by Vella Day
“Sure.” She unscrewed the top, poured half a cup, and returned it to him. The intense smell of chocolate brought back good memories of when her friends would build a campfire and roast marshmallows.
He tipped the bottle to his lips and took a draw. “When I told my mom I was coming out here today, she said Dad wanted to meet you. Are you okay with that?”
She chuckled. “Sure. What do they know about me? Did you tell them about the shooting and my breakdown? I don’t want to say something about Thad and have your mom be shocked.”
He rubbed her arm. “Relax. I told her I was remodeling your home and had just met you. Nothing about the incident or the aftermath.”
The aftermath. That sounded much better than a breakdown.
For the next few minutes, they just listened to the gurgling stream, the leaves rustling in the wind, and the birds singing. It was peaceful and natural. As much as she liked communing with nature, she wanted to learn more about him. “What was the toughest part about growing up as the son of Randall Banks?”
He glanced over at her and raised a brow. “Your shrink side is showing.” He worked his mouth as if he was trying not to smile.
“Well, I am a shrink. You asked me out. There are bound to be consequences.” She swallowed a laugh.
“Consequences?”
When he sobered, she shrugged. “I like to dig. It’s part of who I am.”
He grinned. “I’m good with a little unearthing. As I said once before, I have nothing to hide. The ladies I’ve always attracted seem to want to talk about themselves, but not you.”
“I can’t learn anything when I’m speaking.”
Pete stared out at the water, the trees, and then the sky.
“You want to know about me?” His voice had softened, almost as if it was laced with pain.
“I do.”
“Okay, then. Here goes.”
Chapter Eleven
Pete couldn’t believe it. Zoey was even more fascinating than when he’d first met her. That initial encounter would be something he’d never forget. When he’d turned around in her bathroom, it was like she was holding out an emotional life ring meant just for him. It was an offering. A plea to connect. A gift really, and while it was laced with pain and confusion, it also held immense strength. He bet she had no idea that when she’d told him about her fear of dying and looked at him with both hope and despair over how she’d put another man’s life in jeopardy, that a frozen piece of his heart had cracked.
Now, she was giving him another opportunity. Not only did Pete want to know her better, he was thrilled that she wanted to learn something about him. Him! Broken Pete Banks. For the last ten years, he’d put a lot of sweat equity into building his business. Stayed on the job site for long hours and earned a lot of money. He tried to tell himself it was for his future, but deep inside he knew it was to earn his father’s love.
Pete had sacrificed a lot to get where he was, which meant he hadn’t focused on searching for what he really wanted out of life—a woman he couldn’t wait to get home to each night, and a couple of kids he could dote on.
The never-ending doubt refused to stop. Was he good enough? Maybe he didn’t deserve his father’s love. Or a woman’s for that matter. Could Pete’s own actions have been the reason he hadn’t found what he wanted most? Or did his father have a fatal flaw? Fuck if he knew. Maybe that was why he hadn’t tried hard enough to find someone to love.
Thad had chastised him several times saying that just as a woman started to mean something to them both, Pete pushed her away. His roommate claimed it was fear of rejection. Did he truly believe Pete would fucking crumble if someone else he loved didn’t return the affection? He was better than that. Or so he hoped.
“Pete?” Zoey placed a hand on his. The worry on her face told him he’d gone inward again, and he prayed he hadn’t scared her off.
She’d asked him a question. “Yes, what was it like being me? Hmm.” He shook his head, unsure of where to begin. Should he talk about how his father didn’t seem to notice he existed when he was growing up? He inhaled, hoping he could do this without looking like a cold bastard—or a pathetic victim. “When we talked before, I mentioned I was pissed about my father’s treatment of the help.”
“You did.”
He felt bad not explaining himself more fully, but at the time, Zoey needed her world to settle first. “I was embarrassed every time he dismissed one of the workers or was rude to them. I still have this image of my father stomping on a freshly planted patch of flowers because he thought they looked cheap.”
“That’s terrible. I can see why you sought Alex to be your friend. You were very noble.”
“Noble? As an eight-year-old, I’m not sure I knew the word. Sure I liked the kid, but I think I did it more to piss off the old man. My mom taught me it was wrong to judge people who didn’t have as much as we did, but I felt helpless to stop my father from acting the way he did. My only weapon was to embarrass him right back.” He could see now that tactic hadn’t brought them closer as a family. Pete had wanted to show his father that acting superior had its consequences. Too bad he failed to get his point across.
Crossing her legs, Zoey faced him. “Deny it all you want, but your friendship with Alex says a lot about who you were as a young man. Also, I’m impressed at your insight about your dad’s faults.”
He had barely scratched the surface. It hurt every time Pete had asked his dad to come to one of his games, and his father never showed. “Thanks.” A strong ache still resided from those days. Looking back, he wasn’t easy to live with. He might only have been ten or so, but he knew what his father disliked. Pete had purposefully been a bad student, given his lunch money to Alex—in large part because Alex needed it—and even locked his bedroom door as soon as he came home from school so he wouldn’t have to talk to his dad. That juvenile behavior only caused a bigger chasm between him and the rest of the family, one that was now too wide to cross—at least for his dad. “I’m still trying to figure out why my dad never acted the way a father should.”
“How should a father be?” Her tone held no censure.
“Like Alex’s dad. His father gave him hugs, praised him all the time, went to his soccer games, and encouraged him. The only real affection I saw from my dad was directed at my younger sister, Dina. Looking back, it was easy to see why. She was pretty much perfect.” Two blue jays squawked in the trees above them, but as soon as a squirrel scurried after them, they flew away. What Pete wouldn’t give to be able to take flight at the first sign of trouble. Then I’d be a coward.
“You really think Dina being well behaved was the reason for your dad’s affection?”
“Perhaps. My transgressions seemed to highlight her perfection.”
“Have you ever asked him about the disparity in treatment?” She wove her fingers together, almost as if she wanted to tell him how much of his issues were actually his fault. Fuck. Maybe they were. The ache in his belly increased.
“Not directly, but I sure as hell made enough comments to hint at it. He never seemed to take my concerns seriously.” Jesus. He sounded like a whiner.
“I’d be pissed, too. It sucks when parents aren’t always there for you.”
He liked that she got where he was coming from. “Don’t get me wrong. My mom was great. She came to my games and supported me with whatever I wanted to do.”
“She was always there for you. That’s so important. Neither of my parents are as extreme as yours, but they fall closer to your dad than your mom.”
He sat up, not liking that she might have experienced a similar situation. It was tough on a boy, but he bet it would be tougher on a girl. “What do you mean?”
“Both of my parents are a bit distant emotionally. My dad worked so much he didn’t have time to give us his undivided attention, and Mom didn’t know how to cope with having five kids, a husband, and a job.”
Even with that baggage, Zoey seemed to have come through life uns
cathed. Or was she holding back, too? They might have more in common than even he realized. “That had to be rough.”
She looked away, and a quick flash of pain sliced right through him. He wished to hell he knew what to say. Zoey picked up his hand and ran a finger down a crease in his palm, almost as if she wanted to pretend as if everything were normal. Her touch was almost too much to bear.
“Tell me something about Dina. Does she live around here?”
“I thought you were going to read my palm.” And look into my soul.
She smiled. “I wish I had the knowhow.” She let go of his hand. Dumb, Pete, dumb.
“Dina, huh?” He was happy she’d changed the subject to something a bit less emotional. Acid had dug a nice little ditch in his gut just discussing the tidbit of history about his dad. “She owns a dress boutique in town appropriately called Dina’s. Like my dad, my sister has a good work ethic. Unlike my father, she’s non-judgmental.”
“You have a good work ethic, too.” Her brows rose slightly as if she didn’t think he was giving himself enough credit.
He was willing to admit that once he’d graduated from high school, he’d always tried his best. “Thanks. I’ll brag and say I have a positive cash flow and happy employees.” Zoey worked for herself. While she didn’t have any employees, she’d understand it wasn’t easy to hire good help, order supplies, deal with subcontractors, and be nice when working with the client. “My father isn’t the easiest person to know, but he did teach me the value of hard work. Mom is big into volunteering. She works hard, too—sometimes too hard.”
Zoey plucked a blade of grass from next to the blanket and twirled it in her fingers, not looking like a woman with all the answers. “Back to your youth,” she said, flicking the blade away. “What was the most fun thing you ever did as a kid?” She seemed to have thought about what he said before coming up with her question. He really liked that about her.
“That’s a tough one.” His parents had taken him and Dina to Disneyland for weeklong trips, but Zoey probably meant what he’d done without his folks. “When I was about eleven, me and my friend Joe ran away once. We lasted about six hours before we realized we didn’t have enough money to pay for things and came home.” He leaned back on his elbows, remembering that time fondly and smiled. “But during those six hours, we rode buses and pretended we were adventurers who could do anything we liked. The freedom was addicting.”
“I never had the courage to do something like that.”
“Girls needed to be cautious.”
“What else?” She smiled, and an excitement grew deep within him.
“Stole a car once. The rush was unparalleled.” Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth, looking adorable. He chuckled. “Don’t worry. Nothing was harmed—neither car nor person—in the making of this tale.”
Zoey lowered her hand slowly, exposing a grin. “Tell me about it.”
“Let me preface this by saying I was thirteen and stupid. Joe, who was a year older, was my accomplice. If he were here, he’d say it was my idea, but since he’s not, I’ll blame him.” He smiled, wishing he were thirteen again, not having to worry about the consequences of his actions.
“You’ve led a colorful life, I see. So, you borrowed a car. Then what?” From the way her eyes sparkled, she seemed to be enjoying this, which had been his desire from the start.
“It was during the summer between eighth grade and ninth. On day, I rode my bike about ten miles to his place.”
“One of your parents couldn’t have brought you?”
“Mom was at some charity event, and I didn’t want to ask dad. Joe’s father owned a repair shop.”
“Ah, yes. Russell Banks’s son shouldn’t socialize with a garage mechanic’s son.”
He cracked up at her stern delivery and was delighted she was on his side. “You got it. If Dad had seen the place, and put himself in my shoes, he might have understood. The shop was so cool. Mr. Dalton had every tool imaginable.”
“You loved cars, then?”
“I did. If majoring in construction hadn’t worked out, I might have chosen to design or fix cars for a living.” Building seemed to be in his blood, and the appreciation from the homeowners helped make up for some of the slights growing up.
“I can tell you like working with your hands.”
“I do.” But that was getting off the subject. “There were these twin freshmen girls, Stella and Stacey Crumpfield. I’ll spare you the details, but suffice it say both Joe and I liked them for reasons other than for their smarts.” Zoey laughed, clearly understanding what he was referring to.
She rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows. He was thrilled that she seemed comfortable being with him.
“You know,” she said, picking some dirt off the blanket, “where I used to live in Connecticut, freshmen girls didn’t even give middle school boys the time of day.”
Pete ran his hand over the wool blanket near her fingers and enjoyed the rough texture of the material. Touching natural things like wood, stone, and fabrics helped to ground him. “Joe was a freshman, so it was cool. We thought one way to impress them was to have a car. That’s when Joe suggested we borrow one from his dad’s shop and take the girls for a spin. Show them how cool we were.”
“You weren’t old enough to drive.”
Pete tucked his tongue in his cheek. “Your practical nature is showing. A teenager will do a lot of stupid things in the name of love.”
“Love?” She laughed and placed a hand rather dramatically over her chest. “I can see where this is headed.”
“In Joe’s defense, he’d just finished a driver’s education class and thought he was ready for the Daytona 500.” He shook his head, knowing she was going to be surprised by what happened. “I can still remember both the joy and the fear coursing through me. The joy was having the girls willing to come with us, and the fear was because Joe’s old man had a display case full of guns. He’d have used one on us if he’d caught us.”
“But you did it anyway?”
Pete loved her incredulity. Zoey was refreshing, open, and a total delight. “Remember, we were kids. It was fun taking chances, and then believing consequences were for others. We assumed we weren’t going to get caught. The adrenaline rush was intense.”
She encouraged him with smile. “Go on.”
Chapter Twelve
Pete loved seeing Zoey respond to his childhood tale. “We drove to the girls’ house. Or rather Joe drove. He did an okay job staying on the road, too.” Zoey shook her head, looking just like Dina had when he’d told her what they’d done. “Once we got there, we needed to let them know we were outside without tipping off their parents.”
“How did you do that?” She sat back up and crossed her legs again. Only now, she was closer—much closer.
Pete cleared his dry throat, not sure if he should brag, but then decided to go for it. “Being the athletic one, I climbed the tree to the porch overhang and walked along the roof until I found their room and tapped on the window.” He unscrewed the thermos and offered to refresh her drink. Zoey held up her cup, and he filled the hot chocolate near to the top. He then took a hit and recapped it. That simple act of sharing seemed so natural, so right.
“Weren’t the girls scared to have some guy’s face suddenly appear in their room window? I would have been,” she said, lifting the cup to her lips.
That was because she was a good girl, and the Crumpfield sisters most definitely were not.
“If they were, they didn’t show it. Stella was ecstatic as soon as I showed her that Joe had a car. Long story short, as soon as I helped the girls out of the house, they practically ran to the Ford.”
Zoey rolled her eyes, looking like a teenager herself. “You can skip the part about the sex.” She drank more from her cup.
Pete couldn’t believe how much credit she was giving him. “I wish. We never got far enough for that. You see, smart guy Joe took us out to what we both t
hought was a deserted country road. He then got the bright idea to see how fast he could drive.”
Her mouth parted. “That’s dangerous. Had he even driven by himself before?”
It was such a high to have someone respond so easily to everything he said. “When Joe was about ten, his father would let him pull the cars into and out of the garage. He had more practice during the class, but was he good? Hell, no, but Joe thought he was the coolest dude on earth. That was until the cop stopped us.”
Her eyes shone with delight. “Oh, no. What happened?”
“At the time I thought my life as I’d known it was about to end, but apparently Officer Phelps was a friend of Joe’s dad.” He’d almost shit when he saw those lights flashing.
“How did your dad react when he found out?” She pressed her lips together, probably to keep from laughing.
“Find out? He never did. Shit, if he’d learned we were almost arrested and thrown in jail, he would have yanked me out of private school and sent me to some last opportunity school for juveniles. Then I never would have seen the inside of a college classroom.”
“So the cop let you off?”
“Hardly.” Pete always wondered where he’d be today if Officer Phelps had acted differently. If Pete had been ticketed, would that have gotten his dad’s attention? “Let’s just say that for a price, the officer promised not to tell either of our dads or the girls’ father.”
“Price?”
Pete took another drink of the hot chocolate, deciding to let Zoey guess what that might be. When she didn’t offer any suggestions, he continued. “Because Officer Phelps was friends with Mr. Dalton, he must have heard him complain about how there wasn’t enough time in the day to finish all the chores he needed to do—like paint the fence that rimmed the entire ten acres of his property.”
“Don’t tell me Officer Phelps said he’d keep quiet if you two volunteered to paint said fence?” She looked like she was about to laugh.
