Page 69 of The Devil's Scars

“Thanks, Silver,” Zoe said. “Great of you to come over at the crack of dawn on a Sunday.”

Silver waved a hand. “Burst pipes have no respect for weekends, sweetheart. And I don’t think of eight a.m. as ‘the crack of dawn’ any day of the week.”

“No?” Zoe headed for the kitchen to find the corkscrew. “Early bird, are you?”

“Sure am. I’m up every morning at five to do karate. I was already post-coffee and -breakfast when you called. It’s cool, Zee.”

“Well – thank you, anyway. I’m not used to having a landlord who takes care of the place.”

“You got one now, so don’t even give it a second thought. You’re family, and family doesn’t live with floods in the bathroom, and end of discussion.”

Zoe nodded, watched Silver head back into the bathroom with a mop, broom and dustpan. Keira started to follow him, and Zoe picked her up.

“I know you’d rather be with the cute guy,” she told her daughter. “But you’re stuck with me until he cleans up, little flower. Now, tell me, is wine at ten forty-two on a Sunday morning a terrible idea? Or the best idea ever?”

Keira gurgled.

“Thought so.” Zoe set Keira in her high chair with a bowl of Cheerios, most of which she promptly spilled on the floor. “Wine it is.”

“So.” Silver emerged from the bathroom, wiping his hands on a towel. “You’re all set, sweetheart. It’s just a patch job for now, but I’ll get a new pipe tomorrow and come back and fix it properly. Tomorrow night OK?”

“Sure.” Zoe picked up Keira again, carried her across the room, handed Silver his wine. “I finish at the parlor at six, but Maria can be here any time before that.”

“Seven is good… its not too late for this one’s bed time?” Silver tickled Keira’s chin, deftly avoiding the drool. “I need about an hour.”

“Nope. She goes down at about eight, then is up again at one or two to eat and party like it’s 1999, before crashing out at maybe three thirty.”

“Man.” Silver shook his head, followed Zoe to the sliding glass door leading to the backyard. “Then she gets up again –when?”

“Usually six. Maybe a bit earlier.”

“Good God,” Silver muttered, sitting down on a wooden deck chair. “Parenthood should come with naps scheduled into your day.”

Zoe laughed, put Keira in her bouncy swing that Silver had installed on the porch. “I wish! Instead I just live off caffeine and a super-positive attitude.” She sat in the other chair, relaxing in the bright sun, enjoying the hint of summer in the air. “Nice morning, huh?”

“The first really warm one.” Silver raised his glass. “Well… to Keira. A little kick-ass badass who takes after her beautiful, strong Mama. May those cute little feet take her on many journeys and adventures, but may they always carry her home again.”

“Oh,” Zoe whispered, surprisingly touched. “Silver… thank you.”

“To Keira,” he repeated. “And fingers crossed your reflexes never fail you, Zee.”

She laughed now, took a drink. “Right? Her crawling around meant growing eyes in the back of my head, now I have to follow her around and stop crashes if possible.”

“Aw. A few falls aren’t a bad thing. Teaches us to get up again.”

“You ain’t wrong, handsome.” Zoe toasted him. “You wise old martial arts magi type, you.”

“Knock it off, blondie,” he growled good-naturedly. “I’m a damn ninja, and no forgetting that, if you please.”

They fell quiet for a minute, just sitting in an easy silence, enjoying the sun, sipping the wine, and watching Keira bounce happily. And Zoe’s mind started to wander, to relax. Maybe to dream, just a little bit.

Thiswas what she’d longed for, that day in Keira’s room, when she’d been staring at the mobile above the brand-new Ikea crib. This warmth and calm and quiet joy. Her baby safe, growing, thriving; a little porch in the backyard dappled in sunlight; a lazy, gorgeous Sunday morning when everything felt right in her little part of the world. Hell, having a smoking hot man there with her was a bonus, but still – having a man there was idyllic. It completed the picture, somehow.

The problem was… Silver wasn’t the right man.

Right away, despite her efforts to not think about this, Zoe’s mind went back two nights. To Friday after work. To Scars’ office.

To him pushing her back on his desk, roughly pulling her jeans down and off, standing between her open, begging thighs.

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