Reforming Gabe

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  Why didn’t she stop him? She would. Right now. As soon as she figured out how.

  “Why did you follow me out here?”

  “I didn’t. I came out here to fetch myself a Dr. Pepper since I couldn’t talk any of those women into doing it for me. Why? Did you come out here so I would follow you?”

  “No!” Finally, she stood up straight and shoved away from him. “I came to get Champagne.”

  And without looking at him, Neyland retrieved the Champagne and stalked out of the room.

  She heard his little laugh, but she didn’t turn to acknowledge it.

  Chapter Three

  Every seat in Noel’s little living room was filled, and Sammy, Jackson’s employee at Beauford Bend, was sitting on the floor.

  Gabe set the cake on the coffee table beside the pizza boxes.

  “Where’d you get that?” Jackson asked.

  “Beauford Bend. They wanted us to have it.”

  “It hasn’t even been cut,” Dirk said. “Did you steal that from their party?”

  “No. I tell you, they wanted us to have it.” Gabe settled onto the floor and reached for a slice of pizza. “Sammy, pass me a beer, will you?”

  “They gave it to you to get rid of you, didn’t they?” Rafe said.

  “Yep.” Gabe turned his beer up. Not that he hadn’t been itching to leave. He just hadn’t been able to figure out how to go without appearing to Neyland like he was running from her. But he’d needed to run. It had been obvious she’d been disconcerted when he’d sat on the floor and leaned against her. He’d only followed her to the kitchen to finish what he’d started when he’d plopped down against her to begin with—yank her chain and prove to himself that he wasn’t attracted to her.

  But he’d gotten a surprise. As he stood close to her with that thick chestnut hair dancing around her shoulders, matching his smart-aleck remarks with her sharp, quick wit, he’d only proven the opposite. He probably only wanted her because she was off limits. Yeah. That was it.

  “You must have been on their nerves in a bad way for them to buy you off with chocolate cake,” Jackson said.

  “They were ready to open their little presents. I think it was underwear. I would have left without the cake since I have no wish to see my future-sister-in-law’s underwear. But I bluffed.”

  “Da,” Nickolai said. “I saw my Noel wrap her gift. She said this party was for giving lingerie. Perhaps we should have brought underwear for Jackson tonight, no? Is that the thing to do?”

  “No,” Jackson said emphatically, “I assure you that is not the thing to do. But maybe I ought to go home and check out Emory’s presents.” Everyone laughed.

  Judging from her fashion style, Neyland probably had good underwear. If she’d been anyone but Coach’s daughter, back there in that kitchen he’d have kissed her all the way into the pantry and had his way with her—because he could tell that would be her way, too. Some women were made for roses, soft sheets, and pretending like sex wasn’t going to happen. Neyland MacKenzie was artistic, impulsive, and hot-blooded; she would be fully onboard with a little love among the flour and pancake syrup. She might not even mind if some of that got mixed in.

  But she was Coach’s daughter, and no amount of chemistry was going to make him forget that. Besides, he’d be out of here in two days. Where he was going, he didn’t know yet, but he’d be gone the morning after the wedding.

  “Hey.” He met his twin’s eyes. “There’s this place in Costa Rica that’s supposed to have good ziplining. You want to go?”

  Rafe brightened. “Yeah, I do. When?”

  “Two days.”

  Rafe shook his head. “Can’t do it. Got a date with a bull.”

  “That’s great,” Jackson said. “Could you maybe try for a human soon? One that won’t kill you?”

  “Bulls are safer than women.” Rafe took a swig of his beer. Everyone laughed, including Gabe, though he didn’t feel too jovial at the thought of no traveling buddy. Courtney had gotten custody of his most recent group of running pals. Sure, he had friends among his teammates, but he didn’t want to tell them he might not sign that contract, and silence on the matter felt a little too much like lying.

  He felt especially guilty for keeping the information from Jamal Washington. Jamal and Tosha were practically family. They had even asked Gabe to be godfather to baby Sydney, who’d been born three days before the Super Bowl and the infamous ball-dropping incident. Though he’d held her plenty before the Super Bowl, later, at Sydney’s baptism ceremony, he’d been terrified he’d drop her when Tosha had handed her to him. Thankfully, he hadn’t, but it had been the longest five minutes of his life.

  “How about after the Super Bowl? Could we go ziplining then?” Rafe asked.

  Everyone assumed Gabe wouldn’t be free until after the Super Bowl. After all, that’s how it had been for three years. Little did they know.

  “Sure,” Gabe said. “We can do that.” But that didn’t change the fact that he needed to get out of town in two days. So who could he go with?

  He looked around the room. Jackson, honeymoon. Dirk, Disney World. Glaz, recovering and then playoffs. Sammy?

  “Hey, Sammy, you want—”

  “Don’t even think about it.” Jackson was trying to use that big brother voice, but it had never worked on him. “Sammy is minding Beauford Bend while we’re gone.”

  “Why do you let him boss you around?” Gabe asked.

  “Uh, because he’s my boss?” Sammy was young, maybe twenty-two, and worshipped Jackson.

  “He’ll run your life if you let him,” Gabe said. “Watch out.”

  Sammy opened another pizza box and shrugged. “He might have better ideas than I do.”

  “I don’t notice that I’ve been very successful at running lives,” Jackson said. “If I’d had my way, do you think Beau would be off God knows where, doing God knows what, Rafe would be riding bulls, and you’d be running for your life on a football field?”

  You might soon get your way about me, bro.

  Rafe shrugged. “A man’s got to make a living.”

  “A man does,” Jackson said. “But in his leisure time, does he have to climb mountains and dive with sharks like the two of you do?”

  Gabe shrugged. “Maybe you’ll have better luck with Emory.”

  There was a beat of shocked silence before the room filled with laughter.

  “Oh, yeah,” Jackson said. “She’s all big curls, soft voice, and wide eyes until she pulls that sword out of her spine like some kind of Transformer and guts you.”

  Neyland didn’t bother to hide her swords. She wore two right out in the open, ready to take on the world. They were strapped right to her hips. Lovely hips that led to lovelier legs. He tried to bring up an image of the little girl who’d hung around the practice field when he was sixteen. That’s who he needed to concentrate on when he thought about Neyland. But though he’d known her all her life, he couldn’t find that kid, couldn’t find anything but a vague, faceless image. Now, Neyland meant big eyes, a kissable mouth, and a rack that wouldn’t quit—certainly with kissable nipples. He could almost taste them, almost see her head thrown back. She wasn’t the kind of woman who would try to hide her pleasure and her passion—which would just make him want to give her more and more …

  “Where’re the movies?” Rafe asked.

  “Huh?” Gabe’s head snapped up.

  “Movies,” Rafe said. “DVDs. What you went home to get—the only thing you went there for.”

  “I guess my hands were full of cake.” And his head full of Neyland. But that had to stop. He stood up. “Glaz, where does Noel keep her knives? I’ll cut this cake up. And why don’t you turn on the hockey channel? With the playoffs starting tomorrow, I know they’re replaying something good.”

  Chapter Four

  “Isn’t April perfect for a nighttime, outdoor wedding?” Neyland asked dreamily. The wedding grove at Beauford Bend was absolutely magical with fairy lights, white t
ulips, and candles.

  From where he sat beside her at the attendants’ table, Rafe Beauford moved his empty plate out of the way and pulled his wine glass in front of him. He laughed a little under his breath.

  “I suppose this is a perfect time, at least in the South, if it isn’t still too cold, if it hasn’t gotten too hot yet, and if there’s no tornado. But it worked out pretty good this time.”

  “Leave it to a man to be cynical. But you have to admit, this is pure magic.”

  “I’m not cynical. I just know how things are.” He pointed to one of the big oak trees aglow with flickering lights. “Take those lights. Tell yourself that’s a bunch of little Tinker Bells who’ve come calling because my brother decided to marry somebody too good for him. But what’s really going on there is several hundred strings of Christmas lights that some poor sap—probably Sammy—strung up there with the help of a cherry picker. It took a long time. It was hot. And, damn it all to hell, when he got done, there was at least one string that didn’t work, even though he’d checked them before he got started.”

  “You sound like you’ve been there.”

  “I’ve been that guy. You want me to tell how long it takes to set up that portable dance floor? Or do you want to go on believing that the sprites who live underground got word that true love was about to have a first dance, so they made it bloom up out of the ground like a mushroom?”

  “I’ll take the mushroom story. How is it Gabe got the best man job instead of you?” As a result of groomsman/bridesmaid pairings, starting last night at the rehearsal, Neyland and Rafe had spent a lot of time together in the last twenty-four hours. But it was almost over now. Emory and Jackson were finishing up their first dance.

  Rafe smiled and played with the stem of his wine glass. “He’s the older, bossier twin.”

  “So your big brother, huh?”

  “By twenty-three minutes. At least that’s what they tell me.” He raised his glass, took a sip, and grimaced. “I don’t really like wine.”

  Why couldn’t she be attracted to Rafe? He was so sweet. You’d think it wouldn’t be a hard leap, but there was nothing there.

  “There’s beer, Rafe. Why didn’t you ask for it?”

  “I don’t know. Emory’s got everything looking so nice and classy. I didn’t want to mess up the looks of the head table with beer.”

  Rafe was so thoughtful, but not so observant. Gabe, on the other hand, never missed a thing.

  “Jackson and Dirk are drinking beer.”

  “Yeah?” Rafe looked down the length of the table to where Jackson’s mug sat at his empty place. “You’re right.” He looked back at her. “Gabe likes wine. Gabe likes everything. He was thrilled when he found out we were having grilled steaks for this dinner. But he’d have been thrilled if it had been grilled cheese sandwiches.”

  “Salmon or prime rib might have been Emory’s preference, but Jackson wanted rib-eye steaks, and she said that he doesn’t ask for much.”

  Rafe’s blue eyes went wide with surprise. “Jackson doesn’t ask for much?” He began to laugh. “She really is in love, isn’t she?”

  “Did you doubt it?”

  “No. She’s great and she looks really pretty.”

  They looked toward dance floor, where Emory floated in a fairy tale of a dress as she danced with her father.

  “This is the part where Jackson would dance with our mother,” Rafe said matter-of-factly. Instead, Jackson danced with Emory’s stepmother. “I know that because we worked at all the Around the Bend events when we were young.” He gave her a sweet, crooked smile. “Aunt Amelia didn’t hold with beer mugs on the table. I guess Emory sees it different.”

  “I think Emory wants everyone to be happy and comfortable.”

  “So did Aunt Amelia. But she wanted you to find a way to do it on her terms.”

  They laughed, so easy and comfortable. And he was ruggedly handsome with an edge of pure beautiful—just like Gabe. Maybe chemistry could come after comfort and laughter.

  “When are you leaving, Rafe?”

  “First thing in the morning. Headed to Boise and then on to Billings, Montana.”

  Ah, well. Chemistry probably didn’t come late to the party anyway. Plus, how smart would it be to try to distract herself from Gabe with someone who looked exactly like him?

  Ever since their little encounter in the kitchen two nights ago, she and Gabe seemed to have entered into an unspoken agreement to avoid each other. She ran her finger over Cassandra.

  “Is Gabe going?”

  “With me? No. But he’ll go somewhere with somebody. He’s never in one place any longer than he has to be, and he’s never alone.” He took another sip of his wine and grimaced again.

  “Rafe, why don’t you go to the bar and get yourself a beer?”

  “Aunt Amelia wouldn’t approve of me going off and leaving you sitting here alone.”

  “She would if I asked you to bring me a beer. I’ll scoot over in your seat and talk to Noel and Nickolai while you’re gone.”

  He rose. “Good luck in getting them to look at anybody but each other.”

  But before she could move, a figure appeared out of nowhere.

  “They’ve opened up the dancing. What’s the chance that an old broken down coach can get a dance with the second prettiest girl here tonight?”

  “Daddy.” Neyland held out her hand and let him help her from her chair. “That’s high praise, indeed, at a wedding with a bride as pretty as Emory.”

  He looked toward the dance floor where Emory was dancing with her groom again. “Emory? Well, given all her trappings, she might come in third. But you, baby girl, go after no woman save your mama. And since you look just like her, it’s more like y’all are tied for first place.”

  He always said that, though everyone insisted Neyland favored him more. She loved her relationship with her father in the winter and spring. During those times, football drifted around him, making him happy, making him think of the possibilities. But once summer came, the game and the quest for victory became a hard mistress, one that no one could compete with. The warmth in the air tonight reminded her that time was coming.

  “Where is Mama?” Neyland asked.

  “Dancing with your brother.”

  “Do you have a plan for what you’re going to do about weight training and practice while the stadium is out of commission?”

  He nodded. “We’re moving the weight equipment to the gym over at the middle school, and we’ll use their field for practice. I don’t want to run over Rick Shelton. He’s got his seventh and eighth grade teams to think of, but we’ll work it out.”

  “Better than trying to work it out with Madison Grove,” she said. “And those middle school kids will be your team before you know it.”

  “That’s the truth. It means a lot to me that you asked, Neyland. I know there’s a lot about my job you hate.”

  “I can’t deny it. But there’s more about you that I love.”

  He laughed and gave her a little squeeze. “That’s my girl. Have you given any more thought to moving back with your mama and me?”

  Her heart cried a little. She should have known.

  “Daddy, please. Not tonight.”

  “We’re here. Just so you know.”

  “I do know.”

  “Then let’s just dance on this pretty night.”

  “Sounds like a good idea.” Because sometimes it was better for them not to talk, and sometimes they even knew it.

  As they danced, Emory caught sight of someone hiding in the trees, and she was pretty sure who it was. When the dance ended, instead of taking her seat again, Neyland walked into the trees toward the pale blue shape.

  “Mr. Simpson,” Neyland said. “What are you doing out here alone?”

  “Hi, Neyland. I’m watching the party.”

  The way the story went, in 1967 Jimmy Simpson ruled the halls of Beauford High. There was hardly a page in the yearbook that didn’t have a picture of
him, most of the time with a microphone in his hand. He’d been captain of the football team, a star baseball player, and president of everything you could name—student council, honor society, and his class for four years. Then, in a fit patriotism, he’d joined the army, volunteered for Vietnam, and found something he couldn’t conquer—a crashed helicopter and three years in a POW camp.

  Now, he swept the halls he’d ruled. Most of the kids called him Jimmy or Jimpson, but Neyland’s parents had always insisted that she and Todd call him Mr. Simpson.

  “It was nice of Jackson and Miss Emory to invite me,” he said.

  “I think they would say it was nice of you to come. Why are you all the way out here?”

  “There are a lot of famous people here.”

  “There are.” Everybody who was anybody in the country music world had been invited to this wedding. “But you’re a guest, the same as they are. Did you have dinner?”

  He hesitated and shook his head.

  “That’s a shame. Do you know Sammy Anderson? Who works at Beauford Bend?”

  Jimmy smiled. “Sure I do. I know all my students. He was in the wedding.”

  “Jackson claims Sammy grills the best steaks in the world. Sammy didn’t grill these himself, because Jackson wanted him as a groomsman, but he made the rub and gave instructions. I want you to have one of those steaks.” Neyland looped an arm through his. “So come on.”

  “I don’t know. I’m unpredictable.”

  That was the truth if, after all these years, you could still consider it unpredictable to find him naked at the top of the water tower or covered in chalk powder, pretending to be a marble statue on the library steps.

  “Do you have any chalk on you, Mr. Simpson? Are you feeling the urge to disrobe?” Though disrobing might be a greater kindness than that sky blue polyester leisure suit.

  He laughed. “No, Neyland. At this particular time, I’m not.”

  “Then let’s go get a steak.” She took his arm and led him toward the crowd.

  “It changes quick. I wouldn’t want to embarrass anybody.”

  “I’ll make a deal with you.” Neyland guided him to one of the round tables on the edge of the space. “If you start undressing, I’ll jerk this tablecloth off and throw it over you. People will think I’m doing magic tricks.”