Dream Lake (Friday Harbor #3)(70)

“I’ll get those,” Alex said, walking toward her.

Zoë started at the sound of his voice and looked at him in surprise. “Hi,” she exclaimed brightly. She looked stressed as hell, her face pale, her eyes tired. “How was the wedding?”

“It was fine.” He took the bags from her. “How are you?”

“Great,” she said, too quickly.

Alex set the bags down and turned Zoë to face him. She was standing a step above him, all fast-breathing tension and locked muscles. “I heard that Emma was a handful this weekend,” he said bluntly.

Zoë avoided his gaze. “Oh, we had a rough patch. But it’s fine now.”

Alex discovered that he couldn’t stand it when she put up a front for him. He settled his hands at her hips. “Talk to me.”

Zoë stared at him, looking flustered. In the silence, he brought her against him slowly. She took an anxious breath, her composure unraveling. Wrapping his arms around her, he surrounded her with all his warmth and strength. She fit against him perfectly, her head tucked into the crook of his neck and shoulder.

He slid his hand into her hair and sifted lightly through the blond curls. “What did Emma do to your computer?”

Zoë’s voice was compressed against his shoulder. “She zoomed the screen out so far that the icons are ginormous and I can’t close the magnifier. And somehow she made copies of the task bar so there are at least eight of them, and I can’t make them go away. And to top it all off, she somehow managed to turn the entire screen upside down.”

“I can fix that stuff,” he said.

“I thought Sam was the computer genius.”

“Trust me on this: don’t ever let Sam near your computer. By the time he leaves, he’s changed all your passwords, illegally hooked you up to the Department of Defense grid, and Bluetooth-enabled everything in your house until you can’t use your toaster because it’s not discoverable.” He felt the shape of Zoë’s smile against his neck. Smoothing her hair back, he murmured near her ear, “You don’t need a genius. You just need a guy who can do some troubleshooting.”

“You’re hired,” she said, her face still hidden.

He pressed his lips to her hair. “What else can I do?”

“Nothing.” But her arms had crept tentatively around him.

“Think of something,” he coaxed.

“Well …” Her voice turned watery. “I called my father this morning. To tell him that if he’s going to visit, he’d better do it soon. Or Emma isn’t going to remember him by the time he gets around to it.”

“What did he say?” Feeling that she had tensed again, Alex began to rub her back.

“He’s coming this weekend, with his girlfriend, Phyllis. They’re going to stay at the inn. He’s not especially happy about it, but he’s doing it. I’m going to make a special dinner for them and Upsie and Justine, and …” Her voice faded as his hand slid lower on her spine, massaging in small circles.

“You want me to be there?” he prompted gently.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Really?”

“I’d love to.”

“I’m so glad you—” She stopped and gripped handfuls of his shirt.

His hand stilled instantly. “Did I hurt you?”

Zoë looked up at him with dilated eyes, her cheeks flushed. Slowly she shook her head, looking as if she’d been hypnotized.

Desire shot through him as he realized she was aroused by the way he’d been touching her. For few white-hot seconds, all he could think about was her na**d body caught under his like a flower pressed between the pages of a book.

“There’s one more thing I need from you,” she said. The sound of her voice could have been classified as a legal sexual stimulant.

Alex couldn’t seem to make his arms let go. He had to pry his hands from her one finger at a time. “Let’s talk about that later,” he said gruffly, and steered her into the house.

Nineteen

Although Emma stabilized during the next few days, Zoë noticed that she was more forgetful and distracted. Emma needed frequent reminders to get through her morning routine—she might forget to have breakfast or to take a shower. Or when she was in the shower, she might miss a step such as using shampoo or conditioner.

Near the end of the week, Justine spent the afternoon with Emma, taking her to the salon to have her hair done. Afterward, they had lunch down by the docks. Zoë was grateful to have the break, and Emma had been in a great mood when Justine dropped her off.

“She lectured me for at least an hour about what kind of guys I should go out with,” Justine told Zoë the next morning, as Zoë washed dishes at the inn.

“No bikers,” Zoë guessed.

“Exactly. And then she forgot that she’d just lectured me, and told me the whole thing again.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it was fine. But jeez, that kind of repetition would drive me crazy if I had to live with her.”

“It’s not that bad. Some days are worse than others. For some reason she’s better when Alex is around.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“She likes him. She really tries to focus when he’s there. He’s been doing tile work in the little bathroom he built where the old closet used to be. So the other day I found her sitting on the bed, chatting up a storm while he was gluing tile and grouting.”