kind of stuff is made right. It doesn’t stink up an area as it’s subtle. Barely there, but when it’s noticed, it’s really noticed.
After wracking my brain the night Zoe left, I decided on two things.
One, I didn’t ask for Zoe to enter my life like this. Two, I’m not going to be able to get her out of my head—yes, still the one on my shoulders.
Once I admitted those two basic, inescapable facts to myself, I had to settle on a plan of action. It’s just how I’m made up. I can’t let anxiety or uncertainty rule my life. I’ve always been one of those people who had to make my own way, find my own solutions, and create my own destiny.
So, I decided that since I wouldn’t be able to purge Zoe out of my head anytime soon, even if I haven’t been able to explain to myself why exactly that is, or pick apart straight down to the tiny, little, gritty parts and pieces, I decided there was only one thing to do.
Make a plan.
I’m officially here on said plan. The name of that plan? Operation Ex-Stepsister Seduction.
Basically, I decided I couldn’t let Zoe get away until I’ve figured out what it is about her that’s so unique, so different, and so…so…so undefinable. Why I just know, I can’t exactly say. It’s just something I know is true with every fiber of my being.
Maybe I’m dramatic, but it doesn’t make it any less true.
So, I’m here. And clearly, Zoe is pissed.
As soon as we’re in the sky, she turns to me. “Why don’t you move to California or something? All the good tech stuff is there. It seems like the perfect place for you.”
“I’ve thought about it, but I like Miami. It’s home.”
“You’re so far from home that you might as well be in a different city.”
I shrug just to piss her off, and it works. A slow red flush creeps up the beautiful column of her neck.
“Great.” Zoe goes back to staring out the window. At least she’s opened the shutter now.
“My mom lives in Colorado. When I told her all about running into you again, she was so excited to meet you. I arranged for us to have lunch with her on Thursday.”
“What?” Zoe whips around. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“No. I didn’t think you’d have any objections. I thought you and my mom always got along well. She always did like you, and she missed you after. She just didn’t think it was appropriate to contact you, given you were still a minor, and she and your dad ended things on a pretty low, vicious note. And then too much time went on. She was embarrassed about it when I told her, but she was also very excited. You wouldn’t break her heart and deny her lunch now, would you?”
“You’re such a dingle dangle,” Zoe grinds out under her breath. She stares straight ahead at the seat in front of her. She’s embarrassed, but she’s trying to pretend she’s not. It’s not working out any better than pretending I don’t exist.
“One day,” I say before leaning obnoxiously close to her ear to whisper, “You’re going to have to grow some lady balls and learn to swear whenever you want.”
“No thanks.”
“My mom actually suggested this resort. I mentioned I was looking for a place, and she knew of this great outfitter who had a bunch of cabins and whatnot for rent. She has quite a few friends in Colorado now, and someone knew someone who knew someone who said this is their slow month, and while they have a few other guests, it didn’t take much convincing for them to open up the rest of the cabins they don’t usually use and rearrange a few other reservations.”
“By convincing, you mean with crazy amounts of money.”
“Something like that.”
“But it’s all a tax write off anyway,” Zoe bites out sarcastically. She might not be looking at me, but at least she’s talking to me.
I wait a few minutes before I ask my next question. I make sure every single word is as loaded as I know the statement will be coming out of my mouth. “Would you like a whisky?”
“No!” Zoe tucks her hands between her knees. “No,” she hisses again, a little more quietly this time. The flush is now spreading from her neck up to her cheeks.
“I’m sorry for…”
Fast as lighting, Zoe’s hand shoots out and covers my mouth. “Oh, no,” she breathes into my ear