One of These Nights (18 page)

-Treebeard

Z
oe made sure to get all her ducks in a row before leaving Sam and her new part-time hire with the gallery. She still wasn't sure the new guy would behave himself, mostly because he never did. But anyone who came in would be entertained, at least.

“Don't make me regret this,” she warned Aaron Maclean as she grabbed her purse. “When you told me you needed human interaction, I sympathized, but remember why I'm paying you.”

“To bring in business with my stunning good looks, of course,” Aaron said with a wicked grin. He was tall and lean and handsome, with blond hair carefully styled into a perfect quiff and shot through with a streak of ebony right in front. The streak never stayed the same color from month to month, varying with his mood. She'd asked whether the black meant he was in mourning, but his explanation had been decidedly dirtier.

He was wonderful at making her sorry she'd asked various questions. He was also one of her best friends in the Cove. Aaron and Sam together were going to be either an amazing combination or just plain trouble. Zoe hoped it was some kind of balance between the two.

“Well, just remember who's in charge of making your big show amazing,” Zoe warned him, though she couldn't keep her lips from curving. He was a brat, but a lovable one, and his sculptures were incredible. He certainly brought in enough money these days not to have to be here, but she knew he thrived on company, so when he'd asked if he could pick up some part-time work just to get out of the house, she'd relented. She'd been through a few employees who hadn't worked out very well. Sam was the only constant. It would be nice to have another artist in here, one she knew she could trust.

Make that
hoped
she could trust.

“We'll be good, Mom,” Sam said. Aaron grabbed her from behind and hugged her tightly, making her squeal.

“Don't lie,” he whispered to her loudly. “She'll be even more disappointed when she comes back to find confetti all over the floor, a disco ball hanging from the ceiling, and Big Al passed out in the corner with his head through a painting.”

“I love the smell of impending doom in the morning,” Zoe said. Just imagining Big Al Piche, whose antics in the Cove were legendary and whom she had told at various times, in some very strong language, never to darken her doorstep again—despite the fact that he always returned, sometimes without pants—gave her the willies. “How about this: Try to behave, okay? Just make a good-faith effort? Please? Or sell a few things, which will go a long way toward making me forgive you for whatever you get up to while I'm gone.”

Aaron released Sam and saluted. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

Zoe pointed at him. “That's right.” She turned and walked out, passing Ryan Weston as he hurried in, slightly wild-eyed, with a metal lunch box in his hand. She paused with her hand on the door to watch him head right for Aaron, who suddenly looked sheepish.

“Uh, oops?”

“I've got better things to do with my lunch period than play delivery boy because you'd forget your head if it wasn't screwed on,” Ryan complained. “Why the hell did you ask me to make you a sandwich if you were just going to leave it on the counter?”

“Because you make amazing sandwiches. And because you love me enough not to hurt me when I forget things.”

Zoe caught the long-suffering look Ryan gave his boyfriend as he shoved the lunch box into Aaron's hands. “You're lucky you're cute. Jackass.”

Zoe grinned and shook her head as Ryan lightly cuffed Aaron upside the head before accepting a quick kiss, which she knew he was still shy about. The young, athletic high school teacher hadn't been out for very long, but Aaron had pushed him to be more open. Probably because Aaron was kind of like a big puppy dog around Ryan. It was funny to see her friend so smitten, but she was happy for both of them.

See, Treebeard? Opposites attracting can work just fine.
She waved good-bye and headed to her car, her mind as occupied by Jason as it had been all week. If he only knew just how he affected her . . . but then, it was probably better he didn't. It had taken her a good half hour to calm down after she'd walked away from him last night, and even then she'd decided to hightail it out of there before he emerged from the basement in case her resolve broke.

It was no longer a matter of if she would take him to her bed; it was when. She knew it, and that knowledge gave her butterflies every time she let herself think about it. Still, she wanted to know that afterward, he wasn't going to just go skulk off somewhere and find reasons they shouldn't have done it. She had hope, though. He could be surprisingly sweet when he forgot to be unhappy about his leg, his mother, and whatever else wasn't currently right in his universe. The man needed to get out. It was time for Jason to rejoin the world, and lucky him, she was just the woman to help him do it.

She pulled out her phone to glance at it and was surprised to see a text from Jason waiting for her. She opened it up and smiled. Maybe he wasn't doing so badly getting his mind off of things after all. She wasn't about to complain about his area of interest. After a moment of thought, she texted him back.

Some guys miss my ravishing beauty. You miss my floor. You're lucky I like you, Treebeard. On my way. – Z

*   *   *

She pulled up to the house to find Molly just getting into Jason's truck. Zoe pulled in beside her, hoping that the woman would just go, but she watched Molly look, think about it, and then wait.

Wonderful.
Well, this was the reason she was here to begin with. Might as well try to make nice. Again.

Zoe stepped out of the car. “Hi, Molly. Is Jason inside?”

“Yes. Showered and everything, if you can believe it.”

“He really hates that cast,” Zoe said, and that, at least, seemed to be something the two of them could agree on. Molly nodded vigorously.

“Don't I know it. He clomps around like an angry bear. Used to do that when he was a kid, too. Never said much. Just clomped.”

“I can picture that,” Zoe said. The image made her smile. Small, grumpy Jason, a miniature Treebeard. “I'm sure he was cute, though.”

“He was, in a quieter way. Both my boys were cute kids. It was hard for Jason, I think, when Tommy came along. Jason was skinny and shy, and he had that awful stutter . . . you did know about the stutter.”

Zoe looked uneasily toward the house, hoping Jason couldn't hear this conversation. She doubted he would appreciate it. “I did, yes. I've only heard it once. But you can tell he slows down when he gets upset.”

“Using his strategies,” Molly said with a satisfied smile. “That's what his speech therapist was big on, strategies. Seemed to work. She helped him a lot, but he stayed shy, for the most part. Had a few friends, liked to run—he was a good runner—but a tough nut to crack. Tommy, now, my younger one, he could never help but shine. He had everything going for him, really. Everything.” She fumbled her phone out of her purse, an odd note in her voice. “Do you want to see a picture?”

“Ah,” Zoe said, knowing her answer didn't much matter. She was going to get to see the famous Tommy Evans. When Molly handed her the phone, Zoe wasn't sure what to expect. She blinked, frowned, and then raised her eyebrows. “Oh. Well, he's . . . he's a very good-looking man, Molly. I'm sure you're very proud. Of
both
your boys.”

She handed back the phone, with its picture of a blond who was indeed good-looking, and bore some resemblance to Jason although he was much cleaner-cut. Actually, Tommy looked like he spent a lot of the time at the gym and getting tan. The clothes were very casual and very expensive. He was on a patio somewhere, martini in hand, grinning at the camera. She wasn't impressed. He did make for a stark contrast to his brother, though. Jason might be a tall, striking guy, but he acted like somebody who was used to being overlooked. Sometimes she thought he actually preferred it that way.

“Oh, I am. I am proud. I just worry. About Jason, you know. Always did. He's just got problems Tommy never had.”

One of Zoe's brows rose. “Jason doesn't seem like he has any big problems to me. No more than the average person.”

Molly looked toward the house. “He's just so stubborn. He didn't want to leave here and try to make something more of himself. He has a degree. Could have gone to work on the administrative side of things, maybe even in DC, but no. Just wants to hug the trees on the Cove and find some woman who wants to marry Paul Bunyan. I wasn't a big fan of Sara, but she had her priorities together. She knew he could be more than he is. I wish he did, too.”

It never seemed to take any time for Molly Evans to irritate her. “Jason's job is very important,” she pointed out. “Tourism is what keeps this place going. The park is a big part of that in the summer and fall. Not to mention the fact that he saves small animals.”

Molly grunted. “That is
not
a dog.” She relented a little, though, even if Zoe got the impression it was more to take pity on her than anything else. “I guess he likes his job, so that's something. It's just not . . . what I was hoping for.”

“Well, he's exactly what I like,” Zoe said coolly. This was some messed-up family Jason came from, where his mother played favorites and his brother ignored him. And who knew where the father was? Apparently he was about as meaningful as wallpaper. “I liked him from the first day he walked in to buy something at the gallery.”

Molly looked back at her, incredulous. “Buy what? A coffee mug? There was some nice pottery—”

“He has a nice little collection going, actually,” Zoe said, cutting her off. Whether or not Jason was okay with his mother being aware of his hobby, she couldn't handle the misconceptions about him, the insinuations that Jason being here in the Cove was some kind of failure. If this was what he'd grown up with, no wonder he was standoffish.

It made her sad and filled her with gratitude that her own family, for all its faults, had been warm and loving. She was suddenly, unexpectedly homesick. One day she'd get them to come up and visit. Until then, maybe it was time to start planning another trip back home. She wondered again what her parents and brothers would think of Jason, but brushed the thought aside. It wouldn't do her any good to imagine things that were probably never going to happen, and him meeting her family was about as likely as Thor showing up on her doorstep and begging for her hand in marriage. Though she actually
did
enjoy imagining that . . .

Molly was watching her, confusion writ plain across her face. “He collects . . . art?”

“Yes,” Zoe replied, knowing some of her impatience finally showed through. “The pieces he has didn't get there by themselves, and I sure didn't put them there. Didn't you notice? You've been here a week.”

“I—”

“His taste might not match up with yours, but it's still good,” she said. “In
fact
, he has a very good eye. He also, in case you missed it, is a good guy who works hard and loves his job and saves wounded animals and is polite to people who are waiting on him, unless those people are me, which is fine because he and I have an understanding about that.” Her voice was rising along with her temperature, but the half-astounded, half-stupidly blank expression on Molly's face encountered her last nerve and began trying to destroy it. “I'm sorry you find him so disappointing. So is he, I'm sure, because there's no way he's missed it. But if you think cutting him down is going to change him, you're wrong. And if that's your idea of helping him when the man has a busted leg on account of
doing his job well and being a decent human being
, then you might want to find a different patient. Because you are
not helping
.”

Molly stood frozen, staring at her. Zoe waited a few seconds for a response, but when she got none she put her hands up and turned toward the house. “Good talk. Forget it, I'm out.”

Behind her, she finally heard an enraged rasp. “How dare you?”

Zoe barely turned her head to answer as she headed up the steps and onto the porch. “Oh, I don't know. Ask Tommy. He's brilliant. Maybe he'll have an answer for you.” She didn't feel guilty. Even her brief burst of fury was gone, vaporized in the flash of her anger the way it always was. That was the nature of her temper. But her protectiveness lingered, the fierce need to stand in front of Jason and fight. Not like he probably needed or wanted it, but she'd always been this way with the people she cared about. The people who mattered. And like it or not, he did.

The door opened just as she hit the top step. Jason filled the doorway, looking both rumpled and concerned. His hair was still damp, curling at the nape of his neck, and he smelled good even from where Zoe stood. But the sight of his ancient sweatpants was nearly enough to give her apoplexy. Her patience with this week was at an end.

“Zoe?” he asked. A car door slammed behind her, and gravel kicked up as Molly slammed the SUV into reverse and pulled out. “What the hell is going on out here?” Beside him, Rosie barked. As much as she loved the little dog, Zoe felt every sharp yelp like a nail in the temple. She winced. The headache she'd been holding at bay all week felt like it was finally going to come in for a landing.

“I yelled at your mother,” Zoe said.

Something in the way she looked must have given him pause, because Jason sounded uncharacteristically cautious when he spoke again. “I heard that.” She wondered if he'd also heard what she'd said, her unqualified praise of him, and whether he knew it was sincere. She hadn't, not exactly, until it had all come pouring out of her mouth. And now she'd engaged his mother in battle, and her eye was starting to ache with warning, and Jason was watching her as though she might have a psychotic break at any moment.