from her. A harmless glass of white wine. “He probably slipped you something.” She shook her head. Jordan always suspected people were at their worst. He signaled to the bartender, returned the drink, and ordered her usual dirty martini and a beer for himself.
When their drinks arrived, Jordan took a pull on his beer and gave her a sideways glance. “Your gears are turning. Whatcha thinking about?”
She’d been thinking about how badly she wanted her big break and how, performing tonight, she really wanted it to be with her band, who’d been with her the past five years. Jordan was the most recent addition to Sizzling Coda, two years ago, but he’d blended in seamlessly because of their history. He wanted to prove to his father he could make it to the top just as much as she did. With that much inner fire to succeed, why couldn’t they do it their own way?
“I’m thinking maybe it’s time we went indie,” she said. “We’re no closer to a recording contract now than we were five years ago. Clubs like this, our bread and butter, are going out of business. We should raise some money, rent a studio, hire a producer, and put out our own album.”
He set his beer down. “No.”
“That’s it? No? Why not?” She sat up straighter, annoyed. If something didn’t come through soon, she was going to end up on Next American Voice. There was just no other way to break out.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “My feisty one. Because I’m not giving up that easily—”
“It’s not giving up! It’s just a different path.”
He leaned close and pushed her hair back to whisper directly in her ear. “I’m working on something.”
She barely resisted rolling her eyes. Jordan was always working on something. “Whatever,” she muttered. Maybe she could raise the money to do an indie solo album. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something. If the band wasn’t behind her on this, what could she do but strike out on her own? If she found a good producer to work with her in the studio—
“Zoe, I mean it. I’m working on something that could be our big break.”
“I’m tired of waiting for our big break.” She was getting nowhere fast and she just had to do something about it.
“Just hang tight. A little longer.” He squeezed her hand. “Please.”
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