Free Foundation for Three by Vella Day Page B

try to have some fun. And for God’s sake, don’t do your psychobabble shit on him.”
    Psychobabble shit? Ouch. “Don’t worry. I know how to act with a man.” Not really, but a lecture was the last thing she needed—especially with everything going on in her head.
    “Not even close, sis. Oh. One more thing. I know you’re old and shit, but this isn’t the nineteen forties. Women have been liberated. They vote now. They even ask men out.” Zoey would have commented had her sister taken a breath. “You can, and probably should be the aggressor in bed. Men like that. Doormats are passé. Don’t slap his hand if he wants some action.”
    Her mouth opened. If she followed all of Courtney’s advice, she might end up like her sister—alone and unhappy. At least Zoey was only alone. “I’m not a prude. Don’t forget Mark and Dave.”
    “Two men do not a party girl make.”
    Zoey didn’t want to be a party girl. “There were others.” Just not memorable ones. Zoey wanted to be open-minded. Was Courtney right? Her sister’s concern might have merit, but she’d think about it later.
    “Hey. Someone’s at my door, Zoe.” Zoey hadn’t heard anyone knock, but Courtney could have been in the bedroom. “Thanks for listening. As always.”
    “Love you,” Zoey said.
    “Back at you.” Then her sister hung up.
    Zoey smiled. Talking with Courtney did her soul good, but it also made her realize how much she missed having someone to confide in.
    While Zoey finished off her glass of wine she let her mind drift to what she wanted in life. Was she looking for something permanent? She was only thirty-two, but there were times when she wanted to have someone to dream about and have him dream about her right back. Maybe she did have things backward. Expecting the man to ask her out might be old-fashioned, but she wasn’t aggressive by nature. I asked Thad out. Why not Pete?
    Because she wanted to be certain of the consequences before she acted. For now, she’d pick up Thad tomorrow morning and have no expectations other than to help him with whatever he needed. She wouldn’t worry about Saturday night.
    Good luck with that, girl.

Chapter Eight

    T he next morning around eleven, Zoey’s cell rang. As soon as she saw it was Thad, her nerves skyrocketed. It was stupid to be nervous. All she was doing was giving a friend a ride home. She inhaled, ran her palms down her thighs, and then answered with as cheery a voice as she could muster. “Donovan’s taxi service. How may I help you?” Normally, she didn’t do something this spontaneous, but she felt like it this time. Maybe the “incident” had made her see just how fragile life could be.
    Thad chuckled and the tension in her muscles released. “It’s Thad Dalton.” Ooh, he sounded so formal and in control. Healthy now.
    He had to know she recognized him by the caller ID and by the way she’d answered. “Are you ready to go home?” There . She sounded more like herself, instead of a giddy schoolgirl.
    “Yup. All cleared and paperwork done. If I can convince you to give me a lift, I’d appreciate it. I’m downstairs by the front hospital entrance.”
    “Be right there.” After she informed Rachel that her return for the day was questionable, Zoey rushed to the lobby to meet Thad. Other than when she’d been in the ER, she hadn’t taken a day off in months. It was rather freeing. Maybe that was what caused her light-hearted behavior. Stop it . She wished she didn’t always analyze her every thought. Even Zoey knew it wasn’t healthy.
    As soon as she stepped off the elevator, she caught sight of Thad standing a few feet away from an empty wheelchair. He was quite handsome in his civilian clothes, and his unshaven face gave him a kind of bad boy chic. The bullet hole and bloodstains must have ruined his police uniform shirt, which would explain his different attire. If Pete had brought his clothes, he’d forgotten Thad’s boots. He still had on his