Doing It Over (A Most Likely to Novel Book 1) (12 page)

“Safer?”

“What?”

“You said safer. Were you scared of him, Melanie?” His question came in an even, controlled voice.

She hesitated. He’d never been abusive with her . . . so why couldn’t she jump on a quick
no
for an answer?

“Melanie?”

“Sorry . . . no. Things were blurry in the end. I remember thinking how much he’d changed. How stress closed him off. It was unnerving.”

“Scary?”

“Yeah, I guess.” She shifted in her seat and switched the phone to her other ear. “I’m sorry. Talking about an ex is a classic mistake.”

He laughed. “Everyone in this town is talking about you and your ex, so cut yourself a break.”

She rested her head in her hand. “When I lived here before, all that talking would drive me crazy. Now it just feels like support.”

Wyatt started laughing. “Luke and I were betting that Brenda was going to dump coffee in his lap.”

And the look on Nathan’s face when Brenda walked away had been priceless.

“I’m going to change the subject,” he told her.

“You seem good at that,” she said with a chuckle. “Go for it.”

“They are setting up for a carnival and strawberry festival in Waterville next weekend.”

She waited for the question with a Cheshire cat grin on her face.

“Would you and Hope like to go?”

“With you?”

“That would be the general plan.” There was a slight edge to his voice, which made her grin wider.

“Like a date?”

“Is it a date when you bring a kid?”

“It’s not a date?” It was time for her voice to carry a sharp edge.

“We can call it a date if that makes you feel better.”

“I don’t have to call something a date to feel better . . . I just . . . what are you calling it?”

When he didn’t reply quickly, she unfolded from her chair and started to pace. “Wyatt?”

He huffed out a laugh. “A date.”

“You!” She pointed a finger in the air as if he could see her. “You did that on purpose.”

“I like pushing your buttons.”

“One of these days I’m going to figure out what your buttons are and pushing them will become my pastime.”

“Aw shucks, darlin’ . . . I’ve never been someone’s pastime before.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.”

He laughed.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Zoe barked orders from the inn’s kitchen as if she were on set. She couldn’t help herself; the kitchen had an energizing effect on her that few understood. “The smaller the cut, the more flavor throughout the salad, Mel.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Zoe tossed a tomato at her friends before wiping her hands on a towel.

“There’s enough food here for an army.”

“We do it big in Texas.”

From outside, the smell of ribs on the barbeque drifted through the inn.

“Is Zane coming?”

Zoe shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. Mom says he has a job up in Waterville. I’m afraid to ask what kind of job.”

The youngest of the Brown children had never moved out of his mother’s house. Then again, her sister was back with her mom after a failed relationship that took her to Eugene and back.

“Is he still on parole?”

“Mom said no, but I’m not sure.”

Between his temper and his drinking, Zane had landed in jail more times than a kid at twenty-one should. “Is it too much to want him to grow up?”

Mel offered a smile from across the kitchen. “You can’t force people to do the right thing, Zoe.”

“It’s frustrating. I can’t help but wonder if I was around more if things would be different.”

Melanie slid closer and placed the knife on the counter. “You can’t live your life for your family. The three of you all had the same deck of cards handed out to you. You found your path and ran with it . . . they will find theirs.”

“And if it’s the wrong path?”

“What if it is? What can you do, Zoe? You give Zane money and you enable him to keep doing stupid shit. You preach, he tunes you out. He knows right from wrong.”

Mel was right . . . it just sucked to see someone she loved falling down the wrong rabbit hole. “Since when did you become so wise?”

“A few years at the school of hard knocks.”

Zanya, Zoe’s sister, walked into the kitchen holding a six-month pregnant belly. “Mel, please tell me you have Tums somewhere in this place.”

“Tums? You haven’t even eaten yet!” Zoe exclaimed.

“Oh, baby . . . come with me,” Mel said as she pulled Zanya into a half hug and walked her from the kitchen. “I bet he comes out with a full head of hair.”

Zoe watched as her BFF left the kitchen with her sister and future nephew. At least Zanya could rely on Zoe’s friends. There was some comfort in that.

Voices from the back door brought an even bigger smile to her face.

“Mrs. Miller.” Seeing Luke’s mom always made Zoe’s insides turn to mush. The woman was everything a happy stay-at-home mom should be. She loved to bake, loved to can fresh preserves in the summer . . . and craft a few silly things for the rummage sale hosted by the Little White Church in spring and again at Christmas.

“I hope you have room in that fridge, Zoe.”

She stood double fisted with pie, Mr. Miller followed with two more.

“Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“You said pie. I bring pie. Apple, strawberry rhubarb, chocolate, and banana cream.”

There was nothing better than Mrs. Miller’s banana cream. “I love you.”

“I know, baby. Now make room in that massive tin box. It’s too hot for these to sit out.”

Mr. Miller left the apple pie on the counter and waited until Mrs. Miller took the remaining pie from his hands before turning to Zoe. After a kiss to the cheek, he left the kitchen as quickly as he entered.

Zoe looked beyond Mr. Miller.

“He’s on his way.”

“What . . . who?”

Mrs. Miller pinched her lips and tilted her head. “You might have gotten older, but you haven’t changed.”

The fact that Mrs. Miller called her out about searching for her son, without truly calling her out, was a testament to their relationship. The woman never sat in judgment nor did she question Zoe’s decision to leave River Bend to find herself.

Instead of saying anything, Zoe returned to the finishing touches of the tiny feast she was preparing as her own going-away party. She was leaving in the morning, bringing to a close her brief hiatus from her daily life.

“What can I do?” Mrs. Miller asked.

“How about tossing the salad?”

Luke’s mom moved to the sink and washed her hands as the sound of a motorcycle drowned out the voices from the back of the house.

Luke was there.

She knew that, and her heart sped up, which gave her equal parts of happiness and sorrow.

It was breaking again.

Like it did every time she saw the man and knew she was leaving.

She was trying so hard to be his friend . . . only his friend.

Her dreams, however, weren’t allowing her to remain platonic. Memories and reality were mixing every damn night, making it impossible to sleep.

“Hey, Zoe?” Wyatt called from outside.

“Coming.”

Wyatt manned the barbeque with a strict set of instructions, though he tried hard to convince her he knew his way around the grill. He’d have to prove himself before she let loose the reins of her meal.

The sun decided to cooperate on her last day in River Bend, giving them all a chance to play and enjoy the outside.

Miss Gina had an old badminton set that Jo and Mel had set up earlier in the day. Miss Gina was lofting a birdy over the net to Hope, while Zoe’s mom watched from the shade of the porch.

“Can I help with something?” her mom asked.

“I got it.”

“Almost done,” Wyatt told her as he pushed the barbeque fork into the center of the meat.

“Not bad, Mr. Gibson.” She closed the lid to the grill, turned off one burner, and lowered the others to a small roar. “Five minutes.”

She blew past him and back into the kitchen.

She stumbled over her own feet at the first sight of Luke. “Just in time,” she said as she blew past him without a hello. “Dinner’s ready.”

Luke simply laughed while Mrs. Miller shoved a massive bowl of salad into his hands.

Mel and Zanya returned and helped parade food to the back porch.

Mel had done a great job of setting the perfect table on the covered porch. Flowers sat in vases on the long expanse of wood, and a hodgepodge of white and blue plates offset old mason jars that were either filled with spiked lemonade or tea. Mr. Miller held the long neck of a beer, as did his son.

The food was simple . . . perfect, but simple.

And Zoe took pride in every moan as her friends and family consumed each mouthful.

“Remind me to visit Texas,” Mr. Miller said between bites.

“If there is one thing I have learned from living there . . . it’s that Texans take their barbeque seriously. This is the best I can do without a smoker.”

“It gets better than this?” Wyatt asked.

“It’s really good, sis.” Zanya had gotten over her bellyache and was plowing through her plate like a linebacker.

Jo pointed the end of her corn on the cob in Zoe’s direction. “It better not be another decade before you visit again.”

“It’s been less than ten years since I visited,” Zoe defended her absence.

“A real visit,” Miss Gina added. “Not a hit and run. Those are fine for a one-night stand, not for us.”

“Miss Gina!” Mel chastised, eyes wide as she shifted her gaze to her daughter.

Zoe’s mom laughed and Mrs. Miller tried not to.

As the laughter died out, Zoe caught Luke’s piercing gaze.

And she knew, in that moment, that she couldn’t promise anything. As much joy as everyone at the table brought her, she knew the fall was going to suck.

“Hey? Where is everybody?”

Zane.

The voice of her brother interrupted the meal.

He walked around the side of the inn, his footsteps less than steady. He smiled and waved. “Am I late?”

“Only by an hour,” Luke said.

The second Zane tripped on the first step, Zoe knew he was drunk. Or something else. If the table were filled with people from her life in Dallas, she’d want to hide. There wasn’t one person at Miss Gina’s table who didn’t know her brother.

“Can’t blame a man for not wanting to break bread with a cop.”

Zoe exchanged glances with Jo. “Knock it off, Zane.”

Zane was the spitting image of their dad. All dark hair, dark skin, muscle, and attitude. When he drank too much his temper wasn’t easily controlled and his mouth ran like a faucet stuck on high.

“Sit down before you fall down,” their mom told him as she pulled out the empty seat beside her.

“Who’s that?” Zoe overheard Hope asking Mel.

“That’s Zoe’s brother.” Mel ruffled her daughter’s hair.

“Oh.”

Zane must have heard the question from the other end of the table. “I’m the black sheep. You know what a black sheep is?”

“Zane!” Zoe yelled.

“Knock it off!” Zanya shook a finger in her brother’s direction.

“Mommy?”

“I’ll talk about it later,” Mel whispered.

“Sheryl says you have a job up in Waterville,” Mr. Miller changed the subject.

Zane glanced at their mom. “Yeah. Part-time.”

Several people started back on their plates while Zane reached around to fill his up.

“What do you do?” Wyatt asked.

“A little of this, a little of that.”

Zoe found Jo’s concerned gaze again.

“I’ve had jobs like that,” Mel said.

Zane muttered something under his breath that only their mother heard. She elbowed him in the ribs.

The last thing she wanted on her last day in town was a scene. The itch on the back of her neck told her that no amount of hoping was going to do a damn bit of good.

“So, Zoe . . . are we going to see you on the TV this year?” Mrs. Miller asked.

“There is some talk about a holiday special. I should know by August if it’s going to happen.”

“Did you film the last holiday gig in September?”

“Yes. It was awful. They had me dressed in sweaters for the promotional stuff when it was ninety degrees and dripping with humidity.”

“The price of fame,” Jo teased.

“Could be worse.”

Zane snorted and once again their mom elbowed him.

“Knock it off.” He jerked away from her with a glare. “She’s bitching about cooking.” He stood and searched out a cooler that held chilled beer.

Like he needed another drink.

“You know, Zane, I’m glad you saw it fit to come here to say good-bye before I leave. Would it be too much to ask for you to bring it down a notch?”

“What’s the matter, sis? I don’t fit in your world?” He twisted off the top of the beer and tilted it back.

“You’re being an asshole,” Luke put it the way it was.

Zane glared. “Who the fuck asked you?”

“Hey!” Wyatt pushed his plate aside. “Language.”

Zane’s gaze moved to Hope.

“I’m sure she’s heard worse.”

Sheryl pushed away from the table and tossed her napkin from her lap. “C’mon, Zane, I’m taking you home.”

“The hell you are. I just got here.”

“Mom’s right. You’re in a mood and no one wants to hear it.” Zanya rested a hand on her belly.

As if to add an exclamation point, Zane flopped in his chair and grabbed a fork.

When their mom placed a hand on his shoulder he shoved it away, knocking her off balance.

Every man at the table was up in a heartbeat.

Jo practically flew across the table.

“I’m okay,” Sheryl said once she balanced herself.

“Time for you to go.” Luke loomed over him.

Zane glared at him, then moved that pointed anger to Jo, who pinned his hand holding his steak knife to the table.

“Get off me!”

“You drive here, Zane?” Jo asked in the coldest voice Zoe had ever heard coming from her friend.

Her brother let a slow smile spread over his face. “Sure did, Sheriff. Drank half a fifth in the driveway before walking back here.”

There wasn’t one person who believed him, but if there was one thing every criminal understood, it was the law.

Zoe pulled in a shallow breath and swallowed the tears that threatened to spill. “Please leave, Zane.”

Mr. Miller rounded the table and flanked her brother. “I’ll take you, son. Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt.”

Zane shoved from his chair, leaving it to tumble behind him. “I can manage.”

“The hell you can,” Jo said. “Don’t make me arrest you.”

The line in Zane’s jaw started to pulse. “I’d like to see you try.”

Miss Gina slapped her hand on the table, making everything within a foot of her plate shake. “Enough! This is my home and we will
not
do this here!”

Zoe was on her feet.

Mel had taken Hope from her chair and moved away from the men.

Mrs. Miller placed an arm over Zanya’s shoulder.

A voice from inside the inn drew everyone’s attention from the table.

“Uhm, excuse me . . . but do you have a room for the night?”

Several faces swiveled to the stranger in the door.

Zane attempted to break free of Jo’s hold with a buck while Mr. Miller and Luke took him by the shoulders and walked him down the back steps.

Zoe’s mom slumped in her chair. “Son of a bitch.”

Hope clung to Mel’s side and Zanya was in tears.

“About that room?”

Miss Gina marched back into the inn, past the stranger, and barked, “Follow me.”