by Kristy Tate
Zoe put on a brave smile. “Okay. I’ll try.”
THE BAR FELT CLAUSTROPHOBIC. The air too heavy. The music too loud. Misty Lange, an artist he’d met frequently at bazaars and other local art events, spotted him as soon as he walked in and glommed onto him. Small and wiry, Misty wore tight black clothes that made her look like a ninja. Her severe hairstyle, a helmet-like chin-length bob, didn't help.
“Are you staying for the karaoke?” Misty asked, her alcohol-tainted breath making him gag. “Maybe you and I could do a little duet. You’d like that, hmm?”
“I’m not really a stand-in-front-of-the-crowd sort of person,” Ethan said.
Misty looked baffled and leaned away from him so she could study him to see if he was serious. She laughed in his face. “Aren’t you teaching at Canterbury?”
Was she sneering at him for teaching? How dare she? Teaching was a noble profession. True, if his art were selling better, he wouldn’t need to teach, but still, he shouldn’t be embarrassed about it. “Yes,” he said, a shade too forcefully.
She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the stage. “Standing in front of a crowd is what you do!”
He hated that she was right. Balking, he cast a glance around, looking for Zoe and Courtney. He spotted them at a table near the front. Courtney waved him over.
“Excuse me,” he said to Misty. “I see my friends.”
Clearly, Misty didn’t want to be excused because she followed him to the table forcing him to make introductions.
“You don’t mind if I join you, do you?” Misty purred as she slid into the seat beside Zoe.
“How do you know Ethan?” Courtney asked.
“Business,” Ethan said.
“We’re both artists,” Misty said. “So we’re in the same circles.”
“I ordered a pizza,” Courtney announced. “That’s a circle.”
Misty’s nostrils flared as if she’d just caught a whiff of old cheese. “I don’t eat dairy.”
Zoe glanced at the pitcher of beer on the table. “Can I get anyone anything from the bar?”
Ethan met her gaze. “I’d like a Coke.”
“One Coke coming up,” Zoe said. “Anyone else drinking something other than beer?”
“I’d like a bumblebee,” Misty announced.
As soon as Zoe left, Misty propped her elbows on the table and put her chin on her fists. “Do you think old Dezi will ever sell the gallery?”
Ethan’s heart sped up. “Why do you ask? Have you heard anything?”
Misty batted her eyelashes. “I know his son. He’s been trying to get Dezi to move to Arizona for years.”
Ethan leaned back in his chair, away from Misty’s fumes. “Is that right?”
Misty nodded and winked. “Maybe you and I should go in together.”
Courtney’s head whipped around. She’d been watching the couple on the stage, but Misty’s words must have caught her attention. “Where are you going?”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Misty winked at Courtney, “yet.” She laid her head on Ethan’s shoulder to emphasize her words.
Courtney finished her pizza, wiped her hands on a napkin, and turned to Ethan. “Come on.” She stood and held out her hand.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked. At this point, he’d go anywhere as long as it was in the opposite direction of Misty.
“Away.” Courtney nodded at the stage.
Ethan stood, but he also shook his head. “I wasn’t lying about not singing.”
“You don’t have to sing, just say the words.” She leaned over and whispered in his ear, “It’ll get you away from the artist.”
Ethan grinned. “Okay. Do you have a song in mind?”
“I know just the one.” Courtney placed her hand on the small of his back and guided him across the room and up the few steps of to the stage.
It felt strange to be behind a microphone with a crowded barroom watching him. Courtney told the DJ to play Taylor Swift’s “Look What You Made Me Do.”
“We’ll alternate lines. Just say the words. You’ll be great,” Courtney whispered.
Courtney was so hysterical singing her lines, Ethan relaxed, and by the end of the song he was enjoying himself. When the bar exploded into applause, Courtney took a small bow. Ethan swept her into an embrace and waltzed her off the stage.
Zoe stood at the bar, watching them with dark, unreadable eyes. Why would he feel her gaze so much more than any of the others?
He took his seat at the table. Fortunately, Misty had left. Moments later, Zoe took Misty’s chair, but before she could say anything, Misty returned.
Misty plunked her drink on the table in front of Zoe. “You took my spot,” she snarled. “Find another place to sit.”
“Hey, sweetie,” Courtney said, touching Misty on the arm. “Want me to drive you home?”
Misty flung away from Courtney. “The party is just starting.” She leered at Ethan. “Am I right?” she asked, leaning in so close he felt her warmth and smelled her breath.
She obviously wasn’t in a condition to drive, and since he knew where she lived, he seemed like the best choice to chauffeur her home, but he didn’t want to be her designated driver. “Let me call a taxi or an Uber.” He pulled out his phone.
“Misty,” Zoe put on a schoolteacher voice, “I’m ready to go. Yeah? You want a ride with me?”
Misty stuck out her lower lip and imitated a two-year-old on the verge of a tantrum. “I’m not going with you.”
“Do you even have a car?” Ethan asked Zoe.
“No, but I can borrow Courtney’s, right?” She glanced at Courtney.
“No,” Courtney said. “I’m not going to let this lush ruin our night out.”
“Courtney!” Zoe chided her sister.
Courtney sat up and straightened her shoulders. “What? You never go out! I can’t even remember the last time you did anything fun and now that I finally got you out of your bakery cave, I’m not going to let this person ruin it for us.”
Zoe sighed and bit her lip.
“Right. You’ll ride in my car,” Ethan said to Misty. “Want to walk out with me?” He shot Zoe a glance. “Want to come, too?”
Zoe looked at Courtney as if asking permission.
“You haven’t even sung one song!” Courtney wailed.
“You know that was never going to happen, right?” Zoe said to her sister in a quiet voice.
“Okay, fine.” Courtney blew out an exaggerated sigh. “You can go if you go with Ethan.”
Ethan draped an arm around Misty’s shoulder while Zoe took up a position on the other side of her. They made an awkward threesome as they crossed the floor, then headed out the door and down the steps.
“I’m just over there,” Ethan said, pointing at his convertible and steering Misty in the right direction. After he unlocked the door, Zoe held the door open so Misty could ease onto the seat.
Misty grabbed Ethan by the shirt and pulled him into the car. He scrambled out of her grasp.
“You see the problem here, don’t you?” Zoe asked once he’d extricated himself and slammed the door on Misty.
“There are lots of problems here.” Ethan pushed his fingers through his hair. “Which one are you referring to?”
“Your car seats two.”
Ethan looked at Misty in the passenger seat, her head lolled back, her eyes closed. “You’re right. What should I do?”
Zoe leaned forward and lightly placed her lips on his. “I’ll see you at home.”
CHAPTER 6
Oh my gosh, what had she just done? She hadn’t meant to kiss Ethan! What had she been thinking? And what was he thinking?
She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
“Zoe?”
Her eyes flew open and she focused on her sister.
“What are you doing out here?” Courtney asked.
Zoe blinked. Just another thing she didn’t know. “I’m not sure.”
“Did Ethan take M
isty home and leave you?” Courtney asked, her voice hard.
Zoe nodded. “It’s okay. I told him to.”
“Why didn’t you go with them?”
“His car only seats two.”
Courtney’s lips twisted into a scowl.
“I kissed him,” Zoe blurted.
Courtney froze. “You what?”
“You heard me.”
“I heard you, but I don’t think I can believe what I heard.”
Zoe sniffed and nodded. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t know what he’ll think of me. It was so...not like me. And he’s going to think that’s just how I am.”
Courtney snorted. “No, he’s not.”
“Yes, he is. I mean, what would you think if some guy just came up and kissed you? You’d think he was forward, or drunk, or on drugs.”
“I would not think any of those things, especially if the kisser was you.”
“What does that mean?”
“He’s lived below you for what, like a year? He knows what kind of person you are.”
“But—” she sputtered.
“He knows that you aren’t a drunk, or a druggie, or a random kisser.”
“Then why did I just randomly kiss him?”
“Because you think he’s cute and sweet, and even if he wasn’t rescuing you, he was rescuing someone, and that makes him a hero.”
“A hero.” Zoe thought about this.
“You need to tell him you like him.”
“I can’t do that.”
“You just did. When you kissed him.” Courtney took a deep breath before adding, “And now you need to tell him with words.”
AFTER ETHAN PUT MISTY to bed—something he hoped to only have to do once in his life—he returned home and found Zoe sitting on their front porch, clutching a Mason jar.
“What’s this?” he asked.
Zoe stood and held out the jar. “A thank-you token for being a hero.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Ethan said, but he took the jar anyway. “Are these cookies?” he asked hopefully.
“Lavender with lemon zest. I love them. I hope you will too.”
“Want to share?”
“Tonight?” Her voice squeaked with surprise.
“We could sit and watch the stars.” He dropped down on the step she’d just vacated.
“Okay,” she said in a small voice, joining him.
“I have a favor to ask,” he said, nerves hitching his voice.
“Yeah?”
“The gallery has an annual holiday party. Would you like to go with me?”
“Sure.”
“It’s stuffy and pretentious, and there’s usually cheap wine and smelly cheese.”
She leaned over and bumped him with her shoulder. “How can I resist cheap wine and smelly cheese?”
“Your being there will make it bearable for me.”
“I take it you would do things differently if you owned the gallery?”
He nodded. “Hannah thinks I should just open up my own, but it’s not that easy.” She waited for him to go on and after a moment, he did. “As it is, Oak Hollow can’t really have two galleries...well, maybe it could if the two galleries were radically different from each other. But as long as Dez has his gallery, I can’t open another.”
“You could somewhere else.”
“I want to be close to Hannah.”
“You are close to Hannah.”
“Geographically as well as emotionally.” He turned and looked into her eyes. “Does that make sense to you?”
“I’m all about emotional and geographical proximity.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He set the jar on the porch, debating.
“Because?”
“So we could do this.” And this time he kissed her, only it wasn’t brief or tentative. It was the sort of kiss that burned through him, the sort of kiss he hadn’t had since Allison’s death. He broke away, not wanting to think about his late wife while kissing Zoe. It wasn’t fair to her.
And he wasn’t sure it was fair to Allison, either.
Zoe stared at him with wide eyes. Then she startled him by climbing onto his lap, wrapping her arms around him, and kissing him so deeply, he forgot about Allison, Hannah, or the neighbors who could be watching over the hedge. The only thing he could think of was the kiss searing through him and curling his toes with pleasure.
“OKAY, THIS TIME IT is a date,” Zoe told Mildred. They both stood in front of Zoe’s open closet, but Mildred was much more interested in her bath than she was in Zoe’s wardrobe. Zoe rifled through the clothes on the hangers, considering. No, no, no, nope with an extra helping of nope sauce.
Her phone buzzed. Courtney.
“I need you,” Zoe said. “Bring cute outfits, preferably ones that will fit me.”
Moments later, Courtney and Laurel arrived, each bearing a laundry basket full of clothes. “You didn’t tell me the occasion,” Courtney said, sounding breathless.
“There’s a party at the gallery,” Zoe said, holding the door for her sister.
“Will the lush be there?” Courtney deposited the basket on the bed and motioned for Laurel to do the same.
Zoe closed the door, hoping Ethan hadn’t overheard the conversation. “Probably, but I’m not worried about her.”
“Mom, can I go and see if Hannah can play?” Laurel asked.
“Sure, sweetie,” Courtney said. She waited until Laurel had disappeared through the door before she continued. “Just because he’s not interested in her doesn’t mean she can’t cause problems.”
Zoe perched on the side of the bed and rifled through Courtney’s basket of clothes. “I’m not even sure he’s all that interested in me.”
Courtney began to pull clothes out of the basket and lay them out on the bed in ensembles. “Girl! Please! Has he kissed you?”
Zoe’s cheeks grew warm.
Courtney chortled. “Tell me! Tell me everything!”
COURTNEY HAD AGREED to watch Hannah so Ethan and Zoe could go to the gallery gala. Before this night, every time that Ethan and Zoe had been together had felt natural—like two friends enjoying each other’s company. But tonight, as he held the door open to the gallery for Zoe to pass through, felt like a date.
Ethan hadn’t been on a first date in years. Maybe even decades.
He ran a finger around his collar, wondering what had made him include Zoe. She’d probably hate it. Even he had a hard time when artists started acting snooty—as if their art came from some woo-woo planet detached from their own imaginations. And a few of the artists who would be attending tonight were some of the worst. She’d probably be bored out of her mind. He knew if Misty started talking harmonious compositions he would be, too.
Zoe, wearing a curve-hugging black dress, stiletto heels, and long strand of pearls, looked better than the art on the walls—his included. He still tingled every time he thought of her kiss.
Oak Hollow Gallery sat on the corner of PCH and a tiny cross street that angled off toward the beach. The large plate-glass windows gaped at the busy sidewalk to the front and overlooked the seasonal creek in the back. White walls stretched up to twelve-foot ceilings. Everything looked pristine, avant-garde, and beautiful, but Ethan had misgivings. He didn’t know if Zoe was ready for the art crowd. And he wasn’t sure he was ready to show her this side of himself.
Not that he was embarrassed about being an artist. He’d fought long and hard to get to where he was...or had been. He knew better than anyone that if he didn’t start producing soon, his name and reputation would slide away into oblivion. And that would be okay, wouldn’t it? He liked teaching.
Ethan followed Zoe’s gaze as she surveyed the room.
“Your paintings,” she began.
A discussion on his work would lead to speculation on why he no longer painted. Because he wasn’t ready for that conversation—and maybe he never would be—Ethan took Zoe’s hand and led her to the group gathered in the corner surro
unding Desmond.
Tonight, Desmond looked especially debonair. De-boner, Allison used to say in a hillbilly’s voice. No one could make him feel more down-to-earth than Allison. But tonight, he didn’t want to think about Allie. He put his hand on the small of Zoe’s back and stepped close enough to smell her perfume. Typically, she smelled of the bakery—yeast, cinnamon, sugar. Tonight, she wore something else. He hadn’t decided if he liked the change, or not.
The crowd in the corner made way for him. “Desmond, Lance, and Leo, Mr. and Mrs. Greer —this is my friend, Zoe.”
They all shook Zoe’s hand. Lance and Leo—better known as the Gear Heads—eyed her. They were both stoned already. Their parents were only slightly steadier on their feet.
“Are you an artist, too?” Mrs. Greer asked.
Before Zoe could answer, Ethan cut in. “Culinary art,” he said.
“Ah,” Mr. Greer patted his stomach, “my favorite.”
“Daddy!” Mrs. Greer screeched and widened her eyes at her sons, trying to apologize for her husband without using words.
“It’s okay, mom,” Lance said. “I know our stuff takes some warming up to.”
Leo hooted as if Lance had said something hilarious. “Warming up,” he said between breaths, “because we’re machine artists.”
Zoe smiled politely and sent Ethan a questioning glance.
Lance must have noticed, because he asked, “Are you familiar with machine art?”
Zoe shook her head.
“It’s the combination of art and machines,” Lance said. Holding his hand in front of him with his fingers flexed, he mimicked a rotating device. “Cogs and wheels fused together into the fantastic that incorporates technology and aesthetic designs inspired by 19th-century industrial steam-powered machinery.”
Ethan was impressed. He didn’t know the Gearhead Brothers knew such big words.
“Let me show you,” Leo said, taking possession of Zoe’s arm and leading her across the room to a canvas that had been painted red and covered with bits of broken machinery.
Ethan felt naked without Zoe at his side, he moved to follow her and Leo but just then Misty clicked into the gallery on her Kate Spade shoes. Grabbing Ethan’s arm, she pulled him into a corner. “What are we going to do if Desmond sells the gallery to the potheads?” she whispering hissed.