Someone Like You

by Victoria Bylin

  Julia paused. “I don’t know what to do.”

  She didn’t let go of responsibility easily. Zeke knew that about her, so he answered George for her. “We’ll wait in my office. Call as soon as you know something.”

  After quick good-byes, Zeke turned to Julia. “George is a good man.”

  At one time, Zeke would have added in spite of his past. But it was that colorful past that made George the man he was now. He wasn’t proud of his so-called glory days, but he didn’t shy away from them either. George was simply . . . George. A man who fell short but loved God with all his heart.

  Zeke had once loved God with that same passion. At St. John’s he spent countless hours trying to help people reboot their lives. Some responded; most didn’t. The failures wore Zeke down. When he stumbled with Jules, he hit hard and failed to get back up, mostly because he’d been sick to death of trying to be a good man, carrying the weight of the world, failing God, his earthly father, and himself.

  “Zeke?” Julia looked at the broken pencil in his hand.

  He looked at it too, unaware that he’d plucked it out of a cup on the counter and snapped it in half.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He tossed the pieces in the trash.

  Julia glanced at the wall clock. “I have to pick up Max. You didn’t bargain for an afternoon with a four-year-old. Maybe I should wait at the cottage.”

  “No way.”

  “But—”

  “I like kids.” She already knew that about him, but he wanted to reassure her. She still seemed nervous, so he reached for the hotel phone and called Brittany Thompson, the assistant rec director leading that day’s children’s program. “Hey, Brittany. It’s Zeke. Do you still have kids there?”

  “Just Max.”

  “Good. I need a favor. Julia’s here and waiting for a phone call. Would you bring Max to my office?”

  “Sure.”

  When he hung up, Zeke expected Julia to relax. Instead her brows cinched into crooked lines. She seemed to be thinking about something, so Zeke let her think. They weren’t in any hurry. He dropped down onto the leather sofa, and Julia walked over and perched on the edge of a chair.

  “There’s something I’d like—”

  Her cell phone interrupted with a message. With her sentence hanging, she jumped up to check it.

  “Your mom?”

  “No. A wedding photographer.”

  “So you found someone?”

  “Not yet and I’m desperate. I better call this woman now.”

  With the phone to her ear, she sat at the desk and picked up a pen. “Hello, Ruth? This is Julia Dare . . . Yes. The Travers wedding.” Technically, she was arranging the Reid-Wilkins wedding, but the Travers name gave her leverage. “That’s right,” she said into the phone. “That wasn’t a typo. It really is September of this year. Three weeks from now.”

  Looking at Zeke to include him, she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Yes, I know it’s short notice. Is there someone you could recommend?” She scribbled a name or two, ended the call, and came back to the sitting area.

  “I’m worried. I’ve called at least twenty photographers and no one I trust is available. Food gets eaten and flowers wilt, but photographs end up on mantles and nightstands. We need someone with an artistic eye, someone who can capture the romance.”

  Without thinking, Zeke gave her shoulder a squeeze. She stiffened but relaxed with the next breath. She wasn’t unhappy about the touch, and neither was he.

  She offered a rueful smile. “I don’t suppose you have a fabulous photographer at your beck and call?”

  “No, but the resort uses a local guy on occasion.”

  “Does he do weddings?”

  “I think so.”

  Hope flashed in her eyes. “We need someone artsy but not weird. Someone who’s creative and good with people.”

  “This guy isn’t weird.” Boring maybe, but not weird. “Let’s check out his website.”

  They were moving to her computer when the glass door flew open. A little boy with Julia’s dark hair burst into the office, leaving two smudgy handprints on the glass. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Zeke.

  Julia pulled the boy into a hug. “Hey, big guy. How was play time?”

  “Fun.”

  Brittany smiled down at him. “We painted pictures of dinosaurs. Didn’t we, Max?”

  “Yep. Mine’s green.”

  With her hand light on Max’s shoulder, Julia turned him to Zeke. “Max, this is Mr. Monroe. He’s my boss.”

  Suddenly shy, Max buried his face against Julia’s leg. He was a cute kid with his mother’s brown eyes. If he resembled his dad, Zeke didn’t see the likeness.

  Zeke wanted to make friends, but he respected Julia’s rules, so he whispered to her, “Do you mind if he calls me Zeke?”

  “That’s fine.”

  He dropped to a crouch, one arm draped over his knee. “Hey there, Max. My name’s Zeke. It’s a funny name that starts with Z like zebra.”

  Max peeked over his shoulder. “My name starts with M.”

  “Cool,” Zeke replied. “Which dinosaur did you paint?”

  “A T. rex.”

  “That’s my favorite.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Zeke replied. “He’s the biggest.”

  When Max eased away from his mom, Zeke knew he’d made a friend. Cute kid. No wonder Julia was proud of him. Someday Zeke wanted a son of his own, but first he needed a wife. He had dated a lot before coming to CS, but no woman fascinated him the way Julia had . . . and still did.

  Don’t go there.

  But it was too late. When she tousled Max’s hair with her long fingers, Zeke’s chest tightened the way it did in Berkeley when they were in love. The thought didn’t scare him a bit. In fact, he rather liked the idea of testing those murky waters.

  He waited while she arranged for Max to attend the next day’s children’s program. As soon as Brittany left, he made an offer that a hungry woman with a four-year-old boy couldn’t refuse.

  “How about a picnic in my office?”

  Julia hesitated. “Are you sure? We can be a handful.”

  “I’m positive.” He walked around her desk to the hotel phone. “You skipped lunch, and I have a hunch Max can always eat. We’ll order from Katrina’s. What does everyone want?”

  Max called out first. “Chicken nuggets.”

  Jules went next. “A turkey sandwich on sourdough—”

  “With extra tomato?” Zeke finished.

  She laughed. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  There were a lot of things Zeke remembered, including the way she pulled her hair into a ponytail on a hot day, or how she dabbed French fries in ketchup. When it rained, she closed her eyes and listened. And when it was sunny, she closed them even harder and basked in the warmth on her skin.

  He cleared his throat with a rumble. “I remember a lot of things.”

  “So do I. You’re going to order a cheeseburger well done.”

  “Burnt to a crisp.”

  A wistful smile crossed her face. “Some things don’t change, do they?”

  “No. But others do, and that’s okay.” His gaze flicked down to Max.

  Instead of bantering back, Julia gnawed on her lower lip.

  Max tugged on her arm. “Mommy, let’s play.”

  Kids . . . they had more energy than lithium batteries. While Julia distracted Max, Zeke called the restaurant and placed their order. When he finished, he came back around the desk. “Hey, Max. How would you like to see a dinosaur egg?”

  His eyes popped wide open. “Really?”

  “Sort of.” He told Max about the geodes. “Some are hollow and look like miniature caves. Others are solid. Those are thunder eggs, but my dad called them dinosaur eggs. Let’s go look.”

  Max peered up at Julia, asking for permission or maybe reassurance.

  She patted his shoulder. “Let’s all go.�
��

  They walked to Zeke’s office with Max gripping Julia’s hand. Zeke led the way to the shelves and hoisted Max to his hip.

  The boy pointed at the biggest geode, a mix of yellow and white that resembled a raw egg. “Wow!”

  Zeke traded a smile with Julia. Before he could think, his gaze dipped to her lips. He looked up fast, but their gazes met and held. In the span of a blink, six years melted away, and Zeke found himself holding Max even tighter.

  Julia’s phone rang with the opening notes of Amazing Grace. A little clumsy, she snatched it from her pocket and held it to her ear. “Mom? How are you?”

  Zeke watched her expression for clues.

  “So it’s just a mild sprain.” She gave him a big thumbs-up. “Are you on your way back?”

  He expected her to indicate her mom’s answer with a nod or a shake of her head. Instead, her brows shot up. With her mouth agape, she pointed at the phone as if to say, You won’t believe what I just heard! Curious about the drama, Zeke carried Max to the couch and gave him paper and some colored pens, then sat next to him, listening while Julia finished with Ellen.

  “No, mom. Don’t hurry. We’re having a good time. Text me when you’re close, okay?” She ended the call with “I love you,” lowered the phone, and slapped her hand over her heart. “I can’t believe this.”

  With George involved, Zeke could believe anything from a concert in the waiting room to pizza delivered to the entire ER. “What happened?”

  “George is taking her to IHOP.”

  “IHOP?”

  “You know.” She waggled her brows. “The International House of Pancakes . . . for dinner.”

  “So?”

  “I think it’s a date.”

  Zeke rubbed his chin with his fingers. “It’s a date, definitely. But only if you’re over fifty-five.”

  She hummed. “My mom’s fifty-three. How old is George?”

  “Sixty-four.”

  “That seems so . . .” She shook her head.

  “Old?”

  “Yes, but I was going to say far away.” She dragged the guest chair at his desk closer to the couch and sat. “I hope it is a date. My mom says she’s happy, but I think she’s lonely. My dad was a great guy.”

  Zeke recalled the Thanksgiving he spent with her family. Benjamin Dare had greeted him with a handshake that nearly broke his fingers and a look that said, Mind your manners with my daughter. Then he invited Zeke to watch football as if he were one of the family.

  “I liked your dad a lot.”

  “He liked you too.” Julia lowered her gaze to Max, who was scribbling with all his might. Her mouth pulled into a sad smile. “I named Max after him.”

  Zeke recalled the funeral notice with her father’s full name, Benjamin Maxwell Dare. “It’s a fitting tribute.”

  And one that made him wonder about Max’s dad. Had he asked Julia to marry him? And if he did, why did she say no?

  thirteen

  The food arrived and the three of them ate at the coffee table. While Max and Zeke debated the merits of burgers versus chicken nuggets, Julia argued in favor of turkey sandwiches. The only tension in the room was in her mind, where the Oh, by the way speech waited patiently to be delivered. If Max fell asleep, she could tell Zeke in a bland tone that wouldn’t wake her son or stir up too much drama.

  When Max yawned, she stacked the ketchup-stained plates, then fetched the sweater she kept at her desk and covered him with it. “Someone’s sleepy,” she murmured.

  Zeke yawned too, either to influence Max or because he was worn out from an early golf lesson and a busy day. Max slumped against Zeke’s side, and they both closed their eyes.

  She didn’t have the heart to disturb Zeke, especially to deliver a speech that would taint the day, so she kicked off her shoes, hugged her knees, and considered how much they had both changed. His features were sharper now, more acute, as if parts of his youth had been chipped away. Julia too had endured the hammer and chisel of change. She didn’t trust her heart at all, but she knew God loved her. She could barely fathom it, but Zeke did. He loved God more than any person she knew.

  Her phone broke into her thoughts with a text. As Zeke and Max opened their eyes, she skimmed it. “It’s my mom. They’ll be at the cottage in about twenty minutes. I better go.”

  Zeke lumbered to his feet and stretched.

  Julia turned her attention to Max. “It’s time to go. Say thank you to Zeke for lunch.”

  Max’s lower lip pushed out. “I want to see the rocks again.”

  “Not now, big guy.”

  His face puckered into a pout. Julia couldn’t blame Hunter for this one. Max was tired, fussy, and acting like a four-year-old.

  Pushing to her feet, she held out her hand, a clear signal to obey. “It’s time to go.”

  He made a mad dash for the bookshelf holding the geodes. “I want to see the red one again.”

  She marched after him. “No, Max. It’s time to leave.”

  Ignoring her, he pushed up on his toes, grabbed a shelf for leverage, and tried to climb.

  Zeke bolted forward and swept the boy up to his hip. “Hey, Max. Your mom makes the rules.”

  “No, my daddy does.” Max wrenched around and stared at her, Hunter’s mini-me in every way.

  Zeke put Max down but kept a grip on his hand. “Your mom makes rules too. Good ones that keep people safe. You don’t want Grammie waiting outside, do you?”

  Max thought a moment, then shook his head.

  “Now—” Zeke waited until Max met his gaze. “You and I are going to open the door for your mom, because that’s what guys do for girls.”

  The idea seemed to hang in the air, then Max nodded. “Okay, but can I come back and see the rocks?”

  “That’s up to your mom.”

  Max spun toward Julia. “Can I?”

  “May I,” she corrected. “And yes, you may, but only if it’s okay with Zeke.”

  Max scampered to the door, stopped short, and turned back to Julia. “You go first cuz you’re a girl.”

  Smiling her gratitude to Zeke, she stepped through the door and waited until Max scrambled past her and out of earshot. There wasn’t time for the full conversation about Hunter, but she could start it. Dreading the entire prospect, she forced the words from her tight lips. “I want to tell you about Max’s dad. Not right now, but soon.”

  Zeke glanced at the back of Max’s head. He was six feet away, pretending to be a T. rex. “Anytime.”

  “Maybe tomorrow. At lunch.”

  “Mommy!”

  Zeke answered for her. “Hold on, Max. She’ll be right there.” He lowered his voice again. “Whatever works for you. Just let me know.”

  “Thank you.”

  “In fact”—he sounded dead serious, but his eyes twinkled—“when your mom’s up and around, how about dinner at IHOP?”

  Julia couldn’t help but smile. “If you’re under fifty-five, that’s not a date.”

  “Then we’ll go somewhere else.” His voice came out husky, just the way she used to love.

  Idiot. She had no business blurring the lines between them.

  Sobering instantly, she dropped the smile. “Just to be clear, this won’t be a date. It’s more of a—” Confession.

  “Mommy, hurry.” Max started to bounce on his toes. “I have to go potty.”

  Zeke laughed. “Someone needs you. We’ll sort out the details later.”

  It was just like Zeke to put Max first. And her too. No pressure. Just patience. “Thanks for everything, Zeke. You made today easier than it should have been.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “About tomorrow morning . . . I can’t leave Max with my mom on crutches. Is it okay if I work from the cottage?”

  “No problem.”

  “Mommy!”

  “Go,” Zeke said, chuckling a little.

  Julia thanked him with a quick smile, hurried to Max, and led him out the door to the ladies’ room, listening to h
is protests that he was a big boy and could go to the men’s room by himself.

  “Not today,” she told him.

  He gave in, but Julia ached with the knowledge of how badly Max needed a father. Someone like Zeke who’d teach him to hold open a door. Hunter would teach the same lesson, but when he did something nice, he expected to be admired for it. Zeke didn’t think that way. He put others first, which made her want to put him first. Or second, right after God.

  When Max finished, Julia led him to the sink to wash his hands. She waved her own hand to turn on the automatic faucet, then held Max’s hand under the soap dispenser. His stubby fingers were covered with white foam and water when her phone meowed. Stifling a sigh, she instructed Max to finish rinsing and took the call.

  “Hunter, this isn’t a good time.”

  “It’ll just be a minute.”

  “What is it?”

  “My plans changed. I thought I’d spend the weekend with you and Max.”

  “Here?”

  “Sure, why not?” He sounded pleased, as if he’d bestowed her with an honor. “We can hang out at the pool.”

  “No. I’m working.”

  “Not on Saturday.”

  “Yes, on Saturday.” His tone irked her. “That’s when the bride and her stand-in mom will be here.” The faucet stopped. Julia started it again to keep Max occupied. “This isn’t a good time for you to visit. My mom sprained her ankle this afternoon. She’s going to need me.”

  “I think it’s a perfect time. I can take Max off your hands.”

  The offer made sense, but she didn’t want Hunter to visit Caliente Springs. She was free from him here, except for the techno-leash. “It just won’t work.”

  “Come on, Julia. Be reasonable.”

  “I am.” At one time in their relationship, she would have appeased him. Today she felt bullied.

  Max cupped his hands under the faucet to make a fountain. Water sprayed everywhere, which he thought was hilarious. She couldn’t turn off the automatic faucet, so she moved his hands, which made the water splash on her beige slacks.

  She spoke to Max instead of Hunter. “Let’s dry your hands—”

  “What’s going on?” Hunter demanded.