What a good, simple life. What a practical, beautiful dream.
She held his wine glass out for him, and he took it with another grateful smile before showing her to a seat beside the firepit.
Chairs circled the entire thing, but he settled in beside her all the same.
Probably, she thought, to stare out at the lake. Probably.
"Beautiful night," she said.
"It is." He nodded.
The silence stretched between them for a long moment. Then he said, "Are you worried about Quinn?"
"I'm always worried about Quinn." She laughed. "All my life, I've worried about Quinn."
"You ought to give yourself a break about that. She's a big girl. She can handle herself."
Zoe laughed again. "You would think that."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
She hedged, wondering about the best way to say it. "Look, I get it. But we don't have to pretend, right? There's only one reason you would take off work and come with me to chase after her."
Ian frowned. "Because she's my friend."
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Zoe sighed. "Really? Even now?"
"Look, if you're saying I love Quinn, I do."
Her heart stopped dead in her chest.
"But I love Quinn the way you do. Like a sister." He spread his hands wide in front of him.
"And that's why you missed her wedding?" Zoe raised her eyebrows.
"You know why I didn't go, and I would think after you met my parents, you'd be able to understand that a little better. What Quinn and Paul had? That was friendship. She needed something better, something deeper. Something like they have." He shrugged, like it was the simplest explanation in the world.
"You have to know that it's a one-in-a-million chance of finding someone like that," Zoe shot back.
Ian's mouth quirked to the side, and in the firelight, she could see the faintest hint of his five o'clock shadow. "That means there's a chance, though. Doesn't seem worth it not to try and have the best."
"That's why you do so much looking?" Zoe asked then wanted to clap her hand over her mouth or hide in the trees.
"Well, someone is feeling feisty tonight." Ian laughed. "You know, Quinn told me you thought that about me, and I didn't believe her."
"Thought that about you? Isn't it a fact?"
"My last girlfriend was three years ago," Ian said.
"I'm not talking about girlfriends," she challenged, and he leveled a stare at her.
"Ah, and what makes you so concerned about who warms my bed at night?"
"I'm not." She said the words too quickly, but there was no taking them back any more than there was a chance of taking back the others.
"You seem awfully interested for someone who isn't interested," Ian said. "What about you, Little Miss Love-is-for-chumps? When was the last time you got laid?"