by Zoe York
Her sexy little black dress hung on the bathroom door, and the steam from their shower had done a decent job of smoothing out the wrinkles that had gathered from being piled on the floor. His gaze shifted to it, and he sighed. He should get up and finish getting dressed. She’d turned their shower into a sensual free-for-all, and he hadn’t been able to resist pinning her to the slate-tiled wall and making love to her again. By the time they’d finally scrubbed each other down, the water had turned icy. Now they were in danger of being so late that they wouldn’t be able to make it out to the Stagecoach Steakhouse and Saloon on Buffalo Bill Reservoir in time to catch the end of the dinner service. He briefly contemplated taking her to Buffalo Bill’s Pizzeria but dismissed it. He wanted to take her somewhere nice—someplace she wasn’t likely to have been before.
She met his gaze in the mirror and smiled. “You going to get dressed, or what?”
“I’m going with ‘or what’. You sure you don’t want me to wear my suit?”
“Positive. The Stagecoach is Western-themed, isn’t it?”
He nodded.
“Well, one of us should look the part.”
Finally, he sat up, but it took him a few moments more to push to his feet. He wandered over to the walk-in closet—his clothes took up depressingly little of the space—and located his two Western dress shirts.
“Which one? Red or blue?”
Annie leaned out of the bathroom. “Definitely blue.”
“You sure? Red one’s fancier.”
“Blue.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The shirt fit a little tighter across the shoulders than the shirt he’d worn earlier, so he dragged a plain white tank out of his dresser, then shrugged into the cornflower blue, navy, and white plaid shirt, methodically joined all the snaps, and tucked it into his jeans, all the while watching his lover. It took every ounce of willpower to tear his eyes away long enough to hunt down his cowboy boots and the belt with the steer-wrestling trophy buckle.
At her whistle, he jerked his head up. While he’d been preoccupied, she’d slipped into her dress and now sauntered across the room to him.
“You clean up nice, Mr. Collins. Do you have a cowboy hat to complete the ensemble?”
“I don’t, actually.”
“A cowboy who doesn’t own a cowboy hat?”
“Technically, I’m an electrician.”
She tugged playfully on his belt buckle. “Then where did this come from?”
“Won it.”
“Doing what?”
“Steer wrestling.”
“I didn’t know you rodeoed.”
“Just the once. Ezra was bragging that he was the best steer wrestler of us all, so we put it to the test at the local rodeo when I was a junior in high school. He wouldn’t settle for proving it on the ranch.”
“And you won it?”
“Yep.”
“I bet he was mad.”
“Naturally, but that’s Ezra. Highly competitive. Probably why he and I haven’t always gotten along.”
“I picked up on that at the ranch that first weekend. Even so, what your family has—that support system, the roots—that’s what I want for Cody.”
“It’s a good life. Hectic sometimes, but I wouldn’t trade it.”
She turned her back to him. “Would you mind zipping me up?”
He did as she asked, letting his fingers linger against the nape of her neck. He lowered his head to kiss her shoulder. The he lifted her necklace off his dresser and fastened it around her neck. “Are you about ready?”
“Just need to put on my shoes.”
Night was falling outside when Gabe locked his front door behind them, and a smudge of clear lavender was all that remained of day. Above, the first stars had already appeared, twinkling brightly in the cloudless sky. On the drive out to Buffalo Bill Reservoir, they didn’t talk, content to enjoy the simplicity of each other’s company and the beauty of the evening. The air was so sharply clear that the dark outlines of the mountains looked like they’d been cut with a scalpel. He’d seen so many nights like this in his lifetime but couldn’t recall one that had left him with the same overwhelming awe.
The difference was the woman sitting beside him. As exquisite as her svelte body was in that fitted dress, the light in her eyes was the most breathtaking part about her.
Love. Beautiful, amazing, saturating love.
After he parked his truck in the back nine of the steakhouse’s parking lot, he walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for her, offering a hand to help her out. He slid his hand around the back of her neck, caressing her cheek with his thumb, and kissed her, then held his arm out to her. She slipped her hand around it, and together, they headed toward the restaurant.
It was almost eight, but the place was still busy, and near the doors Gabe spied a familiar pickup. “Son of a bitch.”
“What?”
He inclined his head toward the truck. “That’s Tom’s, isn’t it?”
“God damn it. Yes, it is.”
“I think I liked it better when you were swearing about my ass,” he muttered. “You want to go someplace else?”
“Where are we going to go this late? By the time we get back into town, most of the restaurants will be getting ready to close. If we sit outside, maybe we won’t run into him.”
They entered cautiously, but Tom and his wife weren’t anywhere within view of the hostess’s desk, so they asked for a table out on the deck.
“Are you sure?” the hostess—an older woman—asked. “It’s getting pretty cold out. We’ve already had four tables come inside.”
“We’re sure,” Annie replied. “Thank you, though.”
They followed the woman out onto the deck, and she brought them to a table facing the lake apart from the few other diners stubborn enough to endure the descending cool of night. The heater gave off plenty of heat for Gabe, but even with her coat covering her upper body and thighs, Annie’s lower legs were still exposed. He asked if she’d be warm enough.
“I’m fine,” she replied. She met his gaze and grinned with a suggestive twitch of her eyebrows. “And if I get cold, I’m sure you can warm me right up.”
“We’d best save that for later, darlin’.”
The poor hostess nearly choked trying to swallow a laugh, and Gabe apologized.
“Don’t worry about it. Reminds me of my husband and me when we first got married.” She set their menus in front of them and poured water. “God rest his soul, he was a wonderful man. I hope you two have as much happiness in your marriage as we had in ours.”
He started to say that they weren’t married but shrugged it off and reached across the table to take Annie’s hand. He brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “I think we will.”
Her eyes rounded, but he didn’t offer any clarification or explanation.
“What can I get you folks to drink?”
“Coffee, I think,” Annemarie replied.
“Coffee would be great. Thank you.”
After the hostess left, Gabe scooted his chair back and faced it toward the lake and the fading twilight, then patted his leg. Annie didn’t have to be asked twice. She settled onto his lap with both legs over his, and he folded his arms around her.
“Better?” he asked when she rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.
“Mmm-hmm. What a beautiful night.”
He nodded in agreement, hoping it stayed that way. They didn’t talk and only smiled in acknowledgement when the hostess returned with coffee and informed them that their waitress would be right out. Without moving Annie, Gabe picked up his coffee and wrapped his hands around the warm mug, staring unseeing at the steam that curled from it.
“Gabe?”
“Hmm?”
“A few minutes ago when the hostess said she hoped our marriage would be as happy as hers, why didn’t you tell her we weren’t married?”
“I almost did.”
“But…?”
“And does it?”
“So far, I’d say it’s a very comfortable fit.”
Their waitress arrived, cutting off any response Annie might have made. Maybe it was better that way. He might be comfortable with the idea of marrying her—exhilarated by it, now that he’d had a few hours since that comment to Tom this afternoon had slipped out—but he wasn’t the only one who needed to be sure it was right.
The waitress took their orders and left again as the hostess seated a family of three at a table nearby. Gabe didn’t pay them much attention other than to note that the little boy was Cody’s age. He turned his gaze back to the lake and sipped his coffee, perfectly content to hold Annie as the temperature dropped.
“Annemarie, is that you?” the woman from the nearby table asked, weaving through the chairs to their table.
Annie sat up abruptly. “Jamie, hi. Uh, Gabe, this is Jamie Tanner—formerly Jamie Hollis. Her son, Caleb, is Cody’s best friend at school. Jamie, this is Gabe Collins.”
Jamie shook the hand Gabe extended. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet the man Cody hasn’t stopped talking about for weeks now.”
“Nice to meet you, too. Cody says Caleb is pretty excited about his new dad.”
“He’s thrilled, and Tad sure made it easy on me. He adores Caleb. Never thought I’d find someone like that.”
“I know the feeling,” Annie murmured, turning her face to Gabe. “I’m hoping this one is as serious about filling that position as he’s been talking tonight.”
Jamie sat at their table, leaning forward with glee sparking in her dark eyes. “Ooo, details, details, you two!”
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” Annemarie stood so he could get up, and he pressed a kiss to her neck. “Before you waste a bunch of time trying to decide if I am serious or not, yes I am.”
He strode away beaming smugly and left them gaping after him. The route to the restrooms took him past the bar, and he spotted Tom sitting at it with several companions, three of whom he recognized as occasional clients of his. He made it past without any of them catching sight of him.
On the way back, he wasn’t so lucky.
“Gabe! Come on over here for a second,” one of the men called—Matthew Mason, owner of the cozy bed and breakfast Gabe had wired a theater surround sound system for the day he’d first met Annie. “I was just telling Tom here about that theater system. Told him he’d be a fool not to hire you for that new bunkhouse.”
“I appreciate the compliment,” Gabe replied, crossing his arms over his chest. He shook his head when Mathew offered to buy him a beer. “We’ve talked about the bunkhouse, but unfortunately, I’m unavailable for the job.”
Tom met his gaze, and though he contained his contempt well, it showed through in the hard set of his jaw and the cold gleam in his dark eyes. He excused himself to use the restroom, and Mathew and the other men in their group stared after him.
“That was a little chilly,” Mathew observed. Turning to Gabe, he asked, “What do you mean, ‘unavailable’?”
“I won’t work for him.”
“Why ever not? Seems to me like that could be a good paying job.”
“It would, but some things aren’t worth the money.”
Mathew held up his hands. “Message received. But speaking of jobs, I have a couple more for you, if you have a minute while Tom’s in the bathroom.”
Gabe perched on the stool Tom had vacated, waving away the bartender and keeping an eye on the restrooms while he listened to Mathew’s plans for festive lighting for the new gazebo he and his wife wanted to build. It seemed like the conversation went on and on, and Tom hadn’t yet returned. Minutes ticked by, and the muscles in Gabe’s neck and shoulders tensed. How long did Tom need to take a piss?
Finally, Gabe couldn’t stand it and politely left Mathew, promising to draw up a quote for him on Monday for the gazebo lights. He spotted the Tanners at the salad bar and quickened his pace as dread settled into his belly like a ball of ice. Annie alone on the deck and Tom MIA…. He was jogging by the time he shoved open the doors to the deck.
Tom’s voice greeted him the second he stepped outside, and he froze for a moment, dumbstruck by the man’s brazen arrogance. He stepped quietly, following their voices.
“You know I’m the right choice.”
“Right choice? There’s no choice between being your whore or his wife.”
“Funny, I don’t see a ring on your finger. You may have forgotten what I can do to that sweet body, but I haven’t.”
“I suggest you do because it won’t happen again. Ever.”
There was a pause, and Gabe glanced around. His and Annie’s table was abandoned. Where were they?
“Ah,” Tom said. “You have his smell on you. You smelled much better with mine on you.”
“Let go of me, Tom.”
Her voice trembled and Gabe lunged forward, heart hammering against his ribs. She let out a strangled shriek. He sprinted around the corner and finally found them by the railing beyond the Tanners’ still-empty table. Tom had caught her wrists in his hands and backed her against the railing. Terror widened her eyes as she tried to jerk her arms free, unable to break Tom’s hold, and she screamed when he tried to kiss her.
Gabe didn’t bother hiding his approach. He needed to get to Annie now. He gripped Tom’s shoulder, yanked the man around, and decked him. Tom stumbled back into a table, sending the chairs around it crashing to the side. Without turning his back to the man, Gabe sidestepped to Annie and grasped her hand tightly. She slid her arms around him, shaking, and he clenched his jaw to tighten the rein on his temper.
Tom probed the inside of his bottom lip with his tongue, then pressed his fingers to it. They came away bloody.
“For the rest of my life. Remember that conversation, Grant?” Gabe asked. With deliberate movements, he turned to Annie, brushed her hair back from her face and kissed the top of her head before drawing her closer. “Regardless of whether or not there’s a ring on her finger yet, she’s mine to protect. Are you all right?”
She nodded, but tears welled in her eyes and she pinched her lips between her teeth. With a supportive hand resting against the small of her back, he guided her into the restaurant to the hostess’s desk.
“We need to pay our check,” he said curtly. “And can you let our waitress know that we’ll need our dinner in to-go boxes?”
The woman took one look at Annie’s face and gasped. “Dear lord, what happened?”
“My ex is here,” Annie murmured. “And he doesn’t seem to be in the mood to leave us alone.”
“You just point him out to me, and I’ll have him escorted out. You don’t need to leave.”
“That’s all right, ma’am,” Gabe said. He flexed his right hand, noting a small cut on one of his knuckles. “At this point, I think it’s best we head home.”
“Understood. Dinner’s on the house. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, and that’s not necessary.”
The waitress brought out their meal in Styrofoam boxes, and when Gabe tried to pay the check, the hostess refused to take his cash, so he gave a forty-dollar tip to each of them instead—what dinner and the tip would’ve come to. From the corner of his vision, he saw Tom come in, his lip already swollen. Their gazes met again, and the dark gleam in Tom’s eyes ignited Gabe’s fury all over again.
“Shall we take our date back home, love?” Gabe asked.
She nodded and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, then thanked the hostess and the waitress.
In the safety of his pickup, Annie turned to him. She chewed on her bottom lip for almost half a minute before she finally spoke. Her words came out in a teary burst. “I’m sorry.”
He gathered her into his arms and hugged her tightly as hot tears streamed down her face. As they began to leech through his shirt, his chest constricted. “What the hell
do you have to be sorry for?”
“Tom…. I don’t know why he’s doing this. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you dare apologize to me for him. This is not your fault.”
“I never thought he’d take it to the point that you would have to hit him. I’m sorry for that and for our ruined date.”
“First of all, stop apologizing, Annie. I mean it. Secondly, our date isn’t ruined. There’s just been a change of plans, and as I recall, we didn’t have any set plans to begin with.”
She gazed up at him with rounded eyes. “How did you walk away like that? Because you looked like you wanted to kill him.”
“It was easier than you might think.” He sighed. “Even so, it would not be a good idea for me to go back in there right now.”
After a few minutes more, Annie scooted over to the passenger side and buckled herself in. Gabe started the truck and drove away from the restaurant.
She was silent on the way home, and quiet while they ate dinner, and after, when they headed upstairs to bed, she didn’t say anything until she dug through her overnight bag and realized she’d forgotten to pack her pajamas. Her parents had slipped something into her bag, however, and she held it up for Gabe’s inspection.
He wasn’t sure whether to laugh at Bill and Judy’s not-so-subtle suggestion or beg her to put it on. It was a midnight-blue satin nightgown with delicate spaghetti straps and a flower-embroidered, net-covered slit that curved from the center of the neckline down to the top of the right thigh. The hem was more matronly than blatantly sexy and would skim the middle of her calves, making it quite a bit longer than her black dress.
Sensual. That was the word. He couldn’t have picked anything that would’ve suited her better.