The Goodbye Bride (14 page)

“I'll eat one for you.”

“Eat a couple for me, will you? I'm stuck with chow-hall fare.”

“Looks like you're filling out just fine. Your shoulders take up the whole screen.”

“Just remember that when I get home. I can totally take you now. Not that I couldn't before.”

“In your dreams, baby brother,” Zac said, chuckling, even though he knew it was probably true.

“So . . . ,” Riley said. “How's Paige doing? Haven't heard from her lately.”

His casual tone didn't fool Zac. Riley and Paige had been best friends for years. But then Riley's feelings changed, and before he got up the gumption to do anything about it, Paige started liking their brother Beau. It had all gone downhill from there when
Beau and Paige became a couple. Riley had ultimately responded by joining the marines, but only Zac was privy to Riley's feelings. Well . . . Zac and Eden.

“She's doing all right. I thought she was e-mailing you.”

“She is. I heard from her a week ago.”

“Might help if you e-mailed back.”

“I'll catch her on Skype on the Fourth.”

Zac considered biting his tongue, then decided life was too short. “Maybe you should say something to her, man.”

“Like what?”

“You know what.”

“Like, ‘Gosh, best buddy, I've fallen in love with you, and I know you don't feel the same way, but will you put your life on hold for me until my tour's up?' Something like that, you mean?”

“You might want to soften it up a little, but yeah.”

Riley looked down, his lashes becoming shadows on his upper cheeks. “I've had a lot of time to think over here. A lot of moments when—” He looked up at Zac. “I don't want to have any regrets, you know? But this isn't something to dump on her when I'm six thousand miles away. Maybe I'll have that talk with her when I get home. Ask for a chance to be more than friends. I don't know yet. I'm praying about it.”

Zac knew as well as anyone that opportunities sometimes faded quicker than smoke on the open seas. “Why wait, Riley? Why not just tell her now?”

“It wouldn't be fair to her. She finds out how I feel, and she's going to feel guilty that she doesn't feel the same. She worries about me enough as it is.”

“You said you didn't want any regrets. What if you regret waiting, huh?”

Riley's gaze sharpened, his lips going in a tight line as he stared intently through the screen. “She seeing someone? Is that what you're saying?”

“No. No, man, not that I know of.”

Relief flickered in Riley's eyes, and his shoulders fell. “That's good. Hate to think I'd have to whip somebody's butt the second I hit shore.”

Zac smiled. “I got your back, man. You know that.”

“Is she—you think she's over Beau? She says she is, but I don't know if she's just telling me what I want to hear. She doesn't want me worrying about her.”

“I think she is. She's coming around the family more often, doesn't seem to mind being around Beau and Eden. They were never meant to be, bro. I think she sees that now.”

“Yeah, well, I hope—”

A knock sounded as someone pushed his office door open. “Zac, do you know where the—” Lucy stopped on the threshold. “Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting?”

Zac resisted the urge to close the screen. It wasn't as if Riley could see her with the laptop facing the opposite direction. “No, I'm just Skyping with Riley. I'll be out in a few.”

“Oh, no hurry. Take your time.” She shut the door, and Zac looked back to the screen.

Riley was leaning in, his eyes fixed on Zac. A frown crouched between his brows. “Who was that? Was that—was that
Lucy
?”

Dadblameit.
Well, he was lucky he'd kept it from his brother this long, now that all of Summer Harbor knew she was back.

“It
was
,” Riley said. “What the heck, Zac. What's she doing there? Are you nuts?”

“It's not what you think. We're not back together. She has
amnesia. She was in Portland, and she hit her head. She's lost the last seven months of her life. Doesn't remember leaving here or her life in Portland.”

“What? When did this happen?”

“Little over a week ago.”

“And you became involved because . . .”

“She called me. She didn't have anyone else. She was confused and . . . dizzy and stuff. I went and got her and brought her back.”

“And no one thought to tell me any of this?”

“We didn't want to worry you.”

Riley pitched back against his chair, making a face. “I wish everyone would stop filtering the news for me. I'm capable of dealing with reality.”

“Like you don't filter news on your end?” Riley talked very little about what went on in his world.

His jaw flinched. “That's different. Are there any other little tidbits no one's telling me?”

Zac sighed. May as well get it all out there. “Lucy's staying here, in your old room, and temporarily filling in as a server.”

Riley's face tipped forward. “What? Zac . . .”

“And she was engaged to another man while she was in Portland. She was running from her wedding when she hit her head.”

Riley gave a hard laugh. “Of course she was.” He shook his head, still laughing, though there was no humor in it.

Heat crawled up the back of Zac's neck, the mocking laugh running right through him. Hearing the truth out loud made him feel even more of a fool. And Riley's reaction wasn't making him feel any better.

“Knock it off, lover boy. I don't see you doing much better.”

Riley's laugh tapered off. He ran a hand over his face. “Yeah,
yeah. All right, I'll give you that one. Still, dude. You know you're asking for trouble.”

Trouble seemed to be Lucy's middle name. At least where he was concerned.

“This is only temporary. She finds another job, she's out of here.” He didn't add that she was planning to go no farther than the nearest apartment complex.

Maybe he was still in denial.

Chapter 17

L
ucy turned an order in to the kitchen and stuffed a handful of straws into her apron pocket. Friday nights at the Roadhouse always seemed to be hopping. Zac's new assistant manager, Susan, was on staff tonight, running the place like a well-oiled machine.

When they'd been dating, Lucy had been after Zac to hire management help. He'd always been so busy, running the restaurant six days a week. He'd said he couldn't afford it, but that must've changed in the time she'd been in Portland.

Lucy spied a recently seated table and headed toward it. She felt her shoulders droop as she recognized the honey-blonde hair, the slim shoulders, and the classically beautiful profile.

Not again.

There were other servers, other stations, for pity's sake. What was it with the woman? Was she trying to make Lucy's life miserable? Drawing a deep breath, Lucy tucked the empty tray under her arm and approached the table.

Morgan's blonde hair tumbled to her shoulders in spiral curls, and her makeup was flawlessly applied. She wore a little
black dress that was riding up high on her long legs. The tiny white sweater she wore over it didn't quite hide her cleavage.

Overdress much?

Lucy gave a tight smile. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Morgan's eyes scrolled down Lucy's dowdy shirt and apron. Lucy fought the urge to cover the ketchup stain over her left hip.

“I'm just waiting for Zac. He'll be down any minute.”

Lucy felt a pinch in her chest. “I'll check back after he arrives then.”

Morgan tossed her hair over her shoulder. “We're not staying
here
.” Morgan pulled out a compact and checked her perfect red lips. “He's taking me to the Oyster Bistro.”

Lucy's smile faltered as her heart squeezed. That's where Zac had taken her on their first date. He'd kissed her for the first time after dinner.

“You've heard of it.” Morgan snapped the compact shut. “It's in the Hotel Tourmaline on Folly Shoals. You have to take the ferry to reach it. I do hope we make it back before the last run.” She arched a brow. “But if we don't . . . oh well. I'm sure we'll find
something
to do.”

“Morgan.”

At the sound of Zac's deep voice, Lucy's eyes swung to him. She clutched the empty tray to her chest.

“Did you get my text?” Morgan's voice was as smooth as velvet.

“Ayuh . . .” His eyes darted between Lucy's and Morgan's. “I was supposed to pick you up.”

“I was out running an errand with Daddy, so I had him drop me here,” Morgan said as she stood, towering over Lucy in her stilettos.

The heels also brought her much closer to Zac's height. He wouldn't even have to stoop when he kissed her good night. His
eyes caught on hers just then, and she felt the betrayal like a sucker punch.

She wrenched her eyes away. “I—I have an order to pick up.” She scooted away on trembling legs, the heat of Zac's stare on her back.

This had to be the longest evening of her life.

Lucy threw back the covers, rolled over, and stared at the darkened ceiling. Even the bustling Friday night crowd hadn't kept her mind occupied. Every moment she'd wondered what Zac and Morgan were doing. Were they at the Oyster Bistro yet? Were they sitting in a quiet corner or on the outdoor patio under the white twinkle lights? Was he holding her hand under the table? Was he noticing the way her eyes glinted green in the candlelight?

She checked the clock for the hundredth time. He should be back by now. The last ferry ran at ten o'clock, and it was almost eleven. Was he kissing her good night at her door right now? Or maybe they were steaming up the windows of his truck. Maybe she'd invited him inside.

Lucy groaned, closing her eyes against the thought. She had no rights to Zac. He was free to take Morgan out, free to make out in his truck, free to—

No. She wouldn't go there.

She had to stop this. What good did it do to torture herself? He wasn't hers anymore. She wished she could turn back time all the way to the beginning and have a second chance. She remembered the night he asked her out like it was yesterday.
It had barely been a week since she'd first seen Zac Callahan behind the bar, chatting with some guys, but it seemed like a month. In the meantime she'd scored a job at the visitor center and found herself a nice little apartment not far from town.

The Roadhouse was fairly empty on this Monday night. She scanned the rustic restaurant, her eyes stopping at the bar, where once again Zac stood, chatting with a few patrons. He wore a plaid button-down, rolled up at the cuffs. Like last time, he sported a five o'clock shadow, and she wondered if he knew just how sexy he looked.

She walked that direction, glad she'd worn her favorite jeans and the lightweight sweater that matched her blue eyes perfectly.

She found a stool at the quiet end of the counter—taking care as she climbed on—and perused the laminated menu. She knew the exact moment Zac spotted her. The skin on her arms tightened and heat flared up inside, prickling at the back of her neck. She'd never been so aware of a man before. It was as if an invisible cord connected them.

She didn't look up until he stood directly in front of her.

The smile he gave her should've been illegal worldwide. “Georgia . . .”

Lucy offered a saucy smile despite the niggle of disappointment. “Ah. I see you've forgotten my name already.”

He withdrew a rag from his pocket and swiped the counter in front of her. “I never forget a pretty lady's name.”

She wasn't letting him off that easy. She raised her brows and tilted her head, waiting expectantly.

Just when she thought he was going to leave her hanging, his lips twitched and he slid her a look. “Lucy Lovett, sociology major,
Harvard graduate, adorable dimples, endearingly clumsy, with a long list of ways in which she embarrasses herself.”

Her heart did a slow roll, and something fluttered inside. Her smile faltered.

“I just happen to like nicknames,” he said. “And that sweet Southern drawl of yours.”

She shifted on the stool, recovering. “Now, see . . . that's just not fair. You've got a cute little nickname for me, and I don't have one for you.”

He pocketed the rag as the corner of his mouth kicked up. “You'll have to work on that.”

Lord have mercy, she did love that deep voice of his. She folded her arms across the still-damp counter. “Turns out I might just have the time for that. I came by to thank you for the job tip. Your aunt Trudy hired me today.”

His smile widened. “Well . . . congratulations. You'll be sticking around awhile then.”

“Fair warning—you might be seeing a lot of me. The center's just down the beach, and a girl has to eat someplace.” She gave her shoulders an exaggerated lift.

“I think I could stand to see your pretty face in here now and again.”

“Is that so?”

He brought her a sweet tea on the house without asking what she was drinking. She turned down his offer of food, having had a late lunch.

He was different from so many other men she'd met in her travels. He looked her in the eyes when she talked, like he was really listening. And he must be; he'd remembered every detail from their conversation a week ago. He was confident, comfortable
with himself, but he didn't wear it with arrogance like so many other handsome men.

He waited on customers, and she noticed his easy way with people. His employees seemed to respect him. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he helped a new employee with the credit card machine. He was patient and soft-spoken no matter how many times she messed up. He was a good boss.