Zoe found Jo’s concerned gaze again.
“I’ve had jobs like that,” Mel said.
Zane muttered something under his breath that only their mother heard. She elbowed him in the ribs.
The last thing she wanted on her last day in town was a scene. The itch on the back of her neck told her that no amount of hoping was going to do a damn bit of good.
“So, Zoe . . . are we going to see you on the TV this year?” Mrs. Miller asked.
“There is some talk about a holiday special. I should know by August if it’s going to happen.”
“Did you film the last holiday gig in September?”
“Yes. It was awful. They had me dressed in sweaters for the promotional stuff when it was ninety degrees and dripping with humidity.”
“The price of fame,” Jo teased.
“Could be worse.”
Zane snorted and once again their mom elbowed him.
“Knock it off.” He jerked away from her with a glare. “She’s bitching about cooking.” He stood and searched out a cooler that held chilled beer.
Like he needed another drink.
“You know, Zane, I’m glad you saw it fit to come here to say good-bye before I leave. Would it be too much to ask for you to bring it down a notch?”
“What’s the matter, sis? I don’t fit in your world?” He twisted off the top of the beer and tilted it back.
“You’re being an asshole,” Luke put it the way it was.
Zane glared. “Who the fuck asked you?”
“Hey!” Wyatt pushed his plate aside. “Language.”
Zane’s gaze moved to Hope.
“I’m sure she’s heard worse.”
Sheryl pushed away from the table and tossed her napkin from her lap. “C’mon, Zane, I’m taking you home.”
“The hell you are. I just got here.”
“Mom’s right. You’re in a mood and no one wants to hear it.” Zanya rested a hand on her belly.
As if to add an exclamation point, Zane flopped in his chair and grabbed a fork.
When their mom placed a hand on his shoulder he shoved it away, knocking her off balance.
Every man at the table was up in a heartbeat.
Jo practically flew across the table.
“I’m okay,” Sheryl said once she balanced herself.
“Time for you to go.” Luke loomed over him.
Zane glared at him, then moved that pointed anger to Jo, who pinned his hand holding his steak knife to the table.
“Get off me!”
“You drive here, Zane?” Jo asked in the coldest voice Zoe had ever heard coming from her friend.
Her brother let a slow smile spread over his face. “Sure did, Sheriff. Drank half a fifth in the driveway before walking back here.”
There wasn’t one person who believed him, but if there was one thing every criminal understood, it was the law.
Zoe pulled in a shallow breath and swallowed the tears that threatened to spill. “Please leave, Zane.”
Mr. Miller rounded the table and flanked her brother. “I’ll take you, son. Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt.”
Zane shoved from his chair, leaving it to tumble behind him. “I can manage.”
“The hell you can,” Jo said. “Don’t make me arrest you.”
The line in Zane’s jaw started to pulse. “I’d like to see you try.”
Miss Gina slapped her hand on the table, making everything within a foot of her plate shake. “Enough! This is my home and we will not do this here!”
Zoe was on her feet.
Mel had taken Hope from her chair and moved away from the men.
Mrs. Miller placed an arm over Zanya’s shoulder.
A voice from inside the inn drew everyone’s attention from the table.
“Uhm, excuse me . . . but do you have a room for the night?”
Several faces swiveled to the stranger in the door.
Zane attempted to break free of Jo’s hold with a buck while Mr. Miller and Luke took him by the shoulders and walked him down the back steps.
Zoe’s mom slumped in her chair. “Son of a bitch.”
Hope clung to Mel’s side and Zanya was in tears.
“About that room?”
Miss Gina marched back into the inn, past the stranger, and barked, “Follow me.”
“Our guest is settled,” Miss Gina said when she returned.
Mr. Miller and Luke had forced Zane into a car and left.
Mel busied herself around the table, putting to rights the mess caused by Zane’s outburst. Her attention kept traveling to Zoe. The steam coming from her eyes said it all. She’d pushed her food aside and sat drinking Miss Gina’s lemonade in silence.
Sheryl kept apologizing to Mrs. Miller, who shook her head and reminded Sheryl that Zane was a grown man who was no longer someone she needed to apologize for. Mel wasn’t sure Sheryl heard her.
“You okay, Zoe?” Jo asked from the other side of the table.
Zoe attempted a half smile and pushed her hair behind her back.
“I’m all right. Ticked . . . but Mrs. Miller is right. Zane’s a grown man and is making his own choices.”
“Even if they’re bad ones,” Zanya added.