Barefoot in the Sun (Barefoot Bay)(64)

She gave him a look. “You know I do.”

“Do you remember why you took me up there?”

To confess the truth. “I wanted to tell you about my life.”

“You took me up there to face my fears. That’s what you said.”

The moment drifted back; they’d been in his car, with a blindfold. She nodded, remembering.

“I’ve faced mine, Zoe. And it’s time for you to face your own.”

She took a breath, ready to shoot one more arrow, but she had nothing left. He was right.

“If and when you do,” he said quietly, taking one more step back as Lacey’s voice floated toward them, calling Zoe’s name, “I hope you remember that I love you.”

“I know you do.”

He reached out one hand and brushed his thumb along her jaw. “I wish that were enough.”

She sighed. “So do I.”

But, after one more touch of his thumb, he walked away, leaving Zoe ice cold in the burning sun.





Oliver woke later than usual the next morning with a dry mouth, an empty gut, and a sense that there was something he needed to do, but he couldn’t remember what it was.

Oh, yeah, save a woman’s life.

The hot sear of failure slipped through his veins. Fuck. Fuck.

Was that all? No, he had to get over the loss of the only woman he’d ever loved—for a second time.

A different pain gripped him, the thud of defeat. Zoe. All that laughter, all that love, all that Zoe.

Anything else? Yep. He had to meet with Raj and the team to try and figure out if they could have done anything differently.

What a complete mess. Nothing was right in his life. Nothing except Evan.

He blinked into the morning light, listening for sounds of life in the little villa. But it was very quiet. Grabbing a pair of shorts, Oliver headed out of his room, checking out the first floor for signs that he’d been around already. But there were no telltale cereal crumbs on the table, no half glass of juice in the sink.

Oliver walked to the steps and was partway up before the complete silence made him freeze. No soft hum of a television, no digital melody of a video game, no sound.

An old fear pressed on him, almost strong enough to send him right back down the stairs. He gave the feeling exactly two heartbeats before he physically shook it off and bounded up the last three stairs in one giant step.

“Evan.” He bolted through the doorway and froze at the sight of an empty, unmade bed.

The sound of a distant voice from the beach pulled his attention, a child’s voice, a happy voice. Snapping the shutters open, he squinted toward the sand, letting out a soft grunt of relief at the sight of Evan running full speed down the beach, a very large dog hot on his heels.

What the hell?

He didn’t hesitate; he was back downstairs and out the front door before he could process how Evan had even gotten out of the house without making enough noise to wake him.

“Dad! Come and meet our new dog!” Evan tore toward him, barely keeping up with a large dog that Oliver guessed was a retriever of some kind, definitely not the same dog they’d applied to receive the other day but never got because of Pasha’s death.

“Evan, did you just leave without waking me?”

“Sorry, Dad, but this guy was barking outside of our door. Didn’t you hear him?”

The dog came to a stop in front of Oliver, looking up with complete trust in his sweet brown eyes as he sat obediently, panting softly. “No, I didn’t hear a thing.”

“Can I keep him, Dad?”

“I’m sure he belongs to someone.” Oliver looked up and down the deserted beach, spying a couple in the distance he recognized as a travel agent and her husband who were staying in one of the other villas, but no one else.

“He doesn’t have a collar on,” Evan said, as if that made him fair game. “I think Pasha sent him from heaven.”

Oliver stood straight and looked at his son. “Don’t start dreaming about keeping him, Evan. We’ll get you a dog as soon as the shelter opens this morning. If the dog at the shelter is gone, then we’ll be approved for another, I promise.”

“She sent this one.”

“Evan, please, don’t be—”

“She told me she’d be sure that I got a dog if it was the last thing she did.” He dug his little fingers in the thick blonde coat. “Maybe it was.”

Oliver put his hand on Evan’s shoulder and the dog barked, nuzzling into both of them. Oliver wasn’t the only one feeling sorry for himself, and Zoe certainly wasn’t the only one grieving Pasha’s loss. He had to remember that.

“Son, that’s a nice thought and it sounds a lot like something Pasha would do, but just in case this guy belongs to someone, I don’t want you to get your heart set on keeping him.”

“She said I’d know my dog when I found him because we’d have a special connection. Watch this, Dad. Sit, boy.”

The dog stayed where it was.

“See?” He grinned. “Now watch this. Speak!”

The dog barked twice, getting an excited laugh from Evan.

“But, Ev—”

“Laugh!”

“Dogs can’t—”

The dog leaped up on its hind legs, faced the sky, and made the most hideous howl Oliver ever heard.

Evan squealed with equally loud laughter. “Who else could find a dog who could do that but Aunt Pasha?”

Oliver couldn’t help chuckling, too. The dog was ridiculously cute, and obviously well trained. He looked around again, certain he’d find the owner, but the only other person he saw was Clay Walker, heading toward them on an electric golf cart.

“He’ll know whose dog it is,” Oliver said as he waved for Clay to stop. When he did, Oliver jogged over to him. “Any idea who owns this fellow, Clay?”

Clay climbed out of the cart and came over, shaking Oliver’s hand and checking out the dog. “None of our guests have dogs now, and no one on staff owns him.” The dog went right to Clay and sat down again, practically begging to be petted. “Friendly, isn’t he?”

“Can I keep him?” Evan asked.

The two men shared a look.

“Can you ask around the resort?” Oliver suggested. “And I can check in town to see if anyone is missing a dog.”

“Then can we keep him?” Evan asked.

“We’ll find his owner, son.”

“Until we do, he’s mine. Roll over, boy!”

The dog obliged, instantly on his back.

Clay chuckled softly. “Uh, I don’t think that’s a boy, buddy.”

Evan’s jaw dropped in surprise, then he shrugged. “Whatever. Maybe Pasha wanted me to have a girl. Run, girl!” Evan took off and the dog followed.

“He thinks Pasha somehow managed to send him a dog,” Oliver explained. “I hate to see him get disappointed when we find the owner. I’ll have to take Evan to the shelter as soon as we find out where this one belongs.”

Clay nodded in understanding. “Hey, I’m really sorry about Pasha.”

“Yeah, it was tough.”

“She doesn’t blame you, you know.” At Oliver’s surprised look, Clay added, “Zoe spent the night at our place.”

Ah, so that was who had comforted her when he couldn’t. He tamped down the knot that came with that thought, the one that had twisted in his gut all night long.

“Zoe knows the heart attack was unrelated to the treatment,” Oliver agreed. “But it would be natural for her to place blame.”

“Actually she’s not. She’s sad, of course, but so many things about her aunt’s past have been cleared now. We’re waiting for some word from Slade Garrison, who’s up in Ohio now.” Clay turned to watch Evan and the dog romp on the beach. “Listening to her reminisce about her aunt last night, I realized something I’d never known about her.”

Oliver waited, wondering what of the many, many surprising things about Zoe had struck the other man. Her capacity to love? Her basically joyous nature? Her unshakable faith that somehow life would all work out?

Because those were just some of the many things about Zoe that Oliver…

No. He had to stop loving her. Except that would be like asking the wind to stop blowing, the sun to stop shining, and Oliver to stop breathing.

“For a person who never really seems to settle down, she’s remarkably grounded,” Clay said.

“Yeah.” Maybe that was why Oliver felt so unsteady without her in his life.

“In fact, she had some great ideas for the resort,” Clay continued. “The four of them were up most of the night making plans.”

Plans for where she’d live next, where she’d go, where her spirit would take her, no doubt. But then he did have doubt, and he had to ask. “What kind of plans?”