Meeting Miss Mystic (18 page)

“It would be the nice thing to do…since she’s new here…”

Lars turned to his best friend. “Paul, what do you think? Make it a foursome? The girls can do their artsy stuff and maybe we can finagle a trout or two.”

“Where’re you thinking?” asked Paul.

Lars shrugged. “Jane liked Gibbon Falls when we went, but her camera ran out of juice and she couldn’t get any shots. I’ve been meaning to take her back.”

Zoë watched him run his fingers lazily up and down Jane’s arm and she had a sudden, desperate pang of jealousy watching their easy affection.

“It would be a great place for you to paint or draw, Zoë,” said Jane, encouragingly.

“Might even catch a rainbow,” said Lars to Paul, dropping another kiss on Jane’s neck distractedly.

Paul turned to Zoë and she shifted her gaze from the young couple to Paul’s cerulean eyes. “What do you say, Zoë? You up for a day trip?”

She was, of course, desperate for a day trip with Paul, but it complicated things. She was supposed to tell him the truth first thing tomorrow. She bit her lip, knowing she should say no, but she couldn’t make herself form the word.
One more day couldn’t hurt, right?
She couldn’t look away from him as she nodded her head.

“I’d love it.”

***

She needed to stop biting her lip like that. It made it impossible for a man to think of anything but kissing her and he didn’t want to think about kissing Zoë. Unfortunately, he was having trouble looking away and his heart lurched into a gallop as he imagined pressing his lips to hers, biting that lip with
his
teeth instead of hers. Blood rushed to his groin and he bit down on his tongue purposefully to distract himself.
Stop this now. Control yourself! Holly, Holly, Holly!

He forced himself to turn away from her, only to catch Graham’s suggestive smile across the table.

“Sounds like fun,” he said, with eyes for Zoë.

Paul didn’t know Graham McAlpin very well. He’d kept mostly to himself for the week or so he’d been visiting, but Paul had heard stories from Maggie, and none of them were very good. He’d been a wild child, a hellion and in a fair amount of trouble back home during secondary school. But, apparently he was good with a hammer, so his mother, Maggie’s aunt, had shipped him off to Gardiner for a few months to help his cousin with renovations on the Prairie Dawn. According to Maggie, the twenty-year-old could use a “wee break” from his “associates” in Glasgow. Paul hadn’t pressed her for more information on these nefarious-sounding “associates,” but looking at Graham’s tattooed arms, lightly scarred face that spoke to a penchant for getting into scraps, and cocky bad-boy grins, Paul was reading Graham loud and clear.

Graham McAlpin was trouble with a capital T and the way he was looking at Zoë made Paul want to smash his fist into Graham’s face and give him a new scar for his collection. He tried to calm down, reminding himself that Graham wasn’t much older than some of his more challenging seniors, but—Holly or no Holly—he couldn’t help the wave of protectiveness he felt for Zoë. He was definitely not interested in Graham joining them for their trip to Gibbon Falls tomorrow.

“I’m sure Maggie needs you around here tomorrow, huh, Graham?”

The younger man smirked knowingly, glancing at Zoë and then back at Paul. His brogue was thick when he answered slowly, his eyes deceptively heavy, laced with challenge. “Ooo, I wouldna dream of hornin’ in on yer double date, laddie.”

It was on the tip of Paul’s tongue to argue that it wasn’t a date, but Maggie returned with their drinks, setting the brightly colored ceramic mugs on the table in front of Paul and Zoë.

“Hot coffee. Is Gingy bein’ a brat?”

“Gingy?” asked Zoë, picking up her mug and blowing lightly over the steam.

Paul couldn’t tear his gaze away from her pursed lips. Damn, but he was weak.

“Gingy for his ginger-colored hair,” she tousled it affectionately and Graham gave her a look, pulling away. “My wee cousin’s come to spend the fall with me. He’s goin’ to build a deck off the back of the Prairie Dawn. Will be nice for next summer.”

Lars stretched his arms over his head yawning, and Jane kissed his cheek before slipping off his lap and offering him her hand to pull him up.

“Lars is sleepy,” she announced.

“Lars is often kept up all night long,” Lars teased her and she drew her hand back, as if offended, putting it on her hip instead.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he clarified, standing up and wrenching her hand away from her waist, lacing his fingers through hers. “Take me home, Minx.”

Jane smiled at the group still at the table. “Graham, glad you finally joined us. Mags, I’ll catch you tomorrow or next week. And you two...we’ll see you tomorrow. Pick you up at your place, Paul? Ten o’clock?”

Paul nodded at Jane, “Sounds good to me. Zoë?”

“Can we get into the school first? For the supplies?”

“Sure,” said Paul, grinning into her deep brown eyes. “I’ll pick you up at nine and we can go choose whatever you like.”

Jane and Lars headed out and Zoë turned back to Paul.

“Sorry you got railroaded into going to the park tomorrow.”

“Are you kidding? Miss an opportunity to best Lars in trout fishing? I live for that!”

She smiled at him and he had that feeling again. Like he knew her from somewhere. He wished he could figure it out and be done with it. Maybe an actress? Someone he’d seen occasionally in magazines?

“If you say so. I’ll be your cheering section.”

“I’m counting on it. He has Jane, so it’s only fair that…” His voice trailed off as he realized he was about to say
I have you
.

“Zoë,” said Maggie, breaking the rhythm of their conversation, “Come up to the baked goods case. I’d like to give you somethin’ to take home for your breakfast.”

Zoë stared at Maggie for a moment before standing up hesitantly and following her across the café, leaving Paul alone with Graham. He watched Graham stare overtly at Zoë’s ass as she walked away.

“She’s hot,” said Graham, grinning at Paul. “I wouldn’t mind—”

“Save it.” Paul put up his hand. “Whatever you’re going to say, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Why not?” Graham leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Oh! Oh, I get it. You don’t want her, but you don’t want anyone else havin’ a taste neither.”

Paul shook his head. “That’s not it at all.”

Graham swirled the coffee left in his cup, staring at Paul with a knowing smirk. “You can barely stop lookin’ at her. Been starin’ at her since the second you two walked in here, laddie.”

Paul’s nostrils flared with annoyance, but he didn’t deny it. First of all, rising to bait wasn’t Paul’s style. But, secondly, the kid was right. In the absence of a response, Graham continued, upping the ante.

“Shite, man, I get it. She has the best tits I’ve seen in—”

“If another word comes out of your mouth, my fist’s going in it.”

Graham stopped talking but his eyes widened in pure enjoyment and his smirk grew into a smile. He didn’t say anything else, just stared at Paul with that knowing, highly annoying grin.

Maggie and Zoë returned to the table, but Zoë didn’t sit down. She looked pale as she clutched a brown bag with white knuckles. Had she somehow heard Graham’s insulting assessment of her?

“I have to go,” she said softly, looking to be on the verge of tears.

Paul flicked his glance to Maggie, who looked down at her coffee cup, stirring slowly, then back up at Zoë.

“Are you okay? Is everything—?”

Maggie took a deep breath and looked up at Zoë. Paul couldn’t make out the expression on his friend’s face, but if he didn’t know better it was lodged somewhere between disappointment and challenge. What in the world had just happened between these two at the baked goods counter?

“Thank you, Maggie,” Zoë whispered, then turned and rushed to the door without another word or second glance.

“Wait!” Paul blurted out, standing up swiftly. He shoved his chair back and started after her, but Maggie’s hand on his wrist stopped him for a moment.

“Paul, can we talk about—”

“No, Mag. Not right now. She’s obviously upset.” He wiggled his wrist away, feeling annoyed with his friend and giving her cousin a scathing look. “I have to go.”

Maggie’s eyes widened in surprise before nodding slowly. “Okay, then. I guess you do.”

Without another word he turned and he hurried to catch up with Zoë.

Chapter 11

Zoë’s heart hammered as she turned onto the sidewalk and her bad leg, stiff from sitting, shot darts of pain up to her waist, making her limp more pronounced as she forced herself to move faster.

Stupid girl! Stupid, stupid, stupid! You should have just told him like you planned! Now it’s a total mess!

Frustrated tears coursed down both cheeks mixing with raindrops and she smacked them away angrily, the little paper bag with the scone hitting her nose. She didn’t know the moment that Maggie realized who she was, but when she asked her to come and choose something for breakfast, something told Zoë it wasn’t going to be good.

“I know who you are,” Maggie said directly, as soon as they walked away from the table. “It took me a few minutes to recognize you, but I had the benefit of that other photo. On Meet the One.”

Zoë had swallowed the ostrich-egg sized lump forming in her throat.

“Please don’t tell—”

“That man is like a brother to me and he has had enough bad luck, Holly. I don’t know what your game is, but—”

“No games! I would never hurt him.”

“Why d’ye look like this?” Maggie looked pointedly at Zoë’s black hair.

“It’s a long story,” she breathed, her voice trembling.

“Most lies are intricate.”

Zoë cringed, hot tears burning her eyes.

Maggie pointed at the scones. “You say you wouldn’t hurt him, but he has no idea who you are. I can tell.”

“No,” Zoë whispered. “He doesn’t know it’s me.”

“Then I predict him gettin’ hurt. When are you goin’ to remedy that situation? He deserves to know who you are.”

“Soon. Tomorrow.”

“This is
real
to him. Tonight.”

“I-I can’t. Please.”

“Tonight.”

“I
can’t
yet,” whispered Zoë fiercely, holding her ground with strength she didn’t know she had. “It’s real to me too. I don’t want to lose him.”

Maggie’s hard green eyes searched Zoë’s face and seemed to soften slightly as she digested Zoë’s whispered words. “He’s been happier these last few weeks than I’ve ever seen him. Ever.”

“Me too,” whispered Zoë, feeling miserable as Maggie assessed her with a frank, worried face.

“I shouldn’t believe you.”

“
Please
,” Zoë pleaded, her voice shaky with emotion.

“All right. But soon and no mistake, lass,” said Maggie finally, picking up a scone with tongs and putting it into a small paper bag. She faced Zoë, her eyes slightly narrowed and lips pursed. “And if you don’t, I will.”

Zoë had nodded slightly then looked away, her face flaming with heat, the temporary reprieve making her shoulders sag with relief. Maggie handed her the paper bag then turned without another word, heading back to the table where Paul and Graham waited.

Whether it was the way her plan to spill the beans had been derailed by their first meeting over Cleo’s mishap or the pure wonderfulness that was Paul or the way Maggie had just verbally bitch-slapped her, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she needed to get out of the Prairie Dawn before she burst into tears and embarrassed herself. The lump in her throat was relentless and painful and she clenched her jaw trying to distract herself from the pooling tears. She needed to run back to her inn, hide under her covers and cry for an hour. Maybe call Sandy for a pep talk and then decide how she was going to tell Paul the truth tomorrow.

So, she’d said a hasty good-bye to Paul, then turned around and ran out of the homey little cafe.

Zoë was good at running away and hiding. In little and big ways, she’d been running away and hiding for a couple of years now.

“Zoë! ZOË! Wait up!”

Being chased, however, was something new.

***

Paul called to her, but she didn’t slow down. If anything, she seemed to move faster, making it to the bridge as he finally caught up with her.

“Zoë!” he panted. “Why’d you leave? Why are you running home? What’s going on?”

She looked up at him and despite the rain, he could tell in an instant that she was crying. She turned away from him, taking a step toward the railing of the bridge and holding it in her hands as her chest heaved up and down with the force of her breathing.

He stepped toward her, putting his hand gently on her back. “Hey…”

Before he could get out another word, she spun into his arms, resting her cheek on his chest and he could feel the shudders shaking her back, the deep, heavy sobs of someone who felt intense sorrow. Instinct took over. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his body, his only thought to offer her whatever comfort he could.

Her small body sank into his, and it made him wonder again about this strange, vulnerable, injured girl. This brave girl who saved dogs and was a good listener and had scars on her face. He couldn’t seem to help himself from wanting to protect her, take care of her, learn the secrets behind her sad eyes. Why did he feel such a strong, insistent pull to her? And what did it mean? Determined not to overthink the act of comforting another human being in pain, he clasped her more closely, reaching up with one hand to gently brush the wet hair back from her temples in a soothing, monotonous motion. He didn’t know how long they stood like that in the dim light of the evening while the rained soaked them and the Yellowstone River rushed black below them, but he knew that if she had needed him to, he would have gladly stayed all night.

Finally she drew back, using her fingers and palms to swipe away the raindrops and tears under her eyes and on her cheeks. Paul looked down at her, at the dark, sad eyes that still glistened with tears, looking up at him.

He took a deep breath through his nose, knowing it was time to loosen his grip and let go of her, but he was distracted by the scent of honeysuckle…and just like that, the world melted away and he couldn’t think of anything but the girl in his arms.