feel compelled to leave, and life around Anniversary could return to normal.
Except for one thing. Seeing Zoe again had reopened that aching, empty space inside his heart, the place only she could fill. He’d managed to forget how much he missed her. Until now.
And he sure as hell didn’t like it. Not one bit.
If not for the tantalizing scent of the chicken frying, he’d have already made an excuse to leave. Instead, he was still lost in thought when Mrs. Bell reappeared in the doorway. “We’re just about ready. Are you going to join us?”
“Yes. Sorry.” He set the flyer down on the coffee table. “I was just...thinking.”
Mrs. Bell smiled sadly and touched his arm. “You miss her, too, don’t you?”
Startled, he swallowed. It took a second, but he realized she meant Shayna, not Zoe. Again, guilt squeezed his chest. Instead of answering, he ducked his head and headed toward the kitchen.
A heaping platter of perfectly golden fried chicken sat in the middle of the table. Keeping his gaze locked on that rather than Zoe, who stood at the stove stirring something, Brock took a seat. His mouth watered.
“That looks wonderful, Mrs. Bell.”
“I made rice and butter beans to go with it,” she said, glancing at her watch. “Marshall’s late. He’d better get here soon or he’s going to miss his favorite meal.”
Brock debated whether or not to mention that Marshall had been in to the feed store, but kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t running interference for the man.
Zoe moved closer, taking a seat directly across from him. He looked up, unable to help himself, and his mouth went dry. With her delicate features and full mouth, she’d always been beautiful—now she was exquisite. Her skin glowed against a soft curtain of sable hair. She was polished and fashionable in a way that only served to remind him she didn’t belong in Anniversary.
“Help yourself.” Mrs. Bell pulled out her own chair, passing Brock a bowl full of plump butter beans. “You’ll have to take a plate to Eve. Her apartment is on your way home. I know how your sister loves my fried chicken.”
“Everyone loves your fried chicken,” Zoe teased. Her lighthearted tone reminded him of the old Zoe, the one who’d spent the day at the lake with him, worn old cutoff shorts and one of his ratty T-shirts, and let the sun warm her freckled nose. Now, as far as he could tell, not a single imperfection marred her perfect, creamy skin.
“I wonder where Marshall is,” Mrs. Bell mused again. “It’s not like him to be this late without calling.”
“Try his cell,” Zoe said, wiping her hands on one of the paper napkins piled in the center of the table.
“No, that’s all right.” A shadow crossed the older woman’s face. “He’ll come home when he comes home.”
Zoe stared hard at her, then returned her attention to spooning rice and butter beans onto her plate. When she’d finished, she slid the bowls over to him, taking care not to accidentally touch his fingers.
He was glad, he told himself. Damn glad.
Silence fell while they all dug in. The crispy chicken had been cooked exactly right, and the seasoning made the flavor explode in his mouth. He had three pieces and could easily have had more, but he didn’t want to appear gluttonous.
“That was wonderful,” he said, putting down his fork and pushing his plate away. “I’m stuffed. Thank you so much for inviting me.”
“Oh, you’re welcome, dear.” Mrs. Bell looked from him to Zoe and then back. “So.” Her smile looked a bit forced, and her voice sounded overly bright. “Zoe tells me you and Shayna were splitting up.”
He glanced over at Zoe, who shrugged.
“We were.” He cleared his throat. “She was planning on moving out. I’m sorry she didn’t tell you.”
“Apparently there were a lot of things she didn’t tell me.” Her mouth twisted and for one awful minute he thought she might cry. “I just wish she’d told me where she was going, if she did leave town like everyone seems to think. She sure didn’t take an awful lot with her.”
Brock nodded. Only a few of Shayna’s clothes were missing. A weekend’s worth, both he and Cristine had estimated. Not enough to account for the amount of time she’d been away, but indicative of the fact that she hadn’t intended on returning to the apartment right away.
Zoe reached over and covered the older woman’s hand with her own. “Don’t worry, Mama Bell. We’ll find her, I promise.”
Her words had Brock clenching his jaw against the urge to tell her not to make promises she couldn’t keep. But Zoe had always been impulsive and passionate. She truly believed what she said, he could tell. And who was he to say she was wrong?
Assuming Shayna wanted to be found.
Zoe jumped to her feet. “I’ll take care of the dishes. You go and rest, Mama.”
“Oh, no. That’s not necessary.” Mrs. Bell waved her away, her expression sad. “You’re a guest in this house. You should be the one to go sit down. I imagine you and Brock have a lot of planning to do. Though I’m grateful Cristine is organizing things, I have more faith in the two of you.”
Brock watched with interest as Zoe’s blush deepened. “You did all the cooking. Now go sit. I insist,” Brock said.
Her refusal to look at him felt like a knife twisting in his gut. He knew there was more to why she’d run off, virtually leaving him at the altar, despite her partial explanation. And now she’d come back, believing he was marrying her best friend, and treated him like a stranger.
Worse, now Shayna had gone missing right after he’d broken things off between them. He, more than anyone, knew the awfulness of that.
“I’ve got to get going,” he said, pushing to his feet. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Bell. Your chicken is still the best in Texas.”
The older woman’s eyes narrowed. “Thanks, but why are you in such a hurry to run off? I thought you and Zoe could compare notes and maybe work out a plan to find Shayna.”
His chest felt tight. Careful to keep his gaze trained only on Mrs. Bell, he shook his head. “We’ll do that tomorrow, at Cristine’s thing.”
He wasn’t sure how he felt about the way she eyed him then. As if she could see his torment, knew his guilt.
“I understand.” She patted his cheek. “I’m so glad you could stay and eat.”
“Thank you again.” He couldn’t get out of there fast enough. As soon as he got home, he planned to pop a beer, make a few more phone calls trying to locate Shayna, and work on forgetting Zoe had ever come back to town.
Chapter 3
One of the bad things about having an extremely popular blog, Zoe thought, was the need to update it every single day. Though that had become easier since the blog’s advertising revenue
