All Chapters of The Road That Leads Us Home (COMPLETED): Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Roman couldn't decide if the woman snoring next to him, the approaching storm, or the compliment from Zoya kept him awake. He chuckled. Wasn't sure the girl considered it flattery. She'd praised his physique with the same emotion as she'd thanked him for doing laundry. If any other woman had mentioned his bare chest, he would have taken it as a come on, but not with her.                           For the first time since arriving in Arcadia, he'd learned something about her. His mom's old yearbooks were bound to be packed away somewhere in the house. If he found them, maybe he'd figure out Zoya's identity and the reason she came here. Not that it mattered anymore, because it didn't. She needed him... and he liked being needed. Ophelia was old enough to take care of herself now. She didn't need him, not anymore. But Zoya did.                

Miles focused on his watch and fidgeted in the chair. This was his first face-to-face meeting with Marion O'Donnell-St. Clair. He'd worked the case hard for three months and didn't have much to report, but he was making progress. Trouble was, the more he found out about the woman the less he wanted to find the girl.                     The estate oozed opulence. Outside, he'd entered through a wrought-iron gate and traveled a pebbled drive to a sprawling two-story Georgian style. The interior was just as impressive. Marble floors. Mahogany stairs curving twenty feet up to the second level. The Triple Crown molding probably cost more than he made in a year. Crystal chandeliers hung above him and in the adjoining room. If everything the former housekeeper said about the widow was true, he understood her desperation to find her step-daughter. A woman used to this lifestyle would do anything to keep it. 

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. 

Roman came to his feet, then sat on the bed. What the hell? Sex? He'd considered it for a nanosecond, but decided against it. Why? Wasn't like he hadn't been toying with the same idea. Even in the last hour he'd wrestled with the notion, so why didn't he invite her in and get to it? She had left in no particular hurry, a bit resigned, but otherwise seemingly unaffected by his rejection. Sometimes he thought he was the only one in Arcadia who understood her, and the other half of the time he had no fucking clue what was going through her head.                     Okay, she was horny. And so was he. Shit. He had to give her credit. It was the most straightforward seduction he'd had. He ran his hand over his face.                     What was wrong with him? When had he ever refused to get laid? She was an adult. He was a grown ass man.

Homer sat up straight and perked his ears, which caused Zoya to do the same. She didn't hear anything, but the dog must have. She closed her sketch pad and scooted closer to the window. She wished it would be Roman coming to find her. Such a stupid idea. Why did she keep torturing herself with these ridiculous fantasies?                     Homer whined and Zoya squinted into the afternoon light. Finally, a figure came into view. Too light skinned to be Roman, but who? In all the years she'd been coming here, other than Tommy or Mariana's dad, she'd never seen another guy at the treehouse.                     When the stranger got to the thick pines blocking out the sun, she recognized him. Flynn. Her heart hammered. Maybe he wouldn't climb the ladder. Just stand below and check it out. She slid on her butt to the rear wall, pulled H