And yet she hesitated. It was a big step, a huge commitment . . .
So what was holding her up? Not anything she wanted to admit out loud, but the truth was that while she talked a big game of settling down, her vagabond early years had stuck with her. If she was a partner, she wouldn’t be able to take off on a whim and go . . .
And again, where are you going? You love Sunshine. Everything you want is here and you get the wanderlust fix by the very nature of your job . . .
She sighed and gave up, kicking off the covers to pad downstairs to find something to eat. What she found was Oreo, paws up on the counter, licking the tile, snuffling as he made his way along the length of it from sink to the toaster.
“Oreo!” she said, horrified.
Not looking all that sorry, he got down and slunk to his bed. She stared at him. “The other day an entire loaf of cinnamon bread went missing. Was that you?”
Oreo crossed his paws, set his head on them, and closed his eyes.
“You’re a big faker,” she said.
He huffed out a sigh.
Zoe made herself a small plate of cheese and crackers. Relenting, she shared it with Oreo and went back upstairs.
On her nightstand, her phone buzzed an incoming text from Kel.
You up?
She stared at the phone and debated with herself. On the one hand, she’d made a promise to herself to go out and have fun dating. On the other hand, the man she wanted to date wasn’t exactly available beyond his “vacation.”
Which meant chin up, she needed to move on.
She texted back: The answer is yes.
There was a pause and then Kel’s response. Is that a blanket yes, because that could cover a lot of ground?
There in the dark, she laughed. And laughing was good, right? She thumbed her response: Just the date for now.
When her phone buzzed again she was expecting more from Kel, but it was her brother asking how she was doing. She responded that she was good because she’d long ago learned that if she said great, Wyatt would call bullshit—and in this case he’d be right. But if she said shitty, he’d come over and demand to know what was wrong.
Two seconds later he responded. Saw Parker tonight. Something going on?
Damn. She loved Wyatt more than she loved just about anyone with the exception of Oreo and—sometimes—Darcy, but her brother had a nose for sniffing out when she was troubled.
And Lord was she troubled at the moment. Not that she was ready to share that, so she thumbed in an innocent: Like what?
Wyatt’s answer was simple. Shit, Zoe.
Yep, she was in deep shit. And she had no idea how to explain. Maybe she should have Parker tell Wyatt what was going on between them.
Hell, maybe she should have Parker explain it to her.
She took a moment to imagine that. Parker seemed more like a “show, don’t tell” sort of guy, so naturally it would be a very hands-on explanation. Hands on, clothes off . . .
A moment later she had to physically shake herself out of the fantasy. A little hot and bothered, she texted Wyatt back. No worries, I’ve got this.
Wyatt’s response didn’t take long: Of course you do . . .
She closed her eyes and then woke up what seemed only moments later, discombobulated. The color of the sky outside her window suggested she’d slept for a few hours at least, since dawn was arriving. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and then stilled at the odd noise that sounded like . . . kittens crying? Shaking her head at herself, she rolled over and smiled at Oreo. “Kittens,” she said with a laugh. “As if. You’re terrified of cats.”
She flopped back and closed her eyes again, and woke up at her usual seven o’clock. Sitting up, she looked at the other side of the bed, where Oreo usually was stretched out snoring and hogging the covers.
No Oreo.