by Kelly Moran
A noise resembling a dry laugh burst from her lips. “I have no interest. He couldn’t bother to stick. I don’t need him.”
Drake whole-heartedly agreed.
Her cat bumped his leg and, happy to have something to focus on, he picked up the white ball of fur to set in his lap. Cotton, she’d name the thing. Poor guy had probably been hiding during all the commotion. “He’s due for a distemper vaccination soon, isn’t he?”
“Probably. I’ll have Avery put him on Cade’s schedule.”
Avery was their office manager and his youngest brother’s wife. Cade did most of the in-house clients at their veterinarian clinic. Flynn, his other brother, made house calls and traveled. Drake was the surgery vet, though he saw patients two days a week for appointments, like Flynn.
“I’ll bring a vaccination over next week.” She had enough on her plate. “Do an exam, too.”
Her gaze whipped to his. Held.
He didn’t know what to make of her expression or the way it made his stomach shift, so he eyed the cat. Cotton batted his arm in a silent demand for attention. Complying, Drake stroked the furball, letting the rumble of his purr settle him.
Zoe pushed her bowl away, not eating a bite. “I’m going to need to soundproof the house at this rate. Mama’s getting louder. And worse. I’m lucky the neighbors haven’t called the cops yet.”
Jesus. “Zoe—”
“Don’t.” Her full lips thinned into a line. “Not you, too. I promised her I’d keep her at home. You did for Heather.”
They hadn’t outright said her name in so long it jarred him for a beat. “Heather had terminal cancer. Your mom’s body is fine. It’s her mind that’s gone. One of these days, she could really…”
“What? Hurt me? She’d never—”
“She threw a book at you tonight.” He closed his eyes to calm his temper, cool his tone. This situation wasn’t Zoe’s fault anymore than it was Cat’s. Fifty-five years old, and her life was gone. “She’s not the same woman who raised you. This person doesn’t know you. She’s confused, scared. Not even she could’ve known how bad it would get.”
Abruptly standing, she sent the chair across the floor. Her back to him, she walked her bowl to the sink. “I can’t put her away, Drake.”
No, she wouldn’t. Not even at the risk to herself. Loyal to a fault. He couldn’t blame her. If it were his mother, he’d do the same thing. He hated seeing her like this, though. Tough as nails Zoe Hornsby, reduced to a wilted balloon.
“I should go.” He rose and set the cat on the floor, surprised he didn’t really want to leave. “I’ll see you at the game tomorrow.” Their clinic had teamed up years ago with some of the doctors and nurses from urgent care to start a softball league every summer. Tomorrow, they played the firefighters and police officers.
Her gaze skimmed over him as if seeing him for the first time all evening. “Why are you wet and sweaty?”
“Your call interrupted my nightly run.”
“Oh. You’re welcome, then.”
Smartass. “You know, some exercise might do you some good.”
Her hands fisted on her hips. “Are you calling me fat?”
Considering he could bench press her with one arm…no. She had a great body, if not on the slim side. Olive skin tone, compliments of her gypsy heritage. A few freckles on her pert nose. Long legs, slight hourglass curve to her waist, breasts that would fit perfectly—
What the hell?
He shook his head. “I meant that exercise raises endorphins and improves your mood.” Pausing, he wondered what in Almighty’s name he was doing. “You could come jogging with me in the evenings.”
Indignation infused every inch of her expression. “And you call yourself my friend. Get out of my house. And don’t come back without cupcakes or tequila.”
Ah, yes. There was the real Zoe. Much better. It was awfully damn hard to fight a grin. Regardless, he managed and went home.
Chapter 2
Zoe took a few practice swings on the third base sideline before the game. It was hotter than Haiti, but she couldn’t wait to play. Their Saturday softball games were just about her only reprieve besides work. Drake’s aunt Rosa watched Mama for her, and smacking a ball around was great therapy.
Sex would be better, but it was too much effort to bother. Flirting, dating, sealing the deal. Who had the time?
Breathing in the scent of fresh cut grass and sunshine, she glanced at the other players warming up. Eye candy, for sure. It was as if being hot were a prerequisite for the firefighters and police officers on the opposing team. She’d grown up with most of them, had even dated a few, but looking was no hardship. Neither team had very many women, and not that she went for that sort of thing, but they weren’t an eyesore either.
Residents were filling the small set of bleachers on either side of the field. In the distance, the base of the Klamath Mountains was a pretty backsplash to Redwood Ridge’s park. The roar of the rocky Pacific coastline hummed in the background. Hotdog and popcorn vendors were busy between bleacher sections.
“Whoa, easy there.”
Zoe caught her bat up short and faced Parker Maloney. The Ridge’s finest PD display right there, and now the sheriff. Dark hair, shocking green eyes, he was built like a rugged cowboy but had the look of a wicked Irish hellion. Next to him was Jason Burkwell of the fire department—a blond, blue-eyed cutie with a jaw full of scruff and a grin that promised fun. His tee was stretched over sculpted manliness she wished she had the inclination to explore. She hadn’t had fun in ages.
She grinned. “Checking out the competition?”
Jason’s gaze slid south over her white shirt, past the quarter-length black sleeves, and kept going to her white capris. “I’ll forfeit if you run away with me. I’d be happy to show you my fire hose.”
Parker shook his head. “Original, man. Real original.”
“Be still my heart.” Zoe waved her hand in front of her face, adoring their teasing banter. They were great guys who’d been in her high school graduating class. Harmless flirting had always been a part of their makeup. “Parker, can we borrow your handcuffs?”
“I think not.”
She frowned. “Sigh. Such a party pooper.”
Jason adjusted his hat. “How’s your mom doing?”
Mood kill. “Not great, but thanks for asking.” A rewind of last night played through her head and she sighed. Drake had been a godsend, not that she’d tell him so. Her lumbar still hurt from the back-versus-book debacle. Mama had one hell of an arm. Book for the win.
“Sorry to hear that.” Jason’s gaze made its way over her shoulder and narrowed. He tilted his head. “Is there a reason Drake O’Grady is shooting daggers our way?”
Was he? Her stupid, stupid heart pounded. It took obscene effort not to turn and look. Interesting development, but why? And if Drake were, say, upset by her chatting it up with the Ridge’s hotties, it would maybe—a little—have her grinning inside.
Idiot, party of one.
“Not a clue.” She hoped her voice sounded as nonchalant as she tried to make it.
“You two aren’t a thing, right?” Jason’s focus remained across the field. “I didn’t know he was ready to date again, but it’s been some time since Heather died.”
“I assure you, we aren’t a thing, and that I’m aware, he’s not seeing anyone.” If Drake were ever ready to meet someone and fall again, he’d go for anyone but her. History and circumstances had already proven that fact.
Parker glanced behind her. “Well, he either very much dislikes us talking or we have a bull’s-eye on our faces.”
There had to be another explanation. She’d probably pissed him off last night or he was put out by her having called in the first place. Drake didn’t care one iota who she dated, hung out with, or talked to.
Then her stomac
h twisted with another thought. Maybe he felt sorry for her after what he’d seen at her house. Drake loved with his whole self. He didn’t know any other way. Whether it be family or friends, if one were lucky enough to be a part of his inner circle, they were privy to his severely protective and giving nature. No matter their differences, Drake loved her in his own way.
Refusing to focus on the matter, her gaze swept the field and landed on the mound. “Who’s the guy pitching?” She’d never seen him before.
Parker grunted. “Rick Addison. New deputy down from Portland. Bit of a douche if you ask me.”
Zoe leaned on her bat. “I’ll take him down a few pegs when I hit everything he throws.”
“I’ve got a beer with your name on it at Shooters if you do.” Jason crossed his arms. “I don’t care if we lose because of it.”
She shrugged. “You’ll lose anyway.”
“Damn right.” Cade strode over. And speaking of eye candy…
Dark blond hair, gray-blue eyes, and reformed playboy of the Ridge. Or Drake’s little brother, as she referred to him.
He grinned at the guys. “If you’re trying to distract our best player here, it won’t work.” He looked at Zoe. “We’re ready to start.”
Nodding, she waved bye and let Cade lead her away with his arm around her shoulders.
“Still breaking hearts all over town, I see.”
She jabbed him with an elbow. “Someone has to now that you’re married.”
Cade stepped away and whistled for Avery, then asked her to bring Hailey to the field. Hand in hand, Avery stepped off the bleachers and passed her eight-year-old off to him. Hailey squealed and flapped her hands, indicating she was excited. As the girl was a non-verbal autistic, Zoe had learned to read her mannerisms.
Drake leaned on the chest-high chain-link fence separating the field from the dugout bench as if completely unaware anything was going on around him. Forearms braced on the top rail, he watched Zoe head over, eyes hooded and expression blank. The position stretched his jersey across his wide shoulders, narrow waist, and defined biceps. A slight five-o’clock shadow dusted his jaw. Thick black hair poked out from under his cap and eyes the shade of forbidden chocolate trekked her destination until she stood in front of him.
Fifteen years had passed since the dreadful, awful day she’d realized her crush. In that time, he’d dated, married, and buried her best friend. Never so much as hinted he knew Zoe was a female, regardless of whether he considered her an attractive one. One would think she’d have gotten a clue.
In her defense, she hadn’t pined for what could never be, nor what had never been hers in the first place. Back then, she’d cried a couple times over the teenage angst like any proper sixteen-year-old. Alone, of course. No one had suspected her feelings. And in a handful of instances since, she’d snapped the lid tight on any fantasies when she’d caught herself daydreaming.
Damn, the man still made her pulse frantic and her heart trip in rhythm, though. It just wasn’t freaking fair. And why was he staring at her?
Clearing her throat, she glanced behind her at the pitcher’s mound where Cade had Hailey in front of him, ball in hand. “What are they doing?”
“Hailey’s throwing out the first pitch.” His voice was a deep, reverberating rumble that had the capacity to shake her foundation to rubble. He rarely raised it and even more rarely used it, but his tone got her between the ribs every time.
When she faced him again, his gaze was still on her. And, yeah. Something was off about him today. “Is everything okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
Maybe because there were upwards of a hundred people in the stands, players on the field, and the team behind him, and all he was doing was watching her. If she didn’t know him so well, she’d swear there was...interest on his part. But that was stupid. Chances were, he was replaying a surgery inside his head.
He jerked his chin toward infield. “Didn’t realize you still hung out with Jason and Parker.”
Oh hell. Had she entered a Dr. Who episode or something?
In response, she walked around the fence and plopped on the bench next to Flynn. Like his brothers, Flynn was an attractive guy with reddish blond hair and hazel eyes. Since the middle O’Grady was deaf, she signed and spoke simultaneously. “That’s so cute they’re letting Hailey throw the first pitch.”
He nodded, grinning. “It was Drake’s idea,” he signed.
He leaned over his other side and gave Gabby a quick kiss. She also worked at the clinic as Flynn’s tech. They’d been dating since this past spring and were so cute together it made Zoe’s teeth ache.
Jealousy, meet thy minion.
She refocused her attention to the mound. With Cade’s help, Hailey brought her arm back and let the ball loose. It sailed wide left of the plate, but made it to the catcher’s mitt without a bounce. The crowd applauded, Avery loudest of all, and Hailey squealed.
Zoe grinned and clapped, pride filling her chest. She may only be an honorary auntie, but that was one great kid.
Gabby jumped to her feet, cheering, her blonde ponytail swinging. “She’s got quite the arm.”
Drake grunted. “We’ll have to recruit her for the team next year.”
When had he sat next to her, darn it? And those black nylon shorts hugging his muscular thighs should be against the law. His forearm brushed hers and she sucked a shallow breath. The heat from his body was twice at hot as the air and his scent rose over that of the park. She could never quite nail what his scent was, but warm male, testosterone, and forbidden fit the bill.
Once the game was finally underway, Zoe relaxed. Their batting rotation catered to their strengths by having two O’Gradys up first, followed by Zoe, and Cade hitting cleanup. A few of the doctors and nurses from urgent care filled the middle lineup with Gabby wrapping it up. Her first time at bat, Zoe struck out, which severely pissed her off, and they took the field.
By the top of the ninth inning, they were down two-to-one and she was considering taking her fist to the pitcher’s face. Parker had been right. The guy was a douche. He’d spent most of the game heckling her team.
Drake was on second base after being walked and Flynn was on first with a single. Two outs. Zoe strode to the plate and took her stance, eyes narrowed on the jerk in question.
Instead of winding up, the pitcher turned to face outfield. “Bring it in, bring it in. Woman at bat.”
Oh hell no, he didn’t.
Drake’s shoulders moved with a sigh as if resigned to a fight breaking out. Flynn merely lifted his brows like the pitcher had fallen out of the stupid tree. The other team said it best when none of them moved an inch, giving Zoe the respect she deserved and Rick-the-Dick pitcher a blind eye.
She was about to show him what a woman and a bat could do to his testicles when Cade’s voice sounded behind her. “Save it for the ball, Zoe. You got this.”
She turned and offered Cade a knowing grin, then took her stance again. The ball sailed right toward her head and she ate dirt. The crowd gasped.
Cade stomped around the fence and Drake shot off second base, rage in both their eyes. But she got up and called them back, refusing to dust herself off. This was a friendly small town softball game, for christsakes. Halfway between second and the mound, Drake froze at her command, fists clenched.
“Let her show him, big brother.” Cade nodded, then Drake and Zoe resumed positions. “Jerk won’t know what’s coming.”
“I’m shaking in my cup,” the pitcher droned.
Zoe rolled her eyes. “That would require you having the goods to wear a cup.”
That had the whole infield laughing and Rick’s jaw clenching. He wound up and let loose.
She swung. Her bat connected, and she knew from impact it was hard enough to bring Drake in to tie the game. Dropping the bat, she shot toward first base a
s the line-drive sailed past the shortstop and into left field. Drake scored and Flynn rounded third. Zoe tagged first and headed to second. The throw to the plate came late and Flynn slid in, safe.
“Yeah!” From her position on top of the second base bag, she wiped her sweaty brow with her palm and grinned. Her team cheered from the bench and she took a bow.
Leaving shortstop, Jason moved toward her and held up his fist. “Nice hit. I owe you a beer.”
She bumped knuckles with him. “Thank you.”
Rick didn’t say another word, and the other team was unable to score at the bottom of the inning. Accepting the win, they shook hands and collected equipment.
But apparently Rick hadn’t learned his lesson. As he walked past their bench, a bag in hand, he shoulder-checked Cade. “I’ll throw her a real pitch next match.”
Cade tilted his gaze heavenward. “You’re nuts. She bested you. Man up.”
Rick eyed Zoe. “Speaking of nuts, I hear it runs in the family. What’s that they call your mom? Crazy Cat?”
A feral roar in her throat, she launched at him, but Cade caught her mid-flight. “Cool it. He’s not worth it, yeah?”
In the next breath, Jason’s fist collided with the pitcher’s face. He went down, ass over elbow. Huffing, Jason shook out his hand, wiggling his fingers. “I suggest you stay down.”
A crowd was beginning to gather. Murmurs from behind grew louder, and tension from the players on both sides shot cosmic waves into the stratosphere—all directed at Rick.
Zoe shook with rage until she could barely see straight. Cade merely held her tighter to keep her from earning twenty-to-life.
Wiping his lip and face mottled to a shade of tomato, Rick glared at Parker. “I want to press charges. He punched me.”
Parker shrugged, removed his ball cap, and scratched his head. “I’m afraid I didn’t see anything. If there weren’t any witnesses”—he glanced around, but no one spoke up—”it might be a case of your word against his.”
Rick growled. With a slow nod, he got to his feet. “I see how it is here in Podunk. She’s got the sheriff between her legs. Then again, from what I’ve heard, half the department’s been there, too.”