The Third Daughter's Wish

by Kaitlyn Rice

  Gabe’s doorbell rang—twice. He got up, phone to ear, and flipped on his porch light. He squinted out the peephole.

  It was Josie again.

  Grimacing as Shelby continued, Gabe opened his front door and indicated with a crook of his head that Josie should come inside.

  “Are you okay, Gabe? You sound distracted,” Shelby said.

  No kidding.

  Tomboy Josie looked distinctly female in a thigh-length leather coat that emphasized a set of sizzling, stocking-clad legs. Made him wonder what Josie had on underneath.

  Made him imagine her wearing nothing underneath.

  “Hey, Shelby. I’ve got to go. It’s late.”

  “My word, I just checked my watch. Is it really after ten?” Shelby said, then immediately returned to her gabbing. Gabe couldn’t say about what. He caught Josie’s eye, lifting a finger to indicate that he’d get off the phone shortly, then swiveled away from her to close his door.

  He tried to nudge a second goodbye attempt into Shelby’s new diatribe about her students’late bedtimes, while Josie moved around behind him.

  A whoosh and plop meant that Josie had wriggled out of that coat, but by the time he’d turned around she’d disappeared into his kitchen. She clicked across the tile—must be wearing some kind of fancy shoes—and the light came on in there. The clicks stopped. He pictured her standing at his patio doors, checking out the western sky.

  Had something else happened to upset her?

  “So you’ll do it? Oh! I’m so glad,” Shelby said.

  Blast it, what had he just agreed to do? He heard Josie open his refrigerator door. “Uh, don’t ink me in for that just yet,” he told Shelby. “I can’t decide until I get details. Talk to you later.”

  “But I just told you. We’re all going to—”

  Gabe heard Shelby’s voice in the earpiece as he hung up. My God. According to Nadine, Shelby Roberts was a great teacher and wonderful person. She was supposed to be blond, bubbly and beautiful. Nadine’s six-year-old, Tyler, had a huge crush on the reading teacher.

  Gabe only knew that she babbled.

  He went into his kitchen and found Josie, still standing in front of his open refrigerator door. She watched him come in, albeit vacantly, then lifted a beer from the door rack. “D’ya mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  When she lifted a second bottle and gave him a questioning look, he shook his head.

  She opened the cap, took a sip and closed the refrigerator door. She maneuvered around until she could lean against that same door, allowing her head to rest against the black steel surface, and flicked her eyes from his mouth to his chest to his feet,

  Focusing now, on him.

  “Hey, Gabe,” she said, her voice low. Needy, somehow.

  Did she know the crazy thoughts she kindled with two words? Gabe could imagine waking up to that intimate greeting every morning.

  He moved nearer, stopping a couple feet in front of her, curious about her reaction.

  Josie’s eyes followed his movements, but she remained still, simply taking him in.

  He did the same, and sweet Lord she was white-hot in her tiny red skirt and jacket. She drifted forward as though caught in his spell, then teetered in those shoes.

  Gabe was unable to resist any longer. He looped a hand behind her waist and tugged her into his arms.

  He meant to hug her, but she tipped her head up to offer lips. Even then he might have pecked and retreated, but she responded.

  Damn, did she respond. Beautifully.

  She even stood on tiptoe to gain better access, initiating a game of tongue-tag. Gabe slid his hands down to her bottom, bracing her.

  The feel of that pliant flesh beneath his hands—the very thought that he was cupping her derriere—had him imagining her naked.

  His arousal thickened and throbbed. He yanked Josie closer and hoped to hell she’d arrived to demand sex from him.

  Now.

  Right here in front of his fridge.

  Josie was no prude. She’d made it clear since forever that she liked sex and men, probably in that order. At the moment it hardly mattered. He could cover both.

  But she backed up, lifting the beer bottle as if to fend him off with it. “Gabe! What was that for?”

  Of course, between the two of them things had to be more complicated. He shifted uncomfortably. Fought for control. And for breath. “Just a hello, I guess.”

  “Mmm. Well, hello to you, too.” She shot a glance toward the bulge in his pants, then surprised him by blushing.

  He wouldn’t remind her that she’d already greeted him, in that moment stirring his desire.

  He’d moved too fast. That was all there was to it.

  Gabe let his gaze fall to Josie’s chest and linger on a shiny black jacket button he’d love to undo. “Where’ve you been, dressed like that?”

  “Work.”

  That explained the sharp getup. He leaned against the counter. Yanked his eyes and mind off Josie’s chest. Off thoughts of sex. Onto anything else. “Peter Kramer was supposed to visit your site today, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he like what you’ve done with the model home?”

  “He said he did. Said the circular fireplace was inspired. Said he’d have to hide the maple bookcases from his wife or she’d want a pair in their family room at home.”

  “Good. I was confident that he’d like your work.”

  “Well, thanks for the referral.” Josie regarded the beer bottle as if surprised to find it in her hand. She’d taken one drink.

  Now she pulled out a stool and sat at Gabe’s breakfast nook. Instead of guzzling the drink, as he expected, she toyed with the frost on the bottle. “I drove up to Woodbine,” she said.

  “Today?”

  She nodded.

  “Last I heard, you were planning to say goodbye to Izzy and Trevor this morning and head off to a long day of work. Didn’t you have a lot of catch-up to do?”

  “I did. I worked until six-thirty and then drove straight up to Rick and Brenda’s place. I just got back.”

  “Why’d you go this time?” Gabe asked. Unnecessarily, since he could predict her answer.

  “To ask who he was.”

  Gabe didn’t ask who she was referring to. Good heavens. Josie was still hunting for her father.

  He wondered at the chances of convincing her that she should stop looking and be happy. And he kept wrestling with the thought that they should talk about what was happening between them.

  He recognized that Josie was going through a rough time. So much was happening at once. Would she wake up some morning and wonder how the two of them had gotten involved?

  Was he taking advantage of her vulnerability?

  He’d need to be careful. Maybe this was why his gut had always told him it was a mistake to get involved with his best friend.

  “Did you learn anything?” he asked.

  “Rick remembered a first name. He said this guy was a handyman who’d been to the house a couple of times. He figured it was the only person who made sense.”

  Ella had always been described as a woman with a distrust of all things unfamiliar. A dislike for all things male. “Just some handyman? That doesn’t sound right.”

  Josie smiled. “The guy’s name was Joe.”

  “Wow.”

  She lifted the bottle halfway to her mouth, then set it down again. But Josie said nothing.

  “So what are you thinking?”

  She stared at her beer a moment, then got up to return the nearly full drink to his fridge minus its cap. “Let’s go,” she said.

  Her heels clicked purposefully against Gabe’s kitchen tiles, then silenced when she reached the thick carpeting of his living room.

  “Where’re we headed?” he asked as he followed.

  “Rick didn’t want to tell me, but Brenda hinted that this Joe guy might have hung out at Mary’s once upon a time.” Josie stopped near his sofa and picked up her
coat.

  “Our Mary’s?”

  “Yes.”

  “The bar here in Augusta where we shoot pool?”

  “That’d be the one.”

  “Wow.”

  She slid into her coat. “So let’s go.”

  Was she planning to search for the man tonight? Most of Augusta would be at home or even asleep. Those who were out would likely not welcome company or questions. Even if it were daylight, Gabe wasn’t certain he was ready to pursue this father search with Josie. The man may have come and gone from town within a one-day period back in 1980.

  Or he might still be here. And Josie might be hurt.

  “Uh, if you didn’t notice, I’m not dressed.”

  She was buttoning into her coat, but she glanced at his sleep pants. Those hazel eyes widened.

  Did Gabe see heat in them? If he did, it was gone in a flash.

  “Then go get something on.”

  Gabe crossed his arms in front of him and stared at her, unmoving. “What’re you planning, kid?”

  “I want you to take me to Mary’s. I can talk to people, see if anyone remembers this guy.”

  “Tonight? But it’s late. You only just got home. Give it time.”

  “You want me to go alone?”

  He moved his gaze to that coat. To the sexy legs under that coat. His first thought when he’d seen Josie in that coat and stockings was sex. Second and third thoughts, too.

  Hard to imagine that every man at Mary’s tonight would think differently. “Hell, no. You can’t go alone.”

  She eyed Gabe’s pants again. “Then get dressed.”

  The knowledge of where her gaze rested caused Gabe’s body to harden again—instantly.

  Curse his bad timing, anyway.

  Before she noticed, Gabe started up the stairs. “If I remember right, Mary’s has changed hands at least five times since I’ve been old enough to go to bars,” he hollered over his shoulder. “No one’ll remember anything.”

  Josie didn’t answer.

  Despite the fact that he was upstairs and across the house from her, Gabe closed his bedroom door. He went in the bathroom to splash cold water on his face and torso, encouraging rapid cooling, then he glanced in the mirror to check the whisker situation. His beard didn’t look as bad as it felt.

  When he saw the reflection of that decadent claw-foot tub, he sighed. Clearly, tonight wasn’t the night to christen the blamed thing properly.

  He wasn’t sure that night would ever arrive.

  Moments later, he had on some jeans and was carrying his socks and running shoes down to the living room, where Josie stood in the entry, tapping a pointy-toed shoe against the carpet. “The manager might have records about who owned the place back then,” she said, as if they’d never paused their conversation.

  He glanced at her as he sat on the sofa to yank on his socks. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  He’d just started tying the first shoelace, when she opened the front door. “Hurry, would you? I’ll wait outside.”

  Gabe made quick work of the other shoe, then grabbed his coat and slammed out the door. She had her truck running, so he got in and buckled up. “We can talk to whoever’s working at Mary’s,” he said. “I’m sure that’s your best bet. But if nothing pans out we’ll come straight home. We’re both putting in long work hours. We have no business chasing around town this late.”

  “Really?” she asked. “Wasn’t that you who stayed at Callie and Ethan’s until midnight on Sunday?”

  “I was invited.”

  “It was midnight when you left, though, right?” she asked. “You can handle another late night.”

  He rolled his eyes in the darkness of the truck cab. “I just don’t want to show up at Mary’s, hear the manager say some guy named Joe used to eat at the Dairy Queen and then we race over there. Okay? Let this be it for now.”

  She was turning onto Ohio Street and didn’t answer.

  It had taken Josie all of two minutes to get to Mary’s. It took her two seconds to yank her keys from her ignition and get out.

  Gabe’s legs were much longer than hers, yet he fell a couple of paces behind her in the lot. “Why are you in such a damn hurry?” he hollered after her.

  “I just want to know.”

  “I get that. Just…slow down.”

  “Why?”

  She was already headed inside, but he’d have had plenty of answers for her if she’d cared to listen.

  She couldn’t have had time to think about what could happen if she did find this man. Perhaps Ella Blume had confused her thoughts about Rick and about Josie’s biological father. If this Joe, or whoever, was just some fool her mother had used during one fateful afternoon, maybe he’d been the drunken bum the girls had heard about.

  Josie didn’t need that kind of trouble in her life.

  But if she was hell-bent on inviting it in, Gabe couldn’t let her do so alone.

  Chapter Eight

  As soon as Josie had entered the pub and scanned the darkened room, her stomach tied into knots. Mary’s looked like the same smoky bar where she’d hung out nearly once a week for years, except it was almost empty. Somehow she knew she’d expected too much.

  Had she hoped to see a neon sign blinking J-O-E above an old man’s head? Nothing that blatant, yet not the same shabby, local beer joint. Not the same weary patrons.

  One of those regulars sat hunched over a half-empty glass at the bar, staring up at the television as Jay Leno talked to Uma Thurman. Two other men played a game of pool. A few couples cozied up in the booths, but no one else was here. Even the barkeep had gone missing.

  An employee was probably her best bet for information. Gabe had been right about that. Josie hung her coat on a rack near the door, then approached the bar.

  “Have you seen the bartender?” she asked the old guy.

  The man glanced over his shoulder at her, then scanned the area behind the bar. “She was right here a while ago. Don’t know where she went. Been watchin’ Leno.”

  The television lured the man’s attention. He laughed with the audience at some crack Leno had made.

  “Can I bother you with one more question?”

  “Whatzat?”

  “Have you been coming around here a long time? Would you know anyone who used to come here? A customer? A man, maybe close to your age?”

  He turned to her, suspicion dark on his face. He lifted his martini glass. “Here for this. Not socializin’.”

  She eyed his drink. “And you’re not Joe, are you?”

  “Hell, no. Name’s Earl.” The man stared at the television again, already focusing on it.

  She knew it was stupid, but she felt so deflated.

  She’d been stunned by Rick’s confession that he might know her father’s identity, even though she’d gone to Woodbine to beg for clues. The man’s name, Joe, and the fact that he’d frequented Mary’s had made Josie feel as if things were clicking into place.

  As if she was meant to discover everything tonight.

  Or to even find this Joe.

  Gabe approached minus his coat, and Josie noticed the expression of caution in his eyes.

  “Don’t say it,” she said. “I already realize I was silly to rush over here.”

  He rested a hand on the small of her waist and pulled her to his side. “It’s Tuesday night after a holiday weekend, Josie. Everyone’s home recovering.”

  “Guess so.” She nodded toward the pool players. “Would it be completely idiotic to ask them?”

  He studied the three guys, all in their twenties or thirties. “Ask them what?”

  It was idiotic. But Josie was determined to learn anything she could. “If they know the history of this place,” she said. “If their mothers or fathers frequented Mary’s and might recollect a Joe who probably visited here, once upon a time.”

  She chuckled at the absurdity of what she’d just said. “God, I must be really tired.”

  With a nudge at her back, Gabe prope
lled Josie toward the pool table. “Don’t worry about it, kid. We’re here. You might as well ask whoever you want.”

  Of course, the pool players remembered nothing about some bar visitor from several decades ago. The couples in the booths weren’t any more help. Several of them pointed out that they hadn’t even been born at the time.

  “I still say your best bet’s someone who works here,” Gabe said. “Even then it’s a long shot.”

  Josie waved toward the bar. “The bartender’s missing, and Earl, there, has no clue where she went.”

  Gabe motioned toward an empty booth. “We don’t have to rush out of here. Let’s wait. The bartender can’t have gone far and she might know enough to give us a start. Augusta’s small enough that the bar crowd probably gets pretty familiar.”

  Josie slid onto the vinyl seat, then scooted farther in when Gabe climbed in on the same side—something he’d never done before.

  “Know what else I think?” he asked.

  “Why am I certain you’re about to tell me?”

  He backed up a little, grinning at her joke, then quickly sobered. “Maybe it’s good that we have to wait. Before you continue this hunt, you need to think about who this man might be. He could be anyone, Josie. You realize that?”

  “He was a handyman. Someone my mother knew as an acquaintance, at least. I’ve told you all this.”

  “Simple facts.” Gabe rested a hand against her thigh. “You should consider what kind of man would do what he did. Your mother, who was notorious for being tough, must have made a play for him.”

  Josie snorted at the thought.

  “He slept with her,” Gabe continued. “If they were only acquaintances, it means something. If he was more to her, somehow, it means something else. I’m not sure he comes out ahead, either way.”

  “Yeah, well. News flash, Gabe. Lots of guys do things like that. Some can be real sleazes. Does it matter at this point?”

  Gabe moved his hand away from her leg and folded it with his other on the tabletop. He shifted away from her.