Page 6 of Meant for Me (Magnolia Bay #3)

“ No .” Zoey dumped the filter full of yesterday’s coffee grounds into the trash can under the sink. “But I can’t stay knowing that. Everyone has worked so hard to get tourism going again around here, and Noah almost lost the inn once. I can’t be the reason his business suffers.”

He grunted. “That’s noble of you.” Which was Zoey—always putting others first. He watched as she bustled around, like she already lived there, pulling out two mugs and using bottled water for the coffee pot. The picture was homey, cozy…downright dangerous.

“Is your offer still good?” She paused, mugs in hand, shooting him a look full of restrained hope.

Something stirred, something inside him he hadn’t felt since Kirsten. Hadn’t wanted to feel. Because look what that had gotten him? Betrayal. Sleepless nights.

Tattoos that wouldn’t completely come off.

Zoey wasn’t a girlfriend or an ex though. She was a friend, a constant in his life. She was different.

He opened his mouth to say yes, to assure her, then stopped. Was he really ready for her to be under the same roof if he couldn’t focus while riding on the same boat?

He rocked back on the bar stool, thinking, holding her curious gaze. Maybe this was his answer of how to help her out without feeling guilty over the whole tour thing. He could spend more time on that, focus in during the day, only see Zoey in the evenings, when he didn’t need to concentrate.

Yeah. This would be fine—so long as he kept all those errant thoughts like this one at bay.

He relaxed. “Like I always said, you have a room here as long as you need.” He’d never had long-term company before. But if it had to be someone, might as well be Zoey. She knew him the best of everyone in Magnolia Bay, and the fact she’d finally accepted his offer was nice.

Not that he was lonely, exactly.

“It won’t be for long.” Zoey dumped the fresh grounds into the filter, talking faster than usual—even for her. Maybe she didn’t need the coffee. “I’m sorry to just show up like this, but I really don’t know where else to go.”

He squinted.

“I just feel like a burden everywhere, you know? Rosalyn’s house is so fancy, I wore my shoes in the living room once, and now I’m pretty sure I’m on the blacklist with their housekeeper.

” She started the coffee pot, jiggled the carafe into place.

“And Mama D talks all night like an endless slumber party. Trish snores so bad I can hear her through the walls from the futon…which is sort of like sleeping on a lead pipe.”

The coffee pot gurgled, as if trying to keep up with her spill. Linc rubbed his eyes.

Lot of words for six a.m.

“Sadie let me crash a night but then had to take care of her sister after that, which was fine because I think I’m allergic to her cat.

” Zoey talked faster, staring into the dark liquid brewing.

“And Miley offered to let me stay with her, but I couldn’t tell if she was serious, and honestly, she’s kind of scary, even if she is a comedian now. ”

So Linc had been a last resort. Which he figured, but it still stung a little. Did she even want to do this? He hesitated. “Zoey, maybe?—”

“It really is okay to stay here, right?” She turned a pleading gaze on him, and his heart twisted. “I won’t bother you.”

He fought to hide a smile. “Yes, you will.”

She shoved her fingers into her hair and winced. “No more than usual, anyway.”

He snorted. “I told you it’s fine, and it’s fine. As long as you’re comfortable with it.”

“It’ll just be for a few days, week tops. That check is coming, any minute now.” She snapped her fingers. “Then we’re back in business, baby.”

“Right.” Somehow he doubted it was going to happen that quickly. He leaned forward, rested his arms on the island. “There’re a few ground rules we should probably go over, then.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh. Sure, yeah. I mean, it’s your house.”

Starting to feel more like a home by the minute, with her there. He cleared his throat. “First one being, don’t you dare make me eat more porridge cookies.”

Her lips twitched. “That’s fair, I guess.”

“Use the kitchen, if you want, but I’m only your guinea pig for the good stuff.”

“Done. What else?”

“No noise after midnight or before six a.m.”

She held up both hands. “For the record, today I knocked at six-thirty-two.”

“Cutting it close.”

“Rules are rules.” She grinned. “What else?”

“Clean up after yourself. I hate dirty dishes.”

“Also fair.”

He pointed at her. “No touching my protein powder.”

“Which one?” She gestured to the arrangement of black canisters lining the counter by the backsplash.

“I said the protein powder. The others are pre-workout and creatine, obviously.”

“Obviously.” She wrinkled her nose at them. “I have all the muscle I need for baking already, don’t worry.”

“Wouldn’t hurt you to do a pushup every now and then.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe I’ll have some rules too. Like no insulting your guests.”

Linc scoffed. “Guest? This is more like a hostile takeover. I saw the size of your suitcase.”

Her eyes lit in challenge. He loved arguing with her. Pretty sure the feeling was mutual. “Oh yeah? Don’t change the subject. I’m not the one who implied you were scrawny.”

They both simultaneously looked at his crossed arms, his thick biceps filling the sleeves of his T-shirt. He lifted a brow at her.

A tinge of color coated her cheeks. “Well, okay. Obviously that wouldn’t be realistic.”

He held up one hand. “I wasn’t insulting your appearance when I suggested working out. You’re obviously pretty…” Oops. Too far. He coughed.

Her turn for a brow raise. “Oh? You think I’m pretty?”

He cleared his throat. Danger, danger . “I was saying, pretty much in shape. You know, for your lifestyle.” He swallowed, tried to look nonchalant.

“Why, Linc Fontenot, I do declare.” Zoey dramatically fluttered her eyelashes, took on a thick southern accent that didn’t sound too far from Elisa’s real voice. “You sure know the way to a woman’s heart.”

“Come on, you know what I mean.” He didn’t know whether to laugh, insult her further to distract her, or simply take his coffee and vanish to the front deck. “Working out is good for you. Endorphins and all that chemical stuff. You could probably use some of that lately.”

“Ahh, I see. I didn’t realize you’d gotten a life coach certificate.” Thankfully, this time she grinned, letting him off the hook.

Though catch and release was the last game he should be playing with her right now. It was all their usual banter and fun to her. To him…well, it was getting way too real, and she could never know that fact. He gulped his coffee just as Zoey’s phone chimed.

She pulled it from her pocket, looked down. “Voicemail.”

Huh. People actually set those up?

“That’s weird. It didn’t even ring.” She frowned and began tapping the screen.

“I don’t get great service out here.” Exactly the way he liked it—minimal distractions. Except for this pixie-sized one taking over his kitchen. At least the coffee she’d made smelled good.

She held the phone to her ear, listening to the message. “It’s automated.” Then her eyes widened, cheeks flushed. “Oh no.”

“What?” On second thought…“Wait.” He couldn’t handle anything else pre-coffee. He got up, pushed past her to the gurgling pot, and switched the carafe with a mug, expertly catching the stream of hot liquid before swapping them back.

Linc leaned one hip against the counter and took a long sip. The brew burned his mouth, but it would keep him alert for whatever was next. He inhaled a long sniff of steam. “Okay, go.”

Zoey’s face, for once, wasn’t full of hope. “That was the insurance company.”

He took another long sip, frowned. “Go.”

“They said the claim was still pending.” She paused.

Another sip. Swallow. “Go.”

“Something about failure to disclose relevant information.” Zoey rolled in her lower lip, eyes wide beneath her bangs. “I didn’t report the new fryer or add it to the policy after it was installed.”

“That shouldn’t be reason enough to deny a claim.” Linc tilted his head. “I’m sure that kind of oversight happens all the time.”

She stared at her cell phone. “Apparently it’s important.”

“You’d only had that dumb fryer for a few weeks. Isn’t there a grace period?”

“Maybe, but since they’re chalking the fryer up to the source of the fire, then it gets complicated.” Zoey closed her eyes, bracing herself. “Is this my fault?”

“Did you start the fire?”

Her eyes flew open. “Of course not.”

“Then of course not.” He took another sip. Ah, caffeine. Usually got to drink it in silence, but oh well.

“They said it could be another few weeks, maybe longer.” She pulled on a strand of her dark hair.

“This is getting more serious than I realized. I have no job. No income. All my stuff is in storage…” Then she abruptly stopped, drew a tight breath.

Her smile returned. “But it’s not that deep, right? I’ll figure it out.”

Oh brother. He set his mug by the sink and crossed the floor toward her, taking her by both arms.

She looked up, startled. He rarely touched her. Sure, he’d held her as her business burned. And numerous times she’d slapped him in the arm after a joke, or hopped on his back or tried to drown him in the bay by jumping on his head, but he very rarely initiated physical contact.

The feel of her slim, toned arms under his hands reminded him why. He ignored that, for now, held tighter. “You’re already figuring it out. Like you keep saying—everything is going to be fine.”

Weird, him assuring her . He didn’t like this role-swapping, but she’d saved him enough times over the years from the pit—wouldn’t hurt him to return the favor for five minutes. Not that he really knew how.

Should he hug her? When was the last time he’d hugged anyone? Besides Delia Boudreaux, maybe, when he ventured into church last.

Before he could decide, Zoey launched toward him, wrapping her arms around his torso and holding tight. Her warm body pressed against his, and she looked up at him, relief and gratitude swimming in her blue eyes. Her pink lips eased into a smile. “Thank you.”

He stilled, gazed down at her, taking in the way she stared back at him like he was some kind of hero, absorbing the smell of her fresh shampoo, noting the heat of her arms and—nope. Definitely shouldn’t hug her.

Linc pried free, stepped back toward the coffee. “Here. Drink this.” He poured a mug, handed it to her so fast a few drops sloshed over the side onto the floor.

He grabbed a towel from the counter and swiped the spill with his foot, ignoring the bewildered look on Zoey’s face as she took a slow sip of the brew. She’d be really shocked if she knew what had danced through his mind while she’d held him like that.

Had he made a mistake? He leaned against the counter, folded his arms over his stomach. Good grief, his heart thudded like he’d already done his morning workout. Blame it on the coffee, maybe. Then his gaze registered the Folgers container.

Decaf.

Well shoot. He scowled. He needed somewhere to put this adrenaline, or he’d do something really foolish. Like give in to another hug. “Forgot one more house rule.”

“What’s that?” Zoey sipped her coffee, eyes closed, relishing the brew, as if everything was, once again, all sunshine and roses.

“Ten pushups every morning before breakfast.”

She blinked at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I never joke about fitness.” He dropped to the kitchen floor. Better crank out a quick twenty. Sure, he’d found a way to keep her off his boat and away from Boiling Bayou.

But he was pretty sure that with inviting Zoey to stay there, he’d just jumped straight from a sinking ship into a churning sea.