Page 24 of Defeated

“You totally do,” Penny interrupts. “There was that one time I swear you were about two seconds from diving into traffic when Meagan Walsh asked you out.”

I’m considering how I can hang up before Penny can go through the list of women I’ve spent the last several years avoiding, when Penny says, “Hi, Zoe. I’m Penny, by the way. Not that anyone even bothered to introduce us.”

A hint of a smile curls Zoe’s lips, changing her appearance from wary to… not pretty. Something else. Beautiful.

Shifter hearing means Zoe can hear both sides of the phone conversation without me needing to put it on loudspeaker, but I hold the phone toward her, anyway.

She leans a little toward the handset. “Hi.”

Penny sucks in a breath, setting off alarm bells about just how many questions she’s about to batter Zoe with. “Chris is really sweet, by the way, Zoe. I mean, if you were interested. If you’re not, you totally should be. He’s really great at listening. So, are you from Jersey, or?—”

“We’ll leave you to it,” Colton interrupts. “Penny and I will speak to you later.”

Penny is still complaining as Colton must take the phone from her and hang up himself, saving Zoe from having Penny dig into her past.

Zoe peers up at me curiously. “You dove into traffic?”

I tuck my phone in my back pocket. “Winter Lake is quiet. There wasn’t that much traffic. I’ll get started on that coffee for us.”

Conscious she’s observing me, I turn on the kettle and grab cups from the second cupboard I open.

“I’m confused why you couldn’t tell Meagan you weren’t interested,” Zoe says.

Yeah, me too.

“Cream and sugar?” I ask instead, adding coffee to both cups.

“Yes, to both, please.”

After making the coffee, I hand Zoe a white mug and leave mine by the stove. “Hungry?”

Her pause is a little shorter than before. “A little.”

Nodding, I head for the refrigerator to make us some breakfast.

“Was there a reason your friend was trying to push us together?”

I pull out the bacon, eggs, and butter. “Penny thinks I should date.”

“Why?”

I flick on the stove, and after hunting out a pan, get started frying the bacon. “Because she cares.”

“I could be a serial killer.” Zoe gets up from the dining table and drifts closer. As I scramble the eggs in a small white bowl, she cups her mug in both hands and rests her hip on the kitchen counter.

“You could,” I concede.

“Your friend said you ran from women.”

“She did.” The bacon is sizzling, filling the kitchen with the savory and delicious scent. Zoe puts down her coffee and pulls out a couple of plates, handing them over. “Thanks. But that’s a long story.”

She observes me quietly as I add bacon to both plates and pour the scrambled egg mixture into the bacon grease. It’s beyond unhealthy, but scrambled eggs have always tasted the best this way.

Zoe chews her lip.

Is she working herself up to asking me about this long story?

My lip twitches when I think of what Penny would have done if she’d been here with us. Probably leaped on my back, demanding answers if she couldn’t get them any other way.

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