“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “No more time together on kitchen counters, I guess.”
She had been the one on the counter, but who was keeping track? “That’s doable.” Tongue in cheek, she promised, “If it will make you feel better, I’ll stay out of kitchens with you entirely.”
“Maybe that would work.”
At the look of serious relief on his face, she didn’t mention they were in one now. Or that their first kiss had happened in the entertainment room. Why burst his bubble?
“Well, then, shall we go apartment-hunting?”
He nodded. “Get your coat. I’ll drive.”
He definitely made a better driver than navigator, so she did not argue. Gathering the paper with her listings circled, her coat and her purse, she followed Grant out to the truck.
“Shoot.” She shoved her purse and the paper toward Grant. “Here. Put these in the truck, will ya?”
“Where are you going?”
“I forgot to put the cats in the bathroom.”
“Oh. Speaking of animals. Bud came out this morning.”
She had forgotten entirely about the missing hamster. “Great. That’s a relief.”
“Yeah. He didn’t seem damaged by his sojourn into my walls.”
Zoe just hoped the same was true for Grant’s wiring.
She found the cats and shut them in the bathroom, and then rejoined Grant in the truck. “Let’s go.”
He put the truck in gear. “Where to first?”
She named an apartment complex near the Dry Gulch. Grant could get his apology to Carlene out of the way. Looking in the backseat, she saw the beautiful crimson roses Grant had bought Carlene. It hardly seemed fair that Grant would bring her, Zoe, to a shattering climax and then give flowers to another woman.
Life was certainly twisted sometimes.
Grant must have noticed her eyeing the flowers.
“I bought them for her yesterday.”
“I know.”
“I should have given them to her when she insisted on going home, but I was too worried about Bud to think of it.”
“Yeah.”
“Damn it, Zoe. They are her flowers. I’ve got to give them to her.”
“I never said you shouldn’t.”
“Right. Well. So long as you understand.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
GRANT fought to concentrate on the road.
Zoe’s presence and his uncertain feelings toward her distracted him. It really bugged him the way Zoe could go from falling apart in his arms one minute to disinterested sidekick the next. She understood his rules. Didn’t complain about them. Didn’t she know that women were supposed to feel used and abused when men did the things he had done with her in the kitchen without committing to at least a casual relationship?
Zoe acted like the entire incident was nothing more than a small blip in their friendship. She wasn’t even mad that he was giving flowers to Carlene. He should be giving flowers to Zoe. Dozens of them. A man did things like that after experiences like the one they had shared.
It took what was left of his self-discipline not to demand an explanation for her behavior.
A little self-interest was mixed in as well. If he asked her what was making her respond with such insouciance to their passionate encounter, then she might expect him to explain what had happened. He wished he knew. The sight of Zoe hugging Tyler wearing nothing but a scanty piece of terry cloth had sent Grant right over the edge.
Rather than soothe him, her explanation had only made him angrier. More jealous. The feel of Zoe losing control in his arms had been so incredible he had forgotten everything but her.
Until Tyler and Jenny had come back.
Unfortunately, by then it had been too late. Grant was never going to forget the way it had felt to hold Zoe shivering in his arms. He gripped the steering wheel tightly. Never.
Zoe’s prolonged silence finally registered. He shot her a sidelong glance. “You okay?”
She met his eyes briefly, the brown depths of her gaze hiding her thoughts from him. “I’m fine.”
He nodded, refocusing his attention to the road. Right. “You want to check out the apartment complex while I stop by and get things straight with Carlene?”
“That’s what I planned.”
Great. So why did he feel like such a heel?
He dropped her off in front of an apartment complex across the street from the Dry Gulch. He didn’t like the proximity to the bar, but vowed not to argue with her about it. Not unless she actually ended up wanting to rent the place.
Zoe stepped out of the rig. “I’ll come over to the Dry Gulch when I’m done here.”
“Okay. See you in a bit.”
Grant walked into the dim interior of the country and western bar. His eyes took several seconds to adjust to the lack of light after the bright glare of sun off the snow outside. Tim McGraw was singing a ballad with his wife, Faith Hill, over the speaker system. The romantic words made him think of Zoe, and how unromantic he had been with her.