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MIKELEANEDBACKin his office chair and stared up at the ceiling. Zoey Hartford was his best friend. Whatever weird thoughts he was having had nothing to do with her personally. He just needed...sex. Yeah, that was it. He was horny, and for some reason his brain had focused onZoeyinstead of a more reasonable option. Like that hot little number at the Shamrock this week. Taniesha’s friend, Sherry Something. Even better than being hot, she’d beeninterested.She’d slipped him her number on a napkin, and he’d made a big show of tucking it in his front pocket with a wink.
Sherry was young—probably still in her twenties. She’d had a great laugh, and skin the color of a silky night sky. Maybe he should give her a call and see where things led. That might be enough to get his entire being to stop obsessing about Zoey. Who was hisfriend.
It was that night at the Shamrock that amped up his feelings so much. He’d watched her on her date with that Mason guy—tall, dark, handsome Mason. The guy who’d made her laugh. The guy who’d helped her grow her business. Good old Mason. What a great guy.
But not the guy for Zoey. Not when Mike was right there. The more Mike tried to bury his desire for her, the more she haunted his mind. After herdate night played out in front of him, she’d even begun to show up in his dreams, like the sweetest torture.
The dreams were vivid—Zoey sprawled across a mattress in a tangle of sheets. Cooing his name, gesturing with a curving finger for him to join her on that bed. He’d wake up in a cold sweat every time, just as his dream-self was putting one knee on the edge of the mattress.
It made no sense. They’d never once come close to anything physical. He’d never picked up any hint of desire on her part. He’d never felt anything more than warm affection for her. He was going to single-handedly ruineverythingif he didn’t get his feelings under control. If she ever knew, things between them would change forever. Sure, there was a chance it could be as amazing as his dreams. But what if it wasn’t?
He got to his feet so quickly that his chair scuttled backward across the floor and nearly toppled. It was the thought of failure that managed to clear his mind of Dream Zoey. No matter how tempting,thatZoey was a figment of his imagination. A logical but meaningless manifestation of his body craving the touch of a woman. Not craving Zoey Hartford specifically. That was just a mind trick, and he needed to ignore it. Because dreams weren’t real, damn it.
It was after eight when he got to Zoey’s that night, and he was surprised when Hazel came out of the shop as he parked the car. She seemed surprised to see him, too.
“Hi, Mike!”
“Hey, kid. Are you making over Mom’s workspace now? I heard you’re big on redecorating.”
She giggled. “As if. I can’t even talk her into repainting the place!” He chuckled, impressed that Hazel had even tried. She held up her phone. “I just needed her permission to babysit for Mary this weekend. But if you’re going in there, be careful. She’s on a rampage, but it’s not my fault. G’night.” She headed to the house without offering any explanation for her mom’s mood.
He tapped on the door, then went into the shop. He couldn’t see Zoey, but he could hear her. She was off in the corner storage room, tossing things around and cursing a blue streak. He took his usual seat, setting the bottle of chardonnay on the worktable. It sounded as if boxes were being kicked or wrestled with in the storage room, but he did not offer to help. Safer to keep his distance. He managed to keep himself from flinching when she stomped back into the workshop. Her head snapped up when she saw him, then she dropped the armful of small boxes on the table.
“Oh, good—you’re here. Open that bottle, will you? I need your legal expertise.”
“Mylegalexpertise? For what?” The only legal work he’d done for her had been when she and Chris bought—and then sold—their house. And he’d processed her dad’s will and got this place into her name. But there weren’t any loose ends with anything that he was aware of. He’d very intentionally avoided getting involved in the divorce proceedings, other than referring her to a good divorce attorney in Geneva.
“What do you know about zoning laws?” She pulled a couple of plastic glasses from the cupboard and opened the twist-off cap on the wine bottle.
“Zoning? For what?”
“Is it really illegal for me to have a business here?”
Mike blinked. The question was straight out of left field, and it took him a moment to switch gears.
“I’m lost,” he admitted. “Why would you think that? What’s happened?”
“It’s that miserable, stuck-upcowthat moved in next door.” Zoey glared at him. “Karen Schiff. The one with that butt-ugly modern McMansion. I was getting the mail today when she pulled in the driveway in that gigantic SUV that looks like something the Secret Service would use.” Zoey splashed wine into the two glasses and shoved one in his direction. She took a long swig from her glass. “I know she thinks this place is an eyesore, but I always figured that was her tough luck. We were here first. But today...” Zoey’s face went stony and her voice hardened. “She told me I needed toclean up the messaround here—she was pointing at Dad’s sculptures and the house and... God knows what. If I didn’t, she’dreportme for running a business in a residential area.”
Mike gave her a reassuring smile. “Zoey, your dad has had this repair shop here for decades. She was just trying to intimidate you.”
She searched his face as if trying to gauge his sincerity, which hurt a little. “Are you sure? She said this entire stretch of Hillside Road is zoned for residential use only.”
Mike’s former law partner, Glen Hilton, had been Rob’s attorney when he parceled off the building lots from the original farm. It all happened before Mike had joined the firm. Glen retired five years ago and lived somewhere outside Phoenix these days. But Mike had been the attorney for most of the recent real estate transactions up here, including the Schiff’s purchase of the lot nearest Zoe’s place.
“The lots your dad sold off were zoned residential.” He squinted, visualizing the paperwork from the real estate closings. “And I think this place was, too.” That may have been a mistake on Glen’s part when he separated the properties—he should have included the business on the original parcel. Unless the town wouldn’t let him put that in the deed. “But again, your dad has had his shop here forever, and the Town of Rendezvous Falls has never raised a concern. Have they?”
Zoey hadn’t sat down yet. She just stood there, shifting her weight back and forth, almost pacing in place. “I don’t know, Mike. Not that I know of.” She looked at him, and he could feel her fear from across the table. “Karen sounded so sure of herself. She had this thin, bitchy, mean girl smile like she knew something I didn’t.”
“What did you say to her after she said that?”
“I told her to get the hell off my property.” Her cheeks went pink. “I may have thrown in a few curse words for good measure.”
“No law against that.” Mike chuckled, but his laughter faded when he saw the distress in her eyes. “Zoey,relax.I’ll do some digging, but honestly—I think you’re fine.” He paused. “You said youknowshe thinks this place is an eyesore. How do you know that? Has she hassled you before this?” His protective temper started to rise when Zoey nodded.
“She gave Dad some grief about cleaning up and referred to his sculptures asjunk.” The corner of her mouth lifted. “Let’s face it—our front yard is...unique. I was planning on moving most of them, if only to make mowing easier. But I was going to leave the wizard, the dragon and the maiden. They’re Hazel’s favorites.”
He knew which figures she meant. They were his favorites, too. Made of a combination of tin and copper and gears and random parts, they were the closest to the house. Most of the other sculptures were more...modern art...than identifiable figures. The final few, closest to the road, looked like Rob had just welded together whatever pieces of metal he’d found lying around. It did make for an interesting sight. Drivers sometimes pulled over and got out to take selfies with the whimsical artwork.
