New Tricks

by Kelly Moran

  All three were set in the guys’ backyards. Cade’s had him in sunlight, sitting in the grass with Hailey between his legs, and the dogs lying beside them. Avery was behind him, kissing Cade’s cheek. Flynn’s was done by the riverbed at dusk. He stood by the bank, Gabby on his back laughing, with her cat and his dog running ahead. Drake’s was painted at night near the forest edge. He was tossing a ball for both his dogs, who she’d captured mid-run.

  “Jesus, Zoe.” Cade glanced up at her, his eyes soft with emotion. “It’s amazing.”

  Flynn dragged her in for a one-armed hug. He pulled away and signed, “I’m glad you’re painting again. I’m hanging this above the fireplace.”

  As Avery and Gabby cooed, Zoe glanced at Drake. He was still staring at his, gaze determined, jaw set. She couldn’t read his expression and grew a little nervous.

  “Sorry to hijack your meeting.” Zoe looked at Avery. “Wanted to pass those out before we left tomorrow.”

  “No worries.” Avery brought up a few items like the supply room closet lock getting fixed, then looked down. “We only have one other thing to discuss, but it’s important.” She pulled a breath and looked at Cade. “We’re pregnant.”

  Drake finally brought his head up and darted his gaze between Cade and Avery, lips parted in surprise.

  The room went quiet as Cade grinned. “She’s due in March. Sounds lucky to me.”

  “Oh my God.” Gabby flew out of her chair and launched at Avery, nearly toppling them both with a hug. “That’s the best news.” And...the crocodile Gabby tears came as she focused on Flynn. “We’re definitely doing a September wedding. She won’t show too much and dress shoes will still be comfortable.”

  Flynn laughed. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

  As the others congratulated them, Zoe sat back in her chair, smiling like a fool. A little jealousy trickled inside her head, but she shoved it down. She’d resigned herself years before to the probable fact she couldn’t have children. If her test was positive, she could pass the gene to her offspring, and that was a hell no. She’d dote on her friends’ kids and it would have to be enough. It did her heart good to see them happy, though.

  Avery’s first marriage to Hailey’s father had been disastrous. The prick never paid attention to Hailey and had cheated on Avery. When Cade—reformed playboy—had met her, he’d fallen flat on his face for both mother and daughter. They were perfect together.

  “You’re going to make the best dad.” When Cade met her gaze, Zoe nodded confirmation. “You were raised by the best and you’re already more of a father than Hailey has ever known.”

  “Hell.” He cleared his throat. “I really needed to hear that, I think. I was a little nerve-wracked. Excited, but anxious.”

  “Don’t be.” Smiling, she winked at Avery.

  Zoe could feel Drake’s gaze on her, but she focused on everyone else until Avery finally adjourned the meeting. Grabbing her things, she followed Brent.

  “Where are we going shopping and what, exactly, do you have in mind?”

  His grin resembled the Grinch in plot mode. “Naughty, naughty things, firecracker.”

  “I knew we were friends for a reason.”

  After two stores, she wound up with a gold slip dress that fell mid-calf, had spaghetti straps, and reminded her of the twenties-style flapper ensembles, minus the fringe. Black strappy heels completed the outfit, and Zoe hugged Brent as they parted ways. From there, she stopped by the drugstore for hair dye and headed home.

  Later, she flopped in a recliner, once again a brunette, and sipped wine. Anticipation coiled in her belly for this weekend.

  On and off, and for as long as she could remember, she’d wanted Drake. Other lovers had been good, some great, but after what she’d done with Drake last weekend, she knew no other guy would compare. He’d been generous and attentive and observant. God, his hands alone could elicit a bone-deep tremor of desire. Add in the emotional factor? She didn’t even need to question if they’d be good. There was no doubt.

  And she badly needed this trip. Not just for sex or to spend time with him. It had been years since she’d gotten out of Redwood Ridge, and though this was no vacation, she intended to treat it like one. Who knew when or if she’d be able to travel again.

  Cotton jumped onto her lap and purred, begging for attention.

  She ran her fingers through his soft, white fur. “You better be good for Uncle Brent while I’m away. He’ll come by to feed you and play.”

  Meow.

  “It’s only a few days. No wild parties. Got it?”

  Meow.

  “I know. Brent is a bad influence, but just try to keep him in line.”

  Meow.

  Her cell alerted a text. Grabbing it off the table, she checked the screen. Drake. Her pathetic heart puttered.

  I’ll pick you up between eight and nine, if that’s okay.

  She thumbed a response. Works for me. I’ll have coffee ready.

  The icon indicated he was typing. I’m looking forward to this weekend.

  Grinning, she pressed her lips together. Me, too.

  You left the office before I could thank you for the painting.

  Rubbing her forehead, she stared at the screen. He hadn’t given her any indication if he’d liked it or not.

  I’ll properly show you my thanks in Portland.

  And still no praise. It wasn’t as if she was a compliment whore or anything, but his opinion mattered to her. Did you like it? Biting her lip, she waited for his response.

  Loved it. They were all amazing. Mine’s missing something, though.

  She hadn’t thrown anything crazy in that set like she typically did. They’d been true-to-life renditions of the O’Grady boys and their significant others. She’d been torn on whether to put Heather in Drake’s. However, she’d decided against it since he’d been trying to move on. Besides, he and Zoe were dating and it had seemed awkward.

  Sighing, she typed a response, not sure she wanted to hear his answer if it would involve his dead wife. What’s missing?

  She loved Heather. Always had, always would. And though Zoe had no idea what to do about Drake, she so desperately wanted to claim this tether of joy while it lasted. But Heather had been his first love. The real deal. She was an impossible person to follow. No one else could compare. Truth be told, Zoe was, at best, a second choice, and a crappy one with baggage at that.

  He hadn’t responded, and her anxiety grew. Perhaps he didn’t know how to tell her or he thought she might get upset with his answer. Quickly, she shot off a text. I’ll paint Heather in for you as soon as we get back from Portland.

  His reply was so swift she could feel his irritation from across the cellular void. Heather is gone. You’re what’s missing.

  Crap. The only answer worse than Heather was that one. Her sinuses prickled and her throat tightened. And she was so stupid for being moved by his words. Always honest, forever plunging heart first, Drake was whittling her down sentence by sentence. Touch by touch. Action by action.

  Zoe?

  She sniffed. I’m here.

  The icon whirled. I asked you not to make decisions for me.

  Intuitive jerk. She closed her eyes and took a calming breath. He’d been correct about calling her out. She had no right to take his choice away. But she could do what was right for herself if it came down to it, and that probably meant letting him go if the test was positive. Her conscience was beating down the door already. Yet she’d promised him she’d try, and nothing was written in stone.

  Obviously impatient with waiting, his reply pinged. Don’t give me a reason to come over there. I just saw you a few hours ago, and I’m already fighting the urge to make an excuse to see you again. Waiting until tomorrow sucks.

  A rough laugh shot past her lips. I’ll make the wait worth it.

 
A man can hope. What does your dress look like for Saturday night?

  Smiling, she thumbed the screen. It’s a surprise.

  Doesn’t matter. The only place it’ll look better than on you is on the floor.

  Her jaw dropped. Are you sexting me, Drake O’Grady?

  LOL. Maybe I am, Zoe Hornsby. However, I’m going to quit while I’m ahead.

  Two can play this game. What a shame. I just took off my shirt.

  And I’m in bed naked. Good night. See you tomorrow.

  With a heavy sigh, she glanced at Cotton. “I never should’ve taught him how to flirt.”

  Chapter 22

  Drake crossed his arms and waited for Zoe to answer the bell. Anxiety and excitement churned his gut, and they couldn’t get to Portland fast enough for him. After years of numb autopilot, she’d awoken something in him, and scary as it seemed at times, he’d missed...living. The almost euphoric bubble of hope and happiness and possibility.

  She swung the door wide and turned, jogging toward the kitchen. “I’m putting coffee in to-go cups now. Just give me a sec. My bag is right there if you want to take it to the car.”

  “There’s no rush.” He stepped inside and shut the door. Reaching for her bag, he glanced at her and froze.

  She’d dyed her hair back to normal. Light brown with caramel highlights, it flowed in soft waves to her shoulders. His lungs went into hyper drive trying to keep up. Damn, she’d been beautiful before. Turn her natural and she was gorgeous. He had nothing against the ridiculous colors the past few years, but this was the real Zoe. The one he very much preferred.

  She did a double-take. “It’s not that heavy.”

  He glanced at her bag in his hand, not realizing he’d picked it up, and dropped it. “Come here.” Never mind. He strode to her and caged her against the counter. “I like your hair.”

  She blinked her huge hazel eyes. “Um, thank you?”

  Amused she’d turned her response into a question, he smiled. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too?”

  Laughing, he let his gaze travel over her hair, her face. “Am I confusing you?”

  She bit her lip. “A little bit. What’s with the caveman thing? Stalking over here and trapping me—”

  He kissed her and pulled away. Then framed her face with his hands and kissed her again. “Missed you.”

  “It’s only been a day,” she whispered.

  “I meant in a general sense. Not that I didn’t wish you were with me last night. But I was referring to your hair. I like the real Zoe better.”

  “Oh.” She ran her fingers through the strands. “Thought it was more professional.” Her gaze darted away. “And time to stop fearing what I can’t control.”

  Christ. He was pretty sure he fell the rest of the way right there in her living room. Strong and outspoken, Zoe stood up for what she believed in. Smart and a spitfire, she could elicit a witty comeback and hold her own on any topic. Giving and empathetic, she’d taken care of his wife and her best friend in Heather’s final months, and had given up nearly everything for her own mother, no matter how hard it had hurt. Affectionate and sexy, she could pull primal and basic responses from him in seconds. And then there was this side of her. The soft, tender parts most didn’t realize were there, just below the surface.

  How the hell was a guy to defend himself against one of those aspects, never mind all of them? Throw in her gorgeousness? Lost cause.

  With a deep sigh, he stepped away. She wasn’t ready for declarations, but if it took everything in his arsenal, he’d get her there soon.

  “Ready?” He smiled to erase the concentration on his face.

  With a nod, she eased around him.

  When they were on the road, she called Pine Crest to check on her mom and, from what he could gather of the conversation, Cat was doing really well. Which was a relief because Zoe had been extremely concerned and, at times, crawling out of her skin. It killed him to see her that out of sorts.

  “I don’t know what to make of it.” She shook her head. “I mean, I’m glad she’s adjusting and really seems happy, but I can’t help but feel guilty, you know? Why wasn’t she that relaxed at home? I could barely get her to sit down, never mind eat. Taking her meds had become this ritualistic chore involving award-winning acting skill.”

  Reaching over, he clasped her hand. “She probably recognizes Pine Crest from working there for years, even if it’s not cognitive memory. You are doing the best you can. Don’t beat yourself up. It’s not your fault. This disease is shitty and hurts those left behind the most.”

  She squeezed his hand and went silent for awhile.

  The rest of the drive up to Portland went smoothly. They chatted about everything and nothing. She took over the radio and he pretended to be affronted. Truth was, he loved listening to her sing along to hard rock because she screeched the higher notes and her expression grew adorable at the lower ones. If a person ever claimed boredom in Zoe’s presence, they didn’t have a heartbeat.

  Once they arrived at the hotel, he canceled the second room and they dropped their luggage off in the suite. Queen-sized bed, mini kitchenette, and a great view of the Willamette River with Mount Hood in the distance. Orientation was tedious, and by the time they walked into the bar for the drink mixer, he was vying for excuses to take her back upstairs.

  Primal, basic, and fierce. Yet it wasn’t only physical. Maybe that was the key. The emotional assault she rendered had all of him, every atom, firing on all cylinders.

  She wore a white sundress with cherries on it, of all things, and her hair in a ponytail, exposing her regal neck. There were easily seventy people from the conference in the bar, mostly men, and at least half watched her entrance.

  He glanced around at the sleekly polished wood, chrome, and green-shade lighting, and decided it resembled every other hotel bar in America. “Want a drink?”

  “Sure.” An evil grin lit her eyes. “I’ll have sex on the beach. Or a fuzzy navel.”

  Leaning on the counter, he sighed. “You’re only requesting that to hear me say the order aloud.”

  “Totally. I challenge you.”

  The bartender eyed them, his dark gaze darting back and forth between them and lips curved in amusement. He looked barely legal to buy alcohol, never mind serve it.

  Drake shook his head. “She wants sex on the beach, and no, that’s not an offer. I’ll take a whiskey neat. Jameson if you have it.” He’d need it to keep up with her and calm his nerves.

  The bartender nodded and moved away.

  Zoe hopped on a stool and faced him. “Bravo. You ordered with a straight face and managed to piss on your territory.”

  He ran his tongue across his teeth and skimmed his gaze over her outfit. “I can’t tell if that dress is cute or hot.”

  “Hot,” the bartender said, setting down their drinks. “Definitely.”

  Zoe grinned. “Give the man a big tip.”

  Without glancing at the nuisance, Drake held up some bills, told the kid to keep the change, and kept his eyes on Zoe. “How long do we need to stay down here?”

  A rich laugh erupted from her red lips. “In a hurry?”

  “Yes. And every Y chromosome-carrying human in here is watching you.”

  “Just the Y’s?” She pouted. “That’s disappointing.”

  Hell, he wanted her. Bad.

  To distract them both, he slid the conference brochure toward her with one finger. “What workshops do you want to attend?”

  She took a sip of her fruity drink and opened the pamphlet. “Hm. There’s only two catered for groomers. I think I’ll do the first one early tomorrow morning and then play hooky. Maybe walk around the city.”

  Stepping behind her, he eyed the listing over her shoulder. None of them really appealed to him except, perhaps, the nine o’clock for a new su
rgical technique for cruciate ligament repair. They did a lot of those in the clinic.

  He leaned closer and inhaled lavender. “I’ll attend this one”—he pointed to the workshop—”and then play hooky with you.” He dipped his mouth close to her ear, earning a shiver. “We can get lunch and see a couple attractions, then arrive back in time for the banquet.”

  Turning her head, she eyed him, their faces so close he wouldn’t have to strain to kiss her. “Are you sure? As our chief surgeon, aren’t you supposed to be more of a presence?”

  “No one will miss me. I’d rather be with you.”

  Her lips curved. “If that’s what you want.”

  “I want.” Christ, did he want. Thus, he resumed the spot at her side and slammed his whiskey, enjoying the burn. To avoid watching her lips wrap around the straw in her drink, he glanced at the attendees. A guy they went to college with was standing by himself near the exit. “I see someone I know. Will you be okay for a minute?”

  “Sure.” She batted her eyelashes and used her teeth to strip a cherry off a swizzle stick.

  He groaned, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Five minutes. Tops.”

  As she laughed, he strode toward his former classmate. He and Zoe had attended the same college, but she’d been a graphic design major and he’d been in veterinary medicine. Ergo, Drake was confident Zoe didn’t know Pete.

  He said the guy’s name and held out his hand.

  Pete turned and grinned. “Drake. Long time, no see. Are you here for the conference, too?”

  Drake’s first thought was Pete didn’t look much different. He still had a boyish face, very slim build, and red hair. He’d grown up in the Midwest and never really dropped that slight accent. His polo and khakis made Drake feel somewhat overdressed in charcoal slacks and a white button-down shirt. They made idle chit-chat about their clinics for a few minutes and then switched to personal crap.

  “How’s Heather? You guys must be hitched by now.”

  Drake cleared his throat. “We did tie the knot, but she passed away a few years ago.”

  Pete sobered. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t heard.” While Drake nodded, Pete sipped his ale. “Are you here alone or did one of your brothers come up?”