by Dawn Tomasko
"I do.” His hand trailed down her hair. "Sara, I do, and you're right. The problem is, I don't know what I'm going to do about it yet."
Sara knelt on the blanket to face him. "You don't have to know to tell me. Maybe I can help. Sometimes if you talk about an awkward situation it helps. But if I give you my trust, I deserve the same from you."
"Yes, you do.” Gabriel sat up, legs crossed on the blanket. Sara settled down beside him.
"Where did I leave off? I told you Michael always wanted Nicole from the time we were kids, right?” At her nod, he continued. “We all knew he always wanted the company. We'd both been groomed for the business and Dad fully expected us to follow in his footsteps. Michael’s passion for it surpassed mine by a mile. We all understood I would head the company, and Michael would partner. Being older meant the mantle fell on my shoulders."
He rolled them as if to shake off the responsibility even now. "You might expect a younger son to be more relaxed than he is, not as ambitious as the firstborn, but Michael has incredible drive, ambition and he’s very competitive. Deep down, before I could even admit it to myself, I never wanted the position. Michael did and resented me for it. He constantly told me how he would handle certain clients or situations. We could have been closer, but weren't hostile, either. There's real affection between us."
He raked a hand through his hair. As if to gather his thoughts, he paused to scan the horizon. The sun slipped beneath, at first, a sliver of blood orange, finally blinked out altogether. The surf rushed the shore, stars blanketed the inky sky.
"The bullshit with the hotel and pictures, the job, even the suits I wore, suffocated me."
He shook his head. "I never wanted her. I didn't want DE. But he chose to believe I intentionally took what he wanted. She saw the opening and went right for it. Rage clouded my judgment. Rage at her for being at the bar, at him for believing I could do that. At myself, because I thought I did sleep with her. I ripped into both of them. The situation escalated, and I said things meant to cut both of them."
Gabriel rested his elbows on his knees and faced her. "Michael is the right one for DE. As far as Nicole goes, I still can't see beyond her ambition. Why would he still want her? He says they love each other. My father keeps on like nothing ever happened. My mother thinks Nicole might love Michael, which I think is crazy. Either way, she wants me to make peace with them. But I can't get past it, Sara."
He didn't try to mask the pain. Harsh lines etched his face, drew his mouth down at the corners. She'd never seen him in such a state.
Sara ran her hand over his back, over the tight, bunched muscles. "Gabriel, you can’t get past it because it feels like a betrayal. She wanted something for herself, so she used you. That failing, she took Michael. Maybe she does love him, maybe not. But he loves her. All his life he wanted both her and the company and thought his brother took what he wanted. You finished with her, the company, and he knew it."
A deep furrow creased his forehead as he considered her words.
"Gabriel, I'm trying to see it from his perspective. You didn't maliciously take the company nor do I think you did those things with Nicole in the hotel room. But he may have always known the 'suit' didn't fit you the way it fits him and your father."
Wanting to make him feel better, she reached over to run her fingers over his cheek. His eyes searched hers. "You did what you had to do to be happy. You love your work now. Michael loves his."
"He let a woman come between us,” he told her vehemently. "It pisses me off he believes her over me. I told him I didn't remember what happened. The guilt I suffered, thinking I hurt him. Now that I think of it in a different light, does he honestly believe I'd send him pictures like that? What does he take me for?"
"I know, but he's only thinking of her and himself right now. They might make it, or she'll break his heart. Deep down you love each other. You're family, brothers. At the end of the day, it's all that matters. If she hurts him, he'll need you."
All at once, the tension drained from his face. "You're right. I need to roll this around in my head for a while. Maybe at some point, I'll make a trip home to talk to Michael."
"If you need company, just ask.” Sara sank back onto the blanket, a little more comfortable.
"You're a smart lady, you know that?"
He lay down beside her, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, bare foot to bare foot. Hand in hand.
Chapter Fourteen
Quitting time came at six o'clock. He'd made damn solid progress on the cottage today. A couple more days and the porch would be complete. After he put his tools away and stacked up the odd pieces of lumber, he strolled around back to sit on the bottom step and loosen his boot laces.
The screen door creaked open. A moment later, Sara sat down beside him, offered him a beer. As always, her presence soothed him, gave him peace. Also stirred him up in ways he longed to act on. Her soft beauty and kind heart pulled at him in a way he never felt with anyone else. His eyes forever roamed her figure, her long, lean legs, trim waist and he imagined the high swell of those breasts would fill his hands, made perfectly for him.
"Oh, yeah,” he took a long drink from the bottle. He pulled his cap off, tossed it on a chair behind him. Seeing the local label, he grinned. "Whale’s Tail hits the spot. Thanks."
"You're welcome. The front porch looks amazing. You do beautiful work."
He smiled, her praise warming him. "I'm satisfied with it. We're ready to lay down decking. I put the railings together into sections.” He wedged his boots off and peeled off damp socks. Flexing his feet, the air dried the sweat he worked up during the long day. "After that, new stairs and we'll be having drinks on the front porch watching the sun go down."
Sara jumped up and down, did a little twirl. "I can't wait. Can you make the steps extra wide?"
When Sara was so animated, he felt an indescribable pleasure. Delighted with her excitement, he grinned. "Already planned on it. Lots of room to sit, and I figure you have ideas on ways to dress it up with plants."
"Of course, I do. You know,” she said, a wistful tone to her voice, and looked up at the cottage, "I'm falling in love with this house. For the fourth of July, I want to put patriotic bunting on the porch. It’s beautiful here in October. Wouldn't pumpkins and Chrysanthemums look sweet on the steps?"
"Yeah, they would. Even if the house is complete, I'd like to be here to see that,” he told her in a soft voice. His long fingers tugged on a lock of her hair, pulled her down so he could feel those sensuous lips on his. His body responded swiftly. "Let me ask you a question. If you could buy the house, would you?"
As eased down next to him, her brows lifted. "Definitely, but I can't see how. Real estate is at a premium here. In spite of its size, this house will probably list for six hundred thousand or more. It's prime beachfront property. David bought me out of the house, so I have a cushion, but I need to generate income. Charlotte suggested a nursing position at the hospital, at least for the short term."
Fatigue from the day started to set in. Gabriel scrubbed a hand over his face. "Is that what you want?"
Sara looked out over the back yard, chin in her hand. "No,” she informed him. "I want to start my own business in landscape design. I'm finishing up online classes now. I started working on this back in Connecticut."
"That's great. Show me some ideas. What would you do back here?” he lifted his chin toward the back yard.
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. He loved seeing her happy. "First, I'd push back the brush along the sides of the house. I would make a circle out front for parking and get rid of the driveway. On the right, a barrier fence, then another fence on the left side of the house with a gate. You know the type, with a circle on the upper part?” She used her fingers to make a circle in the air.
Sara stood up, walked the driveway to visualize, so he followed, watched the sway of her hips as she walked. "There's one up in 'Sconset, it overlooks the ocean.”
"Yeah, I've s
een it. One of Gary's friends gave me a lead on a job, and I went out to give an estimate. Afterward, I spent some time exploring there, since it's the other side of the island and I don't get out there much."
She swept a graceful hand through the air. "Down the center of the driveway, a winding brick walk, flanked by perennials on both sides.” With a spin, she faced the back again. "See how we have limited space right now, with the scrub oaks and roses crowding in?"
The 'we' didn't escape his notice. Hands on his hips, he nodded, loving this moment. The fatigue of the day began to melt away.
"I'd want a broad patch of lawn, maybe a barbecue or decorative fire pit. Oh, and Adirondack chairs, in bright colors, like green or blue. I've always loved them. They'd be perfect on the front porch. Back to the yard. Beyond the grassy area, create unique, quiet spaces. Tucked away, so you'll only see them if you meander through. A water feature, an arbor with a bench for a quiet place to sit and read. A slate or brick patio with a wrought iron table and chairs would be sweet."
Reaching out, he grabbed a thick strand of her hair, rubbed the silk between his fingers. He'd already decided to make the Adirondack chairs for her, a secret gift. When was her birthday? Gabriel made a mental note to ask Charlotte. "You've given this a lot of thought."
Face flushed with pleasure, she rocked on her heels. God, she looked beautiful. "I have. Don't get me going on the front of the house."
Hands on his hips, he studied her. "You belong here, Sara,” and truly meant it. Sara fit perfectly with the magic of this place.
"I love this island. Always have. When I'm here, I'm happy. It’s far from David, which is exactly how I want things. Charlotte wants me to stay. Brianna's old enough to make decisions for herself. Right now I am close to her, and she's only in her freshman year. I can get to her fast if she needs me."
Always thinking of how her actions would impact others. What about herself? "I meant not only the island but here. This house. The cottage should belong to you."
Her gaze dropped to the ground, her feet kicked at the scallop shells in the driveway. "Oh, I don't know. I can dream."
He smiled widely. "You can do more than dream."
The answering smile and dance in her eyes let him know he'd been right. "In the meantime, Charlotte gave me the green light, so it's up to me to decorate in whatever way I want, and I love that.” Shifting gears, she rubbed her hands together. "Tonight I want to cook dinner for you if you don't have plans. I put out the cranberry candle.”
"I'm always available for you.” His stomach growled, and they both laughed.
"Do you want to shower while I work on dinner?"
Did he ever. Picking up his socks and boots, he followed her up the back steps, leaving the boots by the door. Before they headed into the kitchen, he wrapped a strong arm around her waist, pulled her back against the hard wall of his body. Pliant and willowy, her body leaned back, stretched along him like a second skin. Instantly, he got hard, and he fought against the urge to grind into her ass.
"You feel so good,” he groaned. Before the growing bulge in his jeans startled her, he kissed the side of her neck and pulled back. "I'll be down in a few minutes."
The ocean breeze blew through the house, rich scented with salt and sea. The cranberry candle flickered on the table. Sara loved the tangy sweetness infusing the rooms.
The water in the shower upstairs ran, with a naked Gabriel in it. What she'd give to work up the courage to strip down to the skin and join him. To rub soap in her palms, smooth the lather over his warm, supple skin. To explore the sexual tension building since she first set eyes on him. Would she shock him? Maybe, but she was pretty sure he'd welcome her. The expression on his face alone would be worth it.
The timer for the chicken rang, and she slid on oven mitts to pull the pan out. A decent cook, she loved having the chance to feed Gabriel. The water stopped upstairs. Gabriel would be down soon. How would he smell, fresh from the shower, clean from her soap and shampoo?
Warmth flooded her body. Her breasts felt full and ached to be touched. To keep from running up the stairs and jumping the man, she brought glasses down from the cupboard and poured a glass of wine. After a quick stir of the potatoes, she brought two bottles of wine to the table. One white, one red.
The stairs creaked under Gabriel’s feet on his way down. "Smells fantastic down here,” he called out.
Dressed in khaki shorts and a tight-fitting black t-shirt, he'd left his feet bare. Sara watched the play of muscle on his upper arm as he finger–combed his still–damp hair. "What's for dinner?"
You, she wanted to say. "First, your wine. Would you like white or red?"
"Red,” he replied and set his dirty clothes by his boots on the back porch.
She poured a glass for him. "Roasted herbed chicken, steamed red potatoes with garlic, olive oil, and fresh rosemary. Sautéed asparagus with brown butter and Romano cheese will complete the meal. For the finish, I have an unusual dessert in store."
Hands on his hips he moved toward the table. "My mouth is watering. You should write for a culinary magazine."
Delighted, she laughed. "You're hungry. Again. Big surprise. Have a seat while I plate it up."
"Come here first,” he demanded gently. A strong arm scooped her up, wrapped around her waist. Tight ab muscles pressed into her belly. His fingers skimmed along her jaw. "I want you to know I think you're special, Sara. Different from other women I've known and spent time with."
"I'll take that as a compliment,” she smiled, and wrapped her arms around his neck, going up on her toes to put her mouth on his. At first, the kiss was sweet and gentle, but they needed more. Placing soft kisses on the corner of his mouth, along the full bottom lip, she teased both of them until he growled. Gabriel’s fingers gripped her head, fingers buried in the mane of her hair and deepened the kiss, his tongue plunged in to tangle with hers.
God, he did smell glorious. She fisted her hands in his damp hair. A deep moan rumbled from his throat, and he broke free to bury his face in her neck.
Reveling in the feel of his hard, muscled body pressed against her, Sara let her hands explore. To deeply massage the corded muscles in his neck and shoulders, down his pecs and finally pressed her thumbs into the defined ridges in his stomach.
Fast and hard, his breathing matched hers. “Baby, we need to stop.”
“Why?”
His hands came up to cup her face. Serious, his eyes searched hers intently. “Are you ready? I want to give you as much time as you need. Before you ask, yes, I want you. More than any woman, ever.” He glanced down at the ridge in his snug jeans. “Do you have any doubts?”
Sara shook her head, and licked her lips, tasting him. Wanting more.
Gabriel leaned down to kiss the top of her head and ran his hand down her back. “The timing needs to be right. I couldn’t stand it if you weren’t sure.”
That he respected her this much, cared this much, meant the world to her. There must be a reason he wanted to wait, not just for her, but for himself. “Okay, let’s wait a little while.” How did the words come out of her mouth? Tight as a bow, her body ready to go off any second, she craved him like her next breath.
After a last, sweet kiss, he moved to the table. A choked laugh escaped her when he had to adjust his jeans. "Witch.”
How did he do it? How did he make her feel wild, bold? Like she possessed an innate female power he found irresistible? When they did come together, Sara would explore this newly discovered side of herself to the fullest. More than her pleasure, she wanted to give him pleasure.
Reaching for his wine, Gabriel drank deeply. “What's the unusual dessert?"
"Cubed watermelon with feta cheese, olive oil, sea salt and fresh basil."
"That sounds…different,” he offered.
"Don't be afraid,” Sara laughed, watching him work to bank the revulsion in his expression. Then she handed him the plates mounded with tender chicken, potatoes, and asparagus. "You'll like it.”
Gabriel eyed the food, then looked over at her. "Do you have a camera? I want to remember it."
"Be serious,” she grinned.
"Baby, I'm always serious about food. Among other things,” he leered.
“Don’t I know it.” He ate with gusto, hungry after a long day and both of them too busy to remember to eat lunch.
"This is delicious. Where did you learn such mad cooking skills?"
"Cookbooks to start. My grandmother gave me pointers, but out of necessity, she was a meat and potatoes cook. As a young wife with five kids during World War II, she learned how to stretch a meal. When she finished picking a chicken carcass, you couldn't find a shred of meat on the bones. Once I discovered gardening, I grew my vegetables and herbs, and started to experiment and develop my recipes."
After he had stuffed a tender piece of chicken into his mouth, he groaned in appreciation. "We've always had a cook at the house. My mom likes to bake, but she has too many outside interests to spend much time in the kitchen. Fresh ingredients make all the difference."
"That's the idea.” She sipped the wine and watched him eat. His obvious enjoyment of her cooking thrilled her. After dinner, he left for his cottage, but not before they shared long, hot kisses in the soothing darkness of her back yard.
The next morning, she heard from Brianna. I'm coming out to the island, the text read. Joy mixed with trepidation skyrocketed in Sara's heart.
Great, when?
The day after Memorial Day. Then I'll see Dad. Found a job in Boston for summer. Start July 1.
So her visit would be a short one. Very short. Sara paced the living room and kitchen. When her daughter came, she wanted to gain back some of what they lost. Hopefully, their visit would be productive. Bree should meet Gabriel, see his goodness, his kindness, and humor.
Charlotte and Gary loved Bree like a daughter. The three of them they might be able to help Brianna see more clearly. To see more in Sara than a mother, but also a woman. Someone who deserved to find her happiness in life. Even if it meant, it wouldn't be with her father.