by Kaitlyn Rice
If Josie’s ailment was loneliness, this guy could be her cure. Apparently, he was a seasoned partyer.
He was a little too young, though. And scruffy. All five of his eyes ogled Josie’s chest as he made some comment. Gabe could hazard a guess about what the other guy was saying.
The little runt had better be nice to Josie.
Turning toward his mother, Gabe muttered, “Who’s he?”
“The Thing? Accountant in Kurt’s business office. Graduated cum laude from Wichita State’s business school.”
“When—last week?”
“Maybe five, six years ago? He’s probably close to thirty, Gabriel.”
“He’s okay? Nice to his mom? Avoids drugs and orgies?”
Furrows formed on his mother’s brow. “I think so. You never know, really.” She looked horrified for a moment before her expression cleared. “Oh, no. I remember meeting his parents once. He’s fine.”
As if a meeting of parents meant anything. Serial killers had parents, didn’t they? “Hope so.” Gabe forced his attention to the party decorations. “I love the crashed witch. You get the details right, don’t you?”
“Guess you got that from me,” she said, examining his mustache. “Is that real?”
Gabe had seen his mom a few days ago for dinner. Did women not realize that a decent mustache took weeks to grow? “Nope,” he said. “Mine’s as fake as Josie’s.”
Those twin lines creased his mother’s face again. “You two haven’t broken your ‘just friends’ pact, have you?”
“No. Why?”
“You’re acting a bit odd, son. Sort of…overprotective. And you two did come dressed as a couple.”
Gabe scanned the crowd, noting that Josie had left The Thing and was headed toward the dance area. “We’re both dressed as men, Mom. Men who I presume were straight. And I only watch over Josie because she doesn’t have anyone else to tackle the chore.”
“Oh, okay, then,” his mother said. “Well, the best costumed couple takes home the trophy, same as every year. Vote at the box near the snacks. Maybe you can woo the crowd and win.”
“Yeah, right. Where’s Kurt?” Gabe scanned the room.
“That fisherman dancing with one of the sexy bunnies.”
Gabe followed his mother’s pointed finger and spotted her husband. Slightly stouter and a decade older than Gabe’s mother, Kurt Connolley had lost his hair ages ago. He nose was huge. He wasn’t handsome, especially when compared with Gabe’s late dad, but his mother so obviously loved her second husband. She always said she’d been lucky twice.
Kurt’s costume was pretty standard—hip waders, multipocketed vest and floppy hat. However, the fishing pole he carried had a humongous hook, covered with sea-green glitter and baited with a pair of fluffy pink bedroom slippers.
To catch a mermaid.
Gabe laughed. “Nope. You’ll keep another trophy.”
His mother glided away to greet some new arrivals behind him, and Gabe noticed that Josie had perched herself cross-legged on a hay bale. She sipped from her bottle and watched the dancing couples.
Very un-Josie-like behavior.
Gabe followed her and plopped down one bale over. “You’re not mingling?”
“No.” She sighed.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Want to dance?”
“No.”
He nodded, but remained near her for a moment longer in case she decided it was time to blab out her woes.
“Make your rounds,” Josie said after another long, loud sigh. “I’ll join you once I finish my drink.”
Having two sisters and a mom, Gabe was very aware that “leave me alone” was often a veiled request for extra attention.
Josie generally said what she meant, though. He’d back off and let her brood awhile.
“I’ll check back in a bit,” he promised.
He returned to the bar for a soft drink before making his way through the crowd to greet his colleagues and survey the costumes. Josie wasn’t ready to budge a half hour later, so he approached the dance area and was immediately snagged by a Minnie whose Mickey didn’t dance. He danced one song with her, then another with the famous Kansas Dorothy.
Dorothy was otherwise known as Alana Morgan, one of his mother’s Augusta acquaintances from way back. She and Cindy Connolley had worked together on the theater’s planning board for a few years, and they still played cards on occasion.
After his waltz with Alana, Gabe’s sisters arrived to drag him away from the dance floor. Once more, Nadine and Livy had dressed as a pair—of salt and pepper shakers this year. Even with molded tinfoil hats and plastic-enclosed bodies, they were stunning. Blond and blue-eyed, like Gabe and his parents.
“You didn’t bring anyone?” Gabe asked Nadine.
“Just me,” Livy answered. “Frank stayed home with the kiddoes.”
The twins practically spoke as one when they were together. Gabe rarely noticed.
“You know he hates crowds,” Nadine explained.
Gabe had meant Nadine’s teacher friend, not her husband. It didn’t really matter, though. With Josie in a deep funk, he’d probably feel guilty if he danced the night away with a potential new girlfriend.
As he danced one song with each sister, Gabe watched Josie get up to nab another drink and talk to a couple of people. But she was still spending most of her time warming that bale of hay.
Josie had always been energetic. Easygoing. Even when she was upset about something, she carried on her normal activities and tried to ignore the problem.
But she didn’t mope.
Gabe attacked her from behind, simultaneously grabbing an elbow and the hand holding her drink. He managed to haul her off the hay bale without splashing either of them with beer.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Taking you to Mom’s terrace.”
“Why?”
“To talk.”
“Don’t need to.” They passed a werewolf, a scrawny Arnold Schwarzenegger and the impaled witch.
“Going to.” Gabe released Josie’s hand outside the barn but kept hold of her elbow until they were rounding the corner to the terrace. After nudging her onto a cushioned lounge chair, he sat at its foot and studied her face under the glow of some ghost string lights.
She’d pulled off her mustache sometime between their arrival and now. With her hair slicked away from her face, she appeared young. Even in the faint light, those big hazel eyes registered melancholy.
She looked different. Older, maybe. Surely less bubbly and fun.
Infinitely more vulnerable.
Some Halloween magic must be in the air tonight. Happy souls had twisted into mournful ones and convivial feelings had slid toward the erotic.
Gabe wanted to pull Josie into his arms, kiss her, then whisper her worries away.
Instead, he got up to locate the switch near the back door. He flipped it to add more light to the terrace and scare away those thoughts.
Returning to the end of the chaise lounge, he sat down far enough from Josie to maintain a distance he’d appreciate tomorrow, but close enough that she’d have to force him off the chair to escape.
“Come on, kid. Spill.”
JOSIE BLINKED at Gabe. “What?”
“You left your sister’s house without giving your nephew his bag of treats, and now you’re sitting around on a hay bale when you could be schmoozing. What’s going on?”
She wasn’t prepared to talk about her visit to Woodbine. Especially not to take-charge Gabe. First, he’d be perturbed that she’d snuck out without him. Then he’d tell her how she should have handled things.
That’d make her feel worse. So why bother?
Drinking a beer and a quarter without moving around must have affected Josie, or perhaps she needed an ear more than she’d realized, because she blurted out, “I met my father this weekend.”
Gabe stared at her. “You…Already? Where is he?�
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“Up in Woodbine.” She chuckled, but her throat was tight and the sound came out rough.
Gabe settled a hand on her ankle. “Where is that, Josie? I’ve never heard of it. Is it in Kansas?”
“It’s near Abilene.” Josie held his gaze. He’d have to guide this conversation, because she sure couldn’t. In a house full of women who’d ranted and talked and cried out their pain, Josie had been content to escape hers. She ate some chocolate or repaired the faucet drip or shot a game of pool with a buddy.
Why this compulsion to tell Gabe her stupid, insecure thoughts? She told him a lot, but not everything. Not her deepest worries. Heck, she was a party girl. She rarely had any deepest worries.
“What happened to upset you so much?”
Josie couldn’t shake her disappointment, or her feeling that she’d opened Pandora’s box. She took a long swallow of beer to dislodge the lump and send it on down her throat. “He didn’t know me,” she said.
“You must have introduced yourself.”
She snorted. “I chickened out. I gave a fake name and implied that I was friends with the family. He asked about my sisters. He didn’t mention a third child at all.”
Gabe swore under his breath.
Josie was satisfied to see that he’d understood the strength of her reaction. He would. According to all reports, his dad had been wonderful—loving, open, affectionate. Too bad he’d died so young.
Gabe scooted closer and moved his hand from her ankle to her thigh. Rubbing. Soothing.
He’d done exactly that a hundred times before. Josie understood that he meant it in a friendly way. He couldn’t know the thoughts he provoked in her.
“What did your sisters say about the meeting?” he asked. “And did you find out if your father has a history of seizures?”
“I haven’t told my sisters yet. And I didn’t ask about the seizures.”
Gabe gave her a dark look.
“He said something about enjoying good health most of his life, though,” she added.
When Gabe continued to glower at her, she let out an aggravated sigh. “I just went up there on Friday, and it was strange and hard. I’ve barely had time to process my thoughts about the experience.”
“Is he okay?”
She sipped her drink, avoiding Gabe’s steady gaze as she remembered her impressions of Rick Blume. “He’s an old man,” she said. “Tall. Quiet. Callie and Isabel both have some of his features.” She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t. But the main thing that bothered me, really, was that he didn’t acknowledge my existence.”
Gabe took her drink and set it down on the terrace floor, then tugged her legs to the side of the chair so he could move closer. When he wrapped his arms around her, a couple of tears escaped and trickled down Josie’s cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. “It was tough to talk about my sisters and leave myself out,” she said against Gabe’s warm chest. “He was so proud to hear about them.”
“Plenty of people are proud of you, Josie. You don’t need the approval of some stranger.”
Josie felt Gabe’s hand caress the back of her hair, then slip past her shoulder blades and down, until it rested at the curve of her waist.
His hand felt good there.
Too good.
She disentangled herself from the hug and reclined against the seat back. “I live alone in the same house where I grew up. I frequent the same places. Eat from the same cereal bowl every morning. What have I done with my life?”
I’m not special.
She didn’t say it; she wouldn’t risk tearing up again when Gabe would see. But she thought it.
“Is this what’s eating at you?” Gabe asked. “That you went to meet this man who’d never bothered to send you a damn birthday card, and you didn’t have more to show for yourself?”
Gabe was merely pointing out the error in her logic, but he’d also described the deepest source of an emotional trauma that didn’t have to make sense to hurt.
“As I was telling him about my sisters, I realized something. The more I talked about them, the harder it became to reveal my identity to him.”
“Why?”
She chuckled sadly. “Callie researches cancer and is married to a police helicopter pilot. She has two kids, both adorable, even if Lilly’s health is a concern. And Isabel goes on dang mountain hikes every weekend with a handsome, intelligent husband and cherubic toddler.”
“Mmm-hmm. You should be proud of them.”
“I am. God, do I sound like a ninny or what? I feel like a three-year-old, crying because my sisters got something I didn’t. Something I didn’t really want in the first place.”
“You’re upset.”
She nodded.
“Describe yourself now, Josie.”
Hurt. Cold. Tired. In need of another serious hug and wishing I could get over this experience.
“Party girl,” she said. “Likes sports and beer. Selfish, sometimes. Avoids love.” She stopped herself before she said too much.
“You’re anything but selfish,” Gabe said. “And you avoid romantic intimacy, not love.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re also an award-winning interior designer who volunteers time to charities. You’re highly respected in the industry, especially for your children’s rooms. Peter Kramer told me he’s been very happy with your work.”
“He’s paying me very well for my work.”
Gabe lifted his brows. “And that’s a negative, how?”
Josie sipped her beer and stared out beyond the patio. “In my family, money was considered almost as evil as men.”
He rolled his eyes. “Your mom might have taught you that, but she had problems.”
Josie shrugged.
“Are you finished with this father quest?” Gabe asked.
“Nope. I intend to ask about his health history,” she said, catching the censure in Gabe’s gaze. “The question never fit. And after I realized Rick didn’t know me, I couldn’t think about anything else.”
“Maybe you should just call him and ask,” Gabe said. “I’d do that for you, if you like.”
“You would?”
“Of course. And if you decide to go back to Woodbine, I could go with you. I could offer you my impressions of the man.”
“You’d be willing to meet him?”
“Why not?”
“You’d have to sit and listen and not offer a speck of advice,” Josie said, giving him a stern look. “This is my decision, and I have to do it my own way.”
Gabe’s jaw worked.
She was goading him, but it was important that she maintain control. “You’d be there for moral support. That’s all.”
“I heard you.”
She’d have to think about it. If she did visit her father again, it’d be great to have a friend along. But a quiet friend, who was there to add to her confidence and not to her conflict. Gabe was prone to do both. And he was anything but quiet when it came to offering advice.
One thing was certain: she wasn’t making this decision tonight, when she was supposed to be forgetting her troubles.
“I’m better now,” she said, shoving at Gabe’s chest to get him to move off the chair. “Let’s head back to the party.”
He leaned down to pick up her bottle, then stood. “I don’t see why you didn’t let me go with you last weekend.”
“Your mother had you and your sisters over for an early dinner on Saturday, remember?” Josie got up and pulled her fake mustache from her pants pocket. “Didn’t Nadine bring some teacher friend she thought you’d like?”
“No. The teacher friend couldn’t make it on Saturday. She caught some virus going around her classroom. She was supposed to come to tonight’s party, too. Guess she was still sick.”
Josie restuck her mustache to the skin above her upper lip. “What? You haven’t learned the teacher friend’s name?” she teased.
“Miss Roberts,” Gabe said, pleased with himself.
“No first name?”
He sighed dramatically as he handed Josie her bottle. “Nadine’s kids have all had Miss Roberts for reading,” he said. “I must have heard her last name a hundred times at Mom’s dinner. Apparently, she’s popular with the under-ten set.”
At Josie’s continued smirk, he said, “I wrote her first name down on the back of a piece of paper, along with her phone number. I’m supposed to call her.”
“Another scrap for the dryer’s lint trap?”
“No. I asked for her number, and I told Nadine to give her mine. I intend to…” Gabe faltered, then he stepped nearer to Josie.
He was close enough that she could see the markings of his eyes, even in the dim light.
She could feel his breath, warm on her face.
What would it feel like to kiss Gabe? She’d wondereed often enough. Why did she get the feeling that one kiss from Gabe would knock all thoughts of anything else clear out of her head?
But Gabe cupped her chin with one hand and pursed his lips, then studied hers as he unstuck one side of her mustache and adjusted it.
Good heavens! He was fixing her costume—surely a brotherly gesture. Five years ago, Josie would’ve considered it so. Heck, five days ago she would have been certain of it.
Tonight she wished for more from Gabe than his brotherly affection, more than his platonic touch. She wished he’d hold her the way a man holds a desirable woman.
She chided herself. She should be glad Gabe wasn’t thinking along the same line she was. At least one of them was sane.
When Gabe finished her mustache adjustment, his finger grazed her bottom lip. Then, as if he’d left a bright scarlet mark there, his eyes traced the path of his finger.
Josie wasn’t smirking now, and neither was Gabe. They were standing close. Staring at each other.
Josie didn’t know what Gabe was thinking, but some crazy part of her willed him to lean down a few inches and drag his lips across that same burning spot.
That would help her forget her father’s neglect. It would also erase any positive thoughts about a popular reading teacher right out of Gabe’s head, at least temporarily.
It’d be a mistake.
In-control Gabe wouldn’t forget all the reasons they shouldn’t cross that line.
He didn’t kiss her, of course. He dropped his hands, blinked those baby blues, then stepped away from her. “Ready to head back?” he asked.