Chapter 6
Drake saddled up to the counter at Shooters and waited for Emma Jane to finish with a customer. Though the bar wasn’t incredibly busy for a Friday night, locals had the bartender on her toes.
Avery had talked him into coming out with them again tonight. Cade’s wife was good at that, making him join society. Truth be told, it hadn’t been much of a hardship lately. Though he wasn’t a people-person, he was getting sick of his own company and staring at his house walls.
Rock blared from a jukebox. Low lighting added to the dive ambiance to intermix with stale perfume, alcohol, and desperation in the air. Pool balls clacked and cheers erupted over a game of darts. Not his favorite scene, but he supposed it beat sitting at home. Besides, hanging out with his brothers and friends usually proved entertaining.
Finally, Emma Jane wiped the counter and made her way over. Sweet smile in place, she tucked a strand of brunette hair behind her ear. “What can I get you, Drake?”
He scrolled through his table’s drink order in his head. “Two beers. Whatever’s on tap is fine. A whiskey neat and a martini.”
She nodded and set about fixing the order. Her gaze scanned the patrons around her, then back to the glass she filled from the tap. “I’m glad you came by.” She set the beers on a tray and reached for a bottle of Jack Daniels. “I wanted to give you a heads-up. You’re the subject of discussion tonight. Apparently, someone let it slip you’re back in the dating pool.”
He froze, staring at her. The only people he’d discussed that with were his brothers, and no way had Flynn or Cade repeated the information. Hell, Drake had barely entertained the notion himself, so what the hell?
Emma Jane had been in Flynn’s graduating class. If memory served, he and her had hooked up in the past once in awhile. Nothing serious. Her uncle owned the bar and her twin brother, Eric, manned the kitchen. She wasn’t flirty by nature and she wasn’t the type to start shit for the sake of boredom. She was also a single mother with a little girl at home. Ergo, her reasons for mentioning the rumor probably had good intentions.
Pouring martini mix into a glass, she peered at him. “I don’t mean to upset you. I thought you’d want to know.”
Disturbed, he nodded. “I appreciate that.”
She tilted her head, indicating the room. “You’ve got about twenty women watching your every move. So far, none seem brave enough to venture over.”
He could only pray it stayed that way. For years, Animal Instincts had been inundated with single females making fake appointments just to get in Cade’s orbit. Flynn had his share, too, though not as drastic. Now that both were off the market, things had died down. Drake, luckily, had escaped the ridiculousness because he’d always been affiliated with Heather, and then her death.
Christ. Who the hell had started the gossip?
He tossed some bills on the bar, leaving an extra large tip. “Thanks, Emma Jane.”
She smiled. “Anytime. And just say the word, I’ll try to quash the chatter.”
Drake handed out drinks and reclaimed his seat at the table. Still stewing, he flicked his gaze around the bar and, sure enough, several females were checking him out. Uneasiness wove around him, through him. Hell, the last time he’d been on the dating circuit, Bush had still been in office and he’d been worried about SAT scores.
“Hell to the no.” Zoe leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. “I’m not wearing a pink bridesmaid dress.”
Gabby pushed blonde locks away from her face. “Oh, come on. Your hair is pink. Why not?”
“I look awful in that color. And thanks for the reminder to change my hair.”
Gabby frowned, turning to Flynn for help.
“Do not get me involved in this,” Flynn signed. “Just tell me where and when to show up for the wedding.”
Cade lifted his drink in a toast. “Amen, brother.”
Avery shot her husband a warning glance and looked at Zoe. “It won’t be so bad.”
“It absolutely will.” Zoe ran her fingers up and down her lager bottle. “Tell them, Drake. I look hideous in pink, right?”
Why ask him? “You’d look good in anything.” Drake swirled the whiskey in his glass.
Silence hung.
He glanced up to find all eyes on him. Damn it. He’d forgotten his verbal filter. First time for everything. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not sure what to make of Zoe’s stunned stupid expression. “It’s true. Besides, it’s Gabby’s wedding. She gets what she wants.”
Her gaze still trained on him, a wrinkle between her brows, Zoe spoke to Gabby. “What about yellow? Avery and I can both wear that color.”
“That has my vote, too.” Brent cocked an eyebrow, staring Drake down. “Since Zoe would look good in anything, yellow works for Avery and all seasons.”
Drake scrubbed a hand over his face. “For the record, Gabby and Avery would look good in anything as well.” And… This was not helping his cause. He just needed to shut the hell up. Funny, that had never been a problem before.
Someone hooted from across the room. “Hey, Zoe. Come dance with me, you sexy thing.” A gaggle of male laughter followed.
Drake glanced up to a group of guys near the pool table. Firefighters, if memory served. Jason from their softball game stood there, but it had been the dark-haired idiot next to him that had shouted to her. Drake couldn’t remember his name, or if he liked the guy, which was steering toward the no column. His fingers tightened around his glass.
Zoe laughed and yelled over the noise. “Aw, Wayne. If you buy some rhythm and find some decent music, I’ll meet you on the dance floor.”
Wayne pressed his hands to his chest as if wounded. “You’re breaking my heart.”
Drake would be more than amendable to breaking several other of his parts. Alas, Zoe blew the guy a kiss and they went back to their pool game. Drake slammed the rest of his whiskey in silence.
“Anyway.” Brent’s grin was wicked. “I loaded the jukebox earlier for you, Zoe. Your song should be coming up soon.”
“Oh yeah? I could get into that, for the right tune.” She looked at Gabby. “You up for some dancing?”
Gabby set her drink aside. “I can’t keep up with you, but I’ll try.”
“There you go, Cade.” Zoe winked. “A little girl-on-girl action for you.”
Grinning, Cade nodded, then salvaged himself by kissing Avery. “Are you going to hit the floor with them? Make all my fantasies come true?”
Avery tilted her head. “That could be arranged.”
Drake pressed his fingers into his eye sockets. “Visual, visual.”
Brent’s shriek of glee had Drake jumping off his seat in surprise. “Now we’re talking. Let’s dance, Zoe.” Brent grabbed her hand and dragged her to the small dance floor, where a few other couples were already moving.
It took a moment, but Drake pinned the song change as Shaggy’s Angel. The fast-pulsing Jamaican reggae-ish beat filled the room, and he leaned back in his seat. He got a little caught up in the skinny jeans molded to her legs and the way her loose blue shirt dipped nearly to her ass in the back, exposing a real estate of skin. Ten seconds later, the air in his lungs evaporated.
Lifting a finger, Zoe dragged it across Brent’s chest and circled him on the dance floor. When she came back around to his front, Brent grabbed her backside and they moved in a slow, seductive trance as if they’d been lovers for a decade. Her hips popped to the beat and she spun in his arms, raising hers over her head. Then—Christ, then—she slid down his body in a crouch and came back up like a snake in heat. From behind, Brent’s hands flattened on her stomach. His head dipped close to her neck while they all but…
Hell. Drake forgot how well she could move. It had been awhile since he’d seen Zoe in action, and damn if he never wanted to be a gay man so badly in his life. Brent’s sexual preference might be his only saving grace at the moment, considering Drake had a barbaric urge to stomp across the room and haul her away. Fire licked his skin watching her. His heart pounded inside his chest, shifting ribs. If she kept this up, he stood no chance fighting these insane, new feelings clawing at him. As it was, he was barely managing basic thought.
God help him. Of all the women on earth, why did the first stirrings of attraction and desire in years have to be for Zoe Hornsby? Who could he have possibly pissed off to deserve this kind of punishment?
“Ah, there she is.” Cade nodded his approval. “There’s our other Zoe.”
Avery’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Other Zoe?”
Cade grunted. “The wilder version from our youth. She doesn’t let this side of herself come out to play much anymore. Haven’t seen her let go in awhile.”
Chin in her hand, elbow on the table, Gabby sighed dreamily. “I want to be her when I grow up.”
Screw that. Drake wanted a cold shower, a bottle of Jameson, and a padded cell. Not necessarily in that order. He had to adjust himself in his seat as his jeans became problematically too tight. He shot up a silent prayer to every patron saint he could think of to aid him. He’d need internal stitches after tonight, no doubt.
With much effort and deep regret, he tore his gaze from the dance floor. Except that didn’t help because the firefighters had stopped their game of pool to watch Zoe, too. Catcalls rang out as the song came to an end and…yeah. There was a God.
Flynn shook his head as Zoe and Brent reclaimed their seats. “I bow down, Zoe. I think you got Brent to bat for the other team.”
Throwing her head back, she laughed. Deep, throaty, and purely sexual, the sound nailed Drake right in the solar plexus. “I doubt it.” She drank the last of her ale. “Who’s driving me home?”
Brent had picked her up since he lived right down the road and she’d said it saved room in the parking lot not having two cars. It was still early yet, and the others were having a good time. Drake’s mom was watching Cat tonight, but Zoe wouldn’t want to be out too late.
Drake stood. “I’ll take you.”
Mistake number four-hundred and seven. Having her scent in his truck didn’t help calm his pulse one iota. Lavender filled the dark cab as he wove through the quiet streets, his head a riot.
“Something on your mind?”
He glanced at her and back to the road. “I’m working through it.” Nothing a lobotomy wouldn’t fix.
She kept her gaze out the passenger window, her voice quiet. “Does it have anything to do with you being ready to date again?”
Since bashing his head against the steering wheel would only be counterproductive, he gripped it tightly instead. Something about her tone indicated him not telling her was a betrayal in her eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it. I only just mentioned it to my brothers the other day.”
“And, what? The notion jumped out of your head and into the rumor mill?”
“I don’t know how word got out.” It wasn’t as if he wanted the attention. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you.”
She was silent a tense beat. “You don’t need my permission, Drake.”
No, but damn if he didn’t want her blessing. She’d been the closest person to Heather besides him, and she was his friend, too. More than that, she understood how difficult his grief had been because she shared it, was right there with him. For whatever reason, he’d grown to depend on her insight, and moving forward without her felt wrong. Going in any direction without her, for that matter. Adding complication to the mix were his growing, complex feelings for her.
“What do you think?” He let out the breath he’d been holding. “I want to know.”
“She’d want you to be happy.”
He knew that already. Before she died, he and Heather had the “remarriage” discussion. She’d said, in no uncertain terms, that she’d wanted him to find someone else when he was ready. At the time, he hadn’t wanted to talk about it, but looking back, he was glad she’d made him. Except he didn’t think either of them had anticipated Zoe being a person of interest or a candidate.
Which was moot anyway. Zoe had no interest in him that way.
“I know Heather’s wishes. What I don’t know are yours.”
Her swallow was an audible click in the quiet car. “My opinion shouldn’t matter.”
He ground his jaw. “Don’t diminish yourself. You matter.” He glanced at her and swore her eyes were wet. Probably a trick of the street lights. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen her cry. Still, his chest tightened.
After a heinous pause, she cleared her throat. “You have too big, too noble a heart to not share it with someone. A man like you shouldn’t be alone. That’s what I want for you, what you deserve.”
He might’ve believed her sincerity if her voice hadn’t sounded like broken glass. As he tried to conjure a response to her unerringly kind words, he was reminded again of Zoe’s tender side most never got to see.
“I think Heather was the luckiest person on the planet, and whoever you choose to be with will feel the same.”
Damn her. “And what about you?” It wasn’t as if she’d dated much, if at all, the past few years. If anyone deserved the fairy tale, it was her. She’d sacrificed so much for him, Heather, and her own mother.
“Some people are just born lonely and destined to stay that way.” She shook her head and pinched her eyes closed as if she hadn’t meant to say that aloud.
Son of a bitch. “Zoe—”
“Drop it, Drake. I’m fine with my life the way it is.”
He was about to pull the truck over and do something, anything, to knock—or kiss—some sense into her, but he turned onto her street…and his heart misfired.
Red and blue lights flashed in the dark, reflecting off the houses and signs. Neighbors gathered in the road just outside Zoe’s house, where an ambulance and squad car were parked at the curb. The sheriff, Parker, turned from his post on the porch and said something into a two-way radio.
Zoe grabbed the dashboard. “Oh God. No. What’s going on?” She fumbled with the seatbelt and was climbing out of the truck before he’d even pulled over. She ran across the driveway and onto the lawn. Drake’s mom was standing with her arms crossed.
Drake jumped out and met them. “What happened?”
Mom shook her head, blue eyes pleading, her short bob of dark blonde hair shifting with the motion. “After Cat was asleep, I went into the basement to grab some cleaning products.” She turned suddenly to Zoe. “I thought I’d help you out a little, freshen up a bit.” Her voice broke. “Your mom must’ve heard and followed me. She fell down the stairs.”
“Oh God.” Zoe rushed for the front door, where Parker stopped her short of entering the house.
“She’s okay, Zoe.” Parker held firm when she tried to get past him and waved off two of his deputies who stepped forward to assist.
Drake climbed the porch and caught a glimpse of an unmoving Catherine on a stretcher in the living room, medics around her.
Zoe wailed and tried again for the house, only to be brought up short by Parker. “Listen to me, Zoe. She’s okay. Her vitals are good and she was awake when they got here. She didn’t hit her head. They had to sedate her to keep her still, since she was confused. They’re thinking a broken leg. She’s headed off to the hospital.”
“I’m going with her. I’ll ride in the ambulance.”
EMTs brought Cat out on a stretcher, her face sickly pale. One of the medics cupped Zoe’s shoulder. “There’s no room in the cab. Follow us to Mercy General, okay?”
As they loaded Cat into the ambulance, Zoe ran for the garage.
Drake cursed and chased after her, catching her by the arm before she could open the hatch. “I’ll drive you. You’re in no shape.”
“I’ve got this, Drake.”
He took the keys out of her trembling hands and met her wide, frantic gaze. “And I’ve got you. Now get in my damn truck. I’m driving you.”
She turned around, giving him whiplash. “Gayle, can you lock the house?”
His mom, looking torn and frenetic herself, nodded. “Sure, honey. Just go. I’ll meet you there.”
Worry ratcheting his gut, he followed the ambulance toward the interstate. Redwood Ridge had an urgent care, but not a hospital, and Mercy General was in the county to the south about thirty minutes away. Zoe fidgeted in her seat, biting her nails and rocking.
He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “You heard Parker. She’s going to be okay.”
She violently shook her head. “I never should’ve gone out tonight.”
“This could’ve happened at any time. It was just an accident.”
Her rocking increased. “I know. It’s not your mom’s fault.”
He squeezed her hand again for emphasis. “It’s not yours either.”