Her whole body deflated like a punctured balloon. A group of about ten men were gathered around two tables pushed together, bags of potato chips, cans of beer, and playing cards scattered over the surface. Another man dropped down from his chair to crawl on the ground and wrestle with the dog, laughing when he got a long tongue swipe across his face.
“Well?” Gabe hefted her up, adjusting his grip. She really didn’t think his hand had to be there but felt this wasn’t the best time to point it out. “What do you see? Is there a fight going on?”
She tapped his shoulder and whispered, “No. Down.”
She slid between his arms, her body sliding against his until her toes touched the dumpster. His mouth was only inches from hers. Small puffs of crystalized air escaped his lips and brushed across her own.
He stilled. So did she. The air thickened, became charged. Except for a vague shadow, she couldn’t see his eyes. But she knew he was feeling the same heat when he ran his hands down her sides to her hips, then around to her lower back. She swallowed, and the absurdity of the situation struck her.
They were standing on top of a dumpster, one she’d fallen into, and she wanted nothing more than to kiss Gabe. She couldn’t get enough of him. Gabe made her as stupid and horny as a teenager.
Her adult sense returned. “Let’s get out of here.” She slithered from his grip and down to her butt, scooching off the dumpster to land on her feet.
Gabe jumped and landed in a crouch beside her. He stood, and another round of hoots and hollers erupted from inside the garage. “What is going on in there?”
“Gambling.” Brushing off her clothes, she sighed. It was hopeless. They needed to be burned.
“On dogs?” Gabe flexed his hands and marched around Marla to the front of the building.
She ran up behind and grabbed hold of the waist band of his jeans. “On cards. Gabe, they’re playing cards and having a good time. I was wrong. But hey,” she said, giving him a weak smile, “it seems as though the app is working. Good news, right?”
“Poker.” The streetlight across from them flickered on and illuminated one side of Gabe’s face. She almost wished it hadn’t. A muscle ticked in his cheek, right above the hairline of his new short beard. His lips were pressed tightly together, and he took a step into her space.
She stumbled back. “Yep. Just a friendly game of poker. If you think about it, it’s a little funny. I mean, all the signs were there. And there was a dog wrestling inside, but it was with a person, and just for fun and belly rubs. And hey, I’ll know better for next time.”
“Funny.” He paced closer. “Next time?”
She glanced over her shoulder. Her car was about forty feet away. Not far, but Gabe liked to go out jogging. She couldn’t outrun him. “It really isn’t that big a deal.” The heel of her sneaker caught on a buckle in the sidewalk, and she stumbled. “And as a point of fact, I didn’t ask you to come here. I only asked if the app was working. Any time wasted is on your head, not mine.”
“You think I’m mad because I wasted a drive out here?” His dark eyebrows shot up under his hair.
“So, you are angry then.” When wasn’t he angry? It was surprising the man’s heart hadn’t exploded from high blood pressure. Did he ever have that checked? Maybe she could take him to a drugstore and convince him to do the self-test machine. All that anger really wasn’t healthy. If—
He shot his hand out and grabbed the front of her hoodie, pulling her up short. “You’re goddamn right I’m mad. What if there had been a fight going on in that garage? For someone with all those degrees, you sure don’t like to use your brain, do you?”
“I beg your pardon.” She punched him in the shoulder, but he didn’t even flinch. She shook out the sting in her wrist. “What do you see as brainless in my actions? I received a tip and came here to check it out. It’s what any decent person would have done.” She poked her finger at him, this time making sure not to make contact. She didn’t need a broken digit to go along with her broken pride. “It’s what you would have done.”
He gave her a small shake. “You don’t know these people like I do. Don’t understand how brutal they are, or how dangerous they can be if they feel they’re cornered.” He lowered his head until they were eye to eye. “Now tell me, if there had been a dog fight, what would you have done?”
“Called the police, of course.” She didn’t know what Gabe thought she would do, but she didn’t fancy herself a commando who could take out the bad guys. She understood her limitations.
“And if you’d seen dogs hurt. A bait dog about to get his throat ripped out, would you have patiently waited for the cops while the animal died?”
Her chest tightened. What would she have done? Could she have sat back and watched that? “I don’t know.”
“I know, because I know you.” His nostrils flared. “You would have stormed inside, tossing around words like animal cruelty and felony offense, and been completely vulnerable.”
“I would have called the police,” she said weakly.
“The response time out here would be at least ten minutes.” He pulled her closer. “A lot could have happened to you in ten minutes.”
She swallowed thickly. A lot could have gone wrong. Or maybe she could have put an end to the dog fighting ring in Crook County. They’d never know. But one thing was clear. He did care about her, at least a little bit more than he would for the general population. And even though that made her feel all warm and toasty inside, she didn’t want him to worry over her safety.
Cupping his cheek, she drew her thumb back and forth over his scruff. “Nothing bad happened.” And it wouldn’t. She’d be smart.
He turned his face, and his lips brushed her palm. “You don’t know these people like I do, Marla. You can’t be stupid.”
“How do you know these people?” He kept hinting at a dark past, and the wondering was driving her nuts. She refused to believe he would ever have had any part in dog fighting. A person didn’t change that much.
His jaw flexed beneath her palm. “I have a history with dogfighters,” he said, and then fell silent.
She narrowed her eyes. He didn’t really think he could throw a grenade like that, say no more, and expect her to be satisfied. “What kind of history?”
He pulled her hand away from his face. “The kind that isn’t pretty.”
“Pretty isn’t important to me.” Her heart thumped unevenly in her chest. What sort of history could a man like Gabe have? He loved animals, would never hurt one. But she knew the answer was important, would help explain why he was the man he was. If he would share it.
“I helped run them.” He held her eyes until she stepped back in shock. Then he dropped his gaze to the ground. “My father and uncle ran a fight ring. I helped. I drove the dogs to the fights, fed them, cleaned up the cages. And when the dogs were hurt, I tried like hell to doctor them.”
“How old were you?” Her voice was a mere whisper. She couldn’t believe it. Not Gabe.
“It started when I was ten. Ended at nineteen.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and raised his head. He pressed his lips flat and looked like a convict awaiting his judgment.
All the air was sucked from her lungs, and her body sagged. A child. At ten, he was almost a baby. Of course, he’d do as his father said. Her muscles quivered. She made fists with her hands and her nails bit into her palms. Ten damn years old. And his father involved him in something so despicable? It put her problems with her dad into perspective.
“Your father and uncle, are they in prison by any chance? Or are they available for me to call upon?”
The corners of his lips tipped up. “Dad’s dead. Sorry, babe. You can’t tongue-lash him, although I have to admit that would have been something to see. And you’re not going anywhere near my uncle.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “But I’m standing here.�
�� He spread his arms out wide. “You can tell me how despicable I am to my face.”
“Gabe, you were a child.” She reached for him, and he stepped back.
“Not at nineteen.” He dipped his chin to his chest, his shoulders curving inward.
Her heart tore open. This was what he carried around with him, a constant weight of self-loathing and guilt. All for something he’d had no control over. “You asked me before what I would have done if I’d found a fight here.” She jerked her head at the garage. “I’ll ask you the same: What would you have a ten-year-old do to stop his father?” She grabbed his arms, ignoring the way his muscles stiffened. “What could you have done?”
“Anything would have been better than the nothing I did.”
Marla sighed. She rubbed his arms, from his elbows to his wrists and back again. “There was nothing you could have done. And you said you helped the dogs you could, patching them up.”
Gabe snorted and shook his head.
No, a teenager with no training probably hadn’t been able to give the animals the medical care they needed. But at least he had given them love, something they had sorely missed in life. That counted for so much more than Gabe seemed to think.
“And you became a vet, and now help as many dogs as you can.” He had to see how amazing that was. How amazing he was.
He nodded. “It can’t make up for what I did, but it’s a start.”
She cocked her head. “Is this why you don’t have a dog of your own?” She’d wondered about that. Why a man who loved dogs, who had such a great connection to them, wouldn’t own one.
“I didn’t know one of your degrees was in psychiatry.” He twisted his face into a bitter smile. “You trying to get in my head?”
She sighed. “Of course not.” At least not in the way he meant. She did want to know him. Understand him. But she didn’t think she’d ever get past his walls. She nudged his arm and gave him a teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Although in the interests of full disclosure, I did minor in psychology.”
“Of course you did,” he said. He glanced down at her hand on his arm. “And just like with all your other degrees, you’ve done nothing useful with it except play at armchair psychologist. Instead of going for your PhD in elvish languages, did you ever consider getting a degree in a real subject? Something that would actually lead to a job? Maybe then you wouldn’t have the time to go running around like Nancy Drew.”
She jerked her head back. The back of her throat burned. He was hurting and lashing out. Nothing that she should take personally. But she did. “All I meant,” she said, her voice small, “was that I’d be willing to listen, any time you want to talk.”
“Sure, I’ll just stretch out on your couch. We can talk all about my feelings.” He stalked past her, his shoulder brushing hers. His car was parked in front of her Jag on the street, and he made for it.
She watched him go, waiting for him to stop, to turn around and apologize. To putty up the hole he’d carved out in her heart with his words. To tell her he’d follow her home and they could put this night behind them. They communicated best in bed anyway. She should have remembered that and kept her mouth shut.
He climbed in his Chevelle and sped away.
Leaving her alone on the street.
On autopilot, she stumbled to her car and unlocked the doors. Her lights flashed, disorienting her, and she leaned against her trunk.
The more time she spent with Gabe, the less she’d wanted their relationship to be just a meaningless fling. Under all his insensitive comments, his silences, she saw the man he was. The depth of his feelings. His strong sense of right and wrong, of his duty. He was a man she was coming to care for, quite a lot.
But she hadn’t considered the reverse. That the more she learned of Gabe, the more he would discover about her. With superficial relationships, Marla could make men see the image she projected. The confident woman who got stuff done. Who was relevant and useful.
She huffed out a laugh and wiped her cheek. She stepped to her door and jerked it open, sliding behind the wheel. Gabe had never seen her that way. He’d seen through her from the start. She slapped the steering wheel. What was wrong with her? Why was she drawn to a man who thought she was as incompetent as her father did? She should be the one lying on a psychiatrist’s couch.
She’d appreciated the fact she couldn’t bullshit him. Admired his perception. But she hadn’t thought that he’d see through her to her deepest fears. Or that he’d call her out. Was he right? Had she chosen her field of study because she knew there was no career track? If she’d finished her thesis, attained her PhD, she might have been able to teach. Get a job in an English department, focusing on language and literature. But she hadn’t finished. And there was no job. Just two esoteric master’s degrees. Framed pieces of paper hiding in her closet.
Perhaps breaking it off with Gabe now would be smart. If the alternative was even an option. He’d seemed pretty done with her when he drove off.
She ignored the sinking feeling in her belly at the idea of never being with him again. This was for the best. She didn’t need someone around who picked holes in her choices.
She exhaled loudly. There had been nothing wrong with her life. Nothing lacking. She enjoyed charity work and parties. Hanging with friends and spending time with the residents at Golden Acres. And… she bit her lip. God, there had to be something else in her life. She pressed her lips together.
No, no more of those destructive thoughts. She had a good life. She’d go back to it and pretend this whole episode with Gabe had never happened. She would be the sweet granddaughter her deda knew, a fun-loving date for a man who would appreciate her, and the philanthropist respected for her charity work. All personas she liked.
She started her car.
But she wouldn’t be his.
Chapter Twelve
Loud laughter met Marla’s ears as Izzy led her to her covered back patio. Her pulse thrummed in her throat as she stepped out onto the brickwork, her gaze darting over the small party. She shielded her eyes from the noon sun. Gabe wasn’t there. Not yet. Her shoulders sagged.
She shouldn’t have come. Not after last night. But she had her pride. He wouldn’t know his words had hurt.
“Marla’s here, everyone,” Izzy said. “And she brought cupcakes from The Cake Vault.”
“Sweet.” Ana, Izzy’s ten-year-old daughter, trotted over and eyed the tray her mother held. She reached for a strawberry-vanilla confection, and her mom lifted the tray over her head.
“Not until after you’ve eaten real food.” Izzy placed the tray on a long wooden table. “Can I get you something to drink, Marla? Lemonade? Wine?”
“White wine sounds great.” Marla wiped her palms on her skirt. She shouldn’t be nervous. She liked everyone in this small gathering: Brad and Dax she knew well; Izzy’s friends Lydia and Kevin, co-owners of Tannert Winery, she’d only seen on occasion but they seemed nice. All good people.
Maddie and Hoover came out after their investigation of the kitchen. Hoov joined the three other dogs playing on the lawn while Maddie found an unoccupied nook of the patio and lay down.
Marla gripped the wine glass Izzy handed her. No, the rest of the guests were all fine. It was the missing man from Forever Friends who was the sticking point. Their argument was still too recent in her mind, her feelings too raw. But Gabe wasn’t big on socializing. Perhaps she’d luck out and—
“I was wondering when you’d get here.”
Marla jolted. Her wine sloshed over the rim of her glass as she spun.
Gabe steadied her hand. “Easy. Lydia and Kevin only brought ten bottles of their wine. Gotta make it last.”
Marla lowered her eyebrows. “Was that a joke? Are you attempting humor?”
“I can be funny.” He held his neck stiffly, the cords sticking out.
�
��No, that’s not really your thing.” Her heart pitter-pattered and she drank him in. He was wearing a blue-checked button-down, the collar undone, a white undershirt peeking out beneath. The color looked fantastic against his olive skin, and her fingers itched to undo the rest of the fastenings. But this man had insulted her so she dug her fingernails into her palms and pulled out her snark, her most efficient armor. “You can be overbearing. Autocratic. A truly insensitive ass. But I wouldn’t say funny.”
Dax brushed past them, heading into the kitchen. “Does funny-looking count?”
Gabe shoulder-checked the guy, but otherwise ignored him. “Is this about last night?” He shoved his hands in his front pockets. “Look, I can get mad fast, I know it.”
Marla nodded. That was very true.
“I’m also quick to get over it and move on.”
She pursed her lips. The truth of that statement wasn’t as readily apparent.
He narrowed his eyes. “Can we both admit we did some stupid things last night and call it even? No need to rehash everything.”
Or apologize, apparently. “So, what? We go on as before and pretend that whole conversation didn’t happen?” Could that work? A reset of sorts? Though she had no doubt Gabe would be the main beneficiary of such an agreement, her actions hadn’t been entirely blameless. He’d been worried and he’d snapped. Could she pretend it had never happened and continue with their affair as before?
“Why not?” He stepped forward, the tip of his shoe nudging the toe of hers. “We’re each getting what we want from the other. Why ruin a good thing?”
Dax came back carrying hot dog buns and a handful of condiments. He knocked into Gabe’s back, sending his hard body into Marla’s. “Oh, sorry,” Dax said sarcastically. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Watch it,” Gabe growled. “You knocked me into Marla.” But he didn’t step away. He rested a hand on her hip. The buckle of his belt pressed into her belly.
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