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She grinned at the instant assumption that it must have been justified.
Z: Yup
M: Go Hazel! Whiskey night.
Z: For sure.
*
ATTORNEYMIKEMCKINNONstared at his phone for a moment, knowing what he had to do. Zoey would expect no less.
M: What kind of music do chiropractors like?
Z: I’m seriously afraid to ask.
Mike grinned.
M: Hip pop.
“What are you grinning about over there?” His twin sister, Mary, made a playful grab for his phone. She’d picked him up from the car dealership where he’d left his SUV to get new brakes. “Do you have a secret admirer or something?”
He didn’t answer until after Zoey’s reply appeared.
Z: GROAN! CU later
“No admirer, sis. Just Zoey.”
“That was a pretty big smile forjust Zoey.” She glanced over again, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, God, are you two...?”
“No! Hell, no!” He straightened in his seat and pretended to shudder. “Stop. She’s basically family. I’d never...” Sure, there’d been a time, back in high school, when hemayhave wondered what it would be like to kiss Zoey. A girl who took shop class and wore nothing but jeans, flannel shirts and Doc Martens. A girl with a quick laugh and a sharp wit, tall and lean, with coffee-colored hair. But even then, he’d known he couldn’t risk losing a friendship unlike any other he had.
The problem was, for the past few months he’dbeen thinking about it again. Whatwouldit be like to kiss Zoey Hartford, now that she was no longer a girl? And no longer married? Over the past few months, every time she’d bent over to pick something up in the shop, he’d paid more attention to the inviting curves of her backside than to whatever she was saying. It was a new sensation, and he had no idea what to do about it. One thing hedidknow is that he couldn’t tell his sister.OrZoey. Their friendship wasstilltoo important to him. This attraction he was feeling was probably some odd phase—nothing more.
He turned in the seat to face Mary, knowing she’d use that weird twin connection to figure out if he was being honest or not. “Zoey got me through the worst year of my life by not tiptoeing around me like everyone else did after Becca died. She made me laugh when no one else was even trying.” He thought of the late-night texts she’d sent, often linking to obscure news stories about Bigfoot sightings, or a video of giant fish jumping out of a river and hitting some guy sitting in his boat. Random nonsense to take his mind off the sudden emptiness of his life. “Nowshe’shaving a tough year, and I’m returning the favor.”
Mary wrinkled her nose, keeping her eyes on the road. “Great—now I feel guilty for not doing more for her myself since that asshat Chris made her sell the house. How is our unofficial triplet?”
That’s what their parents used to call Zoey when she was at their house as a child, which was often. When she was around, Mom said her kids went from twins to triplets.
“She’s having a rough day today. Hazel punched a boy at school.”
“Yikes.” Mary pulled to the curb in front of Mike’s house. “Did the boy deserve it?” He nodded and she chuckled. “Good for Hazel. I’ll have to give Zoey a call. You sure you don’t want to borrow our car instead of taking that hot rod of yours out before summer?”
“Nah.” He opened the passenger door. “Summer’s almost here, and it’s supposed to be dry for a few days.” He kept his dark green 1971 Mustang Mach 1 stored safely in his garage during the winter. Even in the summer, it only came out on sunny days.
Mike headed over to Zoey’s after dinner. Her dad’s old place was up on the hill above Rendezvous Falls. Rob Hartford had been an interesting guy. Blunt, but kind. Talented, but scattered in so many directions he’d never really capitalized on that talent. His tendency to get distracted left his property in a bit of a shambles.
Instead of the bright color combinations of most of the Victorian homes in Rendezvous Falls, the solid gray-blue paint scheme had been an act of defiance on Rob’s part. Now it was faded to simply...gray. It made the whole place look sad. And then there were the works of so-called art in the front yard. Shovels and rakes and metal ductwork formed into shapes. “Sculpting” had been Rob’s weirdest hobby. It gave the place character, that was for sure.
The lights in the workshop were on, and when he got out of his car, Mike could see Zoey inside. Her dark hair was tugged into a high messy knot held with a big plastic clip—the type that held bags of potato chips closed. Sure enough, a bag of chips sat open on the workbench. She wore a T-shirt that said something about wine. Zoey was bent over the bench in deep concentration. The woman was a whiz at machines, just like her dad. Even as a kid, she’d loved puzzles. That’s how they’d started their friendship—with riddles. He pulled out his phone and started typing.
M: The more I take, the more I leave behind. What am I?
She glanced over at her phone, then smiled when she saw it was from him. Something pinched at his heart. Did she always smile like that when he texted her? Did her face always soften...tension easing in every line? He hoped so. But he didn’t want to examine why. His phone pinged.
Z: I give up. Who are you?
M: Footsteps. Outside. With whiskey.
