by Lori Foster
What he remembered most about her, though, was her mouth. Full lips. Soft smiles. An easy laugh.
Not only did she have the sexiest mouth he’d ever seen, but she also talked a lot. Sometimes nonstop.
Back then, he’d been amused by her.
And he’d always wanted to kiss her. Badly.
For the tenth time, he checked his watch. When he looked up again, a new crowd of people surged out, dragging luggage along in their wake. He scanned each face, his gaze going past an older couple, a young mother with a kid, a bedraggled brunette—
His attention zipped back.
No way. Could it be? He’d think not, except for the way she zeroed in on him while biting her lip. That was a tip-off.
Zoey had always bit her lip when uneasy.
Damn. What the hell had happened to her?
She looked… Trying to be kind, he decided on not good.
Starting forward, he called out, “Zoey Hodge?”
She stared right at him, proving she did, in fact, recognize him. That probably accounted for the lip biting, too. He knew he’d always made her nervous…which was why he’d never gotten that kiss.
Anytime he’d made a move, she’d dodged him.
When he got close, she groaned and covered her face with both hands. And stood there. On the walkway in front of the airport with people forced to move around her.
“Zoey?” Pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head, Garrett bent to see her face. She stood several inches shorter than his six-two. Given the clothes she wore, he had no idea about her build.
But she smelled like throw-up. “Zoey.” Why wouldn’t she look at him?
“Can you just go away?”
He straightened. “Come again?”
She made a shooing motion with one small hand, then quickly covered her face again. “I’ll get a bus. Or cab. Or…I’ll walk if I need to.”
Hands on his hips, Garrett considered her, but because he needed to be back at work soon, he decided to just take charge. In most instances, with most people, that worked.
He scooped up one bag, grabbed the handle of the other. “I’m taking your luggage.” He stepped away…and waited.
Dropping her hands with an overly dramatic sigh, she said, “Fine! Suffer me.”
Her makeup was everywhere, making her green eyes a focal point in her face, which was framed by badly tangled, dark brown hair.
But that mouth… Damn, it looked as good as ever.
Ignoring her comment—what could he say?—he started off. “I’m parked this way.” She grudgingly followed.
Trailing behind him, she said, “I don’t always look like this.”
God, he hoped not. “Want to tell me what happened?”
As if she’d been waiting for him to ask, she started babbling. “There was a crying kid on the plane. He puked on me. I’d checked all of my luggage instead of carrying it on, so the mother gave me this—” she looked down at the baggy gray T-shirt “—this thing to wear. I think it was her husband’s. Anyway, I got most of the mess washed off my face and chest, but there wasn’t enough water in the tiny bathroom to get it out of my hair. I smell bad. I look bad.” She pointed at him. “And you had to show up?”
His mouth quirked. Yeah, he’d always remembered Zoey Hodge as being different. Eccentric.
Original.
Off the top of his head, he couldn’t remember any other woman screeching at him in accusation. “What’s wrong with me?”
Her expression said it should have been obvious. “You’re you.”
“Okay.” What the hell did that mean?
She bit her lip again. “That is…well, you know I had a crush on you in high school.”
“You did?” News to him. Hell, he’d had a crush, but had never acted on it.
“Well, of course I did.”
With no idea what to say, he just nodded.
“And,” she continued with emphasis, “when you see an old crush after so many years, well, it’d be better not to reek, right?”
“You’re fine,” he lied. The baking sun amplified the smell, so he was glad when they finally got into the covered garage.
“I was all set to explain to Amber, to maybe even laugh about it—”
“Really?” He couldn’t imagine.
“—and instead you’re here, seeing me like this, making me even more humiliated and—”
“Amber had a small catastrophe. I was the only one available.”
“Catastrophe?” She stopped dead in her tracks. “Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. Her bookstore’s a little soggy, though, thanks to a broken pipe.”
She started walking at a fast clip to catch up with him. “Oh, man.” She pushed back her long matted hair. “Well…I don’t mean to be ungrateful.”
“You’re out of sorts.” Under the circumstances, she had a right to be grouchy, but she wasn’t. More like frazzled, and plenty embarrassed.
They reached his truck and he put the bags in the back then went around to open her door for her. “We can leave the windows down and the smell won’t be so bad.” He hoped.
She groaned dramatically and got in. Poor thing. She even had stains on the top of her sneakers.
She noticed him looking and wrinkled her nose. “It’s in my shoes. I can feel it squishing when I walk.”
Sympathy kept the smile off his face.
One hand on the roof, the other on the door frame, Garrett watched her buckle up. Out of the blinding sunlight, he saw that no part of her had been spared. Her hair. Her face. Her jeans. Only the god-awful, too-big, men’s gray shirt was clean, but it didn’t add much to the getup. “The kid really hurled on you, huh?”
She turned to him, shading her eyes against the sun. “The little guy was so sick.”
Even under the unusual circumstances, something about her had him analyzing all her features. Big green eyes, slightly upturned nose and that lush mouth. She had small hands and delicate wrists, so she was probably still slight of build. But under the clothes, Garrett couldn’t tell for sure.
Yeah…and he should probably quit trying to tell. Forcing his gaze up to her face, he said, “That’s rough.”
Nodding, she said, “My heart just broke for him. Two years old and miserable on that plane. And his poor exhausted parents, they were doing everything they could. When he got distracted with me, I thought, well, good. Right?”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer.
“Finally he wasn’t crying. And I like kids, enough that I didn’t mind entertaining him.”
He remembered her as always being kind. Most people stuck on a plane with a noisy kid would gripe about it. Not Zoey. She’d tried to help. Nice.
“He was in my lap when he started retching.” She wrinkled her nose. “Ever seen a kid projectile-vomit?”
“Uh, no.” Thank God.
“I tried to…catch it.” She held out a cupped hand to show what she meant.
The smile broke. “Yeah? How’d that work out?”
“It was like a shower of puke.” She scrunched her face up more. “Who knew such a small kid could hold so much?”
Laughing, Garrett closed the door and walked around. As soon as he got behind the wheel, she continued.
“I didn’t really think about it. It was like…reflex or something, ya know?”
“Sure.”
“As a firefighter, maybe you’d have known how to handle it better.”
He gave her a disbelieving stare—and her mouth twitched.
“That was reaching, right?” Humor made her eyes even brighter, a beautiful focal point of color in her face. “But firefighters are heroic and all that so I’m sure you’d have figured out something.”
Definitely not his area of expertise. “Let’s hope I’m never put to the test.”
“He kept twisting around,” she said, still trying to explain how she’d gotten covered, “and I was trying to keep him from spraying anyone else—and that’s when he got me head-on.” Leaning toward him, she whispered, “It filled my bra.”
His gaze dipped to her chest again, but being covered in puke took the fun out of boobs, so he only made a noncommittal sound, then started the truck and backed out of the cramped parking space. “You seem like a natural. Do you work with kids for a living?”
“No. I work—worked—for a pet groomer. Now I hope to set up my own shop here.”
“Planning to stay?”
She waffled…and then changed the subject. “Amber already told me that you’re a firefighter. Do you like it?”
He nodded. “We’re a small department. A mix of hired and volunteer guys.”
“I’d love to see the station sometime.”
“Sure.”
“Do you do all that PR stuff, like visiting the school and teaching fire-safety classes and reminding people about their smoke detectors?”
“We do.” He enjoyed interacting with his community, always had. “I like visiting the school the most.” He slanted her a look. “That is, as long as no one is chucking.”
She laughed—and damn it, he liked it. Her laugh could make him forget about the smell of toddler throw-up.
When he went to exit the airport lot, she scrambled for her purse. “I’ve got it.”
“No worries.” He had the ticket and bills already handy, and reached out the window to give both to the woman staffing the payment booth.
The woman peered in the car, gave Zoey an odd look and lifted the gate for them to leave.
Groaning, Zoey sat stiff and straight in the seat. “What must she think?”
“You’ll never see her again. Don’t worry about it.”
“This is awful.” She held out her shirt, touched her hair. “I’m trying not to get your truck too messy.”
“It’ll wash.”
“I’ll pay you to have it done. And for the parking fee, too.”
“Zoey?”
She bit her lip again. “Hmm?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Ha!” Her eyes widened over her own telling reaction.
“So it is a big deal?” Because she’d had a crush on him? Or maybe because she was still interested?
“No. Not at all.”
He wasn’t buying it. “Just take a breath and relax.”
In a rush, she launched into more conversation. “So are your kids just incredibly healthy or do you not have any?”
“No kids.” He steered onto the highway and headed home.
“Married?”
“Nope.” He glanced her way, but didn’t see a ring on her finger. “You?”
“God, no.”
Such a heartfelt denial made him frown. Seven years ago, after she broke things off with her boyfriend, Gus Donahue, Gus had left in a rage.
Then crashed his car and died, leaving his parents with two children instead of three, robbing them of their firstborn.
For too many people, she’d been the undeserving girl, while Gus had been the all-star golden boy. He’d been viewed as perfect.
She was not.
The blame and accusations had rolled in, spurred on by the Donahues, unrelentingly cruel until, finally, she’d moved away to escape it.
Never had Garrett blamed her, but even long after Zoey had left, Gus’s sister, Carrie, had done what she could to keep fueling the fire. And Cody, forever feeding the stories, had grown into a very angry sixteen-year-old, always acting out, probably doing what he could to overcome the distance of his parents’ grief.
Garrett didn’t want to get into all that old history with her. What kind of welcome would that be? Instead he asked, “Any serious relationships?”
She shook her head. “I take it you and Carrie didn’t make it?”
Gently, assuming it had to still be a touchy topic for her, he said, “That was…what? Six years ago? Seven?”
Her expression turned quizzical. “Since I left, yes. That’s when you and Carrie broke up?”
“Shortly thereafter.” He couldn’t abide the way Carrie and her family reviled Zoey. They’d taken every opportunity to run her into the ground. He’d understood their grief, and he’d also understood what a hothead Gus had been.
Most of all he’d understood that the Donahues had two children left who needed their attention.
“And here everyone thought you two were the ‘it’ couple.”
“Not me.” Carrie was as popular as her older brother, and that, more than anything else, had prompted him to date her.
Yeah, he’d been young and foolish, ruled more by testosterone than discretion.
Looking out the window, Zoey changed the topic. “I need to shower and change before I see anyone.”
He was supposed to drop her off at the bookstore, but he could afford the time for a quick detour. “Where to then?”
“I don’t know.” She looked back at him. “My mom’s in the hospital.”
“I heard.” Everyone knew everyone’s business in Buckhorn, at least to some degree. “How is she?”
“She fell off her horse, broke her hip and a few ribs.”
“Ouch.” He winced in sympathy.
“The breaks are bad enough, but now she has pneumonia on top of it.”
“The immobility probably helped that along.” Garrett knew her mother had had Zoey later in life. Knowing Zoey to be around twenty-four or-five, her mom would be in her midsixties. “She’ll be okay?”
“Yes,” she said with absolute conviction, as if she could will it so. “But I’m not sure yet when she’ll get to come home. They already did the surgery on her hip, but she’ll go to a different floor for rehab before they release her.” She repeatedly pleated and smoothed the hem of her shirt.
“Is that where you want me to take you?”
She shook her head hard. “No, not looking like this. I don’t want to embarrass her.” Her fingers curled into a fist. “She’s been living with my uncle the last few years, but there’s no way I can go there, either.”
Her uncle had been the football coach when Gus died. Shit.
“I don’t suppose you’d loan me your shower?”
Garrett shot her a look, but she didn’t seem to think a thing of her request. Typical of Zoey. Trying not to be too obvious, he checked the clock on the console. “If we make it quick, I have enough time.”
Relief took the tension out of her shoulders. “Thank you. I promise to be as fast as I can.”
“No problem.” But damn it, when he saw Amber, he’d let her know that her debt to him had just doubled.
* * *
NEVER HAD SHE met a man so hard to read.
Garrett Hudson, with his dark hair and incendiary blue eyes, didn’t seem to react to anything. He’d seen her standing there in her vomit-covered clothes, smelling of it, and he hadn’t blinked an eye.
He had to put her in his truck, and he just rolled with it. No fuss, no big deal. No censure or disdain.
Zoey should have remembered his even temper and iron control, but she hadn’t been expecting him.
No, she’d been looking for Amber—and when she’d spied Garrett instead, she’d whispered a quick prayer that he would look past her so she could slink away.
She never had been the lucky sort.
Even though he hadn’t let the appearance or smell get to him, he was her fantasy guy, her biggest regret, and he’d just found her looking as bad as any woman could.
Worse, she had to impose on him to use his shower. But good God, it was ba
d enough that he had to see her like this. She didn’t want to face the rest of the town looking like she’d been regurgitated from an ailing giant.
Zoey was pretty sure things couldn’t get any worse…until Garrett pulled up to an older Cape Cod and she saw two of his cousins in his driveway. It was all she could do to keep from groaning in agony.
Shohn Hudson was a year older, Adam Sommerville four years older, and they were both amazing specimens.
She tried to sink lower in the seat while Garrett quickly put the truck in Park and got out. “What’s going on?”
Shohn said, “Not much. Just had a few quick questions for you. Since Adam and I were heading out to dinner, we just stopped by.”
Hiding inside the truck, Zoey looked over the men. Amber had caught her up on all the family dynamics, so she knew Shohn, now engaged, was a park ranger. Seeing him in his uniform, his hair dark, his eyes darker, she’d be willing to bet a lot of women chose to get lost in the woods.
As a gym teacher, Adam stayed in amazing shape. A growing breeze teased his messy blond hair, and when he took off his sunglasses to see into the truck, she got stuck staring into sincere, chocolate-brown eyes.
Smile going crooked, Zoey waved.
“Who do you have in there?” Adam asked with a confused frown.
Only then did Shohn even notice her. He peered into the truck, too, and Zoey knew she had to quit being a coward.
Straightening the ugly gray T-shirt, she opened the door and got out.
Hands on his hips, head dropped forward, she knew Garrett resigned himself to explaining her unwelcome presence.
Nervousness always made her babble. “Hi. I’m Zoey Hodge.” Gray clouds rolled in, which she appreciated. The bright sunlight only ramped up the smell and showed all the mess more clearly. “Hey, Shohn. We weren’t in the same grade, but I knew you from school.” She watched for signs of recognition, but he only stared at her. “No? Well, that’s okay. I didn’t really expect you to remember.”
Shohn looked her over with doubt, and stayed quiet.
“But Adam, you’re older, right? I mean, of course I remember you. Duh. All the girls knew you. But I doubt you ever noticed me.”