Chapter 3

There weretiny men marching inside Zoe's head. They weren't just marching, but they were wearing spiked shoes and digging their heels in every time they did an about-face. She cracked her eyes open and the light was so bright she immediately felt the nausea creep up on her.

"Light," she croaked. "Make it go away." The light disappeared.

Maybe she was dead. Maybe she'd just thwarted death by telling the light to go away. Someone was saying her name. She hated that person. Didn't they know every sound that reached her ears made the spiked shoe-wearing men give her an extra kick for good measure?

"Zoe."

"Jerk," she said, and heard someone chuckle.

"Zoe," the voice called out again.

And then she had a moment of panic. Maybe she was dead.

"God?" she asked tentatively.

"Gee, Colt," a familiar voice said. "That's got to be a record for you. Being called a jerk and God in the span of a few seconds."

"Happens more than you'd think," God said. "Zoe, open your eyes for me, honey. I know your head hurts."

Zoe's lashes fluttered open, and she braced herself, expecting to see the bright light again. But there was a face leaning over her instead. She had to hand it to God. He was certainly the most beautiful being she'd ever seen in her life. There was a halo of light around his face—he had gilded hair that curled slightly at the ends, a face she could only describe as one kissed by angels, and his eyes were the color of melted chocolate with the slightest golden ring around the edges.

"Beautiful," she said on a sigh. "But don't call me honey."

Was she allowed to tell God that? She wasn't sure what the protocol in a situation like this was, but she heard him chuckle and figured God had a sense of humor.

"How's your head?" he asked her.

"Hurts," she said. "Might throw up."

"I wouldn't doubt it," he said. "I'm going to shine a light in your eyes. Just need to check things out. You hit your head pretty hard."

"Mmmkay," she said. "I got a haircut."

"It looks great," God said. "Not everyone could pull a haircut like that off."

"That's what the lady at the salon said. She has a pantsuit I want. It'll make me look like a candlestick."

"What in the Sam Hill is she talking about?" Lucy asked.

"Her brains are a little scrambled," Mac said. "Is she going to be all right?"

"Nothing some ice and ibuprofen won't help," God said.

"Oh, good," Mac said. "I really like her. She's gorgeous, huh? You're going to like her too, Colt."

How many people are in the room?Zoe wondered. Two women at least. She recognized the voice of one, but she couldn't place it. And then God. And some guy named Colt. What a ridiculous name.

"I like everyone," Colt said.

"Uh, huh," Mac said. "That's why Grandma says you haven't settled down yet. You like everyone too much."

"I'm glad to know my love life is the topic of everyone's conversations," Colt said.

"It's because we love you. Everyone just wants you to be happy. And I'm telling you I think Zoe is the one. I've got a special talent for these things, you know? I'm good at matchmaking. Grandma says it's because I've got extra Irish in me."

"You're good with matching people with animals," Colt said. "I'm pretty sure you're batting zero for matching people with people."

"Well, it can't be too much different," she said. "I get the same feeling in my gut either way."

"Speaking of guts," Lucy said. "Do you need me here for this? My stomach is starting to growl. I'm an old lady. I've got to eat regular."

"Head on out and say hi to your daughter for me," Colt said.

"Huckleberry pie is on the menu today," Mac said.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Lucy said. "Your grandma makes the best huckleberry pie in the state."

"I didn't expect heaven to be so informal," Zoe said, but the thought of pie put her over the edge. "Gonna throw up now." And she did.

* * *

When her eyes opened again she had a little more clarity about her surroundings and a vague memory of a hairy dog and a metal lamppost.

She groaned and tried to sit up, but her brain wasn't sending the right signals to her body.

"Take it slow and easy."

She recognized the voice. It had been prevalent in the nightmare she'd just had where she'd met the most attractive man she'd ever seen and then thrown up all over him.

Zoe groaned and then said, "Sorry I threw up on you."

He chuckled. "I've had a lot worse. I'm Colt O'Hara, by the way. You're just lucky you had your accident right in front of my clinic. I was able to get to you quickly."

"So I'm not dead?" she asked.

"Nope," he answered. "And I'm not God. Just the town doctor."

"I figured as much," she said on a sigh. There was an ice pack on her forehead and it slipped down to her nose when she turned her head. "Ohmigosh. I'm the worst dog mother ever. I didn't even last thirty seconds before he got away from me."

"Don't worry," Colt said. "Chewy didn't go far. In fact, he told me he feels really bad about what happened to you. I gave him my leftover sandwich from the fridge to console him."

"He told you?" Zoe asked.

"In a manner of speaking. He's a good communicator."

Zoe pressed the ice pack to her forehead and gingerly sat up. "I need to get home. I've had more excitement than I can stand for one day."

"Mac said you live over in the new condos by the lake," Colt said.

"Mac?" Zoe asked, and then she remembered. "Oh, Mac. Where is she? Was she here or did I dream that?"

"She was here," Colt said. "She had to go back to work, but she said she'd check on you later. You should really stay lying down."

But he took her elbow to steady her as she ignored the suggestion and pushed off the exam table to get to her feet.

"Can't," she said. "Need to get home. Got work to do."

"Uh-huh," he said. "You're going to be woozy for a while. You might ought to take the rest of the day off. If you don't want to lie down, at least sit down. Let me get you some water."

Her vision swam and her stomach went queasy. She had to get away from this man. She'd already embarrassed herself enough.

"No," she insisted. "I want to go home. I've sworn off men."

"Ha!" Colt said. "I didn't realize we'd moved to the dating part of our relationship."

"Sorry," she said, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to settle her stomach. "My brain isn't forming the words I want to come out of my mouth."

"I'm good at reading between the lines," he said, taking her elbow again when she wobbled. "You must have seen me from afar and found me unbearably handsome. So you decided the fastest way to get into my arms was by giving yourself a concussion on my sidewalk. And now that you've been on my exam table you've decided you've bit off more than you can chew. I make you nervous. I guess Mac is right. We're destined to be together. She's a matchmaker you know."

She groaned again. "So I've been told." Her head was swimming with his nonsense. "O'Hara." His name rang a distant bell. "Are you and Mac related?"

"Yeah," Colt said. "Mac is my cousin Ryder's daughter. So she's my second cousin. Good kid."

"I would have known you were related without the last name. I've heard two of the most ridiculous stories today I've heard in my lifetime. You could both give me a run for my money in the storytelling department."

"Ahh, well," he said. "That's because the O'Haras come from a long line of seanchai."

"Are you going to make me ask what that is? Because my head really hurts."

"The seanchai are ancient Irish storytellers."

"Figures," she said. "I think you're both full of blarney. It must be nice to have family close by."

"It has its moments," he said. "If you're going to be stubborn at least let me give you a ride home. In fact, I insist on it. I can't in good conscience leave you to your own devices. You might end up in the lake."

"As an independent female, I'd normally decline that invitation," she said. "But I'm willing to set the feminist movement back a few years and accept your hospitality."

"Nothing wrong with having common sense, no matter who you are. And because you've already forfeited your feminist duties, I'll just go ahead and insist you let me wheel you out in this wheelchair. My Bronco is parked right out back."

He easily pushed her down into the wheelchair that was sitting outside the exam room. Sweat had started to bead at her brow from the exertion of walking across the room.

"I'm going to be really mad about this later," she said. "I'm an independent woman. I'm starting a new adventure."

"I'd call a concussion a new adventure," Colt said, shaking his head. This was why he dated empty-headed ninnyheads, as Lucy had called them. Zoe Green had a head as hard as a rock. "What you need is ice and rest. Do you have anyone to help you out? Are you married?"