Staying For Good (A Most Likely To Novel Book 2)

by Catherine Bybee

  It was Zoe’s turn to roll her eyes.

  They finished their meal without any more discussion of her mom or Ziggy. Instead, they talked about Mel and Wyatt’s wedding and discussed what gifts they should add to the table. He was all about something manly for Wyatt. A beer tap was the brilliant idea in his head. “What about a grill?”

  “A barbeque?”

  “Yeah,” Zoe said.

  “He has one.”

  “What about a wine fridge?”

  “Do they drink a lot of wine?”

  Zoe lifted her glass. “When I’m in town they do.”

  “If it will get you to River Bend more, I’m all over it.”

  She didn’t want to think about how much time she’d spend in town with Ziggy residing down the street.

  Her heart started to weep at the thought of leaving . . . and it screamed at the thought of staying. Instead of bringing words to her thoughts, Zoe stood to clear their dishes. Tears started to well as she rinsed away plum sauce and carrots.

  Luke walked up behind her and removed the plate from her hand before turning off the water.

  Without words, she twisted in his arms and let the tears come.

  She heard herself sob, and his arms circled hard.

  “It’s okay, baby . . . let it out.”

  The sheer anguish in her heart at being let down once again swam like a sea of sludge in her veins.

  She muttered obscenities through her tears, cursed the universe in her grief.

  Luke let her pound her fist against his chest and blubber all over his shirt.

  Tears for a lost childhood morphed into tears she wasn’t able to shed when she was battered and broken. Tears for the years she spent away from River Bend chasing a dream . . . for the time she didn’t spend with her friends, who were more like family than hers could ever be.

  Then those pools of wet spots on Luke’s shirt were filled with the loss of what was yet to come. Her father had returned and taken her mother away. Even Zane hadn’t answered her calls, leaving her to believe all of her family was gone to her now.

  And why?

  Because they somehow believed Ziggy had changed. Or maybe they just wanted an excuse to get away from her. She’d worked for years to distance herself from them, perhaps this was the price she had to pay.

  By the time her tears had dried up, Luke leaned against the counter and she all but lay on his chest.

  He was whispering to her, “You’re not alone, baby. I have you.”

  Even those words kept tears in her eyes.

  “I don’t deserve you,” she uttered.

  Luke pushed her hair back, made her look at him. “You deserve the world, if only I could give it to you.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “I left you.” And she wasn’t completely sure she wouldn’t leave again. The pain in River Bend ran deep.

  “Shh.” He dropped his lips to hers. Salty tears mixed with the taste of his kiss.

  She pushed up, hungry for his touch.

  Luke pushed back.

  His hunger matched hers, his hands spread in her hair, holding her so she couldn’t get away.

  Not that she wanted to.

  She wanted this. The man who could make her forget about the crazy in her life. The man who could make her feel something other than anguish and hate.

  Zoe sucked him in, her hands all over his chest, up his shirt, and down his back. His smooth skin heated along with hers until they couldn’t stand the heat and clothes started to find the floor.

  Luke’s hand dipped over her stomach, his fingers inched inside her jeans.

  Zoe unbuttoned her pants and moaned when he found her core. “Yes.” She bit his lip when he came back for a kiss.

  He curled his finger inside of her and she pushed closer. So good . . . she wanted more.

  Working quickly, she pulled Luke’s jeans from his hips, used her feet to anchor them so he could step out. All the while he worked her, bringing her painfully close to a powerful orgasm.

  “Bedroom,” he said in a rough whisper.

  She shook her head, dislodged his hand, and pushed him into one of the kitchen chairs. “Here. Now!”

  Zoe kicked off her pants, let her underwear follow. In only her bra, she straddled Luke’s lap and sank over his erection.

  “Holy hell.” Luke’s expletive matched her thoughts.

  He was amazing, perfect, and so damn deep.

  She tried to move, and he held her down. “I won’t last . . . hold on.”

  Zoe giggled and tightened the inner muscles surrounding him.

  “Damn, woman.”

  He gave up the fight and lifted her, brought her close again.

  Only she had the control, with leverage on her side.

  She rode him, hard.

  His teeth sank into her breast over her bra, exciting her more. The slick slide of their bodies brought them closer until Zoe couldn’t catch her breath and every nerve centered where their bodies became one. She was close, the chair they assaulted creaked, making her think for a moment that it might break. Then her body shattered, clenching Luke in a power unlike any she’d experienced before.

  Then she heard his moan and felt the rush of his body as he reached his release.

  He carried her lax body to his bed and tucked her into the crook of his arm.

  Zoe curled into him, completing his world. “It doesn’t get better than that, does it?”

  “I don’t know how it can,” he said.

  “We might have broken your chair.”

  “I’ll build a pedestal and make it hillbilly art in the backyard.”

  Zoe laughed and ran her fingers over his chest. “We left the kitchen a mess.”

  “I’ll clean it in the morning.”

  “Such a bad habit,” she said, her words drifting as the day caught up with her. “Thank you for being here, Luke. I don’t know what I would do if—”

  He cut her off with a finger to her lips.

  She opened her eyes and looked up at him.

  “There is no other place I’d rather be.”

  Zoe kissed him and curled back up.

  He felt her breathing even out and her hand grow lax on his chest and knew she’d found her dreams.

  As he felt his own eyes drifting closed, he realized two things.

  First, he missed Zoe already. She hadn’t left, and he was already counting the days for her return. And second . . . they’d failed to use a condom.

  Chapter Twenty

  Luke stepped into R&B’s hours after he left Zoe at the airport. Saying good-bye was starting to become impossible. He’d stumbled out of bed that morning to Zoe cleaning the kitchen.

  She’d slept better than she had the night before, but there were still dark circles under her eyes. Probably a byproduct of crying for an hour before they’d made love.

  When he brought up their lack of latex the previous night, Zoe assured him she was on birth control pills. He seemed to remember her saying that before but didn’t want her feeling alone if something were to happen.

  Zoe removed his concern by suggesting they conserve water and shower together. By the time they stepped out of the bathroom, he’d spent his desire inside her a second time and vowed to throw away all his condoms so long as she was the only one in his life.

  R&B’s was crowded for a Wednesday night. The parking lot full of Harleys indicated a club riding through. Luke wasn’t surprised to find clean-cut middle-aged men drinking light beer and playing pool.

  He found an empty stool at the bar and waved Josie over.

  In her midforties, Josie ruled her bar in Daisy Duke shorts in the summer and skintight jeans in the winter. Today she showed a little midriff when she reached above her head to grab a bottle of Grey Goose from the top shelf. Luke had always thought she was an attractive woman, if not a little old for him. He often wondered why she wasn’t married, but not enough to ask.

  “Well, look who showed up.” Josie reached across the bar and gave him a hug
.

  “Zoe flew out this morning.”

  “Oh, God, no . . . no bar fights,” she teased.

  He deserved that. Zoe leaving in the past had resulted in bad behavior on his part. “She’ll be back in three weeks for the wedding.”

  Josie pulled her long brown hair behind her shoulder. “You look happy.”

  It was hard not to smile. “I am.”

  She used the rag in her hand to clean the space in front of him. “What’s your poison?”

  He ordered his favorite on tap and looked around while he waited for her to come back.

  She was back in less than two minutes. The beer felt cool in his throat.

  “I heard about Ziggy. That really sucks.”

  “Zoe is pretty torn up about it.”

  “I can’t imagine. And what the hell is Sheryl thinking?”

  “That’s the ten-thousand-dollar question everyone is asking.”

  Someone from the other end of the bar called for her attention.

  Josie waved a hand in acknowledgment.

  “Ziggy isn’t welcome here, though I’d be half tempted to serve him and then have his ass thrown back.”

  Luke lifted his glass. “Not a bad plan.”

  Josie tapped the bar and moved away.

  Luke swiveled around in his chair and searched the room for familiar faces.

  Principal Mason and his adult son sat at a small table by the jukebox.

  Matt, his partner in bar-fighting crime, sat sucking on a longneck and flirting with a woman who wasn’t his wife.

  There were a couple of young faces he recognized that he couldn’t place names to, kids who were just twenty-one and drinking on a Wednesday night in a bar because they could.

  Waterville was starting to reach closer to River Bend, putting faces into the mix Luke didn’t recognize. Growth was important, or small towns like River Bend would fold in a bad economy. Considering they’d managed to stay afloat in one of the worst economic decades since the twenties, River Bend wasn’t doing too bad.

  Places like Josie’s bar were busy midweek as a result.

  Luke picked up his drink and walked around the opposite side of the bar, toward the kitchen. He watched the window where the waitress or Josie would toss up a food order . . . food being a loose term for the fried menu items R&B’s had to offer. Still, he watched until he saw Buddy peek over from his side.

  Luke raised his beer. “Hey, Buddy.”

  “Busy night,” Buddy said, placing an order of fries up in the window and ringing a bell.

  Considering the man had done his best to kick the shit out of Luke not long ago, they’d managed to be friendly.

  “Can I take a minute of your time?”

  Buddy looked around the kitchen and nodded toward the service entrance.

  Luke set his beer down and met Buddy in a quieter part of the bar.

  After the two shook hands, Luke got straight to the point. “Have you heard about Ziggy Brown?”

  “Josie brought him up in a staff meeting. Haven’t met the man.”

  Luke fished his phone out of his back pocket and found the picture he’d gotten off his record in Jo’s office.

  “He’s a complete dirtbag. Beat up on his kids, his wife before he ended up in jail.”

  Buddy wasn’t one to get involved unless kids were part of the equation.

  “Everyone has a past.”

  “Maybe. But he’s back, and his grandson is in his home. I’d hate to see something happen to the kid.”

  Buddy was a big man. That, coupled with the heat of the kitchen, had him sweating and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

  “Grown men shouldn’t hit kids.”

  “Couldn’t agree more. I was hoping if you saw him . . . saw anything you thought didn’t look right, you’d give me a call.”

  Buddy narrowed his eyes. “This kid yours?”

  Luke shook his head. “No . . . nothing like that. My girlfriend’s nephew. She’s given her sister an out, but she hasn’t taken it yet.”

  Buddy glanced back at the picture with a slow nod. “Doesn’t hurt keeping your eyes open.”

  Luke shook his hand. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  With a quick nod, Buddy walked back into the kitchen.

  Luke moved to retrieve his beer, found something floating on the top, and abandoned it.

  He started to leave the bar and found the whites of Zane Brown’s eyes. Zane turned around and walked away.

  Luke double-timed out the door, skirting around bikers and a few men who’d had one too many drinks before reaching the cold of the night. He scanned the parking lot to see Zane jumping into a car.

  Luke managed to get to his side before he could turn the key.

  “Zane! Hold up.”

  A flash of disappointment floated over Zane’s face before he offered a half-assed smile. “Hey, Luke.”

  Luke left a hand on the roof of the car. “How are you doing?”

  Zane looked a lot like his dad . . . younger, without the gray hair, but there wasn’t any mistaking his DNA. “Good. I’m good. You?”

  “It’s been a rough week.” There was no point in lying to him. “Zoe left for Texas today.”

  Zane nodded like one of those bobblehead dolls. “Yeah, I heard she was in town. I’m in Waterville most days. Work . . . you know.”

  It was obvious Zoe’s brother wasn’t going to come forward with anything about Ziggy, so Luke brought up the elephant in River Bend. “How do you feel about your dad being back in town?”

  Zane glanced at his phone as if he was checking the time. “I don’t know. Bound to happen at some point. It’s not like he murdered someone.”

  Not yet. “Zoe’s worried. Thinks your mom letting him come back is a mistake.”

  With his hands wrapped around the steering wheel, Zane leveled his gaze to Luke. “Zoe isn’t—” He stopped himself. “I get it . . . but my dad . . . he deserves a chance.”

  Luke felt his hands fist.

  “I’d imagine you’d want to see him as a changed man.”

  “Not everyone has the perfect family, Luke. Some of us grew up with less, and that shit’s stressful.”

  It was obvious Zane wasn’t going to hear anything Luke had to say.

  He straightened up, removed his hand from Zane’s car. “You know where I am.”

  “Yeah . . . I gotta go.”

  He did, wheels kicking up gravel in R&B’s parking lot.

  Zoe ruined four plates and an entire pot of orange sauce for the duck before she tossed in her apron and left her kitchen.

  She might be in Texas, but her thoughts were in River Bend. The good parts of her life, the crappy parts of her life . . . all of it. She sat in the break room of the restaurant, ignoring the stares of the waiters who walked in. This wasn’t a space she often occupied outside of staff meetings where she discussed the menu and had everyone try new dishes. A half an hour ticked by with her telling herself to get it together.

  In the end, she removed her purse from her locker, made her apologies to her sous chef, and stepped out the back door.

  En route to her favorite dive bar, she texted Felix and begged an audience. Not that she needed to beg—the man loved to drink.

  Still, she sat at the bar with her purse in the seat beside her, waiting for her favorite director and nursing a rum and Coke.

  “Hey, I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

  Zoe twisted to see Raymond. She opened her arms for a hug. “How are you?”

  “Same job, different day.” He glanced at the space beside her. “This seat taken?”

  She grabbed her purse. “Soon. He isn’t here yet.”

  Raymond thumbed toward an empty seat down the bar. “It’s okay . . . I can—”

  “Don’t be silly. Sit. Felix is always late.”

  He sat down, glanced around. “Where’s your friend?”

  “My friend?”

  “The blonde. The one that likes the big guys?”

&n
bsp; “Oh, Jo . . . she doesn’t live around here.”

  He lifted his chin. “Out of town friend?”

  “Yeah . . . so how are you? How’s your wife?”

  “Good.” He waved at the bartender. “Same, but what can I do?”

  Zoe sipped her drink. “I’m sorry I ran out that night.”

  “It’s okay. That looked intense. Hope it all worked out all right.”

  She smiled. “Seems to be. I’ve known Luke a long time.”

  The bartender made his way over and took Raymond’s order. “So, Luke . . . does he live close by? I’ve never seen him in here before.”

  “No, no . . . he lives in Oregon.”

  “Oregon? Really, whereabouts?”

  “River Bend. Small town—”

  Raymond sat up taller. “I know River Bend . . . it’s next to Waterville.”

  Zoe’s jaw dropped. “You know Waterville?”

  “Yeah. I had family there for years.”

  “That’s crazy. Such a small world. I grew up in River Bend.”

  Raymond smiled and shook his head. “What are the chances of that? How on earth did you end up in Dallas?”

  The answer to that was easy, considering the time in her life that she’d left. “It wasn’t River Bend.”

  Raymond nodded in understanding.

  Zoe turned back to her drink and noticed how little was left in her glass.

  “Can I get you another?”

  “I shouldn’t, but . . .”

  Raymond laughed and flagged the bartender.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Wild child turned cop . . . what are the chances of that?”

  If Jo had ever felt a desire to pull her weapon on a person out of pure spite, it was when Ziggy Brown opened the door.

  “Mr. Brown.”

  “JoAnne Ward . . . spittin’ image of your daddy, uniform and all.” If Ziggy had left it at that, she might consider his words a compliment. Instead, he let his eyes run down her body, linger back up over her chest, then shift to her eyes.

  Jo hiked her sunglasses higher and pretended not to notice.

  “Is Zanya here?” Jo already knew the answer but wanted to get the man talking so she could grow accustomed to his voice . . . notice the difference if he was drinking or under the influence of something other than soda.