Reforming Gabe

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  There was more. There was talk of money, marketing, future designs, and lots of other important things.

  But none of it was as important as those first words. She had never expected to hear back this fast, had only allowed herself to half hope they would buy it. After all, she’d been so lucky lately. Didn’t that luck have to run out sometime?

  Maybe not.

  She read it through again and clutched her phone to her chest.

  Noel entered the workroom where Neyland stood. “Something bad or something good?”

  “Good,” Neyland said. “Very, very good. But I can’t tell you yet. There’s someone else I have to tell first.”

  Noel smiled. “I’m guessing Gabe?”

  “Maybe.”

  Noel laughed. “What was it you said not long ago? That you don’t like or not like Gabe? I guess that’s changed?”

  Neyland felt the blush spread over her face. “Maybe. Maybe I’ve decided I don’t like him.”

  “Sure you have. Go.” Noel pointed to the door.

  “But I just got here. It’s almost time to open.”

  “You’ve been here constantly, Neyland, to let me be with Nickolai. He’ll sleep until at least noon. He always does after a game.”

  Neyland envisioned herself telling Gabe the design had sold and how happy he’d be.

  “Thank you. I’ll tell you next. Going now! But first I need to get something.” She retrieved a small package from under the counter and ran all the way to her car.

  When she’d left that morning, Gabe was headed to the fitness room to workout with Dirk. He’d still be there. Neyland drove to Beauford Bend like she knew the judge and used the key Gabe had given her to let herself in the family wing. She ran to the bedroom, opening the package as she went.

  It had taken a good amount of time and effort, but with the help of Google, she’d finally found a lacy thong in that obnoxious shade of Tennessee orange. She’d told herself if the design didn’t sell, she would surprise Gabe with the thong another time, but everything had worked out perfectly. She stripped naked and put on the thong. She’d be waiting for him in bed when he came back from his workout, sweaty and pumped.

  She’d show him sassy britches.

  After letting him see her in the thong, she’d tell him the news. Then she intended to take him to bed, sweat and all, and thank him every way she could think of for pushing her to submit the chatelaine project.

  She surveyed herself in the mirror. Not bad, though no one should wear that shade of orange. If she were going to wear it, he ought to have to as well. Maybe she would require it. He had those orange silk boxers—the ugliest underwear in all of mankind. She’d find them and lay them out for him. She opened a drawer. Why did one man need so many socks? The next one contained T-shirts. Underwear couldn’t be far away.

  Yes. Here. But where were the orange ones? She’d just have to dig a little deeper …

  And that’s when she found them. Not the underwear.

  Elizabeth, Victoria, Aphrodite, Daisy, and—finally—Annabelle.

  And that’s how Gabe found her—looking down at her ladies in disbelief, as she stood there wearing nothing but the orange thong that she had bought to tease him and make him laugh.

  No one laughed.

  Chapter Twenty

  Fuck. Oh, fuck. Gabe’s mind raced to find a lie that could explain this away. He’d had reproductions done. No. He didn’t know how they’d gotten there. No. Aubrey Jamison had sought out every piece, bought them for herself, and stashed them here because they were sleeping together. Hell, no!

  “Gabe?” Neyland was bewildered, and pretty soon she would be brokenhearted, because he had to tell her the truth. Unless he could convince her he didn’t know how they had gotten there. Maybe he could say Aubrey hired the actors to buy the other pieces and planted them here because they had once been an item and she was jealous.

  “Quit trying to make me the culprit, you moron!” Aubrey’s voice reverberated through his head. “I told you not to do it.”

  “It’s not how it looks,” Gabe said.

  She shook her head. “How do you think it looks? Because I can’t come up with anything … ” Her frown deepened, and she tilted her head to the side. “Unless … Were you so determined to have my jewelry for future kiss-off gifts that you outsmarted me and hired people to buy it?”

  “No! I would never do that to you! Don’t you know that?”

  “I don’t know anything, Gabe.” She laid the jewelry down, crossed her arms over her chest, and frantically looked around. “Clothes. I need clothes.”

  It had been hard to miss that she was standing there wearing Tennessee orange underwear, but it had been overshadowed by the horror that she’d held in her hands. For whatever reason, she’d come here to surprise him, and now she was ashamed for him to see her naked. The pain of that slashed through him like a razor-sharp blade on baby skin.

  “Here.” He shucked his T-shirt and held it out to her. It might not be entirely clean after his workout, but it was all he had to offer, and he had to offer her something.

  While continuing to cover herself with one arm, she placed a hand up, palm out, and backed up a step. “No!” The horrified disgust on her face tore him apart. “Turn around,” she demanded. “Don’t look at me.”

  He put the shirt back on and did as she asked. The rustle of her movements told him she was gathering her own clothes and dressing.

  When she spoke again, her voice, once again, sounded normal—mad but normal. “All right.”

  Gabe turned, and she was dressed in a black skirt and white blouse. Severe but classy—so classy. So beautiful.

  And she was about to cut his balls off.

  He raised his eyes to hers. She didn’t look like she had ever been on the same continent with a smile. She had placed the pieces of jewelry on the dresser in a perfect line, like they were on display for sale.

  “Tell me, Gabe. Just tell me what you did. And the truth. Don’t try to spin it. I don’t have the stomach for it.”

  “I meant well,” he said.

  “Don’t talk to me about what you meant. Talk to me about what you did. And do it right now.”

  “Okay. I offered to buy that Annabelle for Aubrey if she would wear it on the red carpet and mention you. At first she said no, but I kept on—”

  “No doubt.”

  “And she agreed to do it, but she wouldn’t keep it. She’s involved with someone. Said it wasn’t right to take jewelry from another man, that he wouldn’t like it.” For the first time that made sense to Gabe. He’d want to kill another man who so much as offered Neyland a bubblegum machine ring. “But she did it because I kept at her. Only, she made me come and get it from her after the awards.”

  “I see.” Neyland favored her mother, but the expression on her face was all Coach—Coach on a rampage. “So.” She briefly closed her eyes and rubbed between them with her index finger. “Those other people. They never saw the ACM awards, never came to buy my jewelry because of it.”

  It was a statement, but he still owed her an answer. “No. They didn’t. They were actors I hired from Nashville.”

  She put her hands on her head as if she was trying to hold it on. “Actors. That you hired! My God. Is there no end to this humiliation?”

  “But I—”

  “But you?” She opened her arms wide. “You what, Gabe? Why would you do this to me? I know you don’t really care for me, but I thought you at least liked to have sex with me.”

  “No! I do care for you! Too much. I wanted to help you. I wanted you to feel good about yourself, to succeed. That’s why I did it.”

  “Well.” She let out a laugh totally devoid of humor. “I certainly feel good about myself now. I feel very, very successful.”

  “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done it. But I know why I did.”

  And suddenly, he did know. The truth was in front of him. A montage of women drifted through his head—models, actresses, socialites�
�all shiny, beautiful, and all too pleased to take without giving anything back. They had all been famous for their beauty, but none of them could hold a candle to the woman standing in front of him in her designer skirt and discount blouse. She had substance, heart, and fire. When she got knocked down, she just got up and kept slugging it out.

  Neyland put her hands on her hips. “You know why you did it. I cannot wait to hear this.”

  “I love you.” Saying it lifted his heart, then crushed it; it was never, ever going to matter now.

  “That’s good. I shudder to think what you would have done to me if you hated me.”

  “You don’t understand, Neyland.” He took a step toward her.

  She put up both her hands, and her eyes took on a raw, savage look. “Oh, no, you don’t. Don’t come near me.”

  “Okay.” He backed up. “I’m standing right here. I’m not moving. Just listen. I love you.”

  “You say that to all the girls you make a fool of.”

  “No. I’ve never said it to anyone in my whole life. I love you, like I want to always love you. I made a mistake. But in a way, I’m glad. Because this is bigger than jewelry. Bigger than football. I just realized that I love you. I want to marry you. I might have never realized if—”

  “Do you, now? Do you? So this is all about you and what you want? And it’s more important—bigger, you say—than my success? Not that I ever had any.”

  And just like that she went from enraged to devastated. He’d rather have her enraged.

  He sat on the edge of the bed. “Please tell me, Neyland. Tell me what you want me to say, what I can do to fix this.”

  “First off, tell me what you were going to do with my pieces.”

  Fuck. Like he had an answer. “I didn’t exactly have a plan for that.”

  “You didn’t exactly have a plan? I guess you were so busy hiring actors you didn’t have time for that.”

  “I only wanted to help you. I wanted you to have money so you could stay in business. It was only because I know how talented you are.”

  “And all the while, I thought there were people out there wearing my jewelry and loving it.” She touched first one piece and then another. “I thought it was being worn and enjoyed.” She turned her face back to him. “But all the time, it was sitting here with your boxer briefs.”

  “I don’t wear boxer briefs.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I don’t wear boxer briefs. Just boxers. I don’t like how the legs of boxer briefs bind me.”

  She closed her eyes and brought a hand to her temple. “I’m not going to be able to let you live through the conversation.”

  “Good. Kill me. I don’t deserve to live. Choke me to death with Annabelle.”

  “Gabe Beauford, I swear by all that is or ever will be holy, if you don’t stop being a smart ass—”

  “I don’t mean to be. I just don’t know what to say. I’m not doing too good over here. I’ve just figured out that the only woman I’m ever going to love is never going to have me, because she caught me in the most supremely stupid thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Is that so? I’m not doing too good over here, either. I don’t plan on enumerating why. But you’re a smart guy. You can figure it out.”

  “Not that smart.”

  “Oh, you are. This was a pretty good plan. If you had hidden my pieces where I couldn’t find them, you’d have gotten away with it. But tell me, Gabe. How did you get Razzle Dazzle to buy the chatelaine design? Are they Wranglers fans? Or did you pay them? Buy into the company?”

  “Razzle Dazzle? I don’t know … Oh! You sold the design. Neyland, that’s great.” Forgetting for the barest second that he was in trouble, he rose from the bed and held out his arms.

  “Don’t come any closer.” Neyland picked up the brass kaleidoscope that some woman—he didn’t remember which one—had given him and held it up like a club. “I’ll beat you to death with this kaleidoscope. I swear I’ll do it. Now, tell me. How did you get Razzle Dazzle to buy my design?”

  “I didn’t, Neyland. And that’s the truth. I didn’t even know who you sent the design to. I did that other stuff. I admit it. But this, you did on your own. I had nothing to do with it.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I don’t blame you. But it’s true.”

  Then a brick wall fell on him. That’s why she’d come here today, why she’d left work and had been standing in his bedroom wearing nothing but Tennessee orange sassy britches. She’d wanted to share her news and celebrate with him. It was anybody’s guess why she’d opened his underwear drawer. But it could have happened any time. She was practically living with him.

  “Well.” She sat down on the edge of the chair in the corner and opened her purse. “It hardly matters.” She removed her checkbook and started writing a check.

  “Neyland, no …”

  She ignored him. “I can’t give you the whole amount right now, because I used some of the money to buy supplies for the prototype and Carmen. But I’m taking all my girls. I’ll set up a payment plan. Once I figure out how much I can pay and how often, I’ll alert you.” She ripped out the check. “By email.”

  “Neyland. Please,” Gabe said quietly. “I don’t want your money. Don’t do this.”

  “Take it.” She held the check out. “I draw the line at paying what you spent on those actors, though. That was your own stupidity.”

  “I’m not taking that.”

  “Have it your own way.” She laid it on the dresser and began to gather the jewelry. “If it doesn’t clear within a week, I’ll donate that amount to the Church of Satan, and I’ll sign your name to it. Then I’ll call The Today Show and tell them.”

  What a magnificent woman. Why had he not realized that until now?

  He asked a question, though he already knew the answer.

  “What can I do to get you to forgive me? I’ll buy you the biggest engagement ring in the country. I’ll do anything, Neyland, if you won’t leave me.”

  “I’m already gone,” she said.

  And she was.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Neyland knew for sure she would never commit suicide, because if anything would have driven her to it, it was this. She opened a suitcase on the bed in the carriage house—the bed she’d never once slept in. If only there were a way not to think. Maybe there was. She’d once read somewhere that thinking of black velvet would clear the mind and prepare a person to sleep. She wasn’t looking for sleep, but she badly needed a clear mind, so she tried it.

  No good.

  For some reason, black velvet made her think of jewelry—not just Annabelle and the girls, but of the engagement ring Gabe offered to buy her.

  Telling her he loved her, saying he wanted to marry her, was worse—a million times worse—than his other sins.

  And the hell of it was, she’d wanted to believe him, wanted to throw her arms around him and tell him she loved him, too, that’d she’d marry him tonight. And what kind of loser did that make her, after what he’d done to her?

  Saying I love you was easy if you thought it would get you what you wanted. And what Gabe wanted was not to be in trouble with Coach—though he wouldn’t be. Good ol’ Coach would probably approve of what Gabe did, would say, “Now, sister, he meant well. There’s not a mean bone in that boy’s body. Why don’t you just go on and get over this and get busy having me some grandchildren just like Gabe? Forget that jewelry making.”

  Forget that jewelry making. There wasn’t any way around that. Tomorrow, she’d tell Razzle Dazzle thanks, but no thanks. No. She wouldn’t do that. Let Gabe tell them. She’d sell the girls on eBay for what she could get, likewise the materials she’d bought for Carmen. Maybe she could get enough to pay Gabe the balance of what she owed him. While Noel helped Nickolai chase the Stanley Cup, she’d work at Piece by Piece and sell the stock she had, but she wasn’t making any more, not the first twisted wire bracelet or earring.

  She
was homesick for it already. She snapped the suitcase shut and went out the door. She’d get the rest later. Or not.

  It was her father who opened the door when she rang the bell of her childhood home. She hadn’t expected that.

  He smiled, then looked at her suitcase, and frowned. “Sister, what in the world?”

  “What are you doing home this time of day?”

  “I left my game film at home. Why are you ringing the bell?”

  “I don’t have my house key. Can I come in? To stay?”

  He took her bag, still frowning. “Well, sure. But what’s going on?”

  She shook her head. “I need to go back to Piece by Piece. Can you call the superintendent? About that teaching job? If it’s still open, I’d like to interview for it.”

  • • •

  Gabe pulled up to the field house at the high school a full hour before time to load the team up and take them to the middle school. He’d thought about packing his bag and leaving town, but Jackson and Emory were due back tomorrow, and the dedication was Saturday.

  Then he was gone. He couldn’t stay here in this town with Neyland another minute, wanting her like he did. He wasn’t going on the Stanley Cup trail now. That was out of the question. Noel would be around, and there was no way she was going to sit down to tea and crumpets with him. Nickolai might be more sympathetic, but he had hockey to play.

  No, he was going on the bull riding circuit. He didn’t often watch Rafe ride. Though he’d never said so, it scared the bejesus out of him, seeing his brother jerked around like a rag doll on a jackhammer. But right now, he needed to be with his twin. Rafe wouldn’t understand. As far as Gabe knew, Rafe had never had a girlfriend, though he assumed his brother slept around some—something he hadn’t done in high school.

  The construction on the stadium was coming along. For now, the field house was still usable but it wouldn’t be much longer. Come September, the team would have better facilities from top to bottom and all new, state of the art, weight room equipment.

  He could be proud of that, at least.