Summer of Love - Carly Phillips Page 0,17

finished up early at the bookstore. I couldn’t see the point in driving around in circles for an hour when I could just come by here.” His gaze locked with hers. “I didn’t tell her anything.”

Zoe nodded. “I know.” Sam’s happy mood made it clear she hadn’t been the recipient of Ryan’s news. But that wasn’t the only reason Zoe was sure Sam remained in the dark. “I guess I trust you a little,” she admitted.

He raised an eyebrow. “I can tell by the way you came barreling out of the house that you weren’t at all concerned about me being alone with her,” Ryan said wryly.

She laughed at being caught red-handed. “Yeah, well, I think I decided I trusted you about the time I found out you bought Sam the book on pigs.”

“If she wants to keep a pet, she should learn how to care for it properly.”

Zoe had a hunch she knew where this was heading. “You mean she should follow the rules.”

He nodded. “Exactly.”

Zoe dug her sneakered toe into the mound of dirt and grass he’d excavated and searched for a diplomatic reply. “Look, Ryan, I realize you mean well and everything, but you should know, the chances of that pig being well trained while living in this house are slim to none.”

“That’s the wrong attitude to take. You can’t go into a long-term commitment like pet ownership on a negative note.”

“I’m not. It’s just that to train an animal, you need consistency. Everyone who has daily contact with the pig has to do the same thing, and in this insane asylum, it’s better not to hold out false hope.” She shook her head and laughed at herself, realizing she was beating around the point she wanted to make. “Look at it this way. Ari and I turned out just fine. Ima Pig will survive, too.” She gave him a direct look. “But I’m really not talking about Ima.”

He met her gaze, his brown eyes serious. “I figured that.”

“You need to know that Sam’s not a follow-the-rules type of kid. And you need to respect who she is as a person.” At that moment, Zoe realized she was, in a way, preparing Ryan in case he should end up with Sam.

The thought caused a sharp pain in her heart along with a gaping hole she couldn’t cope with right now. But she’d be doing a disservice to both Sam and Ryan if she didn’t face the possibility of losing her.

He walked over to a bench and sat down, leaning back against the white iron. “Five minutes alone with her and I knew she was more like her mother than I’d expected.” He gazed up at the sky as if there were answers and explanations there. “My family stifled Faith.”

Zoe had suspected as much. “And that can’t happen to Sam.”

Ryan nodded. “I know.” He understood what Zoe meant, so much more than she realized.

His sister had stepped out of the bounds of what his family considered proper, and she’d paid for her so-called crime by being disowned. Often he had wondered if his father had been glad Faith had disappeared because that way he wouldn’t have to acknowledge her problems and addiction. But then he’d heard his mother’s muffled crying and knew he didn’t comprehend as much as he’d thought.

For fear of being cut off from the only life and family he’d known, Ryan had walked the straight and narrow long after Faith had gone. Though his sister had been weak and an addict, she’d had the strength to stand on her own until the end. In an absurd way, he admired her for it.

“Ryan?” Zoe’s hand on his arm and her soft voice called to him.

He knew he shouldn’t be affected by her, knew he was lying to her family about being a social worker while planning to take his sister’s child away with him. He didn’t want to want her, yet he did. He couldn’t deny the attraction and had a hunch he couldn’t avoid acting on it, either.

“Ryan?” she called him again.

“Hmm?”

“I asked why you reacted so strongly to the mistake with the daffodils.”

He laughed because he wasn’t sure this subject was any easier to tackle than his growing desire for Zoe.

Standing, he walked back toward the patch of dirt. “My grandmother Edna grows roses. She has a garden that I suspect means more to her than any of her children.”

“And heaven help the little heathen who hits a baseball into the bushes and tramples