Meeting Miss Mystic (20 page)

“I think he’s in love with Holly too.”

“I know. He told me.”

“He
told
you?”

“Mmm. We talked about Holly tonight as we were walking to your café.”

“That must have been…interestin’.”

“I admit it was strange.”

“And…He has feelings for
you
too. For
Zoë
,” said Maggie, deliberately, raising an eyebrow.

“I know,” said Zoë, thinking about the kiss they’d just shared. “It’s getting...messy.”

“Och, lass,” sighed Maggie, shaking her head again. “It’s good and messy. No
gettin’
about it.”

“I’m going to tell him. Tonight. That’s where I was going when you came over tonight. I was heading to his place.” Zoë sat up straighter.

Maggie held Zoë’s eyes for a moment before wincing and looking down. “I don’t know if you should. I just—”

“You don’t think I should tell him?” Her words came out in a rush, eyes wide with confusion. “
You
said I should tell him tonight.”

“It’s going to hurt him. He likes both of you.”

“He can have both of us.”

“He won’t see it that way. Not…yet.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m sayin’ he needs to
love
Zoë in order to hear her out.”

“He’s a good man,” Zoë whispered. “He’s going to be a wreck, thinking he’s cheating on Holly
if
he falls for me. It feels like game playing. It all feels wrong—”

Maggie reached out and took one of Zoë’s hands in hers, which reminded her so much of Sandy’s, she expected to see her aunt’s face when she looked up.

“You love him?” Maggie asked.

“I do.”

“It’s a proper mess and no mistake. But he loves Holly and he likes you. And you love him. Tellin’ him the truth right away will ease your conscience, but you’re right, you’ll probably lose him. And worse, he’ll lose you.”

Zoë grimaced at the pain Maggie’s words caused her heart. She swallowed painfully as Maggie squeezed her hand.

“Take a moment, lass. You have to figure out a way to make this work. Find the right time to tell him. I wouldn’t go over there, guns blazin’, tonight. If I were you, I’d sleep on it a wee bit. Look at it again in the mornin’.”

She dropped Zoë’s hand and stood up, walking toward the door.

“Thank you for coming over, Maggie. For giving me a chance.”

Maggie opened the door then turned to look at Zoë.

“I hope I don’t regret it. I hope you figure it out, because he cares for you so much and he’s…well, he’s special.”

“I know.”

Maggie gave her a small smile, but Zoë could see the worry behind it. Then Maggie turned and walked into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind her.

***

Cleo didn’t like getting her paws wet, but Paul needed a walk, and Cleo was going with him whether she liked it or not. She walked daintily on her little feet, trying to minimize her contact with the cold, wet sidewalk as they started out for the arch.

Paul could barely get his head around everything that had happened in the past five hours, but of two things he was absolutely certain: first, he felt like crap for cheating on Holly and second, he had no business going anywhere near Zoë tomorrow.

He couldn’t account for his actions. From the moment he’d seen her holding Cleo, he’d felt some strong, strange pull to her—to protect her and take care of her. Rescuing his dog showed amazing bravery, but then she showed another side of herself later, patiently listening to him talk about Holly in the gazebo next to the Cowboy Lodge. And still another side when she melted into him, crying against his chest, taking the comfort he offered her on the bridge. She looked sure-footed, but she walked with a limp; it had been more pronounced as she tried to run away from him. She looked tough, but everything about her was soft and vulnerable.

Oh, man. This is bad. This trouble.

Come on, Paul. She’s not your type at all!

And she wasn’t…but he was attracted as hell to her—there was no point in denying it. He’d been rock-hard as he kissed her, to the point where he almost couldn’t think straight when he was around her. She had this sad-but-courageous thing going on and it was irresistible to him He wanted to comfort her just as much as he wanted to stand back and admire her, just as much as he wanted to see what she looked like naked. On her back. In his bed.

Try doing a little more standing back and admiring, Paul. That’d be a good idea.

Okay, fine. He couldn’t help the way she made him feel, but kissing her on the bridge had crossed a line. A major line. If he was a single guy, it would be a different story. He’d be thrilled that Zoë blew into town. He’d be all slushy and dreamy tonight, full of anticipation for their day in the park tomorrow, maybe even letting his imagination wander all the way to the possibility of love. Yeah. He’d certainly entertain it.

He thought of the way her dark eyes had glistened in the moonlight right before he’d dipped his head and kissed her. His lips could still feel the softness of hers moving under his. He could still taste her in his mouth, the slight, sweet bitterness of the coffee, the smell of honeysuckle, and that sexy moan that—

Enough!

You shouldn’t be thinking of her like this! You’re
not
a single guy.

He was a guy who’d already met a wonderful girl, and regardless of whether or not he’d met her in person yet, he felt a commitment to Holly. A commitment solidified by his intent to visit her in a few short weeks. Holly deserved his best—his whole heart. She deserved to be loved the way Westley loved Buttercup, unreservedly, without limits or boundaries. He wasn’t free to pursue Zoë, even if he wanted to.

“Do I
want
to pursue Zoë?’ he asked quietly into the darkness.

Cleo answered by looking up at him and whining lightly, then trying to tug him back toward the house.

“Of course not!” he told the little dog, turning distractedly as she lead the way home.

He wanted Holly. Sweet, sunny Holly who probably smelled like vanilla and lemons. She wouldn’t cry on his chest or look up at him with dark, wounded eyes. She’d tease him playfully and make him laugh, her blue eyes twinkling and golden hair shining. She’d be his Christmas baby, his sweet, sunny princess who came from a loving family, had a perfect job and didn’t complicate his life with grand gestures and vulnerable eyes.

His heart whispered,
Is that really what you want? Seems like something inside of you is pulled toward someone like Zoë too. Seems like maybe you like a little…complicated.

“No!” he said out loud and Cleo jumped, putting her tail between her legs.

“Sorry, Cleo,” he muttered, reaching down to scoop the quivering dog up and carry her the rest of the short way home. She stopped shivering and relaxed into the crook of his arm, resting her chin on his forearm contentedly.

No
, he thought again, evenly, calmly.
I don’t want complicated. I want Holly. I won’t be pulled toward Zoë anymore. I won’t allow it. I won’t make a scene. I’ll still go tomorrow. But we’ll have a friendly, appropriate outing and then say good-bye. I’ll go to school on Monday, she’ll deal with the issues in her own life, and we’ll part friends.

Holly deserves nothing less than my whole heart, and when I see her, I intend to give it to her.

So, that was it. He would see Zoë tomorrow, keep things friendly and then say good-bye. And there was no way he was touching her again, that was for sure. Kissing her once, which he blamed on an unexpectedly emotional afternoon and evening, was one thing. It was an accident, a mistake, a one-time error in judgment that he would not be duplicating. Absolutely not.

Because he knew in his heart if he did, it wouldn’t be a mistake anymore. It would be a deliberate choice. It would mean that he wasn’t worthy of someone as wonderful as Holly. It would mean the unthinkable.

He’d have to let Holly go.

Chapter 12

The two-hour time difference meant that Zoë was up by six o’clock and dressed and ready for the day by seven. With an hour to kill before the inn offered breakfast, she peeked out the window and decided to walk to the Prairie Dawn for a hot cup of coffee and a scone. She’d somehow lost the one Maggie had given her last night. Not surprising, considering what had happened between her and Paul on the walk home.

She tucked her phone in her pocket and headed down the stairs wearing a new pair of skinny jeans and a black, long-sleeved, scoop-neck t-shirt. She opened the front door and gasped.

“Gah! Cold!” she blurted out, closing the door again with a slam.

She turned gingerly to be sure the innkeeper wasn’t standing behind her with a stern and disapproving expression and was relieved to find herself still alone. She ran upstairs, grabbed the black cardigan she was wearing last night, grateful it had dried in its spot draped over the radiator, and buttoned it up. Seeing her ear buds lying on the bedside table, she picked them up too, popping them in her ears and choosing one of her favorite Colbie Callait songs for the short walk to the Prairie Dawn.

There’s something about an empty sidewalk, early in the morning when you’re wide awake that makes you feel like the only person in the world
, Zoë thought to herself.

The sweet words of “I Do” made her shoulders rock back and forth and she moved her hips lightly as she walked merengue-style with little bouncy steps, occasionally snapping her fingers to the buoyant beat, forgetting the confusion of last night and the cold of the morning as the perpetually sunny song made her heart feel lighter.

“
I do, I do, I do do do do do do do do do …”
she sang louder than usual, pushing through the slight pain of bending her knees with each step, leaning into the rhythm and the carefree happiness of the song. She pointed to her ring finger along with the lyrics then shrugged her shoulders with attitude making her way merrily down empty Stone Street.

The thing is, if she hadn’t needed the sweater, she would have already been halfway to the Prairie Dawn and she wouldn’t be deaf from the music blaring in her ears. She wouldn’t have walked by Paul’s front porch just as he closed the door behind him, heading to the exact same place. And he definitely wouldn’t have had the questionable pleasure of hearing her cheerful, if slightly off-key, rendition of Colbie’s popcorn hit, complete with her spirited, if completely and utterly embarrassing, merengue-style dance-walk.

“
You make me wanna say I do
—Oh my God!” she gasped, feeling a tap on her shoulder and spinning around to slam into Paul’s solid chest.

Her cheeks flamed with heat as she grappled for the ear buds, finally finding the cords and yanking them out of her ears.
That’s right. He wakes up at 6:35 every morning, every day, whether school’s in session or not.

She peeked up at him.

Something she hadn’t known until now? He woke up looking like a god. Like a freshly showered, devastatingly handsome god who was trying desperately not to grin at her, blue eyes sparkling with merriment. Lord only knows how long he was standing there watching her sing and dance down his street. She would have been completely mortified if she wasn’t distracted by something else…

He had grabbed her around the waist as she fell into him, and she was acutely aware of the heat and pressure of his hands as they steadied her, finally sliding down to rest on the swell of her hips.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, losing his battle with composure and breaking into an ear to ear grin. “But…wow!”

Zoë cringed, forcing herself not to think about his hands, which lingered on her body. They felt so good and so right there, she didn’t have the willpower to back away. She looked up and met his eyes, putting a little sass in her voice. “Wow, what? You never take a morning walk-dance to Colbie Callait? You’re missing out.”

At the mention of Colbie, he seemed to realize he was still holding her, and his hands flew off her waist like she was suddenly made of fire. It took Zoë a second to process his reaction before remembering that “Holly” had mentioned Colbie Callait on her Meet the One profile.

“Probably more fun to watch you anyway,” he muttered, his smile fading just a little bit, as if he’d done something wrong.

“If your idea of fun is a sloppy merengue and off-key singing.”

“Didn’t sound off-key to me…or look very sloppy, for that matter.”

Zoë grinned at him, wondering if they could get over the awkward Holly moment. “I used to love to dance.”

“Used to?” He asked in an echo of the text chat they’d had at the movies several weeks ago. “Why not anymore?”

She decided to share something about herself with him. So she took a deep breath and said, “I had an accident a couple of years ago. Messed up my right leg a little bit.”

He furrowed his brows and she had a feeling he was remembering her limp last night as she tried to run home. He nodded slowly, glancing down at her leg. “What happened?”

“Car accident,” she said, and it surprised her that her eyes didn’t tear up and that old lump in her throat didn’t appear even as it had last night when she told Maggie. She was somehow able to say the words without them totally decimating her. “Bad one.”

He was still nodding. His glance flicked to the scar on her face that he’d traced with his finger as he’d kissed her yesterday evening and she wondered if he was thinking about that too.

“Yeah,” she confirmed softly, touching the line with her own fingers. “That too.”

He stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time, his blue eyes staring so penetratingly at hers. She wondered if he could see through the brown contacts to the blue eyes hidden underneath.

“Damn, you’re brave,” he murmured.

Zoë swallowed, shaking her head. “No. No, I’m not.”

She turned away from him, shoving her ear buds in her pocket and pausing “I Do” as she resumed her walk toward town. He turned quickly and joined her, his arms brushing hers as he caught up.

“Where you headed?”