Ride: Hearts Wild Series Read online

  “Zoe, even if I wanted to help you—which, to be perfectly clear, I do not—how would I go about doing that?”

  “You’re her best friend. You know her better than anyone else. If anybody is going to track her down, it’s you. Now, you are going to help me.”

  “Don’t you think—?”

  “No. Now are you going to help me or what?”

  "Come on." Ian grabbed her forearm and pulled her even farther from the men staring at them. She tried to rip herself away, but he held on tighter, leading her more firmly.

  "I won't be manhandled, again," she protested. "You're just trying to—"

  "I'm trying to take you somewhere safe. I'm the foreman on this project, and I'm not going to stop my guys from working because you're having a nervous breakdown."

  "A nervous breakdown?" she spluttered, and he glanced back at her. She was pushing the hardhat tighter onto her head as they passed the bricklayers. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

  "Exactly," he said then pulled her harder still, only half worried that she might trip over her dress. He should slow down, though, if only to give himself time to think his next step.

  If Quinn said she needed space, then he knew her well enough to understand that she meant it.

  But he also knew Zoe well enough to understand that that wouldn't be an option, not while she was on the hunt. Zoe Andrews was the kind of girl who didn't just accomplish things. She attacked them. Watching her was like witnessing a cheetah in the safari, hunting down accomplishments and accolades until she was the leader of the pack. And when it came to Quinn? Well, that was when her real predatory instincts came out.

  He took a deep breath through his nose, thinking hard. If he agreed to this easily, Zoe would know he was up to something. But if he put up a fight and gave in…? Well, maybe he'd be able to sabotage her efforts and give Quinn the time she needed.

  There was no doubt it would be a sacrifice—of time, money, and sheer energy—but if anyone deserved that, it was Quinn.

  They finally crossed the threshold of the work site, and he released her.

  She rubbed the place where he'd gripped her and glowered up at him. "Was that really necessary?" she huffed.

  "You obviously don't respond to clear instructions." He pointed to the signs posted on the fence, and she snorted.

  "Look, I don't have time for this. Every minute with you is another minute Quinn is getting farther away. Now, are you going to help me or what?"

  "No," he said.

  "I'm sorry, I don’t think I spoke correctly. I meant to say, 'Get in my car. You're going to help me.’"

  Ian sucked in his cheeks. "What's in it for me?"

  "Your best friend's happiness," Zoe shot back.

  "I don't think so."

  He didn't think it was possible, but she somehow managed to narrow her eyes even more.

  "Fine, what do you want?"

  "We're driving my truck."

  "My car is sensible, though. Better gas mileage. All the supplies are in there—"

  "If you want my help, it's going to be on my terms."

  She tilted her head to the side, and the hard hat fell to the ground. "Is that so?"

  "It is. Now, once I help you with this, you are going to get off my back permanently, understood?"

  "I don't—"

  "You're going to stop bad-mouthing me to your sister," he cut in.

  "I—" she tried again.

  "Don't pretend, Zoe. I know you."

  Her mouth became a thin line. "Right. Fine."

  "Okay, then it seems we've struck a deal." He made for her car and opened the back seat. Hoisting her duffel onto his shoulder, he gestured to his truck and said, "After you."

  "There's food in the trunk."

  "If we're going on a road trip, we're going to eat road food," he said.

  She wrinkled her nose.

  "My help, my rules," he reminded her.

  "I hate this already."

  "I'm no more thrilled than you are." He tossed her bag into the bed of the truck then headed for the driver's seat. When she was safely beside him and buckled in, he started the engine and pulled away. "I'll call the guys and get the sub-foreman to cover for me for the next couple days."

  "Why the hell would it take days?" Zoe practically cried.

  He shrugged. "You never know. Now, come on. We've got to go to my place before we hit the road."

  At the end of this, Quinn was going to owe him. Big.

  Two

  "I still don't understand why in the hell you had to come up here," Ian said.

  Zoe rolled her eyes. "Believe me, I take no pleasure in being here. I just think it's more time efficient if we come up with a list together."

  "A list?" He opened the apartment door, his strong lips pursed in obvious frustration.

  "Yes, of places Quinn might have gone. Obviously, I called a few friends she works with at the elementary school, and we checked her apartment, but you'd know where she goes better than I would, so…" She slung her purse lower on her arm then pulled out her emergency notepad and matching pen.

  "Let me guess. That set has your name on it?"

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. In the corner of the tablet, there were little rose buds, and the vines swooped around elaborate lettering that read "From the Mind of Zoe Andrews."

  "None of your business," she snapped. "Now, let's get to work."

  She glanced over at him, but in truth, she was pretty sure he already had his work cut out for him without the list. His apartment—which she happened to know he'd moved into six months ago—was still lined with boxes. A sofa sat in the middle of the living room, directly across from a TV without a stand.

  This, she knew, was typical Ian. He worked too much and traveled even more, which hardly left time for him to spruce up the place. In fact, as she watched him stuffing clothes into a grocery store tote bag, she noticed that he was opening boxes strategically to gather his things.

  Other than the chaos though, she had to admit the place was nice. Hardwood stretched across all the floors, and genuine marble counters lined his sizable kitchen. It was an open floor plan with bright, modern light fixtures that would have looked chic and elegant if there had been anything around to compliment them.

  "This is how you live? Out of boxes?" She couldn't stop herself from asking.

  "The boxes are labeled." He kicked the box she stood in front of, and she saw the word "Shirts" scrawled in his sloppy handwriting. "I thought you'd appreciate it. Efficiency and all."

  She pursed her lips. "Let's just focus on the list."

  She crossed the room and plopped onto the couch, but tapped her pen against the pad of paper. "I had her friends check the art store and bookstores in town and in the neighboring area."

  "That's good."

  "It is." She let out a deep breath through her nose. "She probably wouldn't go anywhere Paul might be able to find her, though. Would she?"

  "I have no idea." Ian shrugged. "What do you think?"

  She narrowed her eyes. "I think you're being less than useful."

  "Fine." He raised his hands in mock defense. "Well, she's not exactly good with money, is she? She'd want to go somewhere she could stay for free for more than one night."

  "So no hotels, you think?" Zoe asked.

  "No hotels. Did you check your house?"

  Zoe snorted. "Yeah, right. No chance of that. I half expected to find her here."

  "After our fight?" Ian shook his head. "No, I don't think she's looking to talk to me, either."

  "Which leaves…"

  She knew of only one place where her sister could stay for free. But Quinn would never go there. She felt exactly the same way Zoe did—that the place was cursed, riddled with bad luck and even worse memories, even though it was the only thing their father had had to offer them when he passed.

  "You're thinking of somewhere," Ian said.

  "I'm not."

  "You are. You lo
ok the same way Quinn does when she has an idea, except, you know, snootier." He shot her a half smile.

  Zoe narrowed her eyes. "Fine. Yes, I thought of somewhere, but there's no chance she's there, and it's pretty far from Connecticut."

  "The farther, the better when you're trying to run away. What have you got?"

  She hesitated. What were the odds Quinn would choose that ramshackle apartment? Or… was she just avoiding it because she didn't want to revisit the place?

  She swallowed. "My father left us an apartment in Atlantic City. I was thinking the place is free and she has a key, but I seriously doubt she would have gone there."

  "Well, why not?" Ian asked. "It sounds like the perfect solution."

  "You know about my father." Zoe glanced away. "That's hardly the place she'd go if she wanted to relax and get away from it all."

  "Well, do you have six hours to check it out? It’s three hours there. If she isn't anywhere to be found, we get back in the car and zip home. No harm, no foul." He shrugged.

  "Except it'd be six hours Quinn could be getting farther away."

  "So what better ideas do you have?" he challenged.

  She raised her eyebrows, ready to fight back, then slouched back on the cushions behind her. "Yeah, okay, you're probably right. But let's check a few places in town first. We could split up to cover more ground and—"

  "No." He practically spluttered as he spoke, and she furrowed her brow.

  "What do you mean, no?"

  "Her friends are here. You can send them places to check for her. You and I need to get on the road because if she is going to Atlantic City, she's already got a pretty good head start on us."

  She considered this, and as she pictured the glimmering casinos and rolling shore of the city, her stomach twisted. Why the hell hadn't she sold that damn place the second she'd inherited it?

  Because she didn't want to. She didn't want to let go of him, in spite of everything.

  "Okay, you're probably right. Let's hit the road." She shoved her notepad back in her purse then held her hand out to Ian. He glanced at it, a mocking smile on his face, and she snatched it away.

  "You know what? Once we're done with this, I'm never asking for your help again."

  "Oh no," he said in mock disappointment. "Color me devastated. I have to ask, though, before we get on the road, don't you want to change out of your bridesmaid's dress?"

  Zoe looked down and was momentarily surprised to find that she was still wearing the flowing gown, though it was now soiled around the hem with construction dirt.

  She cleared her throat. "Probably a good idea. Do you have any sweatpants or…?"

  "There are some girl's clothes in the box in the bathroom. They were an ex's, and she left them here. They'll probably fit you."

  "Right." Her stomach flipped at that. "I didn't know you'd seen anyone long enough to call them an ex."

  This time, it was his turn to narrow his eyes. "You're right. You should stay in your bridesmaid's gown for the whole ride. So silly of me to think otherwise."

  Rolling her eyes, she stomped off to the bathroom to find a huge space, lavish with the same marble counters and floors as the kitchen. There was a box just beside the tub labeled "Bella."

  She opened it, held up a dress, then frowned. It was more sensible than she'd expected—knee length and springy. Based on what she knew about Ian, she'd half expected it to be full of mini-skirts and giant hoop earrings—anything and everything for the party-loving lifestyle.

  Zoe slipped from her bridesmaid’s gown and flung it over the shower rod before slithering into the floral sundress. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she ran her fingers through her hair quickly and took a deep breath.

  Quinn was going to be there. She’d be waiting.

  And the three-hour ride alone with Ian…

  A little shiver of anticipation rolled over her, but she ignored it, desperate to move on. Okay, she just had to focus and get through tonight. Tomorrow, everything would be different.

  Opening the bathroom door, she walked down the cool, wood planks until she met him in the foyer. “Ready to go?”

  He turned then looked surprised. His gaze raked over her, and for an instant, she could have sworn a look of raw, masculine approval took over his usually-nonplussed expression.

  “Yup,” he said. “All set. Figures you’d pick the tamest dress of the bunch.”

  "We are stopping at the first shoe store we see."

  Ian fought back a laugh as he glanced again at the platform wedding heels Quinn had foisted on her bridesmaids. If he didn't know better, he'd think she'd chosen them for the sole purpose of getting under Zoe's skin, like she wanted to know that in Zoe's ocean of comfortable, sensible wardrobe, there was the slightest hint of Quinn's sparkly, wild side, too.

  "Whatever you say." He turned the key in the ignition and watched as Zoe buckled herself in.

  He glanced at the radio, wondering whether he ought to put music on to drown out the awkward silence between them. But with his luck, Zoe would insist on listening to something dull and practical—like the early evening news or the local college's orchestral music station.

  He reached for the dial, but Zoe slapped his hand away.

  “Oh no. If I'm riding in your death trap of a truck for three hours, then I'm going to be the one controlling the radio, thank you very much."

  "Since when was it a deathtrap?"

  Zoe raised her eyebrows. "Not having this discussion. Just give over." She slapped his hand again then pressed the nob and fumbled through the stations.

  Sucking in his breath, he braced himself for a few hours of droning newscasters, but then the air filled with electric guitar, and Zoe let out a little contented sigh and sat back in her seat.

  "Classic rock?" he asked.

  She pursed her lips. "Is that a problem?"

  "No, no, I just thought... well, you don't seem like the kind of girl who goes for Springsteen and all."

  "Oh? And what do I seem like to you?"

  He knew this was bait. He stared ahead at the road, not allowing himself to answer her.

  She let out another sigh. "Look, when you spend as much time in casinos as I have, you learn to appreciate the music they play. I can't tell you how many times I've danced to ‘Jesse's Girl.’"

  He tried to picture that, Quinn and Zoe on the dance floor together, both mouthing along to the music as they bopped up and down. It was endearing, really, and a part of him wished he'd been there to see it.

  "They let you into the shows?" he asked.

  "They knew us pretty well. Saw us grow up. Plus, Quinn always had a way of weaseling her way into wherever she wanted to be."

  "Yes, that sounds like her," Ian agreed.

  "Anyway, that doesn't matter. What matters is that in three hours, we're going to find her and drag her back home to see what a huge mistake she's made, and we can all finally move on with our lives."

  "Oh?" Ian asked.

  "Yes. There's no other option."

  "And if she's not there?"

  Which she almost certainly is not...

  "Then we'll keep looking. We're not giving up until she's back in that wedding dress and heading down the aisle."

  Ian stared out the windshield again, joining the other drivers in flicking on his headlights as the sun set in the distance.

  "What?" Zoe asked.

  "Nothing, I didn't say anything."

  "But you wanted to," she accused. "Spit it out."

  "Maybe not," he said.

  Zoe sighed. "We've got three hours to kill."

  "Which is why I'm trying not to piss you off in the first twenty minutes," he countered.

  "If this is about your absurd protests about the wedding—"

  "Not absurd. You don't even know what I think."

  "I don't have to. You just hate Paul because you're in love with Quinn."

  "What?" He spluttered, glancing from the road to a shrewd-looking Zoe and back again. "Where the he
ll would you get that idea?"

  "Who refuses to go to their best friend's wedding unless they're madly in love and can't bear to see her marry someone else?"

  "Wow. You've been watching too many soap operas. That is not what's happening here."

  "Oh, isn't it?" She fired back.

  "No. And why don't you go ahead and tell me what's so amazing about Paul that Quinn is destined to be with him?"

  "See, only a man who loves her would think—"

  "No, really, let's focus on Paul. What's so great about him?"

  Zoe considered him for a minute, and he watched her from the corner of his eye as she finally began to speak. "He's a decent man. He has a dependable job, and he'll be there when she gets home from work. He doesn't travel much, and he knows how to handle his money. He doesn't drink or gamble."

  "Wow, super romantic list," Ian scoffed.

  "Who said anything about romance? He respects her and loves her. That's romantic enough for me."

  "Oh come on, Zoe. You can't honestly believe that man has ever taken a woman in his arms and made her feel like she was the only person who mattered in the world. He was probably too busy checking his investment portfolios to even think of doing something like that."

  "Don't be ridiculous." Zoe rolled her eyes. "That's hardly a reason not to marry someone."

  "Not feeling like the most important person in the world to them? I think that's the only reason to marry someone, and your sister is a person who needs to be adored."

  "She's been adored enough for one lifetime. A girl like her needs to be managed and cared for. Otherwise, she goes off and pulls stunts like this."

  "Are you serious right now? How can you not think it's important that there's some, I don't know, fire? Some passion?"

  "You know what? You were right. We ought to spend this trip in companionable silence. Without Quinn here, we have nothing to discuss." Zoe swallowed and then stared pointedly out the passenger's side window.

  The next few hours dragged. They sat there, listening to the music of Aerosmith and Fleetwood Mac while the tension between them grew. He knew that she, just like him, was thinking of all the things she could add to their conversation. For her, this was probably details about all the care Quinn needed, and in a way, he couldn't blame her.