by Kaitlyn Rice
She flung her hands up. “This is us getting the attraction out of our systems.”
“Whatever you say.”
Gabe went into his bathroom again and closed the door between them. Leaving her staring after him, craving more of an argument.
Followed by makeup kisses, and then sex.
There was something erotic about loving a man who knew her ins and outs.
Josie had spent every night with Gabe over the past seventeen days. Sometimes, he showed up at her door with a great bottle of wine. Other times, she picked up dinner and drove out to his house. After work last Friday they’d visited Joe and left late, only to steam up Gabe’s car windows on a dirt road outside town.
They made love often, making creative use of their walls, beds and floors. Gabe had a thing about his claw-foot tub. She’d never taken so many baths in her life. Once, he’d done wicked things to her after lifting her onto his workroom bench.
For the rest of her life, she’d grin when she thought of that bench.
She probably had a thing now about that bench.
She’d never expected to fall this deeply in love. She’d considered herself incapable. She had a dang short attention span and she kept wondering when Gabe would tire of her and seek out a tall blonde.
The idea broke her heart.
Just to prove she could, she dropped by Callie and Ethan’s house that evening and stayed to have dinner with the family. On Thursday morning, a vase of white roses was waiting on her porch when she stepped out to get her newspaper. She read the card, snickering at Gabe’s ornery ditty. Then she kept the roses wrapped to take to her new job site. The bouquet would look beautiful in the accounting firm’s reception area.
Gabe knew she hated getting flowers.
When she saw him that night, she reminded him of that fact, then punished him by insisting they finish the dinner dishes before she’d go to bed with him.
Afterward, she made him go home.
The next afternoon, he sent white lilies to her job site. This note was more specific about which of her body parts he’d missed. It made her laugh out loud, but she’d never tell him that.
What did all the white mean? She wasn’t virginal. She’d think he’d send her red or purple. Some vibrant color.
She hired a courier to take the lilies to Callie. They were Cal’s favorite, and made a nice thank-you for the other night’s dinner.
That evening, she rang Gabe’s doorbell. When he didn’t answer right away, she let herself in with the key. They’d traded again. Probably a mistake.
When he appeared through the kitchen doorway, she said, “Stop sending the flowers, Gabe. You are very aware that I don’t like it.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not. I prefer relationships where I’m on equal terms with the man. I pay for myself. I make my own choices.”
“So send me flowers.”
She sighed. “Every guy says that to me. Do you know that?” she asked. “What are you doing, anyway? And why white?”
He lifted his shoulders. “If you stop giving them away, I’ll tell you why I’m sending white flowers.”
“Never mind.” Josie turned to go.
He caught her arm. “You won’t listen to what I tell you about us—about the way I feel, so maybe I have to show you.”
“Don’t.”
She wound up staying with Gabe that night, but the next day she left before breakfast, telling Gabe she wanted to visit Joe. She hadn’t seen her father in a while. She’d wondered about him.
Joe didn’t answer her knock. She kept trying, then hollered for a while and finally returned to her truck to grab her cell phone. She sat inside the warm cab to telephone Gabe.
He picked up immediately, thank God.
“Joe’s not coming to the door, but I know he’s home,” Josie said. “I’m worried that he’s hurt in there.”
“He hasn’t given you a key?”
“I haven’t asked for one.”
“Get one when you can,” he said. “And try knocking again. I’ll be right there.”
Gabe’s car had appeared at the end of the street in minutes, but Josie was so intent on getting inside to her father that she barely acknowledged him.
“Joe!” she hollered, pressing her cheek against the thin door. No answer. She fisted her hand to knock again, but Gabe grabbed it.
He swore as he examined the angry chafing on her knuckles. “Is this from today?”
She glanced down. She hadn’t realized it before, but her skin had broken open in a couple of spots. “Guess so.”
“No gloves?”
Her knuckles stung now. She rubbed them with the opposite hand. “I thought I’d be running from the truck to his house.”
Gabe stepped off the porch and crossed the yard to scrutinize a side window that led to the bathroom. “When we installed these storm windows, I noticed a busted latch on an inner frame. I’m going to break in.”
“Whatever it takes.”
Gabe ran to his car to grab a tool kit. After returning, he pulled out a screwdriver and pried off the storm-window frame. Within minutes, he’d made an opening large enough to crawl through. Then he boosted Josie up and in.
Fearing what she’d find, Josie dashed around to the front door to let Gabe in before she looked too hard for her father. Then Gabe took her hand and walked with her toward Joe’s bedroom.
Her father was in bed. He wasn’t asleep, yet he appeared very groggy. Josie approached his side. “You okay?”
His eyes were swollen to pink slits. “Fine, fine,” he said. “Gonna sit up.” His voice was pitched too high, his words slurred. He wouldn’t hold Josie’s gaze.
He was very drunk.
Josie traded a look with Gabe, noting his downturned mouth. The sadness in his gaze.
She wasn’t sure whether she was more angry or relieved.
Both of them watched Joe try to sit up.
“Lie still,” Gabe said. He took an empty bottle from the night stand and showed it to Josie. “Did you drink all this, Joe?”
“Mebbee.”
“When’s the last time you ate something?” Josie asked.
“Doan’ know.”
“You can’t live on Wild Turkey, Dad.”
“Been doing ’zactly that for alotta years, Josie-girl.” He lifted up again and bobbed his head around.
“Maybe you should get up,” Josie said. “Gabe can help you to your chair while I fix you some coffee or something.”
“Doan’ care for coffee.” As if to punctuate his statement, Joe started a bout of painful-sounding coughs that left him flat on his back again.
Gabe stalked out of the room and returned with a big bowl, in case Joe was sick to his stomach, but the coughs eventually subsided.
Josie left her father in his warm bed, but propped him up with pillows. She and Gabe made some hot chicken broth for Joe to sip, then spent the day tending to her sick father.
After that, she visited Joe every day. She kept thinking he could have died in his ramshackle little house, alone, while she spent her nonwork hours having sex with Gabe.
Gabe must have sensed her turmoil. They reverted to more of a friendship without a discussion of the change. Gabe also visited her father when he could, and acted accepting of the fact that Josie’s time and emotions were occupied.
He loved her only when she let him know she needed him, which was more often than she liked to admit.
Soon, she’d have to deal with the Gabe issue, too. Joe’s illness made her feel she had no business pretending she could handle anything long-term.
Gabe had recognized that from the start. He shouldn’t be surprised that her every effort was geared toward helping the old man she’d begun to think of as her dad.
Chapter Fourteen
His arms loaded with firewood, Gabe strode across his deck and entered the house. He dropped the logs on the hearth before returning to close the back door. As he took off his coat and draped it over th
e sofa back, he shivered, reacting belatedly to the frigid outside air. The high today had been two degrees, and that had been hours ago. It must be well below zero by now.
Just being outside made a person grit his teeth to withstand the fierceness of the temperature.
When Gabe had talked to Josie at lunchtime, she’d been as worried as usual about her father. She’d intended to drop by the old guy’s place after work to check on him, then come here for a chili supper.
At least she’d recovered from her father’s recent blackout. At first, Gabe had thought Josie would drive the old man further into the bottle. She’d kept going by to make endless pots of soup. She’d also snuck frequent peeks into the old guy’s cabinets, hunting for the alcohol Joe couldn’t afford, physically or financially.
So far, so good. Joe had settled into a healthier routine. And Josie had relaxed, checking only every other day now and spending time with Gabe once more.
Thank heaven. He’d missed her. He understood her nervousness. He was better equipped to handle their romance, he supposed. His mother had married twice, loving both men wholeheartedly.
Josie might be a master avoider, but he hoped by Valentine’s Day he’d manage to convince her that he wasn’t planning on falling out of love with her.
After tossing a couple of crumpled newspaper sheets into the firebox, Gabe added kindling and a hefty stack of cedar logs. He wanted a roaring fire to last through the evening.
The phone rang before he’d had a chance to put a match to the newspaper.
“Gabe? It’s Josie.”
“Hi, babe,” he said teasingly. She claimed to hate it when he called her that, but he thought she secretly liked it.
She was silent.
He frowned. “What’s up?”
“It’s my dad,” she said, her voice small. “Something’s wrong with him. I had to use my key to get in, and I found him…” She hesitated, and when she spoke again, she sounded as though she was crying. “He was curled in a ball. His lips were blue and he was talking gibberish again. I assumed he was drunk.”
“He’s not? Where is he?”
“He was on the kitchen floor, but they put him in the ambulance. They’re transporting him to St. Joseph in Wichita.”
Aw, hell. Poor Joe.
Poor Josie.
“At first, the technicians said it could be alcohol poisoning—I told them about the last time—but now they believe it’s pneumonia. They say he could have died tonight.”
“Are you going in the ambulance?”
“No. I’m, um…” She sighed. “They said it would be better if I found a ride. He might have to stay a while.”
“I’ll come get you. Hang on.” Gabe shrugged into his heavy coat again and started immediately for her house.
Joe was stable by the time he and Josie had arrived at the hospital and located him. He’d been admitted to the emergency room, but the E.R. doc felt confident that they’d move him upstairs to a bed later this evening.
Indeed, he had a severe case of pneumonia, compounded greatly by the effects of his habits. The staff allowed Josie to say hello to her father, who complained more and more loudly as he grew more lucid. Afterward, they encouraged her to go home and return tomorrow. They said Joe would need rest tonight, more than company.
On the drive home, Josie slouched in the passenger seat, her expression pensive. “He could have died alone if I hadn’t come by. He isn’t in touch with his other family. I looked them up, but there are no other Henshaws in the book. I have no idea how to reach them.”
Gabe did. He’d spoken to Alana briefly on New Year’s Eve, when she’d dropped by his mother’s party. He hadn’t told her that he was in touch with her son. Their estrangement was none of his business.
But Josie had a living grandmother she might enjoy, and that was Gabe’s business. He’d never let on that he was aware of the connection. That he’d heard gossip about her family eons ago, and had suspected the truth all along.
He’d hoped that Joe would break the news, and Gabe wouldn’t have to confess how much he knew about the family.
“At least you found him,” Gabe told Josie now. “And maybe this will be an incentive for him to clean up. I get the impression he hates the lack of privacy in his hospital room. Surely he’ll try to avoid any future emergency room visits.”
“You think he’ll be okay, then? He’ll go home?”
“I believe so.”
Josie didn’t respond, and Gabe was approaching the outskirts of Augusta. The town looked locked up solid tonight. Everyone must be snuggled beneath blankets or cozying up to fires. Or both.
Where he’d planned to be with Josie. “Interested in warming up with some of my chili?” he asked as he neared the turn to her place.
“No. The hospital could call.”
Gabe finished the journey to her house and parked in the drive. “You could warm me up without chili.”
She gaped at him, showing a touch of the spirit he loved. “Oh, right, Gabe. Like I’d invite you in tonight.”
He grinned. “I had to try. I’ll pick you up in the morning. The hospital starts visiting hours at eight.”
“Don’t you work tomorrow?”
“I’ll take the day off, same as you.”
“Oh, Gabe…”
“No argument. Get inside. Stay toasty and expect me around seven-thirty.”
She ran for her door.
After waiting until she’d gone inside and turned on a living-room light, Gabe continued on home to wrestle with his conscience. Alana might want to hear about her son’s illness.
Josie deserved the whole truth about her family, even if it meant Gabe might be calling her wrath upon himself.
After finally lighting those cedar logs, Gabe made a phone call to his mother.
The next morning, he and Josie were at Joe’s bedside by eight-thirty. They talked to him, but the old guy was in no mood for conversation. He pouted constantly, fussed with his tubes and grumbled a few earthy complaints about the gowns, the food and the constant interruptions.
When the attendants arrived with his breakfast, Gabe and Josie headed to the cafeteria downstairs for coffee and croissants.
And when they were waiting for the elevator to go back upstairs, they bumped into Alana.
“Hello there, Gabe and…Josie, isn’t it? What brings you two here?”
Oh, Lord. Apparently, Gabe’s mother had passed on the message that Joe was sick without telling Alana details about who had discovered him and called the ambulance.
“My dad is here,” Josie said. “He has bacterial pneumonia—a severe case.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Alana said, her tone polite. “Will he be okay?”
“We think so,” Josie said. “But when I found him on his kitchen floor yesterday, I wasn’t so sure. We’re going up to visit him now.”
Alana stared at Gabe, her eyes wide and hazel. Why had Gabe not noticed their particular color and shape before?
If she’d never considered the idea that Josie was her granddaughter, she had now.
But Josie remained unaware.
“And why are you here today?” Josie asked. “Volunteer work?”
The elevator doors opened, and she allowed a couple of men to board in front of her while she waited for Alana’s answer.
“Uh, well, no. My son’s here,” Alana croaked.
With a sense of impending doom, Gabe trailed behind Josie and her grandmother as they stepped onto the elevator. Everyone faced the doors, then eyed the lit buttons on the control panel. Seven wasn’t lit. Alana, who was nearest to the panel, pushed the button and didn’t bother to push one for him and Josie. She didn’t sidle out of the way, either. She simply watched the doors close.
Josie chuckled. “Funny, we’re going to the same floor.”
Alana nodded.
People entered and exited on several floors, but by the time the elevator had reached seven, the three of them were alone again. They filed out.
&n
bsp; “Nice chatting with you, Mrs. Morgan,” Josie said, starting down the hall. It took her six steps to realize that Alana was walking alongside her. Still, she simply tittered and kept going.
When Alana followed her into the room, Josie stopped to peer at her. “This is your son’s room?” she asked.
“Well, hello, Mother,” Joe said in a strong voice that sounded very much like Alana’s.
The next hour was a scramble in Gabe’s mind. Josie acted all right. She even talked to Alana some, maintaining that cordiality, and managed to make Joe laugh by promising to smuggle in a big, fat hamburger for his lunch tomorrow.
But as soon as they left the hospital room so her father could sleep, Josie grabbed Gabe’s arm. “Did you have any idea that Alana Morgan had a son named Joe?”
Gabe was tired of trying to keep the story straight. He wanted Josie to know everything. But this wasn’t a conversation for a hospital corridor.
He took Josie’s arm and coaxed her into a vacant foyer. After motioning for her to sit in a padded rocking chair, he scooted another around in front of it. He didn’t want a lot of space between them. If she could see his sincerity, his concern for her well-being, his love, then maybe she’d respond well to the truth.
“Yes, I did know, Josie. Alana has two sons and a daughter. I didn’t remember at first, but after we met Joe I recognized the connection.”
Josie scowled. “How could this happen? I thought he had no family—or none that cared. But it turns out they’re your friends. And you knew!”
Gabe gripped the hands Josie held clenched on her thighs. “The Henshaws aren’t my friends, really. They are acquaintances. And none of the family stayed in contact with your dad, so I did forget the connection.”
Josie yanked her hands away and clasped them around her belly. “You’re not helping.”
He clenched his own hands, eyeing her.
“They abandoned him? Their flesh and blood?”
Gabe shook his head. “Alana kept track of his address, Josie. Mom told me last night that his mother has helped him with money from time to time.”
Josie glared at him. “Your mother? You talked about this with your mother but not me?”
Aw, hell.
How to explain?