Page 30 of Reckless
Taking risks, even with something as seemingly small time as rock climbing or a heat-of-the-moment hookup, just wasn’t worth it. After all, if Zoe slept with hornets, at some point she should sure as hell expect to wake up stung.
Nope. Not happening. Not now. Not again. What she needed was to forget the rush she’d felt while rock climbing, the pure electricity of Alex’s kisses on her skin, so she could nail her caution sensors right back into place.
“You’ve been working on that coffee for a while,” Sara said, hooking Zoe’s thoughts back to the diner in short order. Which was just as well, since Zoe was really just throwing confetti at her own pity party. “Can I get you a fresh cup? I brewed a pot of French roast not even five minutes ago.”
“Oh, no, I’m good.” Zoe lifted her mug to her lips in an effort to prove the fib, but karma bit her square on the butt when she got a mouthful of coffee that had long since gone cold. “Ugh. Okay, maybe I’m not that good.”
“Change your mind about a pick-me-up?” Sara tipped her chin toward the wait station behind the front counter, but Zoe shook her head.
“No thanks. I think in order to really pick me up, you’d need to put something a hell of a lot stronger than coffee in my cup.”
“Whoa. Not to put my nose where it doesn’t belong, but that sounds like man problems.”
Zoe shrugged, and what the hell. Her pride had already taken the hit, and as much as it smarted, she was still standing. Maybe copping to her schoolgirl syndrome would let her put the whole stupid kiss behind her so she could get back to normal, once and for all. “If by ‘problems’ you mean I got all jacked up on rock climbing endorphins and tried to twist myself around my community service volunteer like a bag full of pretzels, only to have him friend-zone me without the friendship, then yup. That’s exactly what I’ve got going on right now.”
Sara’s brows disappeared beneath the thick fringe of her dark brown bangs. “Ouch. If it’s any consolation, the guy kind of sounds like he graduated with high honors from the asshole academy.”
Zoe couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Maybe a little. But to be honest, it’s really just as well. Heat of the moment hookups with the wrong guy never end in happily-ever-after, and anyway, I’ve got way more important things to focus on right now.”
“You’re probably right about getting down and dirty with the wrong guy, but it still sounds like you’ve earned something stronger than coffee in your cup.” Sara slid a glance at the watch strapped to her wrist. “My shift at Bellyflop starts in half an hour. Not to brag, but I make a pretty kick-ass martini. If you feel like downloading your crappy day, first one’s on me.”
The coffee cup still in Zoe’s grasp found the table with aclunk. “You work at Bellyflop, too?”
“Working two jobs pays the bills,” Sara said with a nonchalant lift of one shoulder. “Plus, staying busy keeps me honest, and I don’t mind the restaurant scene. Anyway, the offer stands if you feel like chucking your worries.”
Zoe paused. Not that she didn’t feel like chucking her troubles far and wide, but… “I’m kind of gross from spending the day at Hope House,” she said, running a hand over her sauce-splattered T-shirt. Of course she had to have served spaghetti for lunch.
But Sara just gave up a grin. “Sing me a song with a tune I don’t know. I’ve got a bag in the back with an extra top and some trial-size toiletries. You’ll be fresh as field greens in no time.”
“Wow.” A smile tugged at the corners of Zoe’s mouth, the knot of tension that had lodged itself right between her shoulder blades unraveling by just a fraction. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, then.”
“Oh, you’ve always got a choice. You just might not always like your options.”
God, wasn’tthatthe truth. But while it wasn’t as routine as going home to flip through cookbooks and sink up to her chin in a bubble bath, heading to Bellyflop for one impromptu drink was hardly wild and crazy. Sara’s offer certainly sounded more fun than Zoe’s standard go-to; plus, even though it was a step outside her norm, breaking bad with her usual Saturday night schedule paled in comparison to rock climbing and sizzling hot firefighter kisses and all the other things she wanted to put in her rearview.
After all, how much damage could one martini and an hour at the local sports bar really do?
Zoe stood, her mind made up. “Well, right now, my choice is to take you up on that drink. Just give me ten minutes and your bag of tricks, and I’ll be good to go.”
* * *
Zoe smootheda hand over the hem of the form-fitting black and white striped top she’d borrowed from Sara, unable to dampen her smile as she looked up at the blue neon sign boastingBellyflop Sports Bar, Home of the Hottest Teams and the Hottest Wings in Fairview!Okay, so she’d had to get a little creative with her kitchen-frazzled hair and her eau de pasta sauce scent, but it hadn’t been anything a fistful of bobby pins, a couple of sanitizing wipes, and some body spray couldn’t fix—at least, temporarily. In fact, between the tube of mascara Zoe had found lurking at the bottom of her messenger bag, the swipe of merlot-colored lipstick she’d borrowed from Sara, and the deep scoop that rendered the new-to-her top practically backless, she felt pretty darn good.
Thank God for getting back to normal. Even if she was taking the scenic route.
“I haven’t been here since I’ve been back in Fairview,” Zoe said, meeting Sara halfway between their cars in the partially full parking lot. In fact, since she’d left for culinary school at the ripe old age of twenty-two, she could pretty much count the total number of times she’d been to Bellyflop on the fingers of one hand.
“It’s still a little early, but the Saturday crowd is usually fun.” Sara’s black leather boots clacked over the pavement as she led the way toward the bar. “There are a bunch of regulars who like to come in to watch whatever game is on, maybe play some pool while they have a couple of beers. Just hang with me at the bar and I’ll introduce you to anyone you don’t already know. You’ll be totally fine.”
“Okay, sure.” Zoe eyed the low, darkly bricked but warmly lit building, the last of her residual unease disappearing from her veins. Two pairs of oversized picture windows graced the bar’s facade, one on either side of the massive glass and mahogany double doors. The bright blue awning that ran the length of the upper ledge of the window casings fluttered gently in the spring evening breeze, and the light from the brass fixtures flanking the windows combined with the glow from the interior of the bar itself, cutting through the shadows to unfurl like a slightly raucous but still cheery welcome mat.
As Sara swung the front door in a wide arc of invitation, the earthy aroma of beer fresh from the tap and the tangy-spice scent of hot wings hit Zoe’s senses like a culinary frat party. Small clusters of people gathered either in booths or tables dotted throughout the dining room or tall, communal tables by the bar in the back of the wide, airy space. Every ounce of wall space was covered in team pennants and memorabilia from every sport Zoe could think of, and even a few she hadn’t. Bright neon mingled with the soft gold light overhead, illuminating the place with a festive glow that put her instantly at ease even though she didn’t know a home run from a hat trick. A couple of pool tables were barely visible in a smaller alcove to the right of the bar, and yeah. Forgetting her troubles in a place like this was going to be a piece of cake.
Except for the fact that Alex Donovan was sitting at a table full of firefighters, right smack in the center of the bar.
“You cannot be serious,” Zoe breathed, her heartbeat doing the hey-now in her chest despite her best-dressed effort to keep it level. But from what she’d been able to glean, there wasn’t anybody in Fairview who Alex didn’t work, skydive, or swap favors with. It figured he’d spend his Saturday night at the hottest bar in town.
“What’s the matter?” Sara asked, but she was too perceptive for her own good. She followed Zoe’s stare—which she’d dropped just a second too late—to the table across the dining room. “I’m sorry, I just figured you knew the guys from Eight sometimes hang out here, what with it being your dad’s house and all.” Sara gestured to Alex with a subtle nod. “I take it you know Mr. Congeniality.”
