“Well, that’s why you’re the advice columnist and I’m not.” Before she could reply, he started walking toward the street. Whatever crack he’d allowed in his armor was sealed once more. “I’ll go check your roof to see if any bats got left behind last night. Good luck getting that dog back on a leash.”
“If I can’t, I’ll simply wave a doggy biscuit. Never underestimate the lure of food.”
He shot her another half smile, and went on his way.
How long she stood watching the waves, Zoe didn’t know. Could have been an hour or a few minutes. The inner peace she’d hoped to find never materialized. She felt off-kilter. Out of sorts. More so than before, if possible. The sadness that laced Jake’s voice continued to hang in the air, thick and unrepentant.
What was it about the man that his presence surrounded her even after his departure? Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?
Suddenly her thoughts were cut by the sound of a horn blasting in the morning air. Zoe heard the screech of tires followed by a high-pitched yelp.
Reynaldo. Her eyes searched the dunes looking for him, only to have her stomach sink with dread.
The dachshund was nowhere in sight.
No, no, no. Sand spraying behind her, she took off for the street. Please, no. Not Reynaldo. Why had she let him off the leash? Why hadn’t she paid closer attention? Stupid, stupid daydreaming. She scrambled over the top ridge onto the street.
A gray sedan was pulled to the side of the road and a pair of elderly fishermen were standing next to it. When they saw her, one of them came rushing over.
“We didn’t see him ’til he was in front of the car. Ran right out in the street, he did.”
Oh, God, no. Not Rey. She pushed past the man, dreading what she was about to see, only to stop dead in her tracks.
There, legs sprawled in the gravel, sat Jake, his arms wrapped around a very much unscathed Reynaldo.
“We were headed down to the point when the dog darted into the street. If this guy hadn’t grabbed him, we would have hit the little guy for sure.”
Gratitude—along with a healthy dose of admiration—swelled in Zoe’s chest. She wanted to speak, but the words, along with her heart, seemed stuck in her throat, so she settled for kneeling down beside him. Reynaldo squirmed in Jake’s grip. Whether out of excitement or from knowing he’d narrowly escaped injury, the dog was bent on licking his savior’s chin, a gesture Jake was receiving rather unenthusiastically.
“Calm down, Rey.” She’d finally found her voice, albeit it was not much more than a whisper. Gently, her hands shaking, she slipped the dog from Jake’s grip. “Are you all right?” she asked Jake.
“Are you talking to me or the dog?”
“You.” His gruffness made her smile. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“Thank God,” one of the fishermen said. Zoe could tell from his tone he’d feared otherwise and was grasping at Jake’s answer like a life preserver. “You went down pretty hard when my fender clipped you.”
The car struck him? Zoe’s eyes shot up to meet Jake’s, only to find his expression shuttered.
“I said I’m fine.” He moved to push himself up, only to grimace with pain and sit back down.
“You’re not all right at all,” Zoe said. She shifted Reynaldo to her hip, and reached for him with her now free hand. “Your hip—”
“Zoe, I don’t want your help! Just go take care of your damn dog and leave me alone.”
Her insides recoiled, but not from Jake’s verbal slap. Though harsh, his words were nowhere near as painful as watching him struggle to hide his embarrassment while he accepted a hand up from the fishermen. It took all her effort not to reach out and reassure him when he reached his feet. She stood in silence, arms wrapped around Reynaldo as he nodded a curt thank-you to the men and limped toward his front yard.
“What about your leg?” one of the men called out, only to be waved off.
The driver turned to Zoe. “I honestly didn’t see either of them.”
“It’s not your fault,” Zoe replied. “I should have been paying closer attention myself but I got distracted.” Distracted by thoughts of Reynaldo’s savior.
Thoughts that filled her mind with even greater ferocity as she watched him disappear through his front door.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dear Zoe
My boyfriend of three years refuses to talk about marriage. Whenever I bring up the topic, he laughs and says he hasn’t “made up his mind yet.” My friends tell me I should break up with him, but I’m afraid I won’t meet anyone else… I’m overweight and not very pretty. Ugly in New York
Dear Ugly
If your boyfriend hasn’t “made up his mind” in three years, I’m not sure he ever will. More importantly, however, why are you so certain he’s your only shot at happiness? Don’t be so down on yourself! I’m willing to bet you have far more to offer than you give yourself credit for. My advice: dump the loser and find someone who appreciates you.
Zoe
OKAY, “dump the loser” was probably over the top. She’d end with “give yourself credit for.”
Hmm. Reminded her of someone else who didn’t give himself enough credit. Lord, but her stomach still churned thinking of how close she had come to losing her precious Reynaldo. If not for Jake…
And he didn’t want to be called a hero.
Following Rey’s rescue, she’d tried to discourage her handyman from working. As far as she was concerned, her loose shingles could wait a day or two. His hip had to be killing him. But no sooner did she make the suggestion than he’d snapped back, “I said I’d start your roof today so I’m doing it,” and hobbled up the ladder.
She could hear him up there now, scraping off shingles. He’d draped a plastic blue tarp around the entire house. It blocked her view and filled every room with dark blue shadows and every five minutes or so, debris would rattle down the plastic like heavy rain. Six and a half hours and he’d yet to take a break, at least not one she’d heard. Like yesterday, he seemed intent on working ’til he dropped. Zoe could picture him up there, muscles straining, sweat dampening his shirt. His face contorting every time he moved…
Well, she decided, pushing the laptop aside, the very least she could do was make sure the man who saved Reynaldo took a lunch break. She still couldn’t believe he’d jumped in front of that car. Without him her sweet little dog would be…
Lump sticking in her throat, she paused to pet the dachshund sleeping next to the sofa.
Yeah, she thought, lunch was the least she could do.
Since getting Jake to come down and join her was unlikely, she decided to bring the food to him. Fortunately she’d brought a small beach cooler with her when she moved. She filled it with turkey sandwiches, fruit and cold drinks. As an afterthought, she included a bottle of ibuprofen, and stepped outside.
To her surprise, the sky was far from sunny when she stepped out of her blue-shaded cave. While she’d been inside, her bright cheery sun had been replaced by a collection of gray clouds. Even so, the air felt warm and thick when she reached the top of the ladder. Jake was leaning against his shovel, eyes closed. She’d been right about the sweat. His T-shirt was soaked. The cotton molded across his shoulders and broad chest before falling loose over his flat abdomen.
Zoe’s throat ran dry.
“Knock, knock,” she said hoarsely.
He started and briefly, when his eyes widened, she worried he might lose his balance. A silly concern, she realized soon enough as he quickly steadied himself. His lips drew into a tight line. He wasn’t happy to see her.
Zoe held up her minicooler. “Greetings. I come bearing food. It’s lunchtime, in case you haven’t noticed.”
An unreadable expression crossed his features. “You don’t have to feed me.”
“Of course I do. Reynaldo would never forgive me, seeing as how food is his life and you saved his life. Which reminds me…” She set the cooler down and ea
sed herself onto the peak, careful not to slip on the exposed wood. “In case I didn’t say it before, thank you.”
Jake shrugged. “Dog ran into the street—I grabbed him.”
“It’s a little bigger deal than that,” Zoe said. If she didn’t think he’d balk at the word, she’d call him a hero again. “I would have lost my best friend today if it weren’t for you.” She offered up a grateful smile, which he didn’t return.
He did, however, meet her eyes. “I’m glad you didn’t. No one should have to lose a friend.”
Had he? Something about his voice, hollow and sad, made her shiver.
A heavy silence settled between them. Zoe forced herself to look away. “Hope you like turkey on white. One of those women who can whip up a gourmet meal at the drop of a hat, I’m not. Takeout is more my forte. You have no idea how thrilled I was to learn they opened a restaurant near the ticket office.”
Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “Not sure I’d call the ’Tucket a restaurant. More like a glorified greasy spoon.”
“Hey, it serves food I don’t have to cook—that makes it a five-star restaurant in my book. Now, come sit down and eat your lunch.”
Jake was staring at the sandwich she’d thrust in his direction.
“Don’t worry, it’s edible. I promise.”
Carefully, he lowered himself down next to her, his grimace a reminder of how much a personal toll Rey’s rescue had taken on him. Reaching into the cooler, Zoe pulled out the bottle of ibuprofen. “Thought you might want this, too.”
Jake shook his head. “Won’t help.”
“Not even a little?”
“Nothing does.”
Nothing?
“I’ve got some prescription stuff at home, but that more dulls it than anything.”
His matter-of-factness amazed her. She couldn’t imagine living with continual pain, and that fact made what he’d done this morning even more impressive. She wanted to say so but the edge in his voice made her hold back. She settled for a soft murmur of sympathy.
“Stuff happens when you catch a mortar shell,” he replied with his typical shrug. As if people caught mortar shells every day.
Dear Lord. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed.”
Jake stared at his sandwich. “So they tell me.”
Again, his hollow voice made her shiver.
They continued eating their sandwiches in silence. Part of Zoe wanted to fill the quiet with idle chitchat, but another, more sensible part made her bite her tongue and study the seascape. A line of weather was working its way across the water. To the right, on the edge of shingling, a piece of white string caught her eye. The netting from last night.
“How goes the bat hunting?” she asked. “Find any more winged creatures of the night?”
“No.” Was that a half smile teasing his cheek? Tentative as it was, the sight raised Zoe’s spirits. “Not so far anyway. The valves were empty—”
“Valves?” she interrupted.
“The netting we installed last night. It was empty and I haven’t seen any additional signs of damage. I’ll check the attic to make certain, but I’d say you lucked out. You still serious about getting a bat house?”
“Absolutely.” Seemed only right. “Bats are people, too, right?”
For whatever reason, the answer met with his approval, because he nodded. “I admire your conscientiousness.”
Really? “You do?”
“You sound surprised.”
“To be honest, I am,” she told him. “I got the impression you think I’m a bit of a flake.”
He regarded her. “Not flaky. Hyper-helpful, but not flaky.”
“Thank you. I guess.” A bit backhanded, perhaps, but he clearly meant it as a compliment. The warmth flooding her cheeks suggested she certainly took it as one.
Goodness, but she didn’t get this man. Gruff one minute, reluctantly nice the next—although she suspected he would insist niceness had nothing to do with anything. She could hear Caroline scoffing now, but how could a woman—that is, a person—not meet Jake and be intrigued?
Before she could dwell too long, her thoughts were interrupted by a splash of water landing on her cheek. Then another, followed by another. Looking out to the ocean, she saw the rain line had drawn closer.
“So much for a picnic. Looks like we’ll have to finish inside.” Without waiting for a response, she plucked Jake’s half-eaten sandwich out of his hand. He looked about to protest when the drops started to fall faster. Together they scrambled to pick up the tools and food before the rain moved in.
They didn’t make it. In fact, Zoe had barely stepped off the bottom ladder rung when the sky opened up and what had been isolated drops became a steady downpour.
No sooner did they fight their way through a gap in the blue tarp and enter the living room than Reynaldo, annoyed at being left behind, began yelping and dancing circles. Just as he had this morning on the beach, he lavished most of his attention on Jake.
“Reynaldo, heel!” Like the command would do any good. Tongue out, tail wagging, the little dog was practically doing back flips trying to get Jake to notice him.
A giggle bubbled up in Zoe’s chest. She didn’t know which was more amusing: Reynaldo’s desperate ploy or the exaggerated scowl on Jake’s face.
“Looks like someone likes you,” she said.
“Well, tell him to stop.”
“Too late, I’m afraid. Once Rey makes up his mind about a person, nothing will shake him. Like a dog with a bone.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Seriously. He hated my ex-husband on sight. Used to growl at him. We had to keep him downstairs the nights Paul was home.” You’d think she’d have picked up on the hint.
“Anyway—” she shook off the thought “—you might as well get used to having Reynaldo as your new best friend.”
“I don’t want friends, canine or other.”
With that, Jake moved toward a large leather Barcalounger that used to be her father’s favorite chair, and propped himself on the arm. “I’ll take my sandwich back.”
Zoe reached into the cooler and handed it to him. “You say you don’t want friends, and yet you saved mine.”
“Told you, right place, right time, is all.”
No, he’d told her no one should have to lose a friend. Strange thing to say for a man who didn’t want any himself.
The blue-shaded room cast a different kind of shadow over his features, turning his face almost as gray as the weather outside. The lines marking his face were especially apparent today. Without meaning to, she let her gaze follow the longest one down his forehead to his brow. As prominent as these marks on his skin were, she had a feeling the scars below the surface were deeper and far more brutal.
He must have felt her stare because he turned to face her. “What?”
Aw, hell. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? “Was he a good friend?”
“Was who?”
Feigned ignorance wasn’t his strong suit, but Zoe played along. “The friend you lost. On the roof, you said no one should lose a friend. That was obviously from personal experience. Were the two of you close?”
His expression remained passive. On the surface, it would look like he didn’t react to what she said, but Zoe had been watching. She saw the subtle clench of his jaw as he swallowed his emotions. That said it all.
“I can only imagine what you must have felt,” she continued.
Still no reply. He was wrapping himself up the way he’d wrapped the house. “If you ever want to talk…” she began.
“No.” Finally he spoke. The word burst out of him like a shot, contorting his face with a distress so stark Zoe’s heart hurt.
Right. That’s why his eyes had darkened and unspoken words hung in the air around him. She crossed the room to sit on the chair next to him. “Look—” her fingers rested on the curve of his wrist “—I’m no therapist, but keeping things inside isn’t healthy for anyone.”
“Spa
re me the platitudes—I’m not one of your readers looking for advice.”
Ouch. “You’re right. You’re not.”
“And I don’t want your help.”
“I know that, too.”
Yet she couldn’t seem to help herself. His torment called out for help. She could hear it. Feel it. Why else would her heart be twisting in her chest?
“My question is, what do you want?”
“I—” Their eyes locked and his words faded away. The air, which had already felt thick and portentous, shifted. To Zoe, it felt like the warmth had seeped inside her. A heady, intoxicating feeling, it was the kind that gave birth to dangerous notions. But she couldn’t pull away. Jake’s eyes held her. And when he dropped his gaze to her mouth…
Then suddenly, the sensation disappeared, erased by the electronic sounds of jazz. As Jake fished his cell phone from his pocket, Zoe turned away, putting the distance back between them.
Behind her, Jake swore, the curse mild in volume only.
“Bad news?” She looked at her fingers. They were trembling.
“It’s nothing.” She didn’t have to see his face to know the answer was a lie, and a bad one to boot, but she let it slide.
A couple beats passed. She imagined him studying the call screen on his phone. “You asked what I wanted,” he said finally.
She turned back around. “Yes, I did.”
“What I want is to be left alone.”
Of course he did.
“What’s so funny?”
Funny? Zoe realized she was chuckling aloud at the predictability. “Nothing.” Her turn to lie poorly. “I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s your polite way of saying, stop asking questions.”
“Nothing polite about it. Look,” he asserted, preempting her when she opened her mouth to respond, “it’s not personal. I don’t… Relationships are no longer on my radar.”
“I understand.” Another poor lie. In truth, a man like Jake shutting himself off didn’t feel right. Especially when instinct told her that hadn’t always been the case.
Still, now was not the time to push the point.
The Heart of a Hero Page 6