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

by Catherine Bybee

  He winked and went back to the task of cooking.

  When Sheryl placed food in front of her, Jo thanked her . . . then, because Grant grabbed Sheryl’s attention for coffee, Jo went ahead and made good use of her proximity.

  “How is Zanya, Sheryl? I haven’t seen much of her.”

  Sheryl quickly poured the coffee and returned the pot to the warmer. “She’s fine.”

  “And Blaze? Getting big, I bet.”

  No eye contact . . . her hands shook on the coffeepot.

  Jo didn’t like the body language.

  “He’s a big boy.”

  Jo eased off. She’d found out enough for one night. Besides, Thursday morning was only a few hours away.

  Everyone in town knew Wyatt Gibson and his new wife were on their honeymoon.

  And since teenagers were known to liberate a little alcohol from unsuspecting homes from time to time, Ziggy made sure to keep the small town tradition going.

  Deputy Emery’s squad car was parked in front of his house, which didn’t sit very far from anything in River Bend . . . and Ziggy noticed the moment JoAnne sat her firm little ass in a broken-down bar stool at Sam’s.

  He socked away the fact his wife was talking to that bitch to use another time.

  It was cold for late August, which gave Ziggy a reason to wear a dark coat to match the early dusk of night, and gloves. Well, the gloves were overkill, but if someone saw him, they wouldn’t look at him as if he were wearing shorts in twelve-degree weather.

  He didn’t like the quiet of the town until he needed to hear every bark and whisper.

  His senses heightened, and he worked his way to the house he’d seen but never been in. Nice little tucked away home. Perfect for his needs.

  Ziggy had learned a few things in prison.

  The art of disguise in case someone did see you. It wasn’t hard to darken up his beard or wear a hat. A wig under the hat was a little hard to manage, but there were plenty of old women in River Bend who took advantage of the farmers’ market, leaving their homes free for the picking. Alcohol wasn’t a score there, but the occasional trinket could be, though Ziggy refrained from lifting petty things and having the town alerted to a thief.

  Adrenaline heightened his senses and forced Ziggy to concentrate.

  Breaching the door of Wyatt Gibson wasn’t difficult. Because Ziggy had learned a few lessons, he made sure a mask was firmly in place when he was inside the walls of the house.

  It didn’t take long to find the liquor cabinet or a few water bottles. He reverted back to a teenager, making sure if it was noticed that someone had been in the house, they’d think it was a kid and not an adult.

  Liquor went into the plastic water bottles, and enough water was put into the liquor bottles to mask the absence to the casual observer.

  He filled his pockets, put the bottles back, and exited the house in less than ten minutes. Once he was tucked back into the trees, he walked the half a mile to the road to his trailer and ditched his disguise behind a fallen log. No use keeping that stuff in the house.

  When he arrived home it was completely dark.

  He turned on the TV and opened one of the water bottles.

  And for the first time since he’d been out, he poured a shot of whiskey down his throat.

  It burned.

  And like every taste of freedom, it left him hungry for more.

  Zoe worked a little harder, a little lighter on her feet at Nahana, knowing the days she’d be there were dwindling down to only a handful.

  She’d had a conversation with Chef Monroe, the poster child for celebrity chef. When she’d told him she was giving up Nahana, he’d congratulated her. When she’d told him she was working throughout the summer and into early fall to keep Nahana lucrative while they found a replacement, Monroe had laughed at her.

  “You’re wasting your time.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’re too soft, Brown. They will use you until you walk. Be a bitch like all the rest of us and move on.”

  “That’s not part of my DNA,” she’d told him.

  Monroe gave her ten more minutes of shit and promised to dine with her the next time she was in New York.

  When she returned home from her shift, she kicked off her shoes and grabbed the phone.

  She shared her day with Luke and listened to him talk about his. Yes, Miss Gina was doing well . . . no, there was nothing on the Brown home front. He said something about Zane being seen on the track with Jo but didn’t have anything to add other than the he was seen gossip.

  By the time she hung up the phone, Zoe decided it was just a little too quiet for her tastes.

  The walls of her apartment were starting to squeeze in on her and feel like a foreign place where she didn’t belong.

  She looked up her lease paperwork and then turned her attention to a calendar. That would work out perfect.

  The pounding on Luke’s door before the sun rose had him grumbling, grabbing his bathrobe, and yelling en route to the front door, “What the hell is the—” His words faded.

  Zoe stood in his doorway, suitcase in hand.

  “W-what are you . . . ?”

  Zoe dropped her case and smiled.

  “I’m not moving in with you.”

  Luke’s eyes dropped to her suitcase. Her large suitcase that had to have more than a few days’ worth of clothes.

  Her words started a slow dance in his brain.

  “You’re not?”

  She bit her bottom lip. “I’m living at Miss Gina’s. Mel’s old room.”

  He felt his breath start to come, each inhale right on top of another, as if he were running.

  “You are?”

  “For six months, give or take.”

  “Give or take?”

  “And I have to fly back to Texas a few times in the next couple of months. Finish my time at Nahana.”

  “That sounds reasonable.” Sweet Jesus . . . she was back. His baby was back. He kept his smile firmly in his eyes. “But you’re not moving in with me.”

  The seriousness of her face made him want to laugh.

  He didn’t dare.

  “Of course not. People will talk.” She turned on her heel and strutted back to his driveway.

  In it sat a four-wheel drive, brand-new Land Rover with paper plates. “What’s this?”

  She opened the passenger side door. “Well, I’m not buying a house, and I need a car while I’m here.”

  He couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  Luke walked behind her, swiveled her shoulder until she faced him. “Welcome home, baby.” And he kissed her.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Word of Zoe moving back to River Bend spread like wildfire. She insisted it was temporary, a place to make a shift in her life . . . help Miss Gina to regroup at the inn after a year of turning away guests for fear something would happen to Hope. No one believed Zoe would be going anywhere.

  “I think this calls for a party,” Miss Gina said from the front porch.

  “We just had a wedding.” Mel was back from Fiji, tan, rested, and very sexed.

  Hope was still in San Francisco, soaking up some serious grandparent time before school started in a week.

  The phone to the inn rang, and Mel answered with the handset. “Miss Gina’s Bed-and-Breakfast. Yes, this is the place.” Mel held her hand over the mouthpiece and said in a hushed voice, “Another one.”

  Zoe shook her head with a smile.

  “For the next two months Miss Brown will be in our kitchen the first and the third weekend of the month.”

  Miss Gina patted Zoe’s hand as they all listened to a one-sided conversation between Mel and a future guest.

  “Before the holiday? I’m going to have to consult with the staff and get back to you on that.”

  Zoe moved a thumb between herself and Miss Gina and mouthed the question, “Are we the staff?”

  She nodded.

  Mel had a pen and paper ready, along with the gues
t register. “And what name am I putting down for this reservation?”

  “It sounds like you’re going to have a busy season,” Zoe said.

  “Michael . . . and your last name?”

  Mel dropped her pen and turned a little white. “Right . . . no, I understand.” She dropped to her knees and fished under the wicker chair to find her pen. The register in her hand hit the deck, and she was all fumble and stumble as she attempted to get herself together. By the time she knelt against the chair with pen in hand, some of the color was back in her face. Or was that a blush? “No, no . . . Miss Brown is a close friend. I totally understand the need for that . . . ah-huh. Yes, we’ll get back to you as soon as we can. Of course, thank you, Mr. Wolfe.” Mel did a little beating of the air with her hands like a child who couldn’t contain their excitement.

  Mel disconnected the line and shot to her feet. She did an interesting version of a rain dance and squealed so loudly that Sir Knight lifted his head from his paws and tilted it in concern.

  “Oh, my God . . . that was . . . that was . . .”

  “Mr. Wolfe?” The name pinged around in Zoe’s head like a silver ball in a pinball arcade.

  Mel grabbed both Zoe’s hands and squeezed. “Michael Wolfe!”

  Zoe felt chills as recognition hit her hard. “The actor?”

  Mel presented a toothy smile and screamed.

  “Girls?” Miss Gina didn’t share in their excitement.

  “Michael Wolfe . . . action flicks. Totally hot.” Mel fanned herself.

  “He’s just a person,” Miss Gina said.

  “An überhot celebrity,” Zoe added.

  “Jo is going to be stoked!”

  “You know he’s gay, right?”

  Mel waved a hand in the air. “I don’t care, he’s still yummy to look at.”

  Zoe giggled. “Didn’t you just get back from your honeymoon?”

  Mel’s jaw dropped and she reached for the phone. “I have to tell Wyatt.” She ran into the inn and squealed.

  “I think we need to go over your pricing and revamp the website.”

  “Do what you have to do. I’m just happy I’ll be able to pay my property taxes this year.”

  “Are you struggling? I’m happy to—”

  “I’m fine. Just a little tight, that’s all.”

  Zoe sat beside Miss Gina and curled into her side. “We’ll get you in the black before Santa gets here.”

  “As long as Santa is buff and riding a Harley, I’d be happy.”

  “What happened to Mr. Eugene?”

  “He petered out.” Miss Gina didn’t sound too upset.

  “He got involved with someone else?”

  “No, I mean his peter petered out. What can I do with a man if that doesn’t work?”

  Zoe caught the giggles. “There’s lots of things to do with a man other than play with his peter.”

  “Uh-huh . . . name one.”

  “Talk to them.”

  “I have you guys for that.”

  “Snuggle?”

  Miss Gina wrapped an arm around Zoe. “Covered.”

  “They lift heavy things.”

  “And when Wyatt and Luke aren’t around, I grab some of those young kids that drop by looking for odd jobs.”

  Miss Gina was still mentoring the youth of River Bend.

  “Just keep them out of the lemonade.”

  “Are you kidding? That’s what keeps the track team in this town full.”

  The giggles found Zoe a second time. “Petered out!”

  Jo was on the second lap of her warm-up when Zane took up the spot beside her.

  “It’s not Thursday.”

  “I’m on to you, Jo.”

  “It’s Jo now?”

  “You’ll get Sheriff on the days I have to be here.”

  Fair enough.

  He had something to say, so Jo waited him out. It took half a mile. “I heard Zoe moved back to town.”

  “Looks like it.”

  “I feel like I can’t get out of here, why would she come back?”

  “That’s a question you might need to ask her.”

  “I don’t think she wants to see me.” The remorse in his voice was a welcome relief.

  “I don’t think you give your sister enough credit.”

  They rounded onto Zane’s first mile, and Jo caught something out of the corner of her eye.

  The fog was thicker as summer rushed into fall, and either the fog was playing tricks on her eyes or someone was standing in the shadows of the trees surrounding the high school.

  Attempting not to stare, Jo glanced at Zane, who ran with a little more ease than when he’d started. When she looked back up, the shadow was gone.

  She had never run with a weapon, but maybe that wasn’t the best decision.

  “We’ve been doing this for three weeks,” Zane reminded her.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

  He didn’t confirm or deny. “You never ask about my dad.”

  “You being here isn’t about your dad. It’s about you.”

  “Why? Why not just write me up and make me do my time?”

  Jo slowed her run to a stop, set her hands on her knees to catch her breath. “Why? I’ll tell ya why. I think the inside just makes people meaner. Gives criminals more tools to screw up when they get out.” She sucked in another deep breath and squared off to Zane. “And I think there is more Zoe in you than Ziggy. You just haven’t figured out how to live without the cloud of your past.”

  Zane ran a hand through his hair. “I thought I was doing that.”

  “You were . . . got a job, and aren’t you living in Waterville more than not?”

  He shrugged.

  “Zane?”

  “I’m back and forth.”

  Not something Jo wanted to hear. “Why?”

  “Keeping an eye on my sister.”

  Jo read more into those words than any he’d spoken in three weeks. “You do that.”

  Zane gave a quick nod.

  “But Zane . . . if things get hairy, call me. I don’t want you going in because someone drags you there.”

  He had a moment of confusion on his brow. “Why do you care so much?”

  Jo took a step toward him and had to reach up to scruff his hair. “Because I was an only child, and you’re the closest I came to having a little brother.”

  Zane stepped back and for the first time in a long time gave her a full smile.

  Noise from the parking lot told them the teens had arrived.

  “How many miles do you run with them?” Zane asked.

  “A mile on the track, then we hit the trails for another five . . . why?”

  He looked at his watch. “I don’t have to go in until noon.”

  “You won’t make six miles.”

  His smile fell. “Challenging me, Sheriff?”

  Jo lifted both hands in the air. “Bring it!”

  “What’s this?” Zoe asked from near the open dresser drawer.

  Luke poked his head out of her bathroom, brushing his teeth. “What does it look like?”

  She lifted a pair of his underwear. “Man panties?”

  He winked and ducked back into the bathroom. The sound of water followed a drawer closing with a slight creak. “I’m leaving a toothbrush here, too.”

  “Your house is three miles away.”

  “Well, I’m not moving in. People will talk.”

  Zoe pulled the length of her hair behind a shoulder and grinned. “We can’t have that.”

  Luke pulled her into a playful hug and dragged her down to the bed, pinning her arms over her head. “You have a problem with my man panties?”

  “No,” she said with a giggle.

  “Good!” He kissed her hard and quick before pushing off the bed, leaving her sprawled and a little short of breath. “Now go to work. I have cars to fix, woman.”

  She turned her head when he hesitated at the door.

  His smile said everything. His wink told
her he’d see her later.

  When Luke walked out the door, Zoe curled up and hugged a lacy pillow. She couldn’t remember being this happy.

  Chapter Thirty

  Ziggy held out his hand the minute Sheryl walked in the door. “You’re late.”

  “It was busy. Took time for the place to clear out.”

  Once again, the smell of hamburger and french fry grease followed Sheryl around like a cloud. Felt like he was screwing a grease pit lately.

  He snapped his fingers until she pulled a wad of bills from her purse and placed it in his hand. It amazed even him how quickly she fell back into her role.

  He dug through the one-dollar bills to find the larger notes. “This is it?”

  “It’s the same as always.”

  He counted it again. “You said it was busy.”

  “Everyone came in late.”

  He took a swig out of his water bottle. Damn thing was almost empty.

  “Late, huh?”

  Sheryl’s skinny ass moved into the kitchen. Ziggy looked her up and down, settled on her face. “Well, maybe if you wore a little makeup and tried to smile, you’d make more tips.”

  “Nobody in this town cares if I have makeup on.”

  He thought about how makeup and a dress could transform a woman. It could take a bitch cop and make her fuckable.

  “You telling me I don’t know what I’m talking about?” His hand tapped on his knee.

  She stopped moving dishes around and looked up. “No. No, Ziggy. I just . . .” she stuttered. “I’ve been in Sam’s for twenty years. None of ’em care if I have on blush is all.”

  He stood, real calm . . . and walked into the kitchen. His chest hurt with the pounding he felt in his veins. Go for the hair. No bruises. He twisted the pan Sheryl had in her hand away and set it in the sink.

  “This needs to get clean.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He took her elbow nice and easy.

  “Ziggy, let me finish this first.”

  Poor woman thought he wanted her naked.

  With careful ease, he inched his hand up her arm and to the back of her neck. When he grabbed a scruff of hair and pulled, she cried out.

  “We need more money ’round here. And if I say you put on makeup, you put on makeup.”