by Kira Hillins
“Ben’s not like any of them. He’s an amazing guy.”
“He’s probably some fat ass with greasy hair and pimples.” Renji snorted a laugh as he rolled out sugar-cookie dough on the flour-covered counter. “Plus, five hundred miles is a long way to travel to be with someone. It won’t work out.”
“He’s not fat and greasy. He’s exceptionally hot. Millie, just wait until you see him. Dreamy.”
“Still won’t last.” Renji lifted the pin off the dough and pointed it at her. “Care to make a wager on it?”
“Life is nothing but a gamble for you, isn’t it? You two are supposed to be supportive, not always trying to prove me wrong.”
Zoe hit Renji with her elbow on the way to her office. “Just…get back to work.”
She slammed the door shut. He could keep being a big jerk. Millie could continue condemning her for breaking Renji’s heart. She knew this relationship with Ben could work out, even with the distance problem.
Zoe hurried through the morning paperwork, skipping her usual croissant and coffee to get it done. At noon, she retrieved the zippered pouch from the top drawer of her desk. She got down on her hands and knees and unlocked the safe. As she grabbed the money from the previous day’s sales, the door to the office opened.
“Zoe,” Renji said as she stood. “You’re wanted out in the store.”
“Thanks.”
On the way out the door, he caught her forearm. “Okay, listen. I’m an idiot, and I swear I’ll never give you the cold shoulder again. I’m just worried about you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Just promise…promise me you’ll be careful. If this guy turns out to be bad…if he hurts you in any way, I’m here. Okay?”
“Thanks, Renji.”
“Want me to take that to the bank?”
She nodded as she handed him the pouch. On her way to the storefront, she drew a deep breath, happy her friend had come back to his senses.
“Ms. Kearny.” The petite woman held her hand out over the store counter.
Zoe shook. “Please, call me Zoe.”
“Drema,” the woman said, tossing Renji a glance. “I’m the owner of Holetzer’s Sports Bar.”
“How can I help you?”
“I’m throwing a grand opening for the bar in a few weeks. I’m thinking barbecue, live band, dunking booths.” She cocked her head to the side. “The butcher at the grocery store told me you were the person to contact about helping me coordinate the event.”
Though Zoe wasn’t the owner of the bakery, she might as well be. She took care of all the media and special events. “I’ll have to think about it.”
Drema smiled. “It’s pretty impressive keeping a bakery running in such a small community.”
“We’re not that far a drive from Wichita. Plus, we’ve been here for sixty years. The customers are loyal.”
“Fair enough,” Drema replied.
Zoe couldn’t help thinking about the waitresses of Holetzer’s being call girls, and Drema moving her business here because the law shut her down. “I’ve heard things about your last…establishment.”
“Rumors.” Drema shook her head and sighed. “I assure you my workers weren’t prostitutes. And I’ve never run any kind of illegal drug operation. I chose this town because my mother lives in Wichita and I wanted to be closer to her.”
“Why not move your bar inside Wichita?”
Drema shrugged. “I like small towns. It’s cheaper here. This is right close to Wichita.”
Zoe thought a moment. Did she really want to help coordinate a party? Yes, she knew how to get word out and could organize the event, but did she really want to be involved?
“Stop in this weekend and have a look around,” Drema said. “You don’t have to give me an answer yet, but it’d be nice to have one soon.” She turned to leave. “Would you tell Renji the blueberry muffins are to die for?”
“I will.” Zoe watched Drema’s face turn a shade of pink. The lady had an obvious crush on Renji.
* * * *
Zoe spent the lunch hour researching on the Internet. Holetzer’s in South Dakota had been a bar with walls of televisions offering sports broadcasts. The popular place had parties during big games and local college homecomings. It sounded like a nice place for the sports fanatic. Had a great family atmosphere. Too bad it burned down. Funny how a few months later, another sports bar was built across the street, and Drema’s dreams had been smeared by local rumors.
At one p.m., Zoe put her research away and left the office. Jittery, she came to stand beside Millie, who decorated her next cake. The four-tiered masterpiece was set for a fifty-year wedding anniversary and renewal of vows happening at church on Saturday.
“Wish me luck?” Zoe said.
“You know how I feel about this,” Millie said. “But I love you and want to see you happy. If this video-game guy makes you laugh and smile, if he makes you feel your heart without doubt, then you have my blessing.”
Zoe laughed. “You mean if he doesn’t ax murder me?”
“With your luck…?”
“I know I don’t have a good track record with men. And I’m a little scared to jump back into dating, especially with a guy I’ve never met. But I really hope this one works out. If it doesn’t, I think I’ll go join a convent.”
Millie stared at her, lips pursed, tube of frosting held before her like a dagger. She lifted the tip and squeezed a big glob of icing onto the end of Zoe’s nose. “You, my friend, are impossible. Think positive, my sweet. And don’t you dare let him lift a finger to hurt you.”
Zoe stood cross-eyed until the frosting slid off to the floor. “I need to go. I have a dinner to cook.”
“You’re cooking?”
“Yes,” Zoe muttered.
“Not microwave meals, right?”
Zoe laughed. “No.”
“What are you making?”
Zoe cleared her throat and switched her stance. She was ready to run if Millie told her she couldn’t pull it off.
“Lasagna.”
“The horror!” Millie gasped. “What time is he arriving?”
“Five.”
Millie turned her fast and shoved her toward the exit. “Renji and I have the store handled for the weekend. Just get moving, or you won’t get your dinner finished on time.”
“Thanks, Millie.” Zoe smiled back at her.
Chapter Six
Zoe jogged to her apartment, careful not to trip over the horizontal lines across the sidewalk. Her knees were already skinned from the last time she fell, a week ago. Embarrassing. The unsightliness of bandages left her feeling like an unattractive klutz. She didn’t need that tonight.
Safely locked inside her apartment, she hurried up the steps to the kitchen to make the ricotta-cheese mix. The apartment still smelled like the Italian sausage and hamburger she’d fried this morning. It reminded her of her favorite restaurant in the mall.
She hoped Ben liked Italian. Otherwise, she’d take him out to eat instead. Maybe they’d go to Granny’s Diner down the road to have a cheeseburger and a piece of Granny’s famous pumpkin pie.
She hoped he called her pumpkin tonight.
It really didn’t matter what he called her as long as their first meeting went without a hitch. Hopefully her alien-fighting partner was as interesting and handsome and nice in person as he was online.
After a quick shower, she blow-dried her hair. She put on her favorite sundress, applied her makeup, and then positioned her shiny bangs to the side.
It’d been a long while since she’d dressed up like this. The last time she went to Sunday school, she hadn’t looked this pretty. First impressions always stuck, and she didn’t want him to remember her as some kind of Suzy Homemaker in jeans and a pink button-up shirt.
She hurried to the kitchen, turned on the oven light, and checked the baking dish. It wasn’t bubbling yet—a good sign it would take the hour to cook.
Her cell phone chimed. Thinking i
t might be Ben texting to let her know how close he was, she picked it up.
Nicholas. Why the hell was he texting her again? Did he really believe she’d reply? Just the thought of him made her want to vomit.
I’m out on my hog today. Want to go for a ride?
Zoe shivered as she set down her phone. Shake it off. Don’t let the creep ruin your day. She was meeting a nice guy. Benjamin. Soljer. The gorgeous guy from Denver.
Determined to forget about Nicholas, she put on a smile. With a few dishes still in the sink, she put on her apron. She twisted the hot-water knob. The faucet coughed and sputtered.
She turned it off. “What the heck?” She turned it on again. Water gurgled but finally ran normal after several iffy seconds.
As she washed the colander with a soapy dishrag, the faucet sputtered again. The water quit running. A strange sound, like rapidly flowing water through a long, hollow tube, came from beneath the sink.
No, not beneath it—inside it.
She opened the emergency drawer and retrieved the flashlight. She shone the light inside the drain. The moment she moved her head over the hole, a fountain of water bubbled up.
Zoe screeched. She stuffed the stopper in the drain, but water kept coming, faster, filling the sink with bits of black gunk. Ripped noodles from the garbage disposal came back up.
She turned on the disposal, hoping it’d send the flow back down. The sink kept filling, now dangerously close to overflowing onto the kitchen floor.
“This can’t be happening! “She dialed her landlord. The message machine picked up. “Charlie. This is Zoe.” My apartment’s flooding! Could you call a plumber as soon as possible?”
Not knowing what to do, she hung up. The hallway seemed endless as she ran to the linen closet. She returned to the kitchen with a handful of soft bath towels. She spread a towel around the wet sink and dropped the rest on the floor.
There had to be a way to stop this clog. She leaned over, plunging her hand into the murky water. Another fountain of water sprayed upward like a geyser. It showered down on her, soaking her hair. Her clothes. She dug for the clog, but the water sprayed again.
Hair drenched, body now outright soaked, she tiptoed across the kitchen until her back touched the far wall.
The doorbell rang. It took her a moment, but she managed to pull herself together and walk down the stairs to the front door. Hoping to find Charlie had sent a plumber, she instead came face-to-face with the man she adored.
Ben looked her up and down, gorgeous smile vanishing. He moved a quick step back. She was sure he must be thinking she looked like the monster’s bride.
“Oh no,” she said in a strangled voice. “You’re not supposed to be here yet.”
She wiped her eyes, smearing mascara on the backs of her hands. Her eyes stung as tears, a big well of them, blurred her vision of this exceedingly handsome guy standing before her, looking absolutely mortified.
BEN GLANCED AT the number on the side of the door, wondering if he’d found the right apartment. Number ten. This was the place. The woman was definitely Zoe, but a scarier version.
“Zoe, what’s wrong?”
“I’m so sorry.” She fell back on the bottom step and buried her face in her hands. “We weren’t supposed to meet like this.”
He rushed up the stairs and into the kitchen. Dirty water bubbled from the drain and overflowed into the floor. He wasn’t a plumber, but he’d done enough home improvements to know this wasn’t a normal clog.
“Where’s the plunger?” he asked from the top step.
“Down the hall, first door on the left,” she said, palm against her forehead. “Next to the toilet.”
He stepped inside a full tub of water. At first he didn’t think plunging would do any good. But after a few hard plunges, the fountain of water died down and then finally stopped.
Okay. This is odd. The water was draining normally now. “Check the kitchen sink!”
“It’s draining,” she said.
Ben set the plunger down in the tub. He took off his soaked shoes and socks and then made his way out to the kitchen.
Zoe hid her face with a small pile of hand towels and rags in her arms. Head hung low, she dropped to her knees. She moved the towels around in slow circles, creating shallow waves over the floor. The poor thing fell back on her rear and sobbed in her hands, louder than before. Not knowing how she’d feel about him touching her, he stared at the top of her head. What should he do? Hold her? Leave her sitting there brokenhearted?
“I wouldn’t blame you if you left.” Her voice squeaked a little, like a mouse. “Go home if you want. I’d understand.”
He knelt beside her and helped her off the wet floor. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her against him.
Damn, this felt good, holding her close. Even through the thick aroma of garlic, her hair smelled like roses.
Her wet body trembled beneath his touch. “I’m so sorry.” She sobbed into his shirt.
“Hey now.” He swayed her gently back and forth. “Nothing to be sorry for.”
“Everything’s ruined.”
“No, it’s not.” He leaned back so he could look into those beautiful blue eyes, but she lowered her head. “Look at me, Zoe.”
“I’m hideous.”
“Come on. Lower your hands so I can see your eyes.” When she didn’t budge, he sighed. “Just a little peek? Please…pumpkin?”
She slowly slid her hands to her cheeks. It was enough to show her swollen, mascara-stained eyes. Her wet forefinger had a lasagna noodle stuck to it. When he picked it off and tossed it into the sink, she cried harder.
SHE PEEKED AT him through spread fingers. The top of her head barely reached his chin. It took effort to keep her trembling arms from giving out.
Dark green eyes accented smooth, pale skin. Midnight hair was cut short behind his ears. His bangs stuck up in front, tousled slightly. Considering the mess she was in, she resisted the urge to touch him.
How could she salvage this moment? What else could she do but stand here crying and melting and feeling like the world was about to end?
“Get your things together.” He swiped a lock of soiled hair from her wet eyes. “You can take a shower in my hotel room. We’ll come back later and deal with your apartment. Okay?”
She nodded. Not looking at the messy kitchen, she dragged her feet over the carpet to her room. Her reflection in the mirror above her dresser made her stomach churn. She looked bad—like a zombie girl on prom night. No wonder he’d taken a few steps back when she answered the door.
She pulled a sheet of makeup remover from the bin on her dresser, then wiped the black off her face. That looked a little better. She changed into a T-shirt and sweats, brushed her hair, and pulled it back with a tie. After packing her yellow bag with fresh clothes, she tossed her leather jacket over her arm and went out to the living room.
Ben stood on the bottom stair near the open front door. He looked up at her. A smile lurched across his face, much different from before. Perhaps he was happy to see she wasn’t the undead wanting a wilted corsage.
When she came to stand before him, he brushed his thumb across her brow. “You smell a little funny, but you clean up nice.”
Warmth flooded her cheeks. “Thanks.”
He led her to his Jeep. She hopped up in the seat. When he got in beside her, he turned the key. The engine growled to life.
He reached over and cupped her cheek. “You okay?”
She shivered beneath his warm touch. “I’ll feel better once I’ve showered and changed.”
He returned his hand to the steering wheel and shifted into gear. “I reserved a room at the hotel a few blocks away.”
Sigmund’s Hotel was the only hotel in town. Probably the only hotel in the world with drive-through service. When he pulled up to the window, Zoe sank down in the cloth seat. She leaned back in the hope that Mrs. Sigmund wouldn’t see her.
The Sigmunds were an older Baptist
couple who came to the bakery every morning to buy doughnuts for their continental breakfast. They were old friends of her dad’s. They also badgered her about not attending church…every single time she ran into them.
Mrs. Sigmund slid open the bay window. Dressed in her blue-flower-print dress and with her gray hair up in curlers, she looked like she was getting ready for church.
“Would you like an upstairs or downstairs room?” Mrs. Sigmund asked. Zoe swore she detected a hint of flirt in Mrs. Sigmund’s raspy voice.
“Downstairs is fine,” Ben said.
“Well, it’s not often we get a nice young couple in town. Where are you traveling from?”
“Denver.”
“Oh, one of the elders from our church moved to Denver, North Carolina, not too long ago. I wonder how he’s doing these days.”
“I’m sure he’s fine, ma’am.”
Mrs. Sigmund leaned forward to see who he had with him. Zoe sank farther down in the seat. Mrs. Sigmund would find out it was Zoe, even if she had to snoop around the hotel room window.
“Zoe?”
Caught. Zoe looked past Ben and flashed a nervous smile. “Hello, Mrs. Sigmund.”
“Well, my word, sweetie, I didn’t even recognize you. What happened?”
“Plumbing problems,” Zoe replied. “My apartment flooded. My friend’s letting me use the shower in his room.”
“Now isn’t that the sweetest thing.” Mrs. Sigmund grinned. She leaned over her small cash desk and pulled a key off the hook. Ben took the key from her wrinkled hand.
“Your room is in the back of the building. Number three. It’s the nicest room we have, with a kitchenette and cable TV. It also has a coffeemaker and two packets of the finest coffee in Wichita.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said.
“You take good care of our Zoe, now. She’s such a dear, even if she doesn’t go to church anymore. Talk her into it if you can.”
There it was. The beginning of the “she doesn’t go to church” speech. If Ben didn’t start driving now, Zoe was going to get out and walk.
“I’ll take good care of her, Mrs. Sigmund.”
Ben parked the Jeep in front of room three. He grabbed their bags from the backseat. When he met Zoe at the door, he unlocked it and went in.