“Are these our seats?”
No, they weren’t. The people assigned to them must be dancing or mingling.
“They are now.”
Neyland flagged down one of the waiters. It was no one she knew. Emory had wanted all the people who worked for Around the Bend to be able to attend the wedding, so she’d hired a party planner from Nashville.
“We missed dinner. Can you bring us a plate, please?” There was no way she could eat another meal, but she’d pick at it so Jimmy wouldn’t have to eat alone.
“Of course,” the young man said without missing a beat. “How would you like your steaks?”
“Rare and … ” She looked at Jimmy.
“Rare!” he said enthusiastically.
Neyland hoped that this show of high spirits was not a precursor to nudity. But he didn’t seem to have getting naked on his mind; he was staring at her wrist, at Cassandra.
“That’s so pretty,” he said. “You made it yourself, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“I wish men wore things like that.”
“You know, it wasn’t all that long ago that men wore as much, if not more, jewelry than women. Very ornate, too.”
“But not in our lifetimes. Even mine.”
“No. It’s a shame, isn’t it?” For sure, if that were the case today, Gabe Beauford would be jeweled up like a Fabergé egg.
“Military guys wear a lot of medals. I don’t. But I have some.”
“I know you do,” Neyland said sadly, and she ached for the man she’d never known and the one here with her who would never wear his medals. But as Jimmy gazed at Cassandra, she got a sense of who he’d been. He appreciated lovely things and, in another life, would have bought them for his wife and daughters. Never had anyone looked at any of her jewelry the way Jimmy was looking at Cassandra—not even the woman who’d bought Catherine last year. And that was the whole point of creating art—to have it used and loved. And as much as she prized Cassandra, she prized the look in Jimmy’s eyes more.
“Tell you what, why don’t you and I agree not to care what other men do?” And she stripped Cassandra off her wrist and put it on his. It was tight, but she managed to get it fastened. “There.”
“I can’t take your bracelet, Neyland,” he said.
“You didn’t. I gave it.” And in exchange, she was taking away the look on his face. Cassandra now had someone to love her other than her creator.
“I’m liable to lose it next time I take my clothes off.”
“You won’t. You’ll keep up with it because you like it and I gave it to you. And if you don’t, it’s only a thing and it’s yours to lose. Look. Here comes our food.”
Jimpson dug into his steak and seemed to forget she was there for a while. Neyland nibbled and surveyed the crowd. There were celebrities galore, but she’d already had an eyeful of them. Her parents were dancing, as were Dirk and Gwen. What was the secret to maintaining love? Neyland had fancied herself in love, though not in a long time. In her experience, when the new washed away, so did the feelings. She’d hurt people and she’d been hurt. But in the end, it boiled down to the same thing. Somebody got bored. And there was Emory in Jackson’s arms. He seemed to be quietly singing to her, looking like nothing else in the world would ever matter. Would they get bored, or would they, like Gwen and Dirk, be looking at each other like that in a dozen years? And in a dozen plus more, like Neyland’s parents?
Abby would never know if what she’d had with her husband would’ve lasted. But it was good to see her smiling. She’d been pregnant with Philip when her husband had been killed, and though she was private about her grief, it was always hovering around. But now she was laughing at something that either Gabe or Rafe was saying. Neyland couldn’t tell which because his back was to her. But, wait. It was Rafe because Gabe was dancing with Noel.
“Thank you for getting my dinner, Neyland,” Jimmy said. “You’re a good girl.”
“Not everyone agrees,” she said. “I’m impulsive. I’m not practical. I make my daddy crazy.”
Jimmy shook his head and put a bite of asparagus in his mouth. “None of that has anything to do with being goodhearted. I’m not surprised you’re like you are. Your daddy has always been good to me. I was cleaning the school when he played football there and still cleaning when he came back to coach. He’s always been the same. I’m glad that things got straightened out for him about the stadium.”
“Me, too. Everyone says Jackson gave the money.”
“Nope. Jackson’s a good boy, and I don’t want to take anything away from him, but it wasn’t him.”
Something in Jimmy’s tone got Neyland’s attention. “You sound pretty sure about that.”
“I am.” He put another bite of steak in his mouth. “This is the best steak I’ve ever had.”
Neyland pushed her plate toward him. “Here have mine, too. I’m full.”
“You sure?” His fork lingered over the steak.
“Sure. Take it. Mr. Simpson, do you know who did give the money?”
He moved her steak onto his plate and took a bite. “Sure I do. It was a Beauford, but not Jackson. It was Gabe.”
No. Gabe had the money, and there was no doubt that he loved her father. But he wasn’t the selfless sort. If Gabe had given the money, he would have shouted it from the rooftops, had his picture painted on the side of the school, named the stadium after himself.
“It can’t be,” she said half to herself.
“I might be half crazy, Neyland. Whole crazy a lot of the time. But I don’t say stuff I’m not sure of.”
“But how do you know?”
“It was the day after the storm.” The same day she’d refused to sell Gabe Annabelle. “I’d gone down to the school. Wanted to see if there were any leaks in the roof. Everything looked fine, but I decided to buff some floors while I was there. Ms. McKuen doesn’t usually come in on Saturdays. But she did that day. I guess she decided to come by after that school board meeting. She waved at me before she went in her office, but she looked pretty grim. Not long after that, the school superintendent came in. I don’t know how long they were in there. I was buffing. But then Gabe came in. He wasn’t in there long. When he came out again, Ms. McKuen and Ms. Daniels followed him. They were all laughing and hugging. Gabe left, and they must have called Coach in. Same thing. He went in sad, stayed a little while, and then came out smiling. I thought they were all pretty happy considering what had happened to the stadium. Then a few days later, I heard about the anonymous donor. It wasn’t hard to figure out. Are you going to eat that roll?”
“No. Take it.”
“It was Gabe. No two ways about it.”
It was looking like that was true.
“Jimmy, I mean, Mr. Simpson—”
“Call me Jimmy, Neyland. Or Jimpson. I like that even better.”
She smiled. “I’ll try. Have you told anyone else this?”
“No. I figured if Gabe wanted it told, he’d tell it.”
“Then why did you tell me?”
He shrugged. “I don’t rightly know for sure.” He looked at his wrist where Cassandra rested. “It meant a lot to me that you gave me this and brought me here to eat. I guess I figured it would mean a lot to you to know who did that for your daddy. And you seem like the kind who can take care of a secret.”
Neyland looked at the dance floor. Gabe was still dancing with Noel, but he looked up and caught Neyland looking at him.
As if she had no will of her own, she rose. “Jimpson, are you all right here?”
“Sure.” He cut another piece of meat. “I see Heath over there—you know, from the stained glass place. He’s a pal of mine. I think I’ll go talk to him when I finish eating.”
Neyland smoothed the full skirt of her pale pink bridesmaid’s dress. Then she walked straight onto the dance floor and put her hand on Noel’s arm.
“Nickolai wants you. He’s tired.”
“What? I knew this would be to
o much for him!” And Noel was gone, like a woman in love with a man who needed her.
Without a thought, without hesitating, Neyland grabbed Gabe’s arm and pulled him off the dance floor into a nearby stand of trees. Then she grabbed his lapels, pulled him toward her, and kissed him full on the mouth.
Chapter Five
Our mouths were made for each other.
That was Neyland’s last thought before her brain went on hiatus. She became one half of a study in sensation—half because Gabe was with her all the way, drawing her tongue deep into his mouth and lifting her hard against him. He tasted earthy, like beer and grilled meat, and she’d never get enough. Damn this dress with its full skirt and crinoline. Though he clutched at her, desperate for friction, there was no way to get their pelvises in the same county. They trembled against each other, never breaking apart, until he nipped at her bottom lip. The sensation was so sublime that her knees buckled, she fell away from him, and ended up lying back in his arms like some kind of 1940s movie poster heroine.
With his mouth inches from hers and his breath coming hard, he rasped, “Who am I?”
What? Was this some kind of philosophical question?
“I … don’t … ” Neyland stammered.
“Say my name!” he demanded.
“Gabriel Sebastian Beauford.” Neyland was still confused, so, for good measure, she added, “Number sixteen.”
He nodded with, she thought, some satisfaction and recaptured her mouth, only this time he was over her and she dangled in his arms like a fly in a spider web. This all came as a surprise. She had thought there’d be one kiss and it would say, Thank you for what you did for my daddy.
This had nothing to do with her daddy and everything to do with what she wanted, had been wanting for days. Still, she broke away.
“You have to”—she stopped to get her breath—“let me go. Let me up. I’m fixing to fall in the dirt.”
He shook his head. With the moonlight behind him, maybe he did look a little like the angel he was named for. “You won’t fall in the dirt. I won’t let you. I’m very strong.” He set his mouth for another round, but she stopped him.
“Wait. Why did you want me to say your name?”
“Because you’ve been flirting with my brother for two nights running. I was willing to take a kiss meant for him, but not what’s about to happen between us.”
Neyland didn’t bother to deny the flirtation with Rafe. It was true. Now she knew why—to head off the what’s about to happen part. It hadn’t worked anyway.
“What do you think that is?” But she knew, knew only too well. Though it wasn’t from experience. She’d slept with four men, two of them one-night stands gone bad, and nobody in nearly two years. To say she was ready would be an understatement.
He pulled her tighter in. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. It’s not your style. You lied to Noel to get me alone in the woods.”
“I didn’t lie,” she protested. “Nickolai does want her; he always wants her. And he probably is tired. He practically got his head cut off by a hockey skate two weeks ago. Anyway, you don’t know he didn’t send me over here.”
“You exaggerate. And I do know he didn’t send you over here. You haven’t said a word to Nickolai Glazov.”
“Sure about that?”
“I know where you’ve been every minute since this wedding started. More than that, I know where you’re about to be.”
And he set her back on her feet, grabbed her hand, and started running.
“Slow down!” She clapped her hand over the miniature tiara that held her elaborate bridesmaid braids in place. “I’m not a wide receiver, and I’m wearing heels, and I’m going to lose my crown!”
“Okay,” he said, but he didn’t actually slow down until they got to the backdoor of the Beauford Bend kitchen—where he finally stopped. “Be quiet,” he said, as if she had enough breath left to talk. She leaned on the side of the house and rubbed the stitch in her side. “Stay here,” he whispered and disappeared inside the door.
She might have left then—though probably not—if his hand hadn’t snaked out the door two seconds later.
“Come on. It’s all clear.”
She let him pull her inside. “Where are you taking me?”
“To a particular fantasy of mine and what will become your fondest memory.” And he took out a key and unlocked the pantry door.
“What? Do you plan to eat?”
He leered at her as he pulled her in the room and locked the door. “Not a bad idea, but I don’t think I’ve got that kind of time. And neither do you.”
And she was plastered against the door, his mouth on hers, his hands on her hips.
“What if someone comes?” Neyland said.
“That’s the idea—two someones, in fact.” He tried to pull her closer in and swore as he fought her skirts that were proving to be more chastity belt than bridesmaid dress. “But as far as an intrusion—nobody has a key to this pantry but family and Sammy.”
As if she wanted to be caught by any of them.
“That’s a lie. Gwen has one. Dirk, too, probably.”
But then again, what the hell? His mouth was on her collarbone, almost as if he knew that would be her undoing. Not that she hadn’t already come undone.
“Not lying. Gwen and Dirk are family. Who picked out this godforsaken dress, anyway?” He was still trying to navigate his way through her perfect storm of ruffles and tulle.
She laughed and reached for his zipper. “You’ve got a simpler situation going on here.”
“Yes, I do, because men have a good sense …” Her hands reached their destination and he whimpered. “Okay. Yeah.”
Yeah, indeed. “Wow. Is all that you?” He was like granite in her hands, if granite could be hot and throbbing with life.
“All me and all for you.”
And with that, he swung her around, hoisted her onto the edge of the big oak prep table, and pushed her skirt up.
“Have you got a condom?” she asked.
“Of course.” He slid his hands up her thighs and chuckled. “I knew you’d have sassy britches.” He snapped off her crystal-beaded, pink-lace v-string and slipped it on his wrist like a bracelet. “I want you.” He covered her mouth with his as he brought his hand between her thighs. “I’ve wanted you like a drug ever since I set eyes on you a week ago. And from the condition I’m finding you in, you’re right with me.”
“Do it now,” Neyland said. “If you keep touching me like that, I’ll come. And I want you inside.” After all, it would be just this once.
“I’d hate to disappoint a lady.” He whipped the foil packet out of his pocket, and after what seemed like an eternity, he entered her with a groan.
Her orgasm was immediate. She’d had orgasms before, of course, but never, ever anything like this. The hard, deep spasms shook her to the core and seemed to go on forever. And as they were ending, he lifted her hips high against him and whispered, “Come again?” and she did.
But much to her amazement, the best was yet to come. Who could have predicted that settling back to watch his face contort with raw pleasure could have been so gratifying, could have left her with such a feeling of completion?
He collapsed on her chest. “Sorry it wasn’t good for you.”
“Likewise.”
“Yeah.” The word came out somewhere between a sigh and a whisper. Then his head popped up with renewed energy. He grinned. “What are the chances you’ll let me pour pancake syrup and flour on you and lick it off?”
She laughed. “Slim. None. Nonexistent.”
“So I thought.”
“Get off me.” She gave him a little shove. “We have to go back to the party.”
He didn’t move. “Why? Who’ll miss us?”
“Emory. Your brother—both of them. My daddy.”
Gabe groaned. “Oh. Him.”
This time he let her push him off her. “Don’t worry. You’ll be gone tomorrow, out of the li
ne of fire. Anyway, I’m not going to tell him that his little girl corrupted his most beloved player of all time.”
“Debatable who did the corrupting. I prefer to think it was me.” He smoothed his hair and straightened his tie.
She held out her hand. “I need my thong.”
He raised an eyebrow—just one. She idly wondered if Rafe could do that.
“Do you now?” He slipped it off his wrist and twirled it on his finger. “I think I’ll put it in a safe place for you to retrieve later.”
Later? And he folded the little scrap of pink silk, tucked it into the waistband of his boxers, and zipped his pants.
He straightened her tiara. “After this shindig, in my suite in the family wing. Be there. I’m going to get rid of that little crown and everything else you’re wearing. Except maybe that sparkly eye shadow. I kind of like that.”
No. It was supposed to be once! But her groin tightened in anticipation—her naked, commando groin.
Maybe she wouldn’t go. That would be best. “I can do without that thong,” she said feebly.
“I know you can, sassy britches. But you can’t do without another round of what we just had any more than I can.” He smoothed her skirts. “And we only have tonight.”
She couldn’t argue with that—any of it.
Chapter Six
Gabe stepped out of the shower and contemplated what to wear. Hard to choose when he didn’t know where he was going.
But he knew where he’d been. That was for sure. He’d been in trouble—big trouble.
Not in the literal sense, of course. It might not be his favorite thing for Coach to find out what he and Neyland had been up to, but they were adults. She’d come to his rooms willingly, though he’d been afraid she wouldn’t. And, to be honest, afraid that she would.
This was where the trouble came in. He wanted her again—right now at 9:00 a.m. on the morning after his brother’s wedding—and that scared him to death. By now, he was supposed to have her out of his system. By now, he was supposed to be thinking of the next thing on his list. But all he could think about was how much he wanted her. And he couldn’t have her, because at about 4:00 a.m., she’d stolen a Wrangler T-shirt and a pair of bike shorts and left with that monstrosity of a dress thrown over her shoulder.
Reforming Gabe Page 5