Friday morning, Zoya got to work early. As hard as she tried, she couldn't get Mariana and Tommy off her mind. The last few days she'd tried to get Roman to talk about Flynn but didn't get much out of him.

If he was Tommy's father, then why didn't Mariana think him worthy enough to tell? Maybe he thought only of himself and did whatever it took to get what he wanted.

She flipped a page in her notebook and studied the instructions for her next client, seventy-four-year-old, Clyde Rickards. Men were so much easier than women. With a little foundation and a dusting of powder, they were good to go. Well, it took longer if they needed a haircut which Clyde didn't because he'd been a member of a local country western band and wore his in a ponytail.

She removed the protective cape, tightened the knot on his tie, then smoothed his shirt and jacket. After checking him off the list, she studied her word of the day. Alacrity meaning eager, willingness or readiness. She'd been judging Flynn with alacrity which wasn't fair. She'd not even met him.

At two o'clock, she sat in the break room eating a peanut butter sandwich and enjoying the solitude. The area was small with only one table, four chairs, fridge, and a couple of vending machines. One for snacks and the other for drinks. Since she was just about the only person who used it, she wished she could redecorate. A pretty rug would improve the commercial tan tile and the place could be cheerful if she gave the white walls a splash of color. Original artwork wouldn't hurt either.

Her musings shattered when Joshua's voice echoed down the hallway. He was headed her way. She hoped he wasn't making a last ditch effort to escort her to the banquet. At least she had a legitimate excuse.

The door flew open. He stepped inside and gave her the eye. "Hey, how's it going?"

"Fine."

"You coming tonight?"

Her stomach clenched. "Yeah."

"Good. I'll save you a seat."

Before she could answer, Mrs. Walters, the secretary peeked inside and pushed a white box tied with a ribbon toward Zoya. "Handy I found you here because I think this will need to be kept in the refrigerator."

Zoya took it and stared at the imprint. Arcadia Blossoms. The local shop delivered funeral arrangements all the time, but to see a tag with her name on it surprised her. She unpinned the envelope from the bow and read the card. Looking forward to tonight, Plus One.

A rush of adrenaline pushed a knot into her throat. She tugged the satin. Inside she found a wrist corsage of white orchids surrounded by baby's breath tied with ribbon. She wanted to cry. Dad had given her a bouquet at her art show. She'd picked flowers with Stella and then Charamel, but she'd never gotten a corsage. Much less one from a man. A man like Roman.

"Looks like I won't need to save you a seat."

She'd forgotten Joshua was in the room. "Uh? Oh, yeah. I'm bringing someone."

"I didn't think you dated."

She didn't like his tone or the sneer. "He isn't a date. Just a friend. A plus one."

"I'm bringing a basketball buddy. Figured I needed another guy to help me turn a boring banquet into a party."

Zoya wasn't sure what he meant. Were they going to shoot hoops? She didn't have to wait long for him to explain.

"Yeah, I've already bought the vodka. You can drink it and no one knows because it doesn't smell."

"You shouldn't do that. If your dad finds out, you'll get in trouble."

"Yeah, well, I already stay in trouble with my old man. He keeps harping about me taking over the business one day. Like dealing with dead people for the rest of my life is what I want to do." He scooted a chair from the table and dropped into it.

Zoya didn't remember inviting him to join her. She wanted to be left alone to fantasize about Roman because the moment she'd seen the corsage, her imagination had run rampant. She moved on from wanting to kiss him to doing more serious things. He must like her, or he wouldn't have done something this nice. She smiled, then her euphoria crashed like a Jumbo Jet.

He felt sorry for her!

She was an idiot to think for even a moment she meant more to him than some silly kid. Still, whatever the reason, it was a nice gesture, and she should thank him. No reason to be mad. She shouldn't jump to conclusions with so much alacrity.

Roman didn't know if the corsage pleased Zoya or not. Her personality gave nothing away. She'd thanked him for it but he'd expected more of a reaction. She'd been acting weird since she got home, quickly disappearing into the woods and taking Homer with her. He figured she'd gone to the treehouse to sketch.

Just as well. Without interruptions, he finished the back deck, except for staining.  The bathroom was complete and laying carpet was the only thing left to do in the master suite. 

By the time he came from the shower, he heard the water come on in her bathroom. He went to the closet and found his new clothes, pressed and on hangers. Didn't know when she'd ironed, but the proof was before him.

His stomach churned. Why the hell was he nervous? Easy answer. This would be the first social event he attended since getting out of prison. He'd logged plenty of hours in bars but those didn't count.

He laid his tie and the necklace he'd taken from Charamel's jewelry box on the counter, then strolled outside for some air.

He'd spent nights in his cell dreaming of what he'd do here, and now those dreams had come to fruition.  He needed new bedding. Maybe he'd take Zoya into Breaux Bridge to help him choose something. Who was he kidding? She avoided mingling with people and if tonight's function wasn't required, she wouldn't be attending it.

Damn, he wanted a cigarette, but it'd been eight days without nicotine and it was finally getting easier. At least he wasn't waking in the middle of the night craving one.

"Are you ready?"

Her voice shook the Marlboro urge away. He faced her and lost his breath. Who was this person? She looked like a runway model. Big eyes and long legs. It was hard to imagine this woman in front of him was the same girl he'd been living with.  "Damn. You look great."

"Thanks. You look nice, too."

He reached for the necklace and dangled it in the air. "I remembered Charamel had this and it'll look nice with your dress. Turn around and I'll fasten it."

Zoya stared at the pendant, then at him. "You don't have to feel sorry for me."

He lowered his hands. "What are you talking about?"

"Agreeing to be my plus one. The corsage. The necklace. You're trying to make up for the prom I never had, and I don't need you to."

She'd misunderstood everything. Hell, how could he feel sympathy for her when she had a shit load of cash hidden in her room?

"That has nothing to do with this. You work hard. Cleaning, cooking, laundry. I just wanted to do something nice for you. But excuse me for trying to show some appreciation."

He dropped the necklace back onto the countertop, grabbed his tie, and looped it around his collar. After two attempts at tying it, he jerked it off and tossed it onto the back of the chair. Her presence was frustrating the hell out of him, in a big way.

She picked it up and stepped closer. Maybe he wasn't trying to pity her at all; Roman didn't really seem the type. Maybe he was just being nice.  "I'm sorry. I'm just not used to... this. People being nice for no reason other than being nice." People only ever pitied her, for being odd, or because of her dad. She worried her lip as she shoved his hands away. "I can help you with this. I used to tie my dad's all the time." She explained as she worked. "This is called a four-in-hand-knot. You cross both strips, wrap it twice, bring it up, then back through the bottom loop."

She was so close, her warm breath floated over his neck, and his heart kicked up a notch. When she was done, she slid the knot tight against his collar, then rested both palms on his chest. "The corsage is pretty, and I'd like to wear the necklace." She didn't wait for him to do it, she slid it from the counter into her hand and held it out. "It was Charamel's favorite. I know she'd like for me to wear it."

He took it and she turned for him to fasten it.

"Lolo gave this to her on their twentieth wedding anniversary. Had it made special," Roman said.

She pressed her hand over the pendant. "I know."

Roman leaned close to her ear. "I'm sorry I snapped at you." God, she smelled good. Honey and vanilla from her bubble bath. "Turn around." She did, and he pretended to eye the necklace, but wanted a closer look at her. Those big brown eyes. High cheekbones. Kissable lips, with a tiny mole above her lip that always drew his attention to her mouth. At that moment, he stopped thinking of her as just some girl, and just like that, he wanted her. "Looks great. You ready to go?"

"Yes."

Two hours later, he fidgeted in his chair waiting for Zoya to return from the ladies' room. The banquet had been nice. Delicious steak and a decadent dessert called Molten Chocolate Cake with Cherry sauce. As usual, Zoya picked at hers, but Roman had devoured everything put before him, even hers when she finally gave up chasing food around the plate and switched hers with his. He had to wonder if she ate anything other than peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

He glanced at his watch. She'd been gone too long. He rose and headed toward the exit. As he came to the end of the hallway, he heard voices. Zoya was talking to someone.

"Damn, Zoya.  How old is your boyfriend?"

"He isn't my boyfriend."

"Well, then he won't mind if you give me one little kiss."

"Stop, Joshua. You're drunk. This isn't appropriate."

"No, I'm not. I've wanted to kiss you for a long time. That and a few more things."

"Don't touch me or I'll tell your dad."

"You think he'll believe you over me? Come on, just one little kiss. One little feel."

"Stop it!"

"Get your fucking hands off her." Roman maneuvered Zoya out of the way, slung Joshua into the wall, and held him in place by his wrists. Then he moved his face in close. "Don't you ever touch her again without her consent. If I find out you've so much as looked at her wrong, I'll rip your heart out and shove it down your throat. You feel me?"

He squeaked out his answer. "Yeah."

Roman didn't move. Rage coursed through his veins. He hated men who abused women and didn't take no for an answer. If this kid was already doing it, his path was set.

"Roman!"

He snapped from his daze. He now realized he had the boy by his throat. He let go and stepped back, then looked at Zoya with wild eyes, as if he realized the extent of his anger. "Get your purse and say your goodbyes. We're leaving," he told her, gently, but the command was there. He wouldn't meet her eyes, hanging his head as if he was ashamed.

Joshua slumped to the floor, gasping for breath.

Roman didn't wait for her return; he headed outside. Once there, he paced trying to get his emotions back in order. He could have killed the kid and might have had Zoya not been there. The thought terrified him. Damn, he wished he had a shot of whiskey.

Fifteen minutes later, they rode in silence. He wanted to say something, but didn't know what. This was the second time she'd seen his dark side. He wondered how many more it'd take before she ran like hell to get away.

He figured she was upset or scared or disgusted. He wished she could tell him, but she was so introverted and awkward, he knew that wouldn't happen.

He glanced over at her, but she stared straight ahead. Then she drew a deep breath. He braced.

"My name is Dove."

The weight pressing down on his chest lightened. "Like the bird?"

"Yes. But you can't tell anyone. I'm still Zoya."

He reached for her hand and held it. "I won't."  She squeezed his hand in response, thankful.

She wasn't angry, frightened, or repulsed because she shared one of her deepest secrets. She was thankful he'd helped her with that creep. And so was Roman.

Guess she finally trusts him enough to tell him her real name.

Don't worry, she's still going by Zoya. I don't want to confuse anyone.

TEASER: Startled by the sound of her phone, Zoya stared at caller ID. Not Mariana or Lemon. Not the funeral home. Must be a wrong number, but she answered anyway.

Uh oh.