One of These Nights (16 page)

“So I hear.” She gave Rosie's belly a pat, then rose. He was expecting her usual purposeful stride, but she waddled over to him on her heels, and he felt the foolish grin on his face before he could stop it. She tipped her chin down and gave him a look. “My toes are still wet. Don't.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Sure,” she drawled. But when she got closer, her expression turned serious and her voice dropped while Sam continued to fuss over Rosie. “If it was that bad, why didn't you just call me? I would have come out.”

“Didn't want to bother you.”

She looked at him incredulously, and he knew he'd said the wrong thing. Again. “Wasn't having me available to bother kind of the point?”

“It's been a long week.” He shrugged. “You don't have to be on the clock all the time.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he watched her jaw tighten. “On the . . . Oh, is that still where we are? That's good to know. Thanks.”

“Zo.” But she turned around and tottered back to Sam, who looked between them like she wasn't sure whether to laugh or slink away quietly. Zoe sat down, picked up a can of ginger ale from the coffee table, and held out a hand in his direction.

“Nope. Go eat your soup. I'm
off
the clock right now.”

He opened his mouth to try to defend himself, decided that would do nothing but make things worse, and managed nothing but a low growl. Sam winced and made a shooing motion with one hand while Zoe looked elsewhere.
Go eat,
she mouthed. He couldn't blame her for not wanting to be caught in the cross fire, but he also refused to just go silently.

“That's not what I meant, Zoe, and you know it.”

She turned her head to look at him. He expected the anger. The surprise was when a little of the hurt feelings showed through. “Jason, I don't know anything right now, and that's the truth.”

He sighed, considered his options, and decided that he was too tired for any more exercises in futility today. She could think what she wanted. That was all anybody seemed to do anyway. “I'm not that complicated. I'll be in the kitchen if you want to talk.”

And with all the dignity he could muster, he hobbled away, Rosie trailing in his wake.

“
W
ell?”

“
Well
what?” Zoe took a break from quietly brooding to look at Sam, with whom she'd been having a very nice evening up until a few minutes ago.
Don't have to be on the clock all the time. Is that what he thinks this is? I guess crawling all over each other in the back room was just overtime, if we're using his jacked-up logic.

“You should probably go talk to him.”

“Hmm.”

Sam's eyes rounded. “Zoe. If you two decide to have one of your arguments in my house, I will personally kill both of you. This is a bicker-free zone. I come here to escape these things.”

“You and Jake fight,” Zoe pointed out, but it did nothing to assuage her own rapidly developing guilt. Sam was right. Fighting might come naturally to her and Jason, but that didn't mean anybody else wanted ringside seats.

“My house, my husband, my stupid fights,” Sam replied. “You and Jason need to find your own arena to wreck each other in.”

Zoe hung her head and blew out a breath. “Sorry. The man just has a knack for getting my back up. Did you hear what he said? I don't
work
for him. And after the other day, which you're not supposed to know about—”

“I know, I know,” Sam soothed her, patting her arm. “Just try and remember that Jason has some, ah, baggage.”

“Everybody has baggage.”

“Well, a whole bunch of his is currently parked in his house having a party. So, you know . . . bend a little, Zo.”

She rolled her eyes back in her head, but Zoe stood up. Sam was right. She hated it when someone else was right, but it happened occasionally. Besides, this time she didn't actually want to stay mad at Jason. Not that she was interested in admitting it to him, but it was more hurt than anything. Why hadn't he just called her if he'd needed somebody? Even before they'd gotten all tangled up with each other, she'd committed to helping him. True to form, he still looked elsewhere.

Sometimes she wondered if he'd been put on this earth solely to drive her crazy.

“I'm not bendy,” Zoe informed her. Sam had the audacity to smirk.

“I know. But you are
especially
not bendy with him. So go save him from melancholy solo soup eating and then come back so we can do our fingernails.”

“Fine.” She started away, muttering, “And he thinks
I'm
high maintenance,” hearing Sam's soft laughter behind her. It was funny, she supposed. Especially if you were standing on the outside of it. From where she stood, it was way less amusing. She was as twisted up as she had been about anyone in years, and it wasn't something she liked to feel. Because her business was constantly shifting and changing, she placed a high value on peace and stability where she could find it.

Jason had intruded onto formerly peaceful territory and was making a damn mess. And it was worse because she'd let him do it. She'd invited him in, and booting him back out didn't feel like any kind of option. She just wished he'd let his guard down with her as much as she had with him. His kiss had told her more than he ever had in words, but there was so much more she wanted to know beyond simple attraction.

Reserve was one thing. She understood that. But he had walls up that she wasn't sure he was going to let her past. Though right now she'd settle for not being treated like she already had one foot out the door, ready to bolt as soon as things settled down and it was just the two of them.

Resigned, frustrated, Zoe walked into the kitchen, trying not to waddle quite so badly since that was not the way she wanted to make any kind of entrance. She just hoped her toes were almost dry. So much for her relaxing evening.

Jason sat at the small table against the wall, hunched over a bowl of soup while Jake chattered at him. When Jake saw her, there was no mistaking the relief on his face.
Must be I put Treebeard in a mood. As usual.
Rosie didn't spare her a glance, completely focused on the biscuit that sat on a napkin beside Jason's bowl.

“Hey, Zoe. You want to hang out for a minute? I need to ask Sam something.”

“Sure. I might steal another one of those biscuits while I'm at it. You're lucky one of you can cook,” she said, hoping her voice, at least, was calm. Jake gave her a cheeky grin.

“I know it. I'm spoiled forever. She saved me from ramen. Help yourself. The bowl's still on the counter.”

He was gone in a flash. Zoe walked to where the bright blue bowl containing the remaining biscuits was set by the sink, picked one of the bottom ones that was still slightly warm, and then set about buttering it while Jason sat in stony silence behind her. His discomfort was a palpable thing, and Zoe couldn't help but remember what Larkin had said about him being shy. He'd always been willing enough to engage with her, though the
way
they'd engaged didn't really require him to open up.

It made her wonder again if she'd been wrong all this time about what sort of man he was. There seemed to be an endless number of things she didn't know. It wasn't the kind of revelation that she enjoyed having, but in Jason's case, “still waters run deep” definitely seemed to apply.

She steeled herself, turned, and leaned back against the counter to eat her biscuit, pulling off a piece with her fingers.
Relax, or he'll just shut down on you. Be cool, because he sure isn't.

“So, what happened?” she asked, deciding not to start throwing elbows immediately. Jason looked up, and she could see the surprise on his face. He looked almost wolfish tonight, she thought. Half-feral, at least, big and dark and dangerous. He would have been at home in any one of her favorite fantasies . . . and in fact, he had been. There was something about him that was compelling in a way that no other man had been for her. And rather than working its way out of her system over the past couple of years, it only seemed to get worse.

His voice, which had dropped into that low growl of his, rippled over her skin and made the little hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stand at attention. “Nothing major. My house was full of people I didn't invite over, my mother was holding court, and I needed to be someplace where I didn't want to crawl out of my skin.”

“This is where you come for that, I guess.”

“Usually.” She didn't miss the subtle dig, and she wouldn't let it pass.

“You know, you're not the only person who came here tonight trying to relax a little. I was having a perfectly good time.”

“Nobody said you had to stop. You're the one who got all huffy.”

“And you got huffy right back.” She exhaled through her nose. “We really need to work on the way we react to each other if we're going to keep spending time together. I don't know how I feel about being Harvest Cove's odd couple, mismatched and walking around bickering.”

She saw him stiffen, the way his shoulders tensed, and wondered what she'd said.

“I told you we didn't have anything in common,” Jason said. “We
are
mismatched, if you haven't noticed.”

“Oh, bull,” she shot back with more snap in her voice than she'd meant to put there. “Why? Because you're Mr. Shy Moody Sweatpants Man and I get dressed up every day and talk to people? Because I'm black and southern and you're white and northern? Because I'm into grooming and you need a damn haircut? Which part of this is bothering you? Last time I checked, the whole opposites-attract thing was about differences keeping things interesting, not making people want to kill each other. It doesn't have to be like this with us. It's just going to take some effort. On
both
our parts. I'll tell you that I'm willing, since I actually enjoy you when you're not trying so hard to drive me crazy. What about you? Because if you're not, there's really no point in taking this past our weird little arrangement.”

And here she was, getting all worked up when she'd promised herself she wouldn't. To make herself stop talking, Zoe popped the piece of biscuit in her mouth and glared at Jason, daring him to give her an honest answer. He didn't look angry, for once. In fact, he looked slightly awed.

It took everything she had not to stomp her foot before she demanded, “What?”

“You sound really southern when you're angry,” he said. “I've just never heard your accent get that strong before.”

She stared at him. “I take back the part where I said I enjoy you. I may have to kill you after all.”

“You're not going to finish with ‘bless your heart'?”

“Where are the knives?” She turned to scan the countertops for sharp objects while Jason laughed, a low rumble that made her slightly less inclined to cause him bodily harm. She turned her head to give him the stink-eye, but she couldn't maintain it when she saw the way he was smiling at her. He still looked tired, but good humor looked incredible on him. Of course, this was a man who could make her overheated when he was wearing paint-spattered sweatpants. He obviously had some kind of dark magic going on. Her parents would not approve.

The thought struck her oddly. She hadn't really considered what her parents would think of him, because up until recently, there was about zero possibility they'd ever meet him. They refused to come here, and Jason wasn't hers to introduce even if she'd thought he might attempt to make a good impression on people who weren't her. Which she wasn't at all sure about.

“Where'd your mind go just now?” he asked, watching her closely. “You disappeared on me for a second.”

“Oh,” Zoe said. “I, ah, well, my parents. I was thinking about my parents.”

“Okay,” he drawled. “That's . . . weird.”

She shook her head. “I was just wondering what they'd think of you. That's all.” She had a feeling he'd get funny about that, and he didn't disappoint her. Jason returned his eyes to his bowl of soup, and the tension between them returned as though it had never really left. Zoe sighed.

“Was she that bad?”

“Who?” he asked.

“Your ex-wife. I'm starting to think she must have been as bad as your mother if you're this screwed up about relationships.” Manners would normally have prevented her from asking something so personal, but with Jason, she was quickly discovering that if she didn't hit him with a direct question, she'd probably never get an answer.

“Cautious and screwed up aren't the same thing,” he said, lifting his head to meet her gaze directly. “I like to take things slow. That's all.”

“Obviously. I mean, we've been doing this dance for, what, two years and some change now? You've certainly accomplished slow.”

“I didn't know we were dancing,” he said, but there was a hint of mischief in his expression. “It felt more like a really long argument.”

“It was. One that continues today. We're headed for the Guinness book of world records, you and me. So are you going to answer my question?” She popped another bite of the biscuit in her mouth and waited for an answer. Jason was silent for so long that she thought he'd simply decided to ignore the question, but just as she was about to prod him, he spoke.

“She wasn't bad. It just didn't work. I own half the blame for that. She was . . .” He trailed off, seeming to search for the words before finding a way to continue. “She was looking for something else.”

“And what were you looking for?” she asked, curious. This was the most he'd said about the mysterious ex. She couldn't imagine this woman who'd walked away from Jason and left town. There were no details, no one ever mentioned her . . . it was as though she had never existed. She supposed she could ask around, but it felt wrong, like snooping. She wanted
him
to tell her.

“I was just looking for her. Any way I could get her,” Jason replied. He seemed surprised, though whether it was at the question or his own inclination to answer, Zoe wasn't sure. But what he said, the simple honesty of it, hit her with unexpected force. It made her hurt for him. It made her angry at the woman who'd rejected him. And it filled her with a sudden, painful longing to be wanted that way, that much. Jason had been burned, badly. What if he just never wanted to open himself up that way again? It was a distinct possibility.

One of his brows arched. “What, not the answer you were looking for?”

“No, no,” Zoe rushed out. She really needed to watch herself around him. Over the years, she'd gotten pretty good at not wearing her emotions all over her face, but all that training seemed to fly right out the window whenever she spent any time with him. “I just . . . didn't know.”

He shrugged and fed Rosie a piece of his own biscuit. “Nothing to know, really. I tried to be somebody else for a while. It didn't work out. She left. Neither one of us was as honest as we should have been, so we ended up about where you'd expect. Anyway, it doesn't matter. I got on with my life, and she found a guy who was what she wanted. Older. Sophisticated. Rich.”

“Boring.”

That made him smile. “I'm sure he and I would find each other very boring, yeah. You might like him. I hear he's a big art collector.” He paused, seemed to assess the implications of what he'd just said, and then added, “I didn't mean that in a shitty way. Sara was into art, too.”

She could see he hadn't meant it as an insult, but Zoe wasn't thrilled with having something so important to her in common with his ex-wife. Still, it explained a few things, even if she didn't like all of those explanations.

“I guess that's where you get your own interest, right? She helped you figure out what you liked.”

“What I like isn't what she liked, but yeah. You watch your house get redecorated enough times, you develop an opinion whether you want to have one or not.”

“What did she like, out of curiosity? I'm assuming you know what it's called.”