Promise: John & Zoe (Good Hope-The Next Generation #3)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

As she stepped through the grand doors of the Bayshore Hotel, Zoe Goodhue felt something she hadn’t in years.

Freedom. The kind that loosened her shoulders and made her lungs feel twice as big.

Free from a boss who’d micromanaged her every move. Free from tasks a college intern could handle. Free from the weight of a job that had never truly been hers.

And, God, did it feel good.

When she’d called Malle yesterday to explain her father’s injury, the woman’s response had been as cold as the hotel’s marble floors. I suppose this means you’re quitting.

No concern. No questions. Just a clipped statement, as if Zoe’s departure had been penciled into her calendar weeks ago.

It had taken Zoe all of three seconds to know she was making the right call. The job had always been a temporary fix, a safe place to land after her fiancé, Erik, shattered her life three months before their wedding.

It was time for something more. Something that mattered.

As she stepped into the sunshine, Hal, the longtime doorman, brightened at the sight of her.

“This is a nice surprise. I thought you quit. That’s what—” He stopped, his ruddy complexion darkening.

“You heard right. As of today, I’m no longer working for Malle.”

“Someone told me your dad got injured.” Concern blanketed Hal’s face. “How’s he doing?”

“Better.” The memory of her mother’s call still tightened her chest. Ambulance and hospital in the same sentence had frozen her in place.

At age eleven, she had lost her birth mother suddenly. One moment, she’d been laughing in the kitchen, the next…gone. That day, her world had tilted and never fully righted. The fear of being left never vanished. It only lay buried—until Saturday, when it had clawed its way back.

“He messed up his knee,” she told Hal, tempering the words with a smile. “Team-building dodgeball game. On a trampoline.”

Hal chuckled. “I’m about his age, and you wouldn’t catch me on one of those.”

“You won’t catch him on one again anytime soon.” Or ever, she silently added. “Tore both his meniscus and a ligament.”

Hal winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah. Thankfully, the pain meds are helping.”

“It’s a good thing you’re doing, stepping in to help him.” He cast a quick glance toward the lobby, as if expecting Malle to materialize. “You’re better off away from here, but I didn’t say that.”

“Understood.”

“So why are you still hanging around?”

“Had to sign some HR papers…and meet a business associate of my father. His name’s John.”

Her father hadn’t remembered much more than that this morning—partly the pain meds, partly the upheaval. The woman Ryder had planned to work with, Sarah Jennings, had developed pregnancy complications, so the company was sending her partner instead.

“I know who he is.” Hal’s expression brightened. “Nice guy. Got in last night.”

“Could you call up to his room and tell him—”

“No need.” Hal pointed down the sidewalk. “There he is now.”

Zoe followed the line of his finger—and the easy rhythm of her breathing faltered.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Moving with the kind of quiet authority that didn’t need to announce itself.

And familiar.

Far too familiar.

It couldn’t be—

But then he stepped into the patch of sunlight between two storefronts, the late-morning light catching in his dark hair, and memory hit like a sudden drop on a roller coaster.

John Logan.

Her pulse stumbled, heat and cold colliding in her chest. The last time she’d seen him was in Austin—tuxedo crisp, champagne flute in hand, standing beside Erik at their engagement party.

“Zoe?” His voice was threaded with a familiarity that made the space between them feel too small.

For a fraction of a second, she froze, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag before she made herself move again.

“John.” Her tone was cool, professional. She’d learned the hard way that warmth could be mistaken for invitation—and she wasn’t ready to open that door.

“I…wasn’t expecting—” He stopped, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if reassessing his next words. “It’s good to see you.”

Is it? Her instincts urged her to keep her distance, to shut the door before the past could wedge its way into the present.

“My father planned to meet you,” she said, voice steady. “But he injured his knee on Saturday. I’ll be filling in while he recovers.”

A faint crease formed between his brows, but he fell into step beside her without argument. “Lead the way.”

If only it were that simple. Every step beside him felt like walking with an echo of the night her life veered off course, of the man she’d trusted most and lost. And even as she kept her gaze forward, she could feel John’s attention on her—light as a breath, yet impossible to ignore—making her wonder, What does he see when he looks at me now?

She fixed her gaze on the baskets hanging from the ornate light poles, spilling over with the reds, golds and deep yellows of autumn. She’d always loved this time of year, when the crowds of tourists thinned and the streets felt like they belonged to locals again.

She’d assured her dad she could handle this project. She just hadn’t expected to handle it with him—the man who was supposed to stand as best man at a wedding that never happened.

Back in Austin, John had been part of their social circle. She’d enjoyed their conversations, but right now she couldn’t recall a single word. Back then, Erik had been her world.

“I’m sorry for how things worked out.”

Her heart gave a lurch, but she kept walking, refusing to let the words slow her.

“I’ve been wanting to reach out, but I didn’t know how.” His words came quickly, tumbling over one another like they’d been waiting too long to escape. “They put me on this at the last minute. Zoe, wait, please.”

Zoe stopped and turned to face him.

“I just want you to know—this wasn’t some weird scheme. I wasn’t trying to ambush you or anything like that. I’m just here to do right by your dad.”

Zoe drew in a breath and exhaled slowly. “Look, John, I’m glad you’re here. For my dad, I mean. I trust you to do the job.” Her voice was even, cool. “But I don’t want to discuss the past.”

She’d already spent too many sleepless nights replaying it all—what she’d missed, what she’d let slide, what she couldn’t take back. She wasn’t going down that road again. “Right now, the focus is on taking the Daily Grind chain national.”

“Of course.”

His ready agreement eased the tension in her shoulders.

“What happened to your father? If you don’t mind my asking.”

She kept it succinct, watching his lips quirk upward when she mentioned trampoline dodgeball.

“Those trampolines can be brutal.”

“Yes.” She exhaled. “He tore his meniscus and a ligament. My dad never does anything halfway.”

John winced. “That’s tough. How’s he holding up?”

“He’s determined to be back on his feet as soon as possible.”

“How long do they think—?”

“Four to six weeks until surgery. For now, he’s home with his knee wrapped and elevated. His best friends are an ice bag and pain meds.”

John’s lips curved. “When you speak with him, please tell him I hope he feels better soon.”

Despite her best effort to keep it impersonal, she couldn’t stop her gaze from flicking to him. “Will do.”

Now that they’d cleared the personal chatter, they could focus on work. The less she spoke to John Logan about anything else, the better. Just seeing him today scraped open the wound she’d worked so hard to close.

She wished there were another family member or senior employee she could hand him off to. But her mother’s practice was full, her brother was still in high school, and her father had always been the one in charge.

Which left her working side by side with John Logan,

the man tied to one of the worst chapters of her life.

She’d survived worse. Somehow, she’d survive the next two months, too.

Two months. She could do anything for two months. Couldn’t she?

They’d barely cleared the Bayshore’s winding drive before Zoe angled toward the business district, lengthening her strides. The sooner they were surrounded by shop windows and open doorways, the easier it would be to ignore the steady presence at her side.

“You’re dressed more casually than I expected,” John remarked.

She glanced down at her shorts and Daily Grind T-shirt, then back at him—dress pants, button-up shirt, no tie, but still entirely too polished for Good Hope. “Sorry you didn’t get the memo to dress down.”

“Sarah told me to wear jeans and a T-shirt,” he admitted, his lips twitching. “I figured that might be too casual for a first meeting.”

Zoe almost laughed, but the sound caught somewhere between her chest and her throat. She looked away, her voice cool and detached. “Things are casual here. No need to dress up.”

He nodded, gaze drifting over the street. “Where are we headed?”

“I thought we’d start at the Daily Grind, let you get a feel for the way the shops are set up.”

“Sounds like a good place to start.” His tone matched hers—measured, neutral.

“Walking through the business district will also give me a chance to explain a little about the community and how the Daily Grind fits into it.”

“The more I know, the better the outcome.” If he was disappointed that she’d gone straight into business, he didn’t show it.

The scent of fresh coffee mingled with the breeze off the water. Good Hope’s main street, lined with colorful storefronts and vibrant flower baskets, had a quiet charm that made the town feel like home no matter how long she’d been away.

Zoe pointed out various businesses as they strolled, giving him a brisk but thorough rundown. He listened without interrupting, his gaze flicking from shop to shop—except when it drifted back to her. Each time she caught it, a small knot tightened in her shoulders.