Virtually Mine (The Lindstroms Book 5)

by Katy Paige

  But first, Lars had pulled Jane into his arms for a kiss and Paul had turned to Zoë with soft, warm eyes. “You’ll be okay up here?”

  She nodded, smiling at him. “Sure. Jane’ll be with me.”

  “You’ll be able to see us down there. If you want to, you can—I mean, you can come down if you want to watch. Or—or draw, you know. Down there. Near me.”

  “I’d love it,” she said, and felt a shiver as his face broke into a pleased smile.

  “Just be careful on your descent. In fact, have Jane call me. I’ll come up and get you, okay?” His eyes were filled with tenderness and concern and Zoë couldn’t look away from him. She could barely speak. “I’ll catch you something.”

  “Oh, yeah? A pet?” she asked softly.

  “Well…no. We can’t keep ‘em but we could name one before we throw him back.” His eyes twinkled with the silly sweetness of his suggestion.

  “Name him?”

  “Sure,” he said, stepping closer to her. His eyes grew more serious suddenly, holding hers. “Zoë, I want—”

  “You ready, man?” Lars slapped Paul on the shoulder.

  Paul jerked his head over to face his friend then turned back to Zoë.

  “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  He gave her a half smile as he followed Lars over to the truck.

  Zoë stared after him, her feet unable or unwilling to move. What was he about to say? What did he want? Frustration and excitement fought for her attention and she finally let excitement win for one important reason as something new dawned on her:

  He didn’t look guilty.

  When he’d been flirting with her just now and even when he started to get serious before Lars interrupted them, he didn’t look guilty. He looked easy and relaxed and playful without the pain she’d seen in his eyes when he’d almost kissed her in the art studio two hours ago.

  What had changed on the drive to the falls? she wondered. Then, thinking about the warmth in his bright blue eyes she added: And please can it stay that way?

  She wasn’t surprised to get his text as they left Gardiner. She knew that he’d felt conflicted in the art studio and it was the second time he’d reached out to “Holly” when he felt a pull to Zoë. Something awkward had occurred to her, reading his short text in the truck.

  Did she have a right to feel slighted that he was showing interest in Zoë? Did it mean that what she’d shared with him as Holly didn’t matter? Did it make him somehow unfaithful to her as Holly that he seemed interested in her as Zoë?

  No! she answered the ridiculous thoughts. He doesn’t know it, but he’s responding to the same things about you in person that he responded to virtually. You’re the same person. You don’t lose anything if he likes both parts of you.

  But it didn’t sit entirely well with her and she wondered, yet again, about telling him the truth. It’s just that she’d hung out with him for almost twenty-four straight hours now, and with every passing moment, the stakes grew higher. Losing him was more and more unthinkable. Her only hope was that if he fell hard for her as Zoë, she’d have an easier time holding on to him when he found out she was Holly too.

  “This is great!” exclaimed Jane, finally standing behind her. “You’re really talented!”

  Zoë looked up at Jane over her shoulder, envious that Jane’s love life was so easy, so figured out, so solid.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Sure beats building websites.”

  Zoë stood up, wiping her palms on her jeans and placing the pastels carefully back in the box in rainbow order.

  “Can I ask you a question?” she asked Jane, who was gathering Zoë’s papers into a portfolio folder.

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “About Paul…”

  “What?” Zoë looked up at Jane’s expectant face and suddenly didn’t know what to say.

  “Do you like him?”

  Zoë smiled sheepishly, shrugging. “What’s not to like?”

  Jane’s eyes brightened and she grinned. “You like him. I knew it!”

  “But it doesn’t sound like he’s available. He’s mentioned, um—”

  “Miss Mystic. Holly,” supplied Jane and Zoë felt a stab of guilt to be deceiving her new friend. “Yeah, he met her online. But…”

  Jane handed Zoë the neatened portfolio and paused, looking into Zoë’s eyes.

  “They haven’t met yet,” Jane said quietly, looking away, as though she were betraying someone.

  “So…”

  “So, if I were you? I’d try to figure out kind of quick if you’re really interested. Because she’s stiff competition, but you’re here and she’s…”

  “Not,” said Zoë, quietly. “But is he the type of guy who could move on so quickly? From her to me?”

  Jane started back to the truck to drop off their supplies and Zoë walked beside her.

  “Here’s the thing…I’m sure Holly’s a great girl. I’m sure she is, or he wouldn’t like her so much. The timing sort of sucks for him. If he’d met you several weeks ago, he wouldn’t have known Holly yet.” She touched Zoë’s arm when they reached the truck and Zoë turned to Jane. “Know how Lars and I finally got together? It was because I decided not to regret anything. I was about to leave for the airport when someone very wise told me that the saddest word in the world was ‘regret.’ It really resonated with me. I mean, I’d only known Lars for a week, but I knew if I left him, I’d regret it more than anything in my life.

  “Don’t get me wrong…I sort of hate it that I’m telling you to go for him when Holly’s in the picture. But I like you. And he likes you—I can tell. And more than anything, I just want him to be happy, because he’s a good man. He deserves to be happy.”

  “I agree.”

  Jane unlocked the truck door with Lars’s keys and placed her camera bag and tripod gently on the front seat. She turned to Zoë and Zoë gave her the caddy of art supplies and portfolio which Jane placed on the floor before closing and relocking the door.

  “No regrets, Zoë,” said Jane, smiling.

  “Good advice.”

  “Oh!” Jane reached into her back pocket, pulled out her phone and then looked up at Zoë, grinning. “Lars says to stay put. Paul’s coming up for you.”

  Zoë grinned back at her friend. “No regrets, Jane.”

  ***

  “You’re making me look bad,” griped Lars. “Should I go up and get Jane too?”

  “Don’t be an asshole. Did Jane massively mangle her leg in a car accident a couple of years ago? Oh, she didn’t? Then I guess she’s okay making her own way down.”

  “Touchy.” Lars went to work spreading out the red-and-white-checked blanket on a bank beside the water and unpacking the picnic basket. “Tell Jane to call out if she needs me.”

  “Think of it this way: you’ll get a few minutes alone. I’ll take my time getting back down here with Zoë. Just have all your clothes back on by the time we get here.”

  Lars’s grin was wolfish. “I like the way you think, my friend.”

  When Paul got to the base of the rocky hill that led to the parking area, he encountered Jane. “You seen my man?”

  “Thataway,” said Paul, gesturing with his head as she passed him.

  “Wait. Paul.”

  He turned back to find her facing him, hands on her hips.

  “Zoë,” she said.

  “What?”

  “I like her.”

  “Me too.”

  Jane looked uncomfortable then added. “She likes you.”

  “She told you that?”

  Jane nodded, biting her lower lip, and before processing her words, he had a fleeting thought that Jane biting her lower lip did nothing for him.

  “She likes me?”

  Jane nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Thanks, Jane,” he said, turning away from her, excited to see Zoë again, even though they’d only been apart for a couple of hours.

  “Hey! Lover boy!”

  When he looked over his shoulde
r, Jane was still standing there in the same place. “What about Holly?”

  Paul cringed, sighing, all that feel-good euphoria leeching out of his body.

  “I don’t know, Jane.” He scratched his chin, could smell the fish on his hands and wished he’d been able to wash off before collecting Zoë. “I’m in a bad place.”

  “Did you make promises to Holly?”

  “She’s amazing, Jane. She’s sunshine and happiness. She’s gorgeous. Funny. Super happy with her life. Close to her family. The perfect girl.”

  “I don’t care about that. Did you make promises?”

  “Not in so many words. But we’ve talked about our feelings.”

  “How do you feel about her?”

  “I feel like…” He threw up his hands in frustration. “She’s this amazing…possibility. This beautiful idea. But, right now, she doesn’t feel real. She feels like a fairy tale.”

  “And Zoë feels real?”

  “Zoë is real. She’s a real person and she’s here. Right here, right now. She’s not gorgeous, but I want to touch her all the time. And she’s not sunny, but she’s strong and brave. And she’s not super happy with her life, but I get the feeling she wants to change that. And she’s not perfect, but I can’t get her out of my head. I haven’t stopped thinking about her since I met her. She’s no fairy tale, but...”

  “But,” said Jane gently, reaching out to touch Paul’s arm. “Real girls aren’t fairy tales. Don’t you know that?”

  “I kinda want the fairy tale, Jane.” He smiled at her, shrugging lightly. “You got it.”

  She seemed to consider this for a moment, and then she nodded. “I guess I kinda did. But hey,” she said, walking backward in the direction of their picnic. “If you haven’t made a commitment to Holly, keep your mind open. I’d hate for you to miss out on something real saving yourself for something…hypothetical. What you really want might be right in front of you.”

  “The thought has occurred to me.” Paul nodded. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

  “I think someone always gets hurt when it comes to love. I think those tough choices are part of what gives it a foundation. Someone will get hurt. You can take that to the bank. Just do your best.” As she walked away, she yelled over her shoulder: “And take your time getting down here!”

  Paul grinned, starting up the rocky uneven hill before him. It was a good ten-minute climb. When he finally got to the top he found Zoë leaning on Lars’s truck.

  “Hey,” she said, smiling at him like she’d never seen anything as good as him walking toward her. It was all Paul could do not to grab her and kiss her.

  “Heya,” he said.

  “I could have come down with Jane.”

  “I didn’t want you to.”

  “Oh.”

  “I didn’t want you to get hurt. I wanted to help you.” He glanced at her leg, then back at her face.

  She swallowed, looking down for a moment, and he wondered if he’d somehow overstepped his bounds. Happily, when she looked up again, her expression was amused.

  “Cute,” she said, gesturing to his waders.

  He glanced down then shrugged, looking back up at her laughing brown eyes. “What? This doesn’t do it for you?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “So these do do it for you?”

  “I didn’t say that either,” she giggled, and the sound was like déjà vu. He’d heard that giggle before. Definitely. Somewhere. Was there an actress that giggled the same way Zoë did? Emma Stone, maybe, with her low, breathy voice like Zoë’s? That must be it, because he could swear he’d heard it before.

  “You look good,” he said softly, tucking a strand of her glossy black hair behind her ear. “You got some color today.”

  “A little,” she confirmed, feeling her cheeks flush deeper under his gaze.

  “How’d you get so pretty?” he breathed, stepping closer to her.

  “Oh, I’m—”

  “Don’t say you’re not. I’m big on telling the truth.”

  Her face fell, her forehead knitting in distress. He put his knuckles gently under her chin and tilted her face back up to him, surprised to see tears in her eyes.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said in a whisper. “You’re just so lovely.”

  He heard the soft strain in her voice and pulled her into his arms, closing his eyes as he felt her relax against his chest. He wondered if she was thinking about the guy she’d come to Gardiner to see. He wondered if that’s who made her feel like crying. That must be it. Anger bubbled up inside of him that anyone would dare to treat Zoë as less than the amazing woman she was.

  “This guy is not good for you, Zoë.” He drew back and she lifted her eyes to look at him. To his relief, she wasn’t crying, although her eyes were still a little glassy, capturing his with their uncertain, hopeful, heartbreaking depths. “If you were mine…”

  Her eyes dropped to his mouth and he watched, transfixed, as she murmured, “If I was yours…”

  He could tell her, or he could show her.

  Simple choice.

  He kissed her.

  ***

  Zoë closed her eyes as he leaned over her, claiming her lips with his. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her body flush against his, and she slid her flattened hands up his chest until they rested lightly on the throbbing pulse of his throat.

  She was terribly in love with him.

  And it was terrible.

  It was terrible that she had lied to him. It was terrible that she would eventually have to tell him the truth. It was terrible that she didn’t know how to make it all okay. It was terrible to love so hard. It was terrible to want this much. It was terrible to know that she would never, ever love someone as she loved Paul Johansson.

  His tongue slipped through her lips and all thoughts slipped from her head. She arched her back to fit better against him, and he held on tightly to her, pressing her up against the hardness between his thighs and pillaging her mouth with his tongue. He stroked the satin muscle then nipped at the soft skin of her lips, blowing her mind with the savage heat that they generated simply by touching.

  She ran her hands through his thick blond hair as his hands moved from her back to her hips, his fingers slipping under her T-shirt to touch the soft skin underneath. Her fingers tensed in his hair from the sharp sweetness of the sensation and she moaned into his mouth, wanting more, wanting his hands all over her body. With increasing passion, she dug her hands into his—

  “Excuse me! This is a public park! Oh, really. This is disgraceful!”

  Paul pulled back from her abruptly and her eyes flew open. She caught his startled expression, staring at someone behind her with a mixture of surprise and chagrin sweeping across his flushed face. She dropped her hands to his shoulders and felt them lightly shaking under her fingers; with one look at his face, she realized he was chuckling inside and trying very hard not to break into gales of laughter on the outside. She held on to him, feeling herself dissolve into quiet giggles, finally resting her forehead on his chest as her shoulders shook.

  “S-Sorry, ma’am,” she heard Paul say, his voice just keeping it together as his chest still trembled lightly, rippling against her with silent laughter.

  “Well, I should say so! There are children milling around!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Paul, his voice merry under contrition, another round of trembles making Zoë giggle harder. “Poor judgment.”

  “Indeed. Get a room. Or keep it clean.”

  Zoë snorted lightly against his chest, unable to keep the giggles under control.

  “Yes. A clean room. Thank you.”

  Paul stepped back then, taking her hand and pulling her away from the sour-faced, grumbling grandmother behind them.

  “Thanks for letting me take the fall,” he said, grinning at her when they finally got to the trail at the top of the cliff.

  “No problem!” She giggled, pus
hing a flyaway hair out of her face.

  Paul caught it and tucked it behind her ear, leaning down to give her a short kiss on the nose before sighing heavily.

  “Don’t say you’re sorry,” she said, loving the way the sunshine made his hair sparkle like gold.

  “I’m not,” he said, searching her eyes, his smile fading. “How come you couldn’t have come to Gardiner a month ago, Zoë?”

  She shrugged.

  “The guy…” he started.

  “Don’t think about him,” she answered, biting her lip and loving the way it attracted his eyes like a magnet when she did. “Things have changed.”

  “What? How? You came here for him—”

  “And found you.”

  He put his hands on her hips, pulling her to him, resting his chin on her head.

  “Zoë,” he breathed, and she heard the deep emotion in his voice. “I want—”

  “I know there’s a lot going on in your head, but…could we just be in the moment?” she asked softly. “Just for today? Just pretend we’re both free to do whatever we want. Can we do that? Couldn’t we do that?”

  He leaned back, smiling down at her and nodding.

  “We could do that.”

  Then he took her hand and led her carefully back down the trail to join Jane and Lars for lunch.

  ***

  The ride home found Jane in the front seat with Lars, with whom she chose music and traded whip-fast banter, while Zoë sat in the back, tucked up against Paul, her weary head on his shoulder, his arm around her.

  Jane and Lars had been thoroughly composed by the time he and Zoë had reached them for lunch, although the careful observer might have noticed the twigs in Jane’s hair and Lars’s heavy, slightly frustrated-looking bedroom eyes.

  Yup, remembered Paul, turning to look out the window. There had definitely been shenanigans.