Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Zoe resisted the urge to pull out her phone and check the time. Where is Daisy?
Not that she wasn’t enjoying dinner with John. The fish and chips were excellent, and he had a way of telling stories that made her laugh, a rarity these days. But the easy rhythm between them felt…complicated.
Every time he leaned in or caught her gaze, she couldn’t quite forget he’d been on Erik’s side of the aisle. He would have been a fixture in her wedding photos. The last time she’d seen him, she’d been blissfully certain about her future.
And now here they were, sharing a meal, pretending that history wasn’t quietly sitting between them like an uninvited guest.
She had to admit, though, she was relieved that he seemed content to leave the past where it belonged.
Zoe finished her last bite of fish and took a slow sip of her beer, nodding as John wrapped up a wild tale about a seafood chain expansion that went sideways when someone, namely him, had decided a twenty-foot fiberglass cod was the key to national success.
It had worked for a while, then sank to the bottom of the sea.
Before he’d shown up in Good Hope, she hadn’t realized how little she knew about what he did, only that it was “hospitality-related.”
Erik had never offered much detail. Or maybe he had, just in that subtle, dismissive way that painted John as competent but never quite in Erik’s league.
Typical Erik. Always needing to be the biggest dog in the room.
Zoe shook the memory away.
“You’re sad you can’t eat all your fries?” John said, amusement tugging at his mouth.
She blinked. “What?”
“That sigh.” He gestured toward her plate and the handful of remaining fries. “My brother had a solution for this exact predicament.”
“Should I regret asking?”
“Possibly.”
She tilted her head. “All right. Let’s hear it.”
“It’s best learned through demonstration.”
Suspicion sparked. “I’m not handing over my plate.”
“The lesson only works if you experience it firsthand.” He shrugged, feigning innocence. “Like latte art. Astrid could describe it, but you have to see it.”
Zoe rolled her eyes but slid her plate toward him as he slid his toward her. “All right, what now?”
“Now,” he said, plucking up a fry, “tell me about your brother and sister.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Trust me,” he said, casual but watching her closely. “It’ll all make sense.”
“You’re just trying to steal my fries.”
“Obviously.”
The admission made her laugh, an easy, unguarded sound she hadn’t expected to make tonight.
“Well, you know I have two siblings,” she began. “River came along not long after my dad married Trinity—”
“Wait,” he interrupted with a raised brow, “when did that happen? I missed that bit of your life story.”
Her chest tightened briefly. Of course he had. “It was a long time ago. My mom passed away, and I came to Good Hope to live with my dad. Trinity became my mom.”
His teasing softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
She gave a small shrug. “It was a difficult time for everyone.”
He nodded, letting the moment breathe before prompting, “And River?”
Zoe smiled. “Sweet kid. Seventeen now. And Raime—she’s nine, and…let’s just say she’s got enough personality for all of us.”
John swiped the last fry from her plate without breaking eye contact.
“Did you just eat my last fry?” she demanded.
“Sure did. You’re welcome.”
“You think I should thank you for theft?”
“You handed them over. Besides, if you’d kept eating, you’d only feel bad later. I was saving you from yourself.”
Zoe’s glass paused halfway to her lips. For a second, she had the oddest feeling they weren’t just talking about fries anymore.
John’s voice gentled. “The bonus is I got to hear more about your family.” His gaze lingered a fraction too long to be casual. “Thanks for sharing that with me.”
Her lips curved just slightly. “Sounds like another toast.”
His answering smile was slow and deliberate as he lifted his glass. “To good work, good company…and the surprises life still has in store for us.”
She touched her glass to his. “Cheers.”
The rim was still cool against her mouth when she became aware of the faint warmth lingering on her fingers from that earlier brush of his hand, as if her skin hadn’t quite forgotten it.
And for reasons she wasn’t prepared to examine, that small, residual heat stayed with her even after she swallowed the last sip.
“Zoe, I swear I had no idea she’d talk that long!” Daisy groaned, collapsing onto the stool beside her and grabbing Zoe’s beer like it was a life preserver. “It was like she was auditioning for a TED Talk on absolutely nothing.”
Zoe gave a distracted hum, her gaze drifting across the bar.
John stood near the dartboards, drink in hand, laughing at something a guy beside him said. He gestured to his watch as if he had somewhere to be…but didn’t leave. He lingered, watching another throw, still within view.
Still within reach.
Daisy nudged her with the back of her hand. “Okay, what’s with the weird staring?”
Zoe blinked, turning back. “Nothing.”
Daisy gave her a skeptical once-over, espresso-colored eyes narrowing beneath a curtain of caramel-highlighted hair. “You say that like you expect me to believe you.”
Zoe lifted her beer and took a long sip.
“Oh my God,” Daisy said slowly. “Is this about the guy who gave up his seat for me? Because now that I get a better look, I can see why you’re sneaking glances. All that thick, wavy brown hair makes me want to run my fingers through it just to mess it up.”
Zoe only chuckled.
Daisy leaned in, intrigued. “Is he new to town or just visiting? Did you talk? Do you know his name?”
Zoe cut to the point. “His name is John Logan. He’s here on business—temporarily. He’s the guy my dad brought in to consult on taking the Grind national.”
Confusion flickered in Daisy’s expression. “But your dad’s laid up.”
“He is.” Zoe exhaled. “So I’m—”
“You’re working with him?” Daisy practically squealed. “That’s so cool. Do you—”
“He was Erik’s best man.”
Daisy blinked. For a beat, the name didn’t register. Then understanding dawned. “Wait—Erik, as in the guy you were supposed to marry?”
Zoe nodded. “That’s the one.”
It wasn’t surprising the name hadn’t landed immediately. Though their friendship now felt effortless, Daisy hadn’t known Zoe during her Austin years. They’d grown close only after Zoe moved back to Good Hope.
Concern softened Daisy’s voice. “That has to be…awkward.”
“John and I won’t be talking about the past. I made that clear.”
“Still,” Daisy said gently, “it can’t be easy.”
“It’s not.” Zoe set down her beer. Her eyes drifted again to where John stood, still laughing, still there. “But I think it’ll be okay.”
At this time of night, the air inside the Ding-A-Ling was thick with the scent of fried fish, beer and a hint of grease—the kind of smell that clung to your clothes long after you left.
Laughter and conversation spilled through the room, a low hum beneath the occasional cheer from the dart players and the buzz of the karaoke mic crackling to life.
John leaned back against the wall near the dartboards, his glass of water cool in his grip as he watched a group of locals line up their next shots.
He wasn’t here for the game.
After Zoe’s friend had arrived, he’d stepped away, partly because there was nowhere else for her to sit, partly because lingering would have felt like crossing an invisible line.
He’d told himself leaving was the right move.
So why was he still here?
The dart game continued, someone scoring a bull’s-eye that prompted whoops and a round of applause.
John took a slow sip of water, wishing instead for the rich bitterness of the Guinness he’d finished long ago. But his mind wasn’t on the drink.
It was on her.
Their conversation had been easy, natural. They’d laughed and bantered, and for a brief moment, he’d actually caught himself hoping her friend wouldn’t show up.
That should’ve been his first clue.
He shifted his weight, the solid wooden floorboards creaking beneath his boots.
Should he have waited for introductions? Hung around for another few minutes, made it seem like he’d just been chatting with a colleague, nothing more?
Maybe.
But that wasn’t what it had felt like.
And that’s what had sent him to the dartboards instead of sticking close to the bar.
Because the truth was, tonight had felt different.
For a little while, it hadn’t been about consulting, or business strategy, or brand expansion. It had just been Zoe and him, sharing a meal, exchanging stories, laughing at ridiculous things, stealing fries like they’d done it a hundred times before.
A burst of off-key karaoke filled the air—a guy two beers past his limit belting out a country ballad with way too much confidence.
John chuckled under his breath.
He could walk out now and let the night end cleanly.
But instead, as he made his way toward the door, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing back.
Just once.
Zoe was talking animatedly with her friend, completely engaged, her expression warm, her hands moving as she spoke.
She wasn’t looking his way.
Why would she?
To her, he was just the consultant her father had brought in. A guy who’d be gone in two months.
And yet…
The second he stepped outside, the night air hit him, cool and crisp, carrying the faint tang of pine.
He took a breath and let it settle.
But even as he walked toward his car, the noise and warmth of the bar still echoed in his mind.
The sound of her laugh. The look in her eyes when she smiled. The feel of her beside him.
And one quiet truth followed him into the dark…
Something had just begun.
Even if neither of them knew it yet.
The condo was quiet, the kind of stillness that settled in only after the dishwasher stopped humming and the scent of lemon dish soap faded from the air.
Zoe sat cross-legged on her bed, laptop open in front of her, but she wasn’t working. The screen glowed with unread emails, none of which could hold her attention.
Her mind kept circling back to the same place.
John Logan.
Of all the people who could’ve been sent to help with the Grind, why him?
Except she already knew. John had the experience. The credentials. The reputation. He was a solid choice—smart, capable and easy to like.
He’d always been that way.
He hadn’t been just Erik’s best friend.
He’d been her friend, too.
Back then, he’d been the quiet one. The steady presence. The guy who remembered birthdays and opened doors and asked if she needed a refill before she even realized her glass was empty. The one who’d given a thoughtful toast at their engagement party—low-key, heartfelt, almost reluctant.
Yet, when everything had fallen apart, he hadn’t reached out.
She told herself it didn’t matter. That she wouldn’t have answered even if he had.
But still.
Zoe tugged the blanket across her lap and leaned back against the headboard, exhaling slowly.
It had been easier, in some ways, to think of him as part of that chapter she’d shut the door on. But now he was here. Not in the background, not tangential. Here. Working with her. Laughing with her. Stealing her fries.
Tonight had been…unexpected.
Comfortable, even.
She’d found herself smiling more than she had in weeks.
And maybe, for a little while, that had been enough.
She reached over and turned off the light.
But in the dark, her mind returned to the same thought.
If she’d walked over to the dartboards tonight, would he have been surprised?
Or had he been waiting?