Homer sat up straight and perked his ears, which caused Zoya to do the same. She didn't hear anything, but the dog must have. She closed her sketch pad and scooted closer to the window. She wished it would be Roman coming to find her. Such a stupid idea. Why did she keep torturing herself with these ridiculous fantasies?
Homer whined and Zoya squinted into the afternoon light. Finally, a figure came into view. Too light skinned to be Roman, but who? In all the years she'd been coming here, other than Tommy or Mariana's dad, she'd never seen another guy at the treehouse.
When the stranger got to the thick pines blocking out the sun, she recognized him. Flynn. Her heart hammered. Maybe he wouldn't climb the ladder. Just stand below and check it out. She slid on her butt to the rear wall, pulled Homer onto her lap, and gently closed her hand around his muzzle.
With only one door, she had nowhere to go. She held her breath as she heard Flynn take the first rung. Then the second. Third. When his face appeared in the opening, she spoke. "Hello."
"Holy shit! You scared me."
Homer growled, but Zoya held him tight. She didn't know if he'd bite or not. "I'm sorry."
"That's okay. I wasn't expecting to see anyone. You must be Zoya. I'm Flynn. Roman's..."
"I know who you are. I've seen pictures."
He leaned inside. "May I come in?"
Zoya gave it some thought. This could be her chance to help Mariana. Find out about Flynn's bride. "Okay."
With his hands, he pushed until his hips were even with the floor, then maneuvered inside. "What are you doing up here?"
She nodded toward her tablet. "Drawing."
"I saw the mural. You're really good. Which reminds me. We don't need your room. Roman said you're staying with a friend while Ophelia and I are here. That isn't necessary. We'll stay out of your way. We were hoping you'd come with us to the festival."
"Why?"
"Because you're Roman's friend and we want to include you. There's a street dance tonight. Why don't you come? That way, we'd have a partner."
Flynn wasn't anything like Roman. No bad attitude. No rough voice. He was polite—and kind. She saw it in his eyes. "I don't dance."
"Then it'd be a good time to learn. The crowd will be so big no one would notice. I've been taking lessons because of my upcoming wedding, so I could teach you a few steps."
"What's your bride like?"
"Oh. She's... a spitfire, I guess. From a good family. Does a lot of volunteer work."
"What's her name?"
"Céline Banks. She's going to hyphenate her name because she thinks Céline Flynn sounds weird."
Zoya couldn't help but smile.
"You want kids?"
Another look of surprise. "Well, sure. Someday."
"Do you think Céline will be a good mother?" Zoya asked gently, hoping he didn't pick up on her real intent for asking. She couldn't help herself, watching him, cataloguing the similarities between Flynn and Tommy. While he inherited Mariana's skin tone and hair color, the shape and color of his eyes and mouth, and even his ears easily suggested Flynn.
He looked dumbfounded, but shook it off quickly. "Uh, I guess. She'll be good at hiring the right nanny."
Zoya picked up her sketch pad. "I've got to go. It's time to milk the goats."
"What goats?"
"My friend, Mariana. She's out of town so I'm taking care of her business while she's gone."
Flynn slid toward the ladder and waited for Zoya to join him. "When is Mariana coming back?"
"Sunday night."
"Too bad. I was hoping to see her before I left."
"Why?"
He shrugged limply. "We're old friends. I wanted to catch up."
Zoya took the leash from around her neck, hooked it in the dog's collar, and placed him on the ground. She stuck her sketch pad under her arm. "She works two jobs. About to get her degree next month. Starting up a goat milk product line to save money to buy her own garage. That catches you up."
"Thank you. She seeing anyone?"
"Why do you care? You're getting married. Right?"
"Right. I was curious, that's all." He pulled his brows together. "You get right to the point, don't you?"
"Yes."
Flynn smiled. "I like it. I like you. Come to the festival with us. I'll even help with the goats if you need me."
Zoya cocked her head. She couldn't figure this guy out. "You're weird."
He presented her with a goofy, boyish grin. "So are you. Another reason for us to hang-out."
When she accepted Flynn's invitation, Zoya saw no reason to tell him she'd already planned to go with Lemon to the festival. Instead, she'd agreed if he'd let her bring a friend. Because once Lemon learned about the botched sex and the current situation with Roman, she'd insisted Zoya accompany her. Claimed a night out was what a girl needed to heal a broken heart. Zoya didn't think hers was broken. More like cracked. But it wasn't Roman's fault she'd fallen in love with him.
Lemon didn't make excuses about her ulterior motive. She had a crush on Ophelia, and didn't seem to be deterred by the fact Ophelia had a girlfriend. "Well, if they're serious, then where is she?" she asked when Zoya told her as such.
She didn't think Lemon would actively pursue Ophelia, though, maybe just stare and sigh wistfully. Lemon had complained earlier to Zoya that all the other interesting, non-straight women fled town the first chance they got.
According to Mariana, Zoya and Lemon were both nuts for wanting to get involved in any way with that family. Considering Mariana's history with Flynn, Zoya thought her opinion was biased. As much as Mariana protested, Zoya saw the look in her eyes every time Flynn's name was mentioned. Mariana wasn't completely over him. And Tommy looked so much like Flynn it was spooky. The way he cocked his head. The curve of his lips. Put those two in the same room, and everyone would know Flynn was his dad.
Zoya put the last goat in the stall and went to the shop to shower. Lemon texted earlier to say she was bringing something for Zoya to wear. If she wanted to admit it or not, she'd liked wearing the dress to the banquet. She'd not worn anything but pants and tee-shirts for so long, she'd forgotten how nice clothes made her feel.
She'd missed that part of her life. And her long hair. And the trips to the spa. Man, what she'd give for a day beneath Janine's hands. The woman gave the best massages in the universe. Zoya shook her head. If she'd given that up and not thought about it until now, surely she could block Roman from her mind. All it took was determination and time. Two things she had plenty of.
At six o'clock, Lemon burst through the door like a fireball. Zoya didn't think the girl ever had a bad day.
She shoved a clothes bag forward. "You will be so beautiful in this outfit; he will be drooling."
"I don't think so."
Lemon pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "I've been thinking about your dilemma. That conversation you had with him in the garden says a lot. He wants you to come back and I don't think it's because you pay rent." She held up her hand. "I know. I know. That's what you think, but he didn't have to come out there and talk to you. But he did. Sure, he feels bad about what happened, as he should, but it's more than that. He just doesn't know it... yet."
Zoya knit her eyebrows together. "I don't understand."
"I know you don't because you don't know how to play the game. But I do and I'll help you. Nothing gets a guy more interested than thinking you're not interested in him. So tonight, give all your attention to Flynn."
"You mean I should try to make him jealous?"
"Yep."
"But Flynn is engaged."
"Doesn't matter. What does, is that you'll be paying attention to someone else. Look happy. Giggle now and then. Don't even glance at Roman and see what happens. If you're right and he's not interested, you'll be able to tell. But if I'm right, and I know I am, then he'll make a move."
In a spaghetti strap multi-colored sundress, as always, Lemon was beautiful. Her blonde hair fell loose to her shoulders.
As Zoya slipped the white shirt over her head, she wasn't sure about Lemon's plan, but she had more experience with romance, so Zoya figured she might as well try it. She smoothed the hem of the blouse over the skirt and added a chain belt. Lemon had not missed a detail. From the chandelier earrings to the beaded sandals. A shocking transformation, turning Zoya into a Bohemian Cinderella.
Trailing behind Lemon as she shoved open the door to Rockin' The Boat, the perky blonde sashayed in like she owned the place. Impressive for a preacher's daughter. But then again, she was the type that could fit in anywhere.
Not Zoya. She'd never even been inside a bar. Sure, she'd been to the country club with her dad ever since she was a child, but that was different. Every person in the place knew him and his weird daughter and he'd been her security. Here, she wasn't the steel king's peculiar kid; she was just odd.
She spotted Roman as soon as she set foot inside, but quickly averted her gaze to Flynn. He rose and came to meet them.
"Hey, glad you made it."
His smile and greeting was so warm, Zoya relaxed a little, but she could feel Roman's eyes on her. "This is my friend, Lemon."
Lemon flashed her trademark full wattage. The expression that rendered men speechless. Flynn shook her hand then motioned for them to follow. Once they reached the table, Ophelia and Roman stood. Ophelia wore a shirt printed with I'm not interested in being polite or heterosexual, chunky bracelets on each wrist, and frayed jean shorts. Her skin was darker than Roman's, and her bleached dreads swayed when she moved. Flynn and Roman had opted for plain rumpled v-necks. Roman's arms were crossed in front of his chest, the muscles on his biceps strained against his tight navy blue shirt. She bit her lip and tried to look away.
After introductions, Flynn pulled out a chair for Zoya and did the same for Lemon. Roman plopped back onto his and zeroed in on Zoya.
"Zoya, surprised to see you."
Under the table, Lemon bumped Zoya's knee as if to remind her of the scheme. "Flynn was so convincing. I couldn't refuse."
Lemon patted Zoya's leg in approval.
"What can I get you to drink?" Flynn asked.
"Frozen margarita for me," Lemon said, then looked at Zoya.
"I'll just have a coke."
Lemon gazed at Roman but spoke to Zoya. "Don't be ridiculous. Have something virgin."
Roman choked on air, shooting a deer-in-headlights look toward Lemon as Zoya leveled her with a surprisingly forceful glare, watching him out of the corner of her eye. Lemon remained unaffected, as if she didn't even notice. Or maybe she didn't care. Roman's eyes shifted to Zoya, and she glanced at him a short second before focusing on Flynn, who was waiting for her to make her order.
She cleared her throat. "Oh, fine. I'll have a Peach Bellini."
"Coming right up." Flynn walked away.
"So," Ophelia said, eyeing Zoya. Her expression was so neutral that she'd be hell to play against at poker. Or anything, really. "You're the girl shacking up with my brother."
Zoya's stomach spiraled. This was a mistake. Roman's eyes bored into Zoya with such fire, she wanted to run away. Afraid to move, she sat ruler straight. Why couldn't she be like Lemon and say clever things and flirt and not be so aware of every awkward movement she made? Thankfully, Flynn returned with the drinks and that gave her something to do with her hands.
Roman gulped his beer, then leaned closer and whispered in her ear. "You look beautiful."
Her heart jumped into her throat and tears built behind her eyes. Why'd he say that? Lemon glared at her, so Zoya took a deep breath but didn't look at Roman when she spoke. She couldn't. Instead, she focused on her hands folded in her lap. "Thank you. You look nice."
Flynn must have noticed her discomfort because he jumped to his feet and held his hand out. "Come on, Zoya. Let's dance."
As nervous as she was to get on the dance floor, it was safer than sitting next to Roman with him saying nice things and Ophelia and her scary prying.
Flynn tugged her out of her seat and pulled her into his arms. "Shit, this is awkward."
"I'm sorry. I told you I don't dance."
"Not the dancing. You. And Roman. What's going on?"
She shook her head. "Nothing."
"Should've known. You're into him, aren't you?"
"No." The word didn't even sound convincing to her. Considering everything about her was a lie, she should be better at it.
"Yeah, you are. I know the look. As much as I love my brother, I advise against getting involved with him."
She reared back. "It isn't like that. We had an argument. That's all. I shouldn't have come. I didn't want to, but Lemon wanted to meet Ophelia, and she thought it'd be easier if I came along. I want to leave. I'll say I don't feel well. Can you take me?"
He brought her in closer and looked over her shoulder. "From the way he is watching us, I'd say it's too late to take my advice. So, let's get his blood really boiling." Flynn twirled her, then pulled her back to him and kissed her cheek.
She stiffened.
"No, don't do that. Smile up at me and say something."
She plastered on a fake grin and connected with his eyes. "What should I say?"
"Tell me what a good dancer I am."
"You're a good dancer."
"Tell me how handsome I am."
She looked up at him for a moment, cataloguing his features. "You're handsome, but you need a haircut."
He chuckled. "Maybe you can help me with that. Roman says you're a hairdresser."
"Sure."
He dipped her and she couldn't help but laugh. Then he leaned close to her ear. "Tell me I'm the world's best engineer."
"I don't know how accurate that is."
"Just say it."
"You're the world's best engineer."
"God, you're easy." He laughed again.
"Doesn't Céline ever tell you those things?"
He knit his brows together. "No. Come to think of it, she doesn't."
"Then why are you marrying her?"
Silence reigned supreme a moment, then, "I've been asking myself that same question the last few weeks."
"Oprah says doubt means no. Maybe there's someone perfect right around the corner and you haven't realized it yet." More like just through the woods.
"You think?"
"Yes."
"Huh. Well, about that haircut. Can you give me one tomorrow?"
"When?"
"I'm an early riser, so come to the house about seven."
"Okay."
Somebody is jealous, you think?
TEASER: "He's watching us."
Wonder what that's about.