by Katy Paige
“I know,” said Zoë, thinking about the kiss they’d just shared. “It’s getting...messy.”
“Och, lass,” sighed Maggie, shaking her head. “It’s way past messy. No gettin’ about it.”
“I’m going to tell him. Tonight. In fact, I was headed there when you knocked on my door.”
Maggie held Zoë’s eyes for a moment before wincing. “I don’t know if you should. I just—”
“Wait. You don’t think I should tell him?” Her words came out in a rush, eyes wide with confusion. “You said I should tell him tonight.”
“I know I did, but…it’s going to hurt him. He likes both of you.”
“He can have both of us.”
“He won’t see it that way. Not…yet.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m sayin’ he needs to love Zoë in order to hear her out.”
“He’s a good man,” Zoë whispered. “If he thinks he’s cheating on Holly with me, he’ll feel terrible. No. I can’t do that to him. I need to go over there and tell—”
Maggie reached out and took one of Zoë’s hands in hers. “You love him?”
“I do,” said Zoë, thinking that meeting him today was the final test and he’d passed with flying colors. Was she in love with him? “Completely.”
“It’s a proper mess and no mistake. But he loves Holly and he likes you. And you love him. Tellin’ him the truth right away will ease your conscience, but you’re right, you’ll probably lose him. And worse, he’ll lose you.”
Zoë grimaced at the pain Maggie’s words caused her heart. She swallowed painfully as Maggie squeezed her hand.
“Take a moment, lass. You need to think. You have to figure out a way to make this work. Find the right time to tell him. I wouldn’t go over there, guns blazin’, tonight. If I were you, I’d sleep on it a wee bit. Look at it again in the mornin’ with fresh eyes. That’s my advice, for whatever it’s worth.”
“It’s worth a lot,” Zoë told her.
Maggie stood up, walking toward the door.
“Thank you for coming over, Maggie. For giving me a chance.”
Maggie opened the door then turned to look at Zoë.
“Figure it out fast, lass, because he cares for you so much and he’s…well, he’s special.”
“I know.”
“I believe you do.”
Maggie gave her a small smile, but Zoë could see the worry behind it. Then Maggie turned and walked into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind her.
***
Cleo didn’t like getting her paws wet, but Paul needed a walk, and Cleo was going with him whether she liked it or not. She walked daintily on her little feet, trying to minimize her contact with the cold, wet sidewalk as they started out for the arch.
Paul could barely get his head around everything that had happened in the past five hours, but of two things he was absolutely certain: first, he felt like crap for cheating on Holly and second, he had no business going anywhere near Zoë tomorrow.
He couldn’t account for his actions. From the moment he’d seen her holding Cleo, he’d felt some strong, strange pull to her—to protect her and take care of her. Rescuing his dog showed amazing bravery, but then she showed another side of herself later, patiently listening to him talk about Holly in the gazebo next to the Cowboy Lodge. And still another side when she melted into him, crying against his chest, taking the comfort he offered her on the bridge. She looked sure-footed, but she walked with a limp; it had been more pronounced as she tried to run away from him. She looked tough, but everything about her was soft and vulnerable.
Oh, man. This is bad. This is trouble.
Come on, Paul. She’s not your type at all!
And she wasn’t…but he was attracted as hell to her—there was no point in denying it. His whole body had hummed with arousal as he kissed her. She had this sad-but-courageous thing going on and it was irresistible to him. He wanted to comfort her, just as much as he wanted to stand back and admire her, just as much as he wanted to see what she looked like naked. On her back. In his bed.
Try doing a little more standing back and admiring, Paul. That’d be a good idea.
Kissing her on the bridge had crossed a line. A major line. If he was a single guy, it would be a different story. He’d be thrilled that Zoë blew into town. He’d be all excited and dreamy tonight, full of anticipation for their day in the park tomorrow, and maybe even letting his imagination wander all the way to the possibility of love. Yeah. He’d certainly entertain it.
He thought of the way her dark eyes had glistened in the moonlight right before he’d dipped his head and kissed her. His lips could still feel the softness of hers under his. He could still taste her in his mouth, the slight, sweet bitterness of the coffee, the smell of honeysuckle, and that sexy moan that—
Enough!
You shouldn’t be thinking of her like this! You’re not a single guy.
He was a guy who’d already met a wonderful girl, and regardless of whether or not he’d met her in person yet, he felt a commitment to Holly. A commitment solidified by his intent to visit her in a few short weeks. Holly deserved his best—his whole heart. She deserved to be loved the way Westley loved Buttercup, unreservedly, without limits or boundaries.
He wasn’t free to pursue Zoë, even if he wanted to.
Which begged the question…
“Do I want to pursue Zoë?’
Cleo answered him by looking up and whining lightly before trying to tug him back toward the house.
“Of course not!” he told the little dog, turning to follow as she led the way home.
He wanted Holly. Sweet, sunny Holly who probably smelled like vanilla.
She wouldn’t cry on his chest or look up at him with dark, wounded eyes. She’d tease him playfully and make him laugh, her blue eyes twinkling and golden hair shining. She’d be his Christmas sweetheart; his sunny princess who came from a loving family, had a perfect job and didn’t complicate his life with heroic gestures and vulnerable eyes.
Is that really what you want? Seems like something inside of you is pulled toward someone like Zoë too. Seems like maybe you like a little…complicated.
“No!” he said so loudly that Cleo jumped, putting her tail between her legs.
“Sorry, Cleo,” he muttered, reaching down to scoop the quivering dog up and carry her the rest of the way home. She relaxed into the crook of his arm, resting her chin on his forearm contentedly.
No, he thought again, evenly, calmly. I don’t want complicated. I want Holly. I won’t be pulled toward Zoë anymore. I won’t allow it.
I’ll still go tomorrow, but we’ll have a friendly, appropriate outing and then say goodbye. I’ll go to school on Monday, she’ll deal with the issues in her own life, and we’ll part friends.
Holly deserves nothing less than my whole heart, and when I see her, I intend to give it to her.
So, that was it. He would see Zoë tomorrow, keep things friendly and then say goodbye. And there was no way he was touching her again, that was for sure. Kissing her once, which he blamed on an unexpectedly emotional afternoon and evening, was one thing. It was an accident, a mistake, a one-time error in judgment that he would not be duplicating. Absolutely not.
Because he knew in his heart if he did it again, it wouldn’t be a mistake anymore. It would be a deliberate choice. It would mean that he wasn’t worthy of someone as wonderful as Holly.
It would mean the unthinkable:
He’d have to let Holly go.
CHAPTER 12
The two-hour time difference meant that Zoë was up by six o’clock and dressed and ready for the day by seven. With an hour to kill before the inn offered breakfast, she peeked out the window and decided to walk to the Prairie Dawn for a hot cup of coffee and a scone. She’d somehow lost the one Maggie had given her last night. Not surprising, considering what had happened between her and Paul on the walk home.
Tucking her phone in her pocket, s
he headed down the stairs wearing a new pair of skinny jeans and a black, long-sleeved, scoop-neck T-shirt, ready to start her day…until she opened the front door and gasped.
“Gah! Cold!” she yelped, closing the door again with a slam.
She turned gingerly to be sure the innkeeper wasn’t standing behind her with a stern and disapproving expression and was relieved to find herself still alone. Running upstairs, she grabbed the black cardigan she was wearing last night, grateful it had dried in its spot draped over the radiator. Seeing her earbuds lying on the bedside table, she picked them up too, popping them in her ears and choosing one of her favorite Colbie Callait songs for the short walk to the Prairie Dawn.
There’s something about an empty sidewalk, early in the morning when you’re wide awake that makes you feel like the only person in the world.
The sweet words of “I Do” made her shoulders rock back and forth and she moved her hips lightly as she walked merengue-style with little bouncy steps, occasionally snapping her fingers to the buoyant beat, forgetting the confusion of last night and the cold of the morning as the sunny song made her heart feel lighter.
“I do, I do, I do do do do do do do do do …” she sang louder than usual, pushing through the slight pain of bending her knees with each step, leaning into the rhythm and the carefree happiness of the song. She pointed to her ring finger along with the lyrics then shrugged her shoulders with attitude, making her way merrily down empty Stone Street.
The thing is, if she hadn’t needed the sweater, she would have already been halfway to the Prairie Dawn and she wouldn’t be deaf from the music blaring in her ears. She wouldn’t have walked by Paul’s front porch just as he closed the door behind him, heading to the exact same place. And he definitely wouldn’t have had the questionable pleasure of hearing her cheerful, if slightly off-key, rendition of Colbie’s popcorn hit, complete with her spirited, if completely and utterly embarrassing, merengue-style dance-walk.
“You make me wanna say I do—Oh my God!” she gasped, feeling a tap on her shoulder and spinning around to slam into Paul’s solid chest.
Her cheeks flamed with heat as she grappled for the earbuds, finally finding the cords and yanking them out of her ears. That’s right. He wakes up at 6:35 every morning, every day, whether school’s in session or not.
She peeked up at him.
Something she hadn’t known until now? He woke up looking like a god. Like a freshly showered, devastatingly handsome god who was trying desperately not to grin at her, blue eyes sparkling with merriment. Lord only knows how long he was standing there watching her sing and dance down his street. She would have been completely mortified if she wasn’t distracted by something else…
He had grabbed her around the waist as she fell into him, and she was acutely aware of the heat and pressure of his hands as they steadied her, finally sliding down to rest on the swell of her hips.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, losing his battle with composure and breaking into an ear to ear grin. “But…wow!”
Zoë cringed, forcing herself not to think about his hands, which lingered on her body. They felt so good and so right there, she didn’t have the willpower to back away. She looked up and met his eyes, putting a little sass in her voice. “Wow, what? You never take a morning walk-dance to Colbie Callait? You’re missing out.”
At the mention of Colbie, he seemed to realize he was still holding her, and his hands flew off her waist like she was suddenly made of fire. It took Zoë a second to process his reaction before remembering that “Holly” had mentioned Colbie Callait on her MeetTheOne profile.
“Probably more fun to watch you anyway,” he muttered, his smile fading just a little bit, as if he’d done something wrong.
“If your idea of fun is a sloppy merengue and off-key singing.”
“Didn’t sound off-key to me…or look very sloppy, for that matter.”
Zoë grinned at him, wondering if they could get over the awkward Holly moment. “I used to love to dance.”
“Used to?” he asked in an echo of the text chat they’d had at the movies several weeks ago. “Why not anymore?”
She took a deep breath and said, “I had an accident a couple of years ago. It messed up my right leg.”
He furrowed his brows and she had a feeling he was remembering her limp last night as she tried to run home. He nodded slowly, glancing down at her leg. “What happened?”
“Car accident,” she said, and it surprised her that her eyes didn’t tear up and that old lump in her throat didn’t appear even as it had last night when she told Maggie. She was somehow able to say the words without them totally decimating her. “Bad one.”
He was still nodding. His glance flicked to the scar on her face that he’d traced with his finger as he’d kissed her yesterday evening, and she wondered if he was thinking about that too.
“Yeah,” she confirmed softly, touching the line with her own fingers. “That too.”
He stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time, his blue eyes staring so hard, it was like they were looking into her. She wondered if he could see through the brown contacts to the blue eyes hidden underneath.
“Damn, you’re brave,” he murmured.
Zoë swallowed, shaking her head. “No. No, I’m not.”
She turned away from him, shoving her earbuds in her pocket and pausing “I Do” as she resumed her walk toward town. He turned quickly and joined her, his arm brushing hers as he caught up.
“Where you headed?”
She was glad he didn’t ask any more questions about the accident. While she was relieved she’d been able to talk about it without getting emotional, she wasn’t anxious to share more details. Not now, anyway. Not yet.
“Prairie Dawn,” she said, glancing up at him. He must have just shaved because his jaw was smooth. She was dying to touch the warm, soft skin, to run her fingers along the strong line. She shoved her hands in her back pockets instead, recalling the way he’d dropped his hands from her hips.
“You seemed pretty anxious to get out of there last night,” he said mildly.
She stopped walking and looked up at him. He stopped at the same time she did, and gazed at her with worry and…tenderness? Oh, God, it was. Does he even realize how he’s looking at me?
Her tongue darted out to lick her lips nervously and his eyes dropped to her mouth before he blinked them quickly and switched his gaze awkwardly to the mountains over her shoulder.
“Hey,” she started, “I owe you an apology for crying all over you. I was—I don’t know. Tired and jet lagged, probably.”
“Lot of tears for jet lag.”
“Okay,” she said softly. “The truth is, I don’t know if things are going to work out with the guy I told you about.”
“He lives here?”
“Around here,” she said, resuming their walk.
“Have you seen him since you got to town?”
“He didn’t know I was planning to come,” she answered honestly. “He’s not expecting me.”
“Huh. Was he not home when you stopped by?”
“Things got complicated.”
“Because of Cleo…and me,” said Paul, and she heard the regret in his voice.
“No—” she started, but he cut her off.
“I’m complicating your life as much as I’m complicating mine. I had no business kissing you, Zoë.”
Don’t say you’re sorry. Don’t say you’re sorry.
To her relief he didn’t.
To her frustration, he said something worse:
“I promise never to do it again.”
That’s great. Just great.
They walked the rest of the way to the Prairie Dawn in awkward silence and Zoë revisited Maggie’s words from last night:
You have to figure out a way to make this work.
Kisses or no kisses, that’s exactly what she still intended to do.
***
“If it isn’t th
e bonniest lass in Gardiner!” exclaimed Graham from behind the copper bar.
“Where’s Maggie?” asked Paul, feeling irritable at the sight of her disrespectful, foul-mouthed cousin. The last person he was in the mood to see this morning was Graham.
“She’s not feelin’ so very well, laddie. Under t’weather.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
Graham pantomimed throwing up. “Case of the heaves. Bloody disgustin’.”
Paul’s nose inched up in distaste, wrinkling at Graham’s colorful description. “Are you running things?”
“That I am,” he said, looking away from Paul dismissively and winking at Zoë. “What can I get the lovely Zoë?”
Paul rolled his eyes. Zoë smiled back at Graham, and Paul was pretty sure he could see her molars. “Cappuccino?”
Graham put his hand over his heart as though wounded. “Challengin’ me with special orders on my first day!”
“No! Black coffee’s fine!” she blurted out, her cheeks rosy from Graham’s stupid flirting.
“Nae, lass. Only the best for you. Cappuccino it is! Sit awhile and I’ll bring it over when it’s ready.” Zoë grinned at him and turned away. Paul and Graham watched her sit down on the window seat, one leg curled under her body as she reached for a newspaper and perused the front page.
The two men faced each other, Graham’s smile fading quickly to a mocking smirk. He leaned forward across the bar, toward Paul, speaking in a lower voice. “Just so as we’re clear, I’m aimin’ to hit that.”
Damn, but he hated this kid’s guts. He balled his fists in front of him and spoke in a low-toned, angry whisper.
“Just so as we’re clear, laddie, try it and the only thing that’ll get hit is your face.”
“But you’re not interested,” Graham said sarcastically.
“I’m not interested in someone like her getting seduced by someone like you.”
He stepped back, that idiotic smirk taunting Paul. “Oooo. Seduced. There’s a fine and fancy word for it. If it makes you feel any better, I’m not goin’ to seduce anyone. I was just plannin’ to knock boots with her ‘til I got bored.”