But that had been okay. He was the charming one who made them laugh. Larger than life. Handsome as hell. Successful. Foolishly, despite resisting him for so long, she’d felt lucky to have been chosen by him. He’d even charmed her mother, which was hard to do, hooked up to a chemo IV as she had been at the time. Their upcoming marriage had given her something to hope for. When they’d broken up, her mother’s heart had broken, too.
For that, if for nothing else, Gemma despised him. But obsessed? No. She wanted nothing more than to do her job and be left alone. But working at the same paper was a constant reminder that the choices she made in life would always haunt her.
That was her burden to bear. His was being an ass.
*
After handing the driver a twenty in the parking lot in front of the restaurant that sat tucked along a curve in the Marietta River, Noah Mathis stepped out of the cab. The tasteful sign in front read Beck’s Place. This restaurant, like nearly everything about the drive here, surprised him. From the outside, the building looked rustic, yet upscale, with lots of glass windows. Unexpected, in this out-of-the-way place.
Inside, huge beams crisscrossed the restaurant’s vaulted ceiling, and modern chandelier lights hung beneath them. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected of Marietta, but clearly, he’d underestimated the town’s potential charm.
Through the large front windows he could see the place was full of people and…damn, if that wasn’t Mick Chester chatting up a pretty woman.
A smile tipped his mouth. Spotting Mick in a crowd wasn’t hard. He was six five if he was an inch. They didn’t call him “The Viking” for nothing. And there was Paul, looking a damn sight healthier than he’d looked for years.
And there was Trey Reyes and beside him, Tommy’s widow, Holly McGuire—the focus of this prewedding cocktail gathering. He still hadn’t gotten over the surprise that those two had ended up together. The road had been a long one for all of them since the war. Himself included. But Holly and Trey? Now that was something he hadn’t seen coming.
Though he thought he’d prepared himself to see them all again, some emotion caught at the back of his throat at the sight of them looking so happy. The long trip to Montana from the East Coast had left him wanting to stretch his legs before heading into the party to sit some more. He was late anyway. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.
The setting sun sank in the July evening sky and already the stars were appearing. He followed a path toward the water on the other side of the restaurant. The stars here were no joke, smeared thickly across the dark, velvety dome above his head. In the city, he could count visible stars on one hand. City lights blotted out the rest.
Closing his eyes, he inhaled the warm evening air and willed his pulse to settle. He would enjoy this week with his “brothers.” He’d earned a little R&R. His family had no idea where he’d gone. He’d left a note telling his mother not to worry. If he’d given his VP the heads-up, Jonas Rednow would have argued against his leaving at this crucial time in negotiations. Naturally, he’d have ignored him. More and more, that scenario had become his workplace dynamic. Him, forcing the issue. Them, pushing back.
Which was exactly why he needed this time away. He had to clear his head. Think straight about the future and what he wanted. The opposing side would wait. They’d have no choice.
He ran a finger under his collar and loosened his tie to relieve the choking sensation around his throat. No good wishing the situation was otherwise. He’d known since the day he could say his name what lay in his future. And except for the few years in the military he’d spent with Trey, Paul, Mick, Jase and the others, his road had been unwaveringly pointed in one direction. One that was not, and would never be, of his choosing.
He turned his head to scan the silvery path of moonlight on the water and the sound of an owl hooting nearby. Only then did he notice the woman who stood staring out at the water from a short dock that ran along the edge of the shore. She was wrapped in some filmy bit of fabric over a dark dress that hit her somewhere above her knee. And her long hair—shining in the moonlight—glinted where her curls touched her shoulders and followed the curve of her back. She had a phone in her hand and as she typed into it, she started walking back, head down, talking to herself.
And just like that. Bam! Down she went. Heel caught in some board maybe, or that oversized purse of hers had caught on the railing, but she sprawled hard on the wooden dock with a shriek of surprise and pain. In the dark, he heard something go plonk! into the water.
A few moments later, he was kneeling down beside her as she rolled to a breathless, whimpering sit.
“Whoa,” he said, “you okay? That was quite a spill.”
At his sudden appearance, she gasped and recoiled in surprise.
He raised his palms in front of him and moved deliberately back. “I just saw you go down from over there and thought you might need some help.”
Her eyes darted behind him, scanning the loneliness of this place. “I—I don’t, but…but thank you,” she said, tenderly cupping her elbow and scooting farther away from him. She winced down at her dinged-up elbow and shook the pain from her hand.
He stood again and gestured at the restaurant. “I can go get someone from inside if you’re worried about—”
“That’s not necessary. I’m totally fine.”
“Except,” he said, pulling a pocket square from his lapel pocket, “for the…blood on your knee. And your…chin.” With a wince, he crouched down beside her and gestured toward her chin with the handkerchief. “Here.”
She flinched, but took the cloth from his fingers, pressing the hanky against her chin with a wince. “Ugh. Thank you. This is so embarrassing.” Scowling down at the dark splotch of blood on it, she shook her head. “I can’t remember the last time a guy handed me a handkerchief. Or, for that matter, even knew what one was.”
She locked eyes with him. Hers were hazel. That much he could see in this light. And shot through with gold, the color of sunsets near his grandmother’s estate in St. Croix. The kind of eyes that could seem to look right through you. Yet, hers were unexpectedly warm. Or maybe there was something else. Maybe, like him, she found it almost impossible to look away. Even when doing so seemed absolutely prudent.
“Thanks,” she said finally, attempting to hand back the handkerchief.
“You keep it,” he managed. “There’s more where that one came from. You can thank my father for that. He was old school. But, I’ve got to admit, I never fully appreciated how handy carrying one might actually be until just now.”
Her gaze skittered away from him. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better since I ruined this one.”
He straightened and offered her a hand up. “I am. But it’s also true.”
That earned him a smile as she accepted his help. “I’m sorry for before. I’m from a big city. I’m not really used to small-town friendliness. I’m afraid I’m the suspicious type.”
“You’re not a local, then?”
She shook her head. “You?”
“Nope. I’m Noah,” he said as she straightened, limping on her bleeding leg. Her hand fit perfectly in his and he held her until she got her balance, only reluctantly letting her go.
“I’m Gemma. So…Noah, like the flood?”
“Yeah. I’ve never heard that one before.”
She bit back a smile. “Sorry. You’re a rescuer by nature, then?”
“Me? Nah. I also try to avoid arks and anything that smacks of animal husbandry.”
She laughed again, a disarming sound that zinged him right in the gut.
“You can’t fight your nature, you know,” she said. “None of us can. I’m a klutz and you’re a rescuer. Ow.” With a wince, she reached down and peeled off the strappy sandal from her right foot, its heel skewed at a funny angle. She gave a wistful sigh. “I don’t even want to think about how much these stupid shoes cost me.” Then she began scanning around the dock at her feet for something. “Wa
it. Where’s my—?” She inhaled dramatically.
“Yeah,” he said. “I think I heard your phone go into the water.”
Her eyes widened. “Nooooo!”
“Sorry.”
She gripped the railing of the dock and peered down into the black depths for her lost phone. “There goes my life!”
He shrugged. “I could go in and look for you.”
“What?” She turned an incredulous look on him.
He shrugged. “It’s just water. Can’t be that cold in July.”
A horrified laugh erupted from her. “No. You’re all…well, dressed up and…no. Thank you. I would never… Oh, what difference does it make? It’s ruined anyway.” She bit her lip and clung to the railing.
“Unless it’s one of those waterproof—?”
“It’s not.”
“Yeah, then, it’s a goner.”
She groaned with a little laugh. “That’s pretty much the way my whole week has been going so far. Why should tonight be any different?” She started limping toward the shore and he followed along beside her. “And there I was,” she murmured, “composing the best comeback ever to my… Oh, never mind.”
“In my experience, the best comebacks pretty much always come about a half hour too late.”
“So true.” She regarded him for the first time with a genuine smile.
Pretty was the word that came to mind as he studied her. With a heart-shaped face, flawless complexion and a smile that could damn well stop a guy’s heart. She came nearly to his shoulder, but she wasn’t a delicate thing. More like…athletic. A runner, maybe?
“You have some friends inside?” he asked.
“Yes, of course,” she said quickly, then sent a guilty look up at him. “No. Not exactly.”
“You’re alone?”
“That sounds a little pathetic, doesn’t it? But a girl has to eat, right?”
“I do it all the time myself. Let’s get you inside so you can clean that up.” He offered his arm and she took it, just as a door opened outside the restaurant above. Laughter and music spilled out onto the empty patio. A tall, shadowy figure, holding a longneck bottle of beer, moved out to the edge of the deck, then peered out toward them.
“Holy shit. Mathis, is that you?” the man called.
Gemma canted a curious look at Noah.
Emotion welled up in his throat to be talking to Mick. Joy, mixed with sadness, mixed with memories both good and bad—all rolled into a ball of gratitude to be here with all of them again. “Hey, Mick!” He waved up at him.
“Hey, man! What the hell are you doin’ down there? The party’s up here. And…who’s that with you?”
“You should go,” she urged Noah quietly. “I’ve kept you long enough.”
“Her name’s Gemma,” he called to Mick, ignoring her. “We’ll be right up.”
“We will?” she muttered.
“You’re alone, right?” he said. “So am I. There’s free food.”
From above, Mick called, “Well, hello, Gemma. And about time you made it, brother. We’d about given up hope of ever seein’ you again. Trey and Holly will be real happy you got here for their wedding. Get your MIA ass up here, ASAP.” With a nod and a silent beer salute, he pushed away from the rail and wandered back to the party.
“Wedding?” Her word sounded a little strangled.
“Prewedding,” he corrected. “Wedding’s not ’til the weekend.”
“Wait. He’s your brother?” she asked as they picked their way up the path.
“Absolutely,” he said. “Just not by blood.”
*
“Noah! Over here!”
After Gemma headed to the ladies’ room, Noah spotted Trey Reyes waving at him from the smallish gathering on the far side of the restaurant where a group of his friends along with some others he didn’t recognize were mingling near a long, casually set table.
“By God, you came after all,” Trey said when he reached him. “We weren’t sure you would.”
The two men dispensed with the usual male reticence and hugged fiercely. Noah rarely showed emotion. That was how he coped. But there was no disguising the gladness that filled him at seeing Trey again, and all the rest of them. “Nothing could have kept me from seeing you two get hitched,” he told him, clapping him on the back. “Two of my favorite people in the world. Congratulations, man.”
Holly McGuire appeared beside them with a big smile, looking pretty as ever. “Noah Mathis. As I live and breathe.” She pulled him in for an affectionate hug of her own, only to blush as his eyes lowered to the baby bump he encountered.
Speechless, he stared up at them both. The last time he’d seen Holly was at her husband Tommy “Tomahawk” McGuire’s memorial in Philly. She’d been a widow for a year and a half now, but most of that time since, she’d spent traveling the world to scatter his ashes. All of them knew how she’d loved Tommy, despite the fact that he’d been a little careless with his marriage. When she’d come back here to Tommy’s hometown last December, with the last of his ashes, Trey had taken his shot with her. That she’d ended up with him now felt somehow right. They looked happy. But a baby? “Whoa,” was all he could manage.
Trey play-frowned at Holly. “Did you forget to tell him, babe?”
“It might have slipped my mind when I sent the invitations,” she admitted, brushing a motherly hand across her expanding belly.
It damn well had. Not that he had any right to feel excluded after being absent for so long himself. But still. This was a surprising development. “My God. Trey Reyes, a daddy?”
Holly laughed and wrapped her arms around Trey’s middle. “It would appear so.”
“Hey,” Trey warned Noah, “I’ll have you know I’ve spent the last week up to my elbows in pink paint. So don’t go casting aspersions.”
He reached into Trey’s dark, straight hair to pick something pink out. “Ah, I was wondering what this is right here.”
Trey good-humoredly slapped his hand away and felt for more pink paint in his hair.
“Just kidding,” Noah said. “Really. Congratulations, you two. I’m really happy for you both. More than you could know. So…it’s a girl?”
“Yup. I’m a lucky guy.” Trey gave Holly a kiss on the cheek.
“Lucky indeed,” he agreed.
Trey shook his hand with a little extra bump sequence only they knew. “So where the hell have you been? How’s the leg? We’ve missed you.”
Before he could answer any of that, Cowboy—aka Jase Wheeler—appeared beside them. “It’s Noah. Hey guys—” he called to the two men loitering close to the nearest bar. “Noah’s here!”
Being the center of attention was the last thing he wanted, but he knew that was unavoidable for the time being. He’d missed their last reunion in Laguna at the house Trey’s brother Nio had rented. Eighteen months had gone by since he’d seen any of them. Too long.
Mick Chester slapped him on the back from behind, then pulled him into a man-shake/bear hug. “It’s good to see you, man. What the hell is this with goin’ off the radar for months at a time? What’s it been? A year and a half? Where you been?”
“Here and there,” he said, evading the question. “I know. I’ve been traveling a lot for work.”
“And having some luck on the lady side, apparently,” Mick added with a wink, glancing around for the girl from the docks. “Where is she?”
“Ladies’ room. She’ll be out in a minute.”
“What’s this?” Cowboy asked. “Mathis has a woman?”
This was apparently big news in the tight-knit circle, though he had not been aware the dearth in his dating life had become a topic of speculation. He wondered if Trey was the only one who had paired up since the war. As far as he knew, they were all still a bunch of lone wolves, licking the wounds of war.
All eyes turned to him again. “Don’t start,” he said. “And don’t jump her the minute she comes out. We just met and she’s not mine.”
“N
ot how that looked from the upper deck,” Mick pointed out.
Cowboy turned to Paul Dobbins, who’d just joined them. “Is it just me or is he blushing?”
“Hey—” Noah warned. Holly laughed, kissed Noah on the cheek and disappeared into the crowd behind them.
Paul laughed and reached for Noah’s hand with both of his. Noah pulled him into a careful hug.
“Hey. Good to see you, Noah. Glad you could come this time.”
“You, too.” He gave Paul the up and down. “You’re looking healthy.” The smallest of all of them at six feet, Paul wore the residual weariness of a man who’d been through hell. And he had. But he had come out the other side and was on the upswing. At least that’s what it looked like from here.
Paul unconsciously shifted his weight off his latest prosthetic leg. “Feeling healthy. Surgeries are mostly behind me now. Everything’s good.”
There, but for the grace of God… Noah knew he could have easily—certainly would have—died if not for Trey getting him the hell off that mountain. Paul hadn’t been as lucky, getting shot in the first minutes of the battle. He’d lost the lower half of his leg.
He and Paul had been close during the war. He’d probably come closer to telling Paul his real story than any of them. But he hadn’t. He couldn’t. Too late now. Which was why he came infrequently to these things. Propping up that lie got harder every time.
Trey pressed a bottle of beer into his hand. “Here’s to seeing you again after too long. Here’s to us. Together again.”
“Where’s Nio and Becca?” Noah asked. “They coming?”
“They’ll be here, or else,” Trey joked. “But seriously, they’re coming in later this weekend. You’ll all get to meet Raphael. Pops’ll be here, too.”
Unexpected Hero Page 2