The Heart of a Hero (4 page)

“I miss you.”

“I’ve been gone for months, Paul.” He’d been gone even longer, but she doubted he’d understand what she meant.

Meanwhile, he ignored her comment. “I’m playing Savannah this weekend. Remember last year? The tenth hole? The water hazard?”

“I remember.” She also remembered him sweet-talking her into ponying up for lessons with Lars Anderson afterward.

“We were good together, Zo.”

“Were we?”

“Of course, we were. We were Team Brodsky.”

Team Brodsky.
She’d coined the silly moniker the night she proposed. At the time, Paul had been on the brink of making the tour. “Make me your partner,” she’d said. “We can do great things together. Team Brodsky, all the way to number one.” Her backing, his talent. That’d been the plan anyway.

“Ancient history,” she said.

“Doesn’t have to be.” His voice dropped a notch, turning all honeyed and soft.

Once upon a time, that tone of voice would have sent her heart fluttering. Today it brought nothing but regret and bitterness.

“You were—you are—my lucky charm, babe. Always have been.”

Not to mention his bankroll. She read the sports pages. He’d missed the cut in the last tournament. His short game was slipping without the expensive coach she’d been paying for.

On the other end of the line, there was another pause. More thumb-biting, she presumed. Finally he spoke again, clearly taking her silence as a willingness to listen. “What do you say? Can we at least talk? That’s all I’m asking for. A chance to see you. I need you, Zoe.”

And there it was, her Achilles’ heel.
Need.
Forget sob stories and challenges. Never had there been a more powerful four-letter word, at least for her, and Paul knew it. Already she could feel the guilt building in her chest. Squeezing the phone, her nails bending against the plastic casing, she fought the emotion’s grip. “I have to go.”

“One meeting, Zoe. One.”

“Goodbye, Paul.”

She hung up before he could muster another argument, then quickly blocked his number from her
phone before he could call again. And he would call again. Paul never liked rejection.

Dammit! She tossed the phone to the other end of the sofa, where it fell into the cushions. Why’d she have to answer the phone in the first place? Why didn’t she take the time to look at the call screen?

It wasn’t that she loved Paul. On the contrary, she was angry she had let herself be blinded by infatuation for as long as she did. Zoe Hamilton, Advice Columnist and Patsy. Tell her you need her, and you can walk all over her. Well, no more. Just like Team Brodsky, her days of becoming personally involved were history.

All of a sudden, her warm, cozy living room felt hot and stifling. To quote her neighbor, she needed some fresh air. Outside was still light enough that she could take a good brisk walk on the beach and clear her head.

“Come on, Rey.” She nudged the sleeping dog. “Let’s get out of here.”

Grabbing the dachshund’s leash, she headed out the patio door. Halfway through, she collided with a wall of muscle and bay rum.

“There a problem?” she heard Jake ask.

She had a problem all right. Her life. “I was taking Reynaldo for a walk.”

Since leaving her, he’d showered and changed. His bangs hung wet against his forehead, and she noticed droplet stains on the collar of his work shirt. The top
three buttons were undone, revealing an expanse of tanned skin and blond chest hair. To her mounting annoyance, he looked way too good.

He held up a flashlight and what looked like a fisherman’s net. “I thought you wanted to tackle your bat problem.”

Right, the bats. Dealing with her pest of an ex-husband had made her forget her house was potentially infested with rabid winged creatures. “And I thought you had to think about it?” she snapped back. Uncalled for? Yes. But he was staring at her in that intense way of his again, and she wasn’t in the mood. She wasn’t in the mood for anything right now except Reynaldo and a long walk on the beach.

If her neighbor noticed her sharpness, he was ignoring it. In fact, he matched her, edge for edge. “If you want to find where they’re nesting, now’s the time to look.”

“So go look.”

He thrust an industrial-size flashlight in her direction. “It’s a two-person job.”

Oh, great. Just what she wanted to do after a call from her ex. Go hunting for pests. Worse, she doubted her “handyman” would let her decline.

She snatched the flashlight from his hand. “Lead the way,” she snapped. “Though, if I get rabies, I’m not paying you.”

“They don’t usually bite people. You’re more likely to get rabies from a skunk than a bat.”

“Well, aren’t you the bat expert.”

“Not an expert. Read up on them, is all.”

Zoe blushed. The phone call had left her feeling churlish, and she was taking the feelings out on Jake instead of her ex-husband, which wasn’t fair. Curmudgeon or not, he deserved better behavior from her.

She followed him around to the front of the house. “Up there’s the area where I found the droppings,” he explained. “Flashing’s rippled on this side of the chimney, too. I’m guessing that’s the point of entry.”

In the dusk, Zoe could barely make out where he was talking about, despite the flashlight beam. The “ripple” he mentioned was barely big enough for a bee’s nest. The netting, he explained, was to allow the bats to exit but not reenter. Then, after a week or so, they could plug the holes permanently.

Sounded good to Zoe. “What made you read up on bats in the first place?” she asked. Having been put in her place, she was trying to make amends. Plus, the comment had her curious.

“Spent a lot of time in caves. Figured knowing more about them would come in handy.”

“Back where you grew up?”

“Afghanistan. Look, there she is.” He pointed to a black dot zigzagging across the sky.

Zoe followed his finger, but her mind was more on his last answer than on her winged invader. It all
made sense. The scars, the injury, the extreme reaction in the hardware store… How could she not have realized? Jake hadn’t been in an accident. He’d been in battle.

“How long were you there?”

“Second one,” he replied, ignoring the question. “Definitely coming out from the flashing. I’ll have to check for sure, but it’s early enough in the season that I don’t think they’ve gotten through to inside the house.”

“Good to know.” Though she’d prefer to hear more about his military experience. “What am I out here for?”

“You’re doing it. Keep the flashlight trained on the roof so I can see what I’m doing. Unless—” he glanced over his shoulder “—you’d rather wait ’til morning.”

“Oh, no, tonight is fine. Sooner they’re out of my hair…that is, my house,” she corrected, “the better.” Stepping closer to the ladder, she aimed the flashlight beam toward the roof. “Bright enough?”

“It’ll do.”

They worked in spotted silence. As clear as it was that Jake was in charge, he had a way about him that inspired her to obey his directions. Maybe it was the confidence of his commands or the surety of his movement. Or the way he told her what to do without pretense or a false front. Either way, they worked
together so easily it took Zoe by surprise. She hadn’t expected them to be such a good team.

Like Team Brodsky?

Giving herself a mental kick, she focused on shining her flashlight.

“Is that it?” she asked when he came down the ladder. “You’re finished?”

“Doesn’t take very long to plug a hole. By the way, I think they’re all out of the nest, so you can sleep soundly.”

“Thank goodness,” she said with a sigh. “A warm, bat-free house.” Sounded fantastic. “You, Jake Meyers, are my hero.”

She couldn’t have picked a worse thing to say. In the white glare of her flashlight, Zoe watched as his expression became a haunted, bitter mask.

“Don’t ever use that word around me.” He ground out the words through clenched teeth. “A hero is the last thing I am.”

O
F ALL
the terms Zoe could have used, why’d she have to pick the word
hero
? He could still see her face when she said it, too. Lit up like a kid at Christmas, her smile bright in the dark. The minute she grinned, he got a swell of male pride smack in the middle of his chest.

Jake slammed his beer on the TV tray that doubled as an end table. What right did he have to feel proud about anything, let alone be called a hero? Heroes sacrificed their lives, they saved lives.

Pushing himself from the sofa, he hobbled to his side window. Next door Zoe’s house was dark, except for one lone window on the second floor. Her bedroom perhaps? Awareness shot to his groin, causing him to groan. He didn’t want to feel this pull of attraction any more than he wanted to feel pride. Mere arousal he could deal with. After all, a man couldn’t always help his physical reaction when an attractive woman crossed his path and he’d be kidding himself
if he didn’t admit Zoe was an attractive woman, in her spunky, wet-kitten kind of way.

This pull, though… All day long, his skin twitched, while his chest felt tight and empty at the same time. He didn’t like the feeling. Didn’t want the feeling. Hell, he didn’t want to
feel,
period.

A cramp ran down the back of his leg. Climbing around all day had him stiff and achy. God, but it had been a long day. Between the nightmare and the flashback, not to mention all the physical labor, he should be ready to drop, and if it were any other night, he would. No such luck tonight. If anything, he was more restless than ever.

Looked like another long night of bad television. Relinquishing himself to his fate, he headed to the sofa, but not before taking one last look at the house next door. Zoe’s window had gone dark.

He attributed the strange knot in his chest to beer and exhaustion.

It seemed like Zoe had just fallen asleep when her phone rang. With a groan, she reached over Reynaldo’s sleeping body and grabbed the nightstand clock. Five-thirty. Good God.

“Good. You’re awake.” Caroline’s voice was laced with coffee and cigarettes.

“No one’s awake at this hour,” she muttered. Closing her eyes, she burrowed back into her cave of blankets. “What do you want?”

“Your column.”

Naturally. Zoe groaned again. “You know, I’m pretty sure your job title reads ‘assistant.’ As in assist, not browbeat.”

“You hired me to keep you efficient. Which means making sure your column gets in on time. Which means browbeating. And since you’ve moved yourself to East God-knows-where—”

“Naushatucket.”

“Whatever. You leaving the city means I have to start my browbeating extra early.”

“Relax, Brunhilda, I still have two days.”

“No, you have nine hours. Today’s Wednesday, remember?”

“Crap.” Panic replaced sleepiness and Zoe sat up straight.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” Caroline said.

“I was busy with some house problems. I got distracted.”

“House problems? Told you moving to nowhere was a mistake.”

“You know, people in cities have house problems, too,” Zoe replied. “It’s what happens when you buy a house. Regardless, it’s no big deal. I hired a handyman.” A handyman whose extreme reactions and anguished expression had distracted her far more than anything else last night. Including Paul, she realized with a frown.

Don’t ever use that word to describe me.
The ache
in her heart that kept her up half the night started up again.

Meanwhile, on the other end of the phone, she could practically hear Caroline smirking over her latte. “Still upset I called so early?”

“Sadly, no.” Truth was, for all her browbeating, Caroline was worth her weight in gold. During the worst days of her separation, when she was finding out more and more about Paul’s infidelities, Caroline had also been her rock, patiently listening while she ranted and raved about the evils of falling in love with the people you’re trying to help. “I’m glad one of us is on top of things.”

“Okay, that doesn’t sound good. What happened? I thought hiding out was supposed to get you back on your game.”

“So did I.” Zoe sighed.

“Give yourself time. It’s only been a couple of days. Bet you’re not even unpacked yet, are you?”

“Almost. I ran into a few home repair issues.” Briefly she explained, ending with the story about the bats. “Now I’ve got these bat nets or whatever they are hanging off my roof. Jake said he’ll check them for critters this morning.”

“Jake?”

“The handyman I hired.”

“Oh, right. I didn’t realize you were on a first-name basis.”

“This is a small island. Everyone’s on a first-name basis.”

“Uh-huh.”

Again, Zoe could hear the smirk, this time accompanied by a healthy dose of innuendo. “For crying out loud, the ink’s barely dry on my divorce. Last thing I’m interested in is another relationship. Besides, this guy’s not exactly ‘relatable,’ if you know what I mean.”

“He doesn’t like girls?”

“He doesn’t like people in general, I don’t think.” Saying the words brought a lump of sadness to her stomach. “He’s got baggage.” Too much baggage for one man to carry, she suspected.

“Uh-oh. Sounds like somebody’s found a new project.”

If only.
“He’s not looking for help, Caroline. In fact, the exact opposite,” she added in a low voice. “I can’t explain it, but I almost think he wants to suffer.”
Don’t ever use that word to describe me.
“He’s punishing himself for something, only I don’t know what.”

“Let me guess. You’re the only person who can understand him.” More than a little sarcasm laced Caroline’s voice. Zoe’d used that very line dozens of times when defending Paul.

“It’s nothing like that,” she replied. “And remember, friend or not, you can still be fired.”

“No, I can’t—your career would fall apart without me.”

True, though she didn’t need to sound so smug.

“Getting back to this handyman,” Caroline continued. “Is he cute?”

“I’m not sure
cute
is the right word.” She thought about how easily he moved around the roof. “More like very masculine.”

“Nice. Break a pipe, then send me a photo of him in a wet T-shirt.”

“Very funny. Seriously, this guy has some major issues. It’s hard not to wonder what caused them.”

“Well, while you’re speculating, make sure you focus on getting that column done. Syndicators get very cranky when the content arrives late.”

“Yes, boss. Anything else?”

“Yeah, keep your distance. I know you love a good sob story and all…”

Caroline wouldn’t say that if she’d seen Jake’s eyes. Still, Zoe reassured her. “I have absolutely no intention of repeating past mistakes. My bank account can’t afford it.”

After going over a few more business details, Zoe hung up and headed downstairs. Thanks to Caroline, going back to sleep was impossible.

Reynaldo came trotting into the kitchen behind her, yawning. Even half asleep, Zoe had to giggle. If dogs could have bedhead, he definitely qualified.
“What do you say we take that walk on the beach we never got to last night?”

Sensing potential freedom, the dachshund perked up with a bark.

This time of morning, the two-mile strip of sand was close to empty. The sun had barely breached the horizon, a large orange-pink half circle that promised another warm day once the pockets of fog burned away. The air smelled of water and salt. Taking a deep breath, Zoe allowed the aroma to wash over her. Yes, she thought, time on the beach was exactly what she needed.

How on earth had her life gotten to this place? Eight months ago she’d been on top of the world. Now here she was, paying support to a philandering husband and living next door to an enigmatic handyman she couldn’t get out of her head.

Ever the nudge, Reynaldo whined and pulled on his leash. “Chill, Reynaldo. I don’t care how wide open the space is, you need to stay on the leash.”

The dachshund whined again. There were birds about and he clearly wanted to chase them. Sighing, she looked up and down the deserted beach. The only people that she could see were two die-hard fishermen casting into the surf.

“You’re a spoiled brat, you know that, don’t you?”

He took off the second she unhooked his leash.
Free from the confines of his harness, he embarked on a quest to rid the beach of seagulls.

“At least he’s not chasing chipmunks.”

Hearing Jake’s voice, she started. Her neighbor was making his way along the shoreline. He must have come from around the rocks behind her because she hadn’t seen him earlier.

Based on the foam cup he held in his hand, she guessed he’d walked to the diner in town. He was wearing a pair of snug, torn jeans and a gray sweatshirt dotted with paint. An equally ragged Boston baseball cap topped his head, and his shoes were covered with sand.

He looked sexy as all get out.

Suddenly Zoe regretted her decision to walk in her flannel pajamas. Combing her hair into something more than a sloppy ponytail would have been nice, too. She quickly undid the tie from her hair and re-fastened it, hoping she looked nonchalant as she did so.

“Give him time,” she quipped. “The day’s still early.”

His face didn’t react to the joke.

She continued, “I didn’t know anyone else would be up this early. The sunrise is gorgeous, isn’t it?”

In the last minute the sun had risen another inch above the water, bringing its color to more of the sky. “There’s something about the light breaking through
the gray that makes me feel inspired to tackle the day.”

“Makes me think it’s early. And that I should be asleep.”

Yet he wasn’t. In fact, had he slept at all? Given his dark circles and haggard appearance, she wondered.

As soon as Reynaldo realized she had a companion, he took a break from his bird-chasing duties and ran up to them. Rather, he ran up to Jake. Jumping up and down, he barked incessantly as though greeting a long-lost friend.

Jake scowled. “What is with this dog?”

“Apparently he likes you.”

“Lucky me.”

“Either that or he thinks you’ve got food. Rey’s two biggest motivators are his appetite and his bladder.”

“Glad to see he’s got the important things down.”

Oh, Lord, was that an attempt at humor she heard tripping off his lips? Zoe felt the corners of her mouth tug upward. “No one can accuse him of not having his priorities in order, that’s for certain,” she said.

Proving her point, Rey turned his attention away from Jake, and promptly trotted to a nearby scrub of beach grass, where he relieved himself. “My assistant, Caroline, calls him my substitute child because I cater to him so much,” she remarked.

“She might have a point,” Jake replied.

Adjusting her glasses as camouflage, she took a look at her companion. He was sipping his coffee, his green eyes focused on the frolicking dachshund. Again, she was struck by the fatigue and sadness hovering around him. Even standing here with her and Reynaldo, he looked alone. Alone and far away.

“I’d wanted a pet forever.” She hoped that sharing might draw him out. “When I was a kid, we couldn’t have a pet—my dad had breathing issues—so as soon as I got a place of my own I headed straight for the pound. Believe it or not.” She chuckled. “I’d planned on getting a retriever.”

“And instead you got the tube of terror.”

“Tube of terror?”

“Couldn’t think of a
T
word that means annoying,” he replied with a shrug.

Zoe laughed. “Reynaldo, tube of terror. Suits him.”

Jake’s mouth quirked upward, the closest he’d come to a smile since she met him. Seeing it brought more warmth than the rising sun. “So, from retriever to dachshund. How’d that happen?”

“Couldn’t help myself. Every time I walked past the cage, he would whimper and look at me with his sad brown eyes. Then the woman at the shelter told me he’d been found abandoned and left tied up behind a drugstore. Soon as I heard that, I was hooked. I’ve always been a sucker for a good sob story.”

“Either that or Reynaldo is a master manipulator.”

“You might be right.” She was a sucker for those, too. “Anyway, I couldn’t stand the idea of the little guy not having a home.”

“I’m surprised you were so keen on outing the bats then. Seeing as how you’ve blocked them from their nests.”

“That’s different. That was self-preservation. Although…” She frowned. “I didn’t think about the fact I was rendering them homeless. Do you think they sell bat houses at the hardware store?”

His head tilted like a questioning puppy, Jake studied her. “You really would buy one, wouldn’t you?”

“I booted them from their nest. Shouldn’t I help to fix their problem?”

“Do you always feel compelled to solve problems?”

“Sure,” Zoe replied, undoing and fixing her ponytail again. She was painfully aware of his eyes sweeping her length, his evaluation spreading through her limbs like honey. She shrugged, affecting nonchalance. “See a problem, try to help. Advice columnist, remember?”

“I remember.” He took a long drink from his coffee, silence swirling around him like the ocean breeze. “What if you can’t help?”

Was he talking about himself? They sure weren’t
talking about bats anymore. There was such resignation in his voice as he spoke, it hurt.

“Not every problem can be fixed,” he continued.

“I don’t believe that,” she countered. “Every problem can be fixed, with time.”

“Well, that’s why you’re the advice columnist and I’m not.” Before she could reply, he started walking toward the street. Whatever crack he’d allowed in his armor was sealed once more. “I’ll go check your roof to see if any bats got left behind last night. Good luck getting that dog back on a leash.”

“If I can’t, I’ll simply wave a doggy biscuit. Never underestimate the lure of food.”

He shot her another half smile, and went on his way.

How long she stood watching the waves, Zoe didn’t know. Could have been an hour or a few minutes. The inner peace she’d hoped to find never materialized. She felt off-kilter. Out of sorts. More so than before, if possible. The sadness that laced Jake’s voice continued to hang in the air, thick and unrepentant.