Chapter 11 Zoey
ZOEY
There are very few reasons Mason ever stops eating. Either his plate is empty, or he’s upset about something. And by the way he’s staring at Tate, it’s the second reason, and Hunter’s caught in the middle.
“And how many guys, even some of your friends, who wanted you to give me their number… Did you pass along the digits to me?” Tate asks.
“Hell no,” Mason snaps.
“Exactly,” Tate says, rolling her eyes at her brother.
Mason groans, running his hands down the front of his face before he meets her eyes again. “But that’s because they’re my friends, and that’s a no-go for me.”
Tate drums her fingernails on the table as she stares at Mason. “Okay. Let’s say it was some random man, would you have done it then?” she asks again.
“No.”
Tate lifts her hand, waving it around. “Ding-ding-ding. There you go, genius,” Tate taunts him.
“What’s going on over here?” Dad asks, coming up behind me, placing his hand on my shoulder. “You guys are louder than usual.”
“Hey, Dad,” I say to him, tipping my head upward to look at him. “Mason and Tate are discussing something stupid. Have you met Hunter yet? He’s my new neighbor and Tate’s newest artist. He’s new to the city.”
Dad’s eyebrows rise. “Wow, really? That’s weird.”
I don’t know why, but the smattering of gray that streaks above my father’s ear always makes me frown. When I think about him, the mental image I have always had is of him from when I was a little girl. But every time I see him, I am reminded that time moves forward, and we are all getting older.
“It was meant to be, Uncle. Who knew it was such a small world,” Tate says.
“What brought you to town, Hunter?” Dad asks him.
“My ex moved here with my daughter, and I didn’t want to live far away,” Hunter replies honestly.
“I respect that,” Dad says, giving Hunter an honest smile.
From what I’ve been told, Dad was a player back in the day. I imagine he was a lot like Mason, working behind the same bar, just as cute, all the female patrons trying to leave their number or looking to hook up in the bathroom.
Mom loves to tell the story about the day they met.
She says he saved her, and from that day forward, they have always been together.
She says she fell madly in love with him.
Love at first sight. But I think she embellishes a lot of it because Dad’s account of that day isn’t all sunshine and roses.
“I’m Lucio,” Dad says, holding out his hand to Hunter.
Hunter moves his arm, and I suddenly remember I’m still touching him and pull my hand back.
“Hunter, sir.”
My eyes slide to Tate, and she’s smiling at me like she caught me doing something I didn’t want anyone to see. And she isn’t entirely wrong either. Every time I’m near Hunter lately, I touch him without even realizing what I’m doing and let it go on for far too long.
“We’re not that formal, Hunter. Lucio is fine. No sir, please.”
“Of course,” Hunter replies. “Sorry about that.”
“Uncle, if I were your buddy, would you have given my number to your sister?”
I blanch at the thought. He’s talking about his aunt, even if it is hypothetical.
“You’re shitting me with this, right?” Dad asks Mason, staring at him like he’s grown three heads.
“I’m not. Would you?”
Dad chuckles and shakes his head before stalking off, giving an answer without really giving an answer.
“Fuck,” Mason hisses, picking up his fork again. “I’m a good guy. I want to find a good girl and settle down. I want the marriage and the kids, but everyone treats me like I’m a gigolo or something.”
“Did you just use the word gigolo?” I ask, snickering.
“Zip it, Zoey,” Mason snaps, stabbing the sausage on his plate like it’s the one who hurt his feelings and not everybody else around him.
“Uncle Mason. I want to sit by you,” Hazel says as she climbs up into the chair with a juice box in one hand and a cookie in the other.
“At least there’s one girl in this family who likes me,” Mason grumbles.
“We all like you, you big dope. We love you.”
“You’re the bestest,” Hazel adds, helping to melt any heat Mason is still feeling.
“No, kiddo. You’re the best,” he says, taking a cookie off his plate and sliding it onto hers.
“I think we missed something,” Wylder says, his eyes moving from Tate to Mason. “Do I want to know?”
“No,” Tate says, dropping the topic.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Hunter, hating that my family sometimes goes a little off-book.
“Don’t be. It’s just Lizzy and me. Dinners are quiet and boring. This is great. Even better than great.”
“That’s sad,” I say to him, wanting to reach out my hand and touch him again, but knowing we have an audience, and I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.
“It is, but even when my parents were alive, it was only us. I never had a big family like this. You’ve really got something special here.”
I glance around, looking at my family. “I really do,” I whisper.
“Are you going to be late tonight?” Wylder asks Tate.
“No. I have one more client, and then I’ll be home. Probably by nine.”
“Will you tuck me in tonight?” Maddox asks Tate.
“Of course, darling,” Tate replies.
My chest warms watching them all together. My cousin was so lucky to find a wonderful husband and stellar kids. The girls adore Tate, and she does them, too.
If I am completely honest with myself, I want that too. I just need to find someone I can trust with my heart, along with my body.
Hunter glances at his watch as he takes another forkful of food. “I hate to do this, but I gotta get back to the shop. I have a client coming in a few, and I need to prep.”
“I understand,” I tell him, but I don’t want him to go. It has been nice having him here, even if he isn’t here for me alone. “Do you want me to bring some leftovers home for you?”
He stares at me.
I stare at him.
Shit.
Those words came out sounding different than I wanted. My cheeks heat, and I glance down, unable to keep my eyes glued to his. “I mean I can keep them in my fridge until you get home tonight, or you can grab them tomorrow.”
“That would be great,” he says. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” I mumble, wishing I could crawl under the table and hide.
Hunter says his goodbyes, running out of the bar like his ass is on fire.
“Nice,” Tate says as soon as he’s out of ear range.
“What?” I ask, pretending to be clueless.
“You two need to go on a date,” she says as she holds Willow on her lap, bouncing her.
“That’s a no,” I say quickly.
Tate stares at me, making me squirm a little in my chair.
“I’m with Tate,” Mason says between bites. “He seems like a good guy, and you’ve had some real shitheads.”
“You just want to get closer to Lizzy,” I tell him, knowing his game. I’ve been a witness to it my entire life, and Mason always has an angle that benefits him.
“She lives in another state,” he replies.
“My ability to trust anyone outside of this family is almost nonexistent after what happened with Mark.”
My cousin gasps and drops his fork onto his plate. “You said his name,” he says, his voice growly. “You never say his name.”
“I’m trying to grow.”
“You’re healing,” Tate says. “And maybe Hunter has helped in some way. Maybe he’s restoring your faith in the opposite sex.”
“I don’t know,” I mutter.
“I’ve known Hunter for a long time, Zoey, and he’s one of the good ones.
He’s not a cheater. He’s not a liar. He’s a girl dad who moved to a new state to be closer to his daughter.
If you’re not going to take a chance on a guy like that, you may as well give up on a happily ever after for the rest of your life. ”
I sit with her words for a few seconds, wondering if she’s right. How many years am I going to let Mark steal from me? He’s already done enough damage, and am I willing to give him my entire future too?
“One date. What’ll it hurt?” she asks.
“I agree with her,” Lulu says, appearing out of nowhere. “I’ve been trying to make this happen since he moved in, but she’s been stubborn.”
“She’s right here,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest as I stare at Lulu. “And you’re just as stubborn as me. I don’t know a single person in this family who isn’t stubborn.”
“Me,” Mason says, waving his fork around. “I’m easy breezy.”
Lulu and I snort out laughs.
“Easy might be right, but you’re not breezy,” I tell Mason.
“What’s it mean to be breezy?” Hazel asks, looking at Mason with confusion written all over her face.
“I’m like the wind, doll. I go with the flow,” he answers her, wiggling his fingers like he’s floating.
“Dad’s not breezy,” she replies without skipping a single beat.
Lulu covers her mouth with her hand as she snorts again. “Your dad is…” she starts to say, but she’s laughing too hard to finish the statement.
“Wylder is like a skyscraper,” Tate says, reaching out to touch her husband’s hand. “He doesn’t move, but the wind goes around him, and I’m good with that.”
“I’ve gotten better,” Wylder states. “You can’t have three daughters and a wife and not be flexible.”
“That’s how you got the third kid,” Lulu says with a smirk.
“Speaking of flexible, where’s your husband?” Wylder asks Lulu.
“He got a call last minute.” She sighs and stabs at her pasta like it’s offended her in some way. “It’s the busy season, and I hate it. I hope he makes it home before midnight tonight.”
“Why don’t you go with him?” Wylder asks. “You could keep him company in the truck all night.”
“Can’t do that with the baby. I used to before Harlow was born.”
“I can watch her,” I say.
All eyes at the table swing to me.
“What? I can watch a baby.”
“You never offer to watch her,” Lulu says.
“I’m always working at the bar,” I tell her, trying to come up with a reason that’ll satisfy everyone, even if it’s bullshit.
I was starting to get baby fever. But after what I witnessed when Harlow was born, I wanted to bury it as deeply as possible. Especially since I wasn’t in a relationship and had no plans on dating anyone in the next decade.
But there is a deep ache that rears its ugly head every time I am around my little niece, and I can’t shut up the little voice in my head that says, You want one of them too.
“You’d really watch her tonight?” Lulu asks, her eyebrows drawn inward.
I nod. “She can hang with me while I clean up, and then I’ll take her home. You can swing by and grab her whenever. I’m up late.”
“I’ve never left her with anyone except Mom and Dad,” Lulu says, glancing down at her baby girl. “I don’t know.”
“It’s me, Lulu. I’m not a stranger.”
“Do you know how to take care of a baby?” she asks.
I glare at her. “I babysat half of the shits here. I know what to do. She’ll still be breathing when you pick her up. You want to spend time with your man or not?”
“Who is this girl before me?” Tate asks from across the table.
I give Tate the middle finger.
“Okay. Just for a few hours,” Lulu says, but I know she’s nervous. I get it. This is her baby, but she’s also my niece. I’d give my life for hers if it ever came down to it.
“I can handle it,” I tell her, but I’m not so sure it will go as smoothly as I hope.
Four hours later, we’re in my apartment, and the baby is screaming louder than I ever thought her little lungs could.
When the elevator dings, I run to my door, pressing my eye to the peephole.
It’s Hunter. My shoulders slump forward in relief as I reach for the door handle, and I run into the hallway with Harlow in my arms.
“Help,” I say, bouncing the crying little girl in my arms. “She won’t stop, and I don’t know what to do.”
The alarmed look on Hunter’s face softens as he looks down at Harlow. “Gimme,” he says, walking toward me with his arms out. “I got you.”
And for the first time in a long time, I wonder if he truly does.