Chapter Two
BUT WHEN SHE ENCOUNTEREDhim in the next aisle, she shifted her basket and said, “If the offer still stands, I’d like to join you for that lunch.”
Her stomach, as if to confirm it, growled again.
“Awesome!” He grinned from ear to ear. Then he patted his grocery basket. “I’ve already got the picnic things here. I hope you like them.”
“Oh.” She blinked at the potato-salad pack, the little diced-fruit tray, and the assorted cold cuts and cheeses in his shopping basket. The sweet fruity scent reached her from a couple of pears. “That’s why you’d decided to stop for groceries, huh?”
“Yup.”
“So you were confident I’d say yes?” How should she feel about that?
“I hoped for it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his smile sheepish.
She touched her wrist out of habit where her favorite bracelet usually was and frowned when she didn’t find it there. What was she thinking, packing it in her checked-in luggage? It might be pathetic to mourn the loss of a handmade bracelet of all things, but she’d worn it nearly everywhere until it seemed to become a part of her very self. She’d made it what now felt ages ago in a different life and refused all offers to sell it. It didn’t have precious stones like the heirloom bracelets her cousin inherited from her mother. But it was precious to Zoey.
Now it was gone along with her clothes, materials for handmade jewelry and embroidery, and humble gifts for her newfound family. Stolen, just like her childhood and youth. While she’d reported the theft—of the luggage, not her childhood—she doubted she’d get her things back.
It was all gone. Her trust in people. The many years of her life with her family, stolen by her mother. Her favorite skirts and blouses and her bracelet, among other things, stolen by an unknown thief.
She cleared her throat and also needed to clear something up for him. “Um, this isn’t going to be a date. I’m not looking for romance. And I’m not going to stay in Port Sunshine long. My life is halfway across the world.” It didn’t matter that her life could be lonely sometimes.
His serene-blue eyes dimmed, but he nodded. “Understood. It’s just a picnic.”
As irrational as it was, his easy agreement that nothing could happen between them irked her. She should be glad. Besides, every time she tried to have a romantic relationship, it ended badly. Just like her mother had said it would.
Every thought about her mother sent a stab to Zoey’s heart. A torrent of emotions she wasn’t ready to decipher threatened to pull her into the abyss of betrayal. But life went on, and so should she. She squared her shoulders and marched to the cashiers while Barrett followed.
Barrett helped place her groceries on the conveyor belt. “I’d be glad to pay for your food.”
“No, but thank you.” Suspicion squirmed inside her.
Why was he this nice? Since childhood, her mom had instilled in her that the world was a dangerous place, that the only person Zoey could rely on was her mother, and that people, especially strangers, had their own agenda. Maybe he just pretended not to realize who she was. She now knew all about people pretending. People like her mother or two of her own exes.
Her stomach clenched.
Were her father and cousin manipulating Zoey, as well? He didn’t look sick and didn’t want to discuss his illness. Was he using a fake disease to get her back? And if so, did he act on his own accord or follow Kennedy’s subtle hints?
Zoey rubbed her forehead, then moved her groceries along the conveyor though she didn’t have to. More suspicions assaulted her like angry wasps that once built a nest behind her window. She was an heiress in competition for the business Kennedy loved, and Kennedy might want Zoey out of the way. It would be much easier to cause something to happen to Zoey here than halfway across the world—though it might be riskier and more suspicious to harm her here? Still, her hand stilled with the cash before she paid it.
What if the silvery truck with tinted windows nearly running her over wasn’t an accident at all? She should’ve called the police. She’d have to go to the local station later today. Not immediately because, let’s face it, she didn’t want to cancel this nondate with Barrett. The truck was long gone, anyway.
What if someone didn’t want a new affluent person in town and acted fast? Kennedy came to mind first, but it could be one of her business associates.
And Zoey’s father... He claimed to love her, but he didn’t know her at all. She didn’t dare dismiss all the horrible things her mother told her about him. Zoey had seen how much he loved Kennedy in the way he looked at her. And now Zoey was an unwilling threat to everything Kennedy worked so hard for.
All this was more tangled than skeins of silk embroidery threads a litter of kittens had played with.
What had Zoey gotten herself into? A cold draft chilled her heart. She felt like a tiny fish among barracudas. Should she run back to Lazoria, the small European country she’d long called home, while she had a chance?
The few things in her basket didn’t need to be refrigerated—she hadn’t picked up a frozen dinner, after all—so she wouldn’t have to stop by her father’s house to drop them off.
Her father and Kennedy had said Kennedy’s modern oceanfront mansion, empty since she moved in with her husband, was Zoey’s home now, but it didn’t feel like one. Now, neither did the flat she used to share with her mother in Lazoria.
Her thoughts in turmoil, she helped the store employee bag her few groceries. Maybe she could use a fresh start. She had more than enough means to do it if she cashed in that check her father had given her.
“I can carry your bags to the car.” Barrett bagged his items fast.
Her eyes narrowed. This hunky cowboy must have a hidden agenda. Like Mom said, people were rarely nice to others just out of the goodness of their hearts. And, also as Mom said, while Zoey had an okay appearance, she was no raving beauty, so she wouldn’t turn men’s heads on the street.
“I’m good. But thanks.” She touched the raised embroidered tulip on her blouse again as she walked toward the parking lot.
Maybe she should’ve used a different word than her artist name to introduce herself to Barrett. Because she wasn’t a gentle flower with tender petals the color of sunrise. She was more prickly like a cactus. But it didn’t sound so nice to introduce herself with “Hello, my name is Cactus, and my personality matches it.”
“Do you need to stop by your house?” he asked while she loaded her two bags into her small rental car. Dad had offered to buy her a car, and Kennedy had given Zoey the keys to one of hers, but Zoey had refused. She wasn’t going to stick around.
Hmm. Did Barrett want to see where she lived? Sneaky.
She nearly blurted out it wouldn’t be her house anyway, but she stopped herself in time. “No.”
“Then how about you follow me to the embankment, and then I take you to the cove?”
“Sure.” Her gaze lingered on him longer than it should’ve. Tiny sunlit specks flashed in his blue eyes, and his skin crinkled around those eyes when he smiled. Her heart fluttered like a fragile flower in the wind. No, not a flower, one of those weird plants without roots.
“Great.” He held her gaze.
Awareness shimmered between them. The air became charged with... She didn’t even know what. Electricity?
Maybe a thunderstorm was brewing. A weird sensation warned a proverbial thunderstorm was brewing in her life, as well. She forced herself to break eye contact and survey the parking lot in case another car decided to speed in her direction. Apparently, one never knew here.
“See you soon.” He opened her rental’s driver’s side door for her.
She slipped onto the faux-leather seat, her heartbeat faster than usual as he closed the door and then sauntered to his truck. She wasn’t watching him. Not really. She dragged her gaze back to the rental’s dash, turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot, following his truck.
The car had that new-car smell courtesy of an air freshener, and it underscored the lie because the vehicle was far from new. But then, her entire life had been surrounded by lies until she now struggled to distinguish what was real. She’d been following her mother’s script for so long. Could Zoey now write her own?
She ground her molars. It was far past due. She had to.
Perspiration rose at the idea. Or maybe the air was just too warm inside. She turned on the air conditioner and tapped on the steering wheel as she followed Barrett’s truck. In the medieval parts of the town in Lazoria she called home, there were several pedestrian zones. In the rest, she wasn’t used to seeing many trucks. Or being nearly hit by one. She winced.
Her fingers trembled. She wrapped them around the steering wheel’s smooth, sun-warmed surface.
Normally, she avoided people and preferred working on her custom jewelry or embroideries or tapestries rather than socializing. So why had she agreed to a picnic with a guy she’d just met? It was very unlike her.
Hmm. He turned on his blinker and made a turn, and she did the same. It wasn’t just curiosity. Or the spark of attraction she didn’t want to admit even to herself.
There was something... comforting about this cowboy with sincere blue eyes and an easy smile. Maybe it was because he’d saved her from being flattened by ginormous tires. The thought caused another wince. Or maybe it was about that broad chest of his and those shoulders it would be so tempting to lean on, but she’d felt closer to being safe with him than she could remember ever feeling with anyone else.
She’d been taught repeatedly for many years that the only people she could rely on were her mother and herself. Then she’d realized the only person she could rely on was herself.
Her shoulders were tired of carrying everything she’d piled up there.
She rubbed her wrist where her green-and-yellow bracelet used to be, grimacing that the place was bare. More things than the bracelet she’d made was missing from her life, so why was she so irritated that it was gone? She’d talked to the police about the theft, but she wouldn’t hear good news back. She never did nowadays.
According to the airport cameras, a woman wearing sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat had taken Zoey’s luggage when it happened to arrive first on the carousel. Zoey shouldn’t have splurged on a designer suitcase that looked like something expensive was inside. The thief had kept her head low, so besides a glimpse of sunglasses and violet-hued lipstick, the camera didn’t catch her face.
Oh well.
A burgundy car with tinted windows had turned after Zoey and now stayed two cars behind. Was she being followed? She tensed, and her fingers tightened around the steering wheel for a different reason.