Barefoot in the Sun (Barefoot Bay)(40)

“Oh, boy,” Jocelyn said, wiping it away. “Pasha would probably say that means it’s going to rain on his wedding day or something.”

“Speaking of Pasha,” Tessa said. “Latest?”

The doorbell rang before Zoe answered. “She’s good and that’s Oliver. He’s bringing Evan here and we’re moving Pasha to the IDEA clinic to start the whole process of preparing for the gene therapy.”

“I’ll go let him in,” Lacey said, reaching for the baby. “You better get dressed.”

“I’ll get you my list,” Jocelyn added, following Lacey out the door.

“Thanks.” Zoe didn’t move for a minute, looking at Tessa and waiting for her to chime in. But Tessa didn’t say a word, even though something was clearly troubling her.

“What is it, Tess? I know it’s going to take you a while—”

“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not it. I want to…I’m sorry, Zoe.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I do.” She took Zoe’s hand and lifted it. “I’m sorry for what I said about foster children.”

“Oh, that.” Yeah, Tess probably did owe her an apology for those comments. “You didn’t know.”

“I should have been more sensitive.”

“I should have been honest, so we’re even.”

From the living room they heard the baritone of Oliver’s laugh, and Zoe’s eyes widened in response. Zoe threw back the covers and leaped out of bed.

“Like him, do you?” Tessa asked.

She shrugged, but Tessa snagged Zoe’s T-shirt and kept her in place. “Hey. No more secrets, Zoe Tamarin.”

Zoe turned slowly, a typical retort brewing, but she tamped it down. “I more than like him, Tess, and that’s what scares the holy shit out of me.”

“Why? He’s great, Zoe. He’s smart and gorgeous and charming and obviously makes terrific babies.”

Zoe laughed. “Yes, from a sociological and reproductive standpoint, he’s a ten.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Zoe shook her head, tugging her T-shirt free. “I can’t, Tess.”

“Can’t what? Tell me? Take a risk? Stop moving long enough to make a commitment? We’re going to work on all that for you, Zoe, and you’ll be able to—”

“I can’t do a whole…long-term, permanent, happily-ever-after thing.”

“Also known as marriage.”

Zoe waved off the word with a shrug. “Whatever you want to call it.”

Tessa snorted. “That’s generally what it’s called.”

“Whatever name you give it, Tess, I don’t know how it’s done.”

“What?”

“I don’t…I’ve never…I don’t have a flipping clue what the rules are,” she finally managed.

“It’s not a card game, Zoe. There aren’t rules and winners and losers.”

Really? “I beg to differ. Lacey’s a winner.”

“Then I’m a loser.”

Zoe closed her eyes, cursing herself for causing the hurt in Tessa’s voice. “Look,” she said. “This is hard for most people to understand, but I never had parents, Tessa. I lived in shitty foster homes and then spent the rest of my life with a crazy old lady who was ready to move every time a librarian asked for ID when we tried to take out a book.”

“And that’s what’s stopping you?” Tessa sounded dumbfounded, and Zoe didn’t blame her.

“Nothing’s stopping me. Trust me, I’m doing my level best to get the man in bed.”

“Just in bed?”

“Well, I tried the pool but, you know, he’s a traditionalist.”

“Zoe.” Tessa smashed a decade and a half of exasperation into both syllables of Zoe’s name. “You know there’s no future, and yet you want to have sex with him?”

She held out her wrist. “Pulse, beating.” She touched her lower abdomen. “Body parts, female.” Then her forehead. “Pituitary gland, operational. Yes, I want to have sex with him.”

Tessa just stared.

“What? You’ve never f*cked for fun, Tessa? It’s always for a baby?” She heard her voice turn thickly defensive, and mean. God, why did she and Tessa always fight? “Sex is normal. It’s natural, it’s—”

“A cop-out.”

Zoe closed her eyes and turned away, walking to the bathroom as fast as she could, but only because she couldn’t get up enough speed to run.





At the end of a long day that had put Pasha through a battery of tests and examinations, Oliver and his team had almost everything they needed for an accurate diagnosis, second and third opinions, and then a final decision on the treatment.

Driving over the bridge back to Mimosa Key, they’d left the top of Zoe’s Jeep down, and the wind whipped so loudly there was no chance for conversation. Oliver had given Evan permission to stay at Lacey’s for dinner and then go to a late movie with Ashley and Clay, so he and Zoe drove in a comfortable quiet.

The clunk of the tires on the metal bridge, along with a sense of peace that there was truly hope for Pasha, nearly put Zoe to sleep, but Oliver’s hand on her leg woke her up when they reached Mimosa Key.

“How about dinner,” he suggested.

She moaned softly. “I don’t want to go into a restaurant. Let’s pick up.”

“Choices?”

She thought about them. “There’s bad burgers at the Toasted Pelican, gooey enchiladas at the SOB, or some of those lovely might-not-really-be-meat hot dogs that Charity overcharges for at the Super Min.”

“The Super Min is the convenience store?” He slowed at the corner. “How about I grab a frozen pizza and beer?”

“Heavenly. Can I wait here?”

“Sure. Be right back.”

Before she answered, he climbed out of the car. Almost instantly Zoe closed her eyes, drifting off to a peaceful place, too tired to think about anything but the need for—

“Ms. Tamarin?”

She jumped, blinking into the fading light and seeing a vaguely familiar face, then bolted upright when she realized who it was. “Deputy Garrison.”

He nodded, coming closer. “I’d hoped to hear from you today.”

Oh, yeah. She owed him a call and information. “It’s Sunday,” she said quickly. “I thought you’d be off today.”

“So I did a little research on your aunt.”

Oh, this can’t be good.

“How is she feeling today? I understand they released her from the hospital.”

Crap. Crap. Crap. He was totally on to them. Every old instinct rose up and dusted itself off; Zoe began wondering where the hell they’d put the panic bag.

Run, Zoe—

No. Not anymore. Not tonight, anyway. And she surely didn’t have to give any more information to a law-enforcement officer until she talked to one of those attorneys that Lacey’d lined up.

“She’s in a clinic in Naples getting a special treatment for esophageal cancer,” Zoe explained. “So it’ll be a week or more before you can talk to her.”

“I had a hard time pinning her down on any database.”

Zoe pushed up in the seat, completely awake now. How could she answer that? And she had given him Pasha’s real name, so it was only a matter of time until he found out—

“I found seven U.S. citizens named Patricia Hobarth who met her general description and age. They’re all in old-age homes, incapacitated, or dead.”

She’d be the dead one.

Raking her hands through her hair, Zoe didn’t say a word. She wasn’t ready to do this yet. Not now, in this parking lot. Not this tired, not this…not yet.

“The dead one was wanted by the law before she passed, actually.”

Fuck! “You don’t say.”

“Seems she was involved with a missing child.”

She slid a look to the door of the convenience store, willing Oliver to come out and save her. But if he did, he’d probably spill the beans to the sheriff because it was the right thing to do.

Maybe it was, but she couldn’t do it yet. She would, when Pasha was strong and healthy and cured and Zoe had the comfort of a lawyer on her side. Right now, she sat silent.

“But she was cleared of that murder,” he added.

What? Murder? “That’s not my aunt,” she said.

“Oh, obviously,” he replied, a little color rising. “ ’Fraid I have a weakness for those interesting cold cases and I got wrapped up in the reading. Anyway, be sure to call me when she gets settled so I can finish that paperwork, right?”