One of These Nights (2 page)

“Maybe.”

Sam groaned and rolled her eyes. “Zo, we've talked about this. Binge watching recorded TV shows is not a substitute for actual human interaction. Why don't you come hang out with me and Jake? We were talking about going down to Beltane Blues and having a drink later.”

“Just the two of you?”

“Emma and Seth might join us,” Sam replied. “Maybe Shane and Fitz. So don't start with the third-wheel thing again, because you wouldn't be. You never are.” Sam closed the distance between them and gave Zoe's arm a tug. “Come on . . . it's been a while since you let us drag you out. You're getting as bad as Emma used to be.”

“Hey, you be nice about your sister,” she said. Emma Henry was a little older than Sam and a lot more uptight, but she'd come a long way since her drunken dance at Sam's bachelorette party had given her a dose of unwanted local fame. Of course, the fact that her fiancé, Seth Andersen, was the laid-back, quiet type was probably just as much of a factor in her recent loosening up as her brief brush with notoriety.

That was how it should be with couples, Zoe thought. They should bring out each other's better natures. Lately she thought her better nature might have packed up and gone on permanent vacation, probably somewhere tropical with a lot of half-naked men. If it was smart, anyway. “Not all of us are born party animals, you know,” she added, dismayed that her voice came out as a surly grumble.

“I know, because I'm not one, either,” Sam replied, ignoring Zoe's tone. “But there's a lot of space between party animal and hermit. Even Aaron's been threatening to show up at your door, slap a sparkly bathrobe on you, and force-feed you Jell-O shots until you start having fun again. And I think he's serious.”

“He usually is, underneath the sass.” Aaron Maclean was a successful sculptor and one of her closest friends. He also took great pleasure in being a complete pain in her butt, though she loved him for it. Zoe rolled her shoulders uncomfortably, allowing herself a brief fantasy of having someone waiting at home to rub the knots out of them before banishing the images to the mental dustbin marked “Unnecessary Distractions.” That thing was full to overflowing, Zoe thought with a wry smile. Kind of like the vacuum she kept in the closet in her office. Full of dust, dirt, sticks, the occasional rock . . .

“You're starting to sound just like Treebeard, you know that?”

Zoe wrinkled her nose at her nickname for Jason Evans, otherwise known as the Most Unnecessary Distraction of All. The big, surly park ranger darkened her doorstep at least once a week and seemed to take great pleasure in tracking in dirt, spending some time sparring with her, and buying something just often enough that she couldn't justify booting him out. Calling him Treebeard, after Tolkien's slow-moving and treelike Ent, made her feel a little better about the encounters. Especially because Jason didn't know she called him that.

It was as though she'd summoned him into the conversation just by thinking of the messes he left for her to clean up, courtesy of his giant boots.

“I do not.”

“Do, too. You two ought to start a club for antisocial hot people. You'll be the only members, and I'll be the outside consultant who sets up your activities since neither of you likes to do things.”

The thought of being alone with Jason was way more appealing than it should have been . . . which would explain why she'd spent a fair amount of time pondering the scenario. Outwardly, Zoe brushed off the teasing.

“No way. I know enough about how your twisted little mind works. I don't need to see what you'd come up with for awkward seduction scenarios, which is all those so-called activities would be.”

“By ‘awkward' I'm going to assume you mean ‘amazingly smooth.'”

“Amazingly
something
, anyway,” Zoe replied. “Kind of like you, in fact.”

Sam snorted. “You love me. Me and my schemes for getting you and Jason together for an evening of hard liquor and strip poker.”

“Setting aside the fact that I don't even know how to play poker . . . oh my God.”

“Exactly.” Sam's evil grin made her laugh, at least. And it was a good reminder that one thing she
did
have here in Harvest Cove was friendship. The important, tell-each-other-anything kind. The sort of friendship that stayed.

“There. You don't look quite as stabby now, at least. Remember that the next time you disparage my skills as a henchwoman.”

Zoe laughed again and shook her head. “I'll try. And I'm not stabby. Just tired, I guess. Long week.”

“Longer when you don't take days off,” Sam admonished her, but her voice was full of affection. “Well, you've earned hanging out with your blanket and TV if that's what you want to do. But we'd love to have you along if you want to come tonight, okay?”

She was being let off the hook, Zoe knew. But that was Sam's way. Never a frontal assault, just a little smacking around with a velvet glove, followed by a hug. That was usually all that was needed, and this time was no different.

“I probably could stand to spend some time in civilization. Maybe I'll swing by. Okay?”

Sam's smile was immediate and full of delight. “Way more than okay. We should be there around eight.”

Zoe bit back a groan, partly in complete disgust with herself. When eight o'clock sounded late, when the thought of being in her favorite pajamas at that hour on a Friday night was preferable to anything else she could think of, she worried she was turning into her grandmother. And at thirty-two, she was hardly grandmother material.

Whatever was wrong with her lately, she needed to break the cycle, Zoe decided. Maybe it was the fact that her friends all seemed to be moving into the coupled-up phase of their lives. Maybe she was still down from her brother Marcus heading back home after his visit. But she needed a change, and there was a cute little halter top with the tags still on it hanging in her closet at home that had
How
you
doin'?
written all over it. She'd been waiting to take it for a spin—knowing that the wait might wind up being forever—but really, there was no time like the present.

“All right,” Zoe said lightly. “I'll see you there a little after eight.”

Sam clapped her hands together, then did a small happy dance that shouldn't have been possible in heels. “Yes!”

“Don't get too excited. You know I'm only good for a couple of hours before I need to go curl up in a corner somewhere.”

Sam waved her hand dismissively. “And you know I'm the same way. We can use each other as an excuse to bail and go watch some trash TV together when we've had it. And the people watching should be good in the meantime.”

This, Zoe thought with a smile, was one of the many reasons she loved Sam. Though they operated at different levels of sociability, they were both homebodies at heart. She started to head back to her office, then paused, suddenly suspicious.

“You didn't find a way to drag Treebeard out of his forest to meet us tonight, did you?” she asked, turning back to narrow her eyes at Sam.

“Uh, that would require superpowers I don't possess, but I'm flattered you think I could manage it,” Sam replied.

Zoe expected to feel relief, but there was some definite disappointment mingling with it. Sam was right. She really
did
need to get out more, especially if she was missing the sight of Jason Evans.

“I've seen you be formidable when you want to be,” Zoe replied, then waved a hand. “Just making sure. You brought him up, so I thought maybe you'd cooked up some kind of crazy plan.” She frowned. “You know, he hasn't been in to pester me in a couple of weeks. It's a little strange. I hope he wasn't eaten by bears or something.”

Sam tilted her head, a puzzled smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “You mean you didn't hear?” The surprise in Sam's voice meant that she'd managed to miss out on some widespread local gossip, a subject Zoe prided herself on keeping up with. She might not be from the Cove, but this was her home now, and she liked to know what was going on. Things that escaped her notice irritated her, especially when they were things she tried so hard to pretend to ignore.

“Hear
what
?” she asked.

“Jason got caught out in those severe storms that came through last week. The ones that caused that nasty accident out on Juniper, with the hail? Some trees came down, and he broke his leg getting out of the way of one of them. Totally out of commission for the time being.” Sam's look turned sheepish. “Sorry. I thought you knew.”

“No.” It was unexpected news, accompanied by an equally unexpected burst of concern that hit her like a punch to the gut. She spent a lot of time telling herself she didn't like Jason. Almost as much time as she spent wondering when he'd be in to bother her again. She felt her cheeks heating as Sam watched her, an involuntary reaction that was entirely unwelcome. She didn't fluster easily. And certainly not over men like
Treebeard
.

“Are you . . . blushing?” asked Sam, watching her with more interest—not to mention amusement—than she thought was warranted. Zoe gave her a warning look and turned on her bootheel to head for her office. Naturally, Sam followed.

“You
are
blushing! Aha!” she said, trailing her.

“Aha nothing,” Zoe said without turning her head. She opened the door to her little office, which she thought of as Command Central. She kept it as neat as she could, but the paperwork was a constant battle. And if she let it go for a couple of days, the various cups she drank her tea out of began threatening a hostile takeover of her space. It hurt her neat freak's heart, but it seemed like the nerve center of her tidy little universe was destined to stay just a little messy. Zoe inhaled deeply, surveying the clutter, and tried to push the current conversation out of her mind. “I've been slacking. These cups have got to go.”

“You know,” Sam said in a tone that clearly indicated she was about to say something Zoe wouldn't like, “since you brought him up, Jason
is
a loyal customer. It might be nice to send, I don't know, a get-well card or something.”

“
You
brought him up, remember? I just didn't know he'd busted his leg. I'm sure it's done wonders for his personality. Surprised he didn't bite the doctors who treated him.” She stacked four cups one inside the other, straightened a stack of papers, and then braced her hands on the desk without turning around, dropping her head. “You're serious. You want us to send him a fruit basket.”

“I know you don't like him all that much—well, you're good at pretending not to, anyway—but it'd be a nice gesture.” Sam's voice was full of gentle, affectionate reproach.

“I don't dislike him. I don't
anything
him. Apart from his purchasing habits and his dirty footprints, Treebeard isn't even on my radar.”

“Which is why he merits a special nickname, at least one daily mention, and those fire-engine red cheeks?”

Zoe turned to give Sam a pained look. “Really? We're going to go
there
again?”

“Nope,” Sam replied. “Mostly because I value my life, and I really want you to come out tonight. I'm just saying that despite his more frustrating qualities, Jason has been supportive of the gallery in his own special way. He'd probably appreciate the well-wishes.”

Zoe grabbed her big leather tote and slung it over her shoulder, heaving a loud sigh. “You may be right. I'm just finding the whole appreciative-Treebeard thing hard to picture. He doesn't respond to nice, that I've seen.”

Sam's brows lifted. “You've tried nice?”

“In
my
own special way.”

“Hmm.” Sam waited as Zoe grabbed a few things she needed, slid them into her tote, and then walked out of her office.

“You're still following me, I see,” Zoe said calmly as she checked the locks and switched off most of the lights. “Okay. Will it make you happy if I say I'll send a card? Maybe some flowers? Though he'd probably rather have a bundle of twigs. Seems like it'd be more his thing. He could light them on fire, poke people with them. . . .”

“Yes, it'll make me happy. Unless you really do send twigs.” Sam laughed softly. “Some dog food and a few squeaky toys might be more useful.”

Zoe turned, frowning. “Why? Is this some weird fetish of his I don't want to hear about, or did that man give up on humanity altogether and decide to inflict himself on some poor animal instead?”

Though it wasn't an expression she saw from her often, Zoe thought that Sam looked a little smug. It was rare that she knew something before Zoe heard about it, and she was obviously relishing the triumph.

“Neither. Well, maybe a little of the second thing, but not on purpose. Jason was out in the storm because he was saving a dog.” When Zoe simply stared, unable to quite process that, Sam elaborated. “One of the park guests had heard it crying. Jason found it all wrapped up in a cord, caught on a root. And somebody had shot it with a BB gun.”

Oh, hell no. I'm not going to feel mushy about this. I am not.

Zoe opened her mouth to say something dismissive, but all that came out was a soft, high-pitched sound: “Aww.”

“I
know
, right?” Sam replied, eyes rounding. “Jake got her all fixed up, though. She's going to be okay. She also seems to be a stray, or at least nobody's looking for her. I think Seth would adopt her in a heartbeat—he said he had a dog just like that when he was a kid—but I don't think Jason's interested in giving her up. She's a sweetie.”

“So, not just a dog, but a girl dog?”

“Yep.”

Zoe shook her head. “Well, since that's probably as much female companionship as he gets . . . good for him, I guess. Dog probably minds the debris field less.”