Relief washed over me like a cold sweat, yet I was sickened by the idea that he was in jail. Then quickly I was furious with him. “Gabe, are you okay? Why did you do that?”
“You called Lane, right?”
“He’s not answering his phone,” I said as one of the men whistled at me.
Gabe sat up and glared sideways at the man. “Did ya try Molly?” he grumbled. Rightfully, he was in one of his moods.
“We did,” Deliah and I said at the same time.
The longer I stared at him, the sicker I grew. My chest tightened when an inmate in a striped jumpsuit was escorted past me, making death threats at everyone in the room.
“Why on earth did you do that back there?” I crossed my hands over my jacket and pouted at him.
“Aw, Av’ry, c’mere. I’m fine,” he said, sounding more pleasant.
“You’re not fine. You’re in jail, Gabe.”
“You’re gonna have a criminal record,” Deliah mocked. “You’re gonna need a good defense.”
“You’re not helping,” he told her and coughed into his shoulder. “Did you give them the plate number? Tell them what happened. Somebody should take a picture of my truck for the judge.”
“Miss, step behind the black line,” said an officer who was standing watch in the hall. “What’s your name? You can’t be back here unless you’re eighteen.”
“I’m eighteen,” I told her.
“My name is Remington,” Deliah said smugly. “He’s Gabe Halden. You must be new. Why did you let those jerks go? Did you not see what they did to my brother’s truck?”
“Halden-Remington?” The officer behind the desk peered round the corner. “Is she for real? My supervisor’s going to want to hear about this.”
I shook my head at Deliah.
“Our mom is…she was Sara Remington. She’s from Williston,” Deliah told the woman.
She needed to keep quiet.
“I went to school with Sara. I was sorry to hear what happened. No kidding, you’re her kid? I kind of see the likeness.”
“No kidding. He’s her kid too. We’re Joel Halden’s kids,” she said slowly. “Are you charging him or what? This is police harassment. I’m gonna call a lawyer.”
“No, you won’t,” Gabe said loudly. “Go find Lane.”
“Miss, I’m not authorized to do anything with your brother. You have to wait until he sees the judge. He’s in our custody until he’s charged or released.”
“Why don’t you try calling Lane again?” Gabe said in an annoyed tone. “Do it fast.”
“I did,” I told him as I crooked my head around the wall. “He and Molly must be on their way out. I could call Josh, but I don’t think he’s got the money if you need to be bailed out.”
“I got the cash, Av’ry,” he said. “I just don’t have the patience to sit in this dang, stinking tank all night.”
“My dad’s gonna sue you,” Deliah threatened the woman. “Protesters already ruined his Bentley. Now they ruined Gabe’s truck. They’re the ones who need to be shot!”
Neither of them knew when to keep their mouths shut.
“Deliah.” I pulled her sleeve and got her to step away from the desk before she got Gabe in any more trouble. “Can you call Meggie’s place? If she answers, ask for your uncle’s phone number. Tell her he was going to take you to see one of your father’s wells, and you need to call him. If she asks where you are, tell her you’re waiting at the college for me.”
“You want me to lie?” Her eyes flashed past me and watched the entrance. Shivers rocketed up my spine as the outside air rushed me. Deliah’s eyes grew wide.
“I know it’s a stretch for you.” I turned to see why she covered her eyes. Mr. Halden lifted his hat off and set it on a coat rack beside the door.
“Oh shoot,” I mouthed. My heart stopped inside my chest.
“No need to make up stories, ladies.” I could tell by the way Deliah’s posture relaxed that he was her uncle, not her father.
“How did you even know we were here?” she asked. “What are you—a stalker?”
“My older brother don’t like you youngins making headlines if I’m remembering clearly. I’m here to liberate the Jedi Master of Hazard County.”
I couldn’t look him in the eye. I wasn’t prepared to pretend I didn’t catch him snooping in my bedroom, but I needed his help. “Mr. Halden would hate this. Gabe’s already in trouble with him for quitting last fall. We can’t let him find out.”
He pulled a toothpick out of the side of his mouth and raised his forehead up and down. “Good call, good looking.”
“Please help us,” I begged.
He took a moment to torture me with his silence. “Absolutely, darling, I’ll help you. I’m sure you’ll find a way to scratch my back.”
He knew what he was doing. He was going to make it so I couldn’t say a word.
The woman behind the desk stood up so fast her chair tipped over. She batted her lashes and motioned for Deliah’s uncle to follow her, even before we said who he was. I had trouble looking at him as anything but a replica of Mr. Halden with long hair. On the other hand, the officer was acting like he was Hollywood royalty.
“Find out what the plan is. Is he getting arraigned by a judge? They can’t hold him if the protestors don’t show up and press charges,” Deliah said. “They drove away. Obviously their car is perfectly fine.”
“Gotcha,” he patted her head and then walked around the corner.
“I really need to learn how to tell them apart,” I said under my breath. “Wait a minute. How did you know to ask all of that?”
She shrugged. “My childhood pretty much consisted of Leon hogging the remote and making me watch cop show marathons.”
* * *
“Do you know what I’ve been thinking about for hours?” Gabe asked me when I awoke in the chair I’d been sitting in all night. He had a clipboard on his lap. His glasses were fixed on the edge of his nose. I wanted to grab him and hug him, but the room was full of people.
“How to dig a tunnel to the gas station to get a candy bar?”
I rubbed my eyes and stretched my back. Then I checked over his wrists for handcuff bruises.
“Guess again,” he said, making sideways eyes at me as he scribbled on a bunch of forms with his left hand.
How did I not know he was a lefty? He played the guitar with his right hand. Come to think of it, I’d never actually seen him write anything down in my presence. I watched for the first time. He signed his name—Gabriel J. Halden. It was beautiful. Something about his signature made my heart race.
“You smell better than ever,” he whispered.
“You kinda stink,” I replied. “Are you really free?”
“Were you really worried?” He had to know how upset I was waiting all night, unable to speak to him, unsure he would get out. “They charged me with disorderly conduct, resisting arrest, and some other phony baloney. Plus, I had a bunch of unpaid speeding tickets. They were gonna hold me for forty-eight hours until Jud downsized the issue to aggravated something-or-other.”
I touched the dried paint on his cheek. “I can’t believe you went to jail. Meggie’s going to see the paint on you. She’ll figure it out. So will your father.”
Gabe jumped up and slammed the clipboard on the counter. Then he started for the door.
“Not if I don’t go back.” He grabbed my hand and tugged me across the icy pavement toward the truck. I hoped he had a plan since he had nothing to do but scheme for hours. When he got to the door, he grumbled, “Those dumbass shmucks ruined my paint.”
We stopped for a burger and got trapped behind a string of pickups in the drive-through at possibly the busiest McDonald’s in the contiguous United States. The lines were worse than I remembered. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face when Gabe’s truck pulled into Lane’s driveway after our meal.
“My brother won’t be back until tomorrow late,” he drawled.
Anticipation fl
uttered in my belly. We were going to be alone. I followed him inside, and he stood in the center of the kitchen and coughed into his sleeve.
“It’s freezing in here. What happened to the heat?” I asked.
“It’s broke.”
“So what do we do?”
“Take our clothes off. It’s gonna get really hot,” he said as he unzipped his jacket. He kept a straight face. “Lane wants me to run the stove in the basement so the pipes don’t burst. It happens all the time when the temps drop below zero like this. He’s got a guy coming to fix it when he gets done fixing the other ten million broken furnaces in this town.”
I placed my jacket on a counter stool and caught him staring at me with those darkened hazels. He knew all along we were staying over. I pressed my hands into his chest and tugged on the fabric. “You’re so sneaky.” I stepped back and observed his clothes. “You’re so dirty.”
Gabe examined his paint-stained hands. “You should see my mind.” He tugged my slack collar over my shoulder. “It’s time we play Connect the Dots.”
I’d never been in the basement. It was an ordinary basement with an ice-cold cement floor and musty smell. Lane had a workshop where all of his tools had a place on a pegboard wall. I spotted a box from a baby swing. There was a pool table in the center of the main room. I ran a hand over the felt tabletop.
Gabe rolled a piece of newspaper and lit a match. Then he tossed the flaming paper into a woodstove and poked at the kindling.
“We can pull a mattress out and sit in front of the fire.” He scratched at the dried paint in his hair. “I don’t think this is coming off.”
“Try washing it,” I said.
He reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head while fighting his arms out of the sleeves. My stomach muscles tightened as he flexed every inch of his torso and arms. I could’ve stared at his biceps forever, but my gaze landed on his scar. When he stepped closer and unbuttoned his jeans, I lost my breath.
“Man the stove. Sometimes it smokes at first. Something’s wrong with the flue.”
He turned and pitched his shirt onto the pool table. Then he dropped his jeans and kicked them off. I glanced at the wood stove, and in the corner of my eye, I caught him pulling his shorts down and scampering into the bathroom.
“Hey you,” he drawled and pointed. “Watch the fire.”
He was in the shower forever while the image of his naked butt stirred in my mind.
“It’s getting really hot,” I told him when the door opened and he stalked out with a trail of steam. A towel draped his shoulders.
“That’s the point.” He tossed the towel over my shoulder and took the stick from my hand. When I glanced sideways, our eyes met and his lip curled into his cheek. He smelled of toothpaste and mouthwash. “She musta done a one-stop shopping for Christmas.”
A rumble of laughter burst from my throat. Aunt Meggie bought Gabe a pair of plaid pajamas. He was wearing the pants and nothing else.
“I would’ve brought mine if I’d known this was a sleepover.”
“You can have the shirt,” he said and then rubbed at his neck to show me the paint hadn’t come off.
I led him back to the bathroom. While he swiped his fist all over the steamy mirror, I opened the cabinet under the sink and found a sponge and a jar of liquid hand soap. “I’ll try this first,” I told him. “Then I’ll try paint thinner.”
Gabe leaned into the sink and braced his arms. I poured out the soap and placed the sponge on his neck, holding his upper arm with my free hand. I didn’t take my eyes off his back as the droplets of water dribbled down in rows. The paint was everywhere. The fine hairs on his neck were plastered to his skin.
When I looked up, his hazel eyes were watching me in the mirror. I took a comb off the shelf and tried to run it through his hair to loosen the paint. He grabbed my hand.
“Plan B, Av’ry.”
“Does your brother have any turpentine?”
Gabe shook his wet head and reached for something under the sink. He set a hair clipper on the counter. “I’ll buzz it.”
“You’re not shaving your head. I love your hair. It’s already so short.”
“Buzz the back and sides. Then the lieutenant won’t know what happened.”
Goose bumps covered his hairless chest.
“Is that really important? So what if he finds out?”
“He can’t find out about this.”
“Then you’ll look like Caleb. Except his hair has probably grown in.”
“You always got him on your mind,” he accused as he walked out and climbed onto the pool table to plug the cord into the ceiling socket.
“I do not. It’s just his haircut was quite a statement when he left. If you’re serious, let me do it right.”
“No, I’ll do it.” Gabe sat on the edge, dangled his legs and unwrapped a piece of gum.
I grabbed the clipper and he grabbed my arm and jumped down. “Okay. You do it.”
I stood with the table to my back, and he brushed my hair behind my shoulder and plucked at my bra strap. I felt my cheeks flush even though the look of appreciation in his eyes made me feel giddy. He ran his hands up my ribs and yanked the sweatshirt over my head until it was stuck on my hand. I’d been wearing all of my nicest underwear thinking somehow he would get to see them.
“You’re lacy.”
“I’m cold,” I replied.
He grazed my lace bra with his thumb as I leaned into the table. “You’re cold alright.”
I shivered from shoulder to shoulder. My skin tightened so much it hurt. He grabbed my neck and pressed his lips into mine, still holding my arm and the clipper in the bunched up clothing. His kiss was so intense I felt tingles shoot to my toes as he flattened me to the pool table. I tasted the strawberry gum. It tasted warm.
“Forget my hair. I need to see the rest of this.” He plucked the straps off my shoulders.
Were we finally going to do it?
I shook the clipper and the sweatshirt free. Then I pushed up on my elbows against his weight, attempting to catch my breath. “After I fix your hair.”
I shoved his damp shoulder and made him turn his back. I didn’t want to cut his hair; however, I needed a breather. He pulled my legs around his front as I toweled off his wet head. The clipper got caught on the first run. He grimaced and forced a turn in my grip. I glanced from my work as he unfastened the button on my jeans.
“Gabe, wait until I finish,” I said in protest. I reached around his head and made a path through the painted hair. After a few swipes around his skull, I had it down. I ran my fingers over his hair testing the length for evenness. It wasn’t the best haircut, but it was better than bald. He still had the sideburns that I loved.
I set down the clipper and yanked the cord out of the ceiling.
“Lose the jeans. Lose the bra. Lose that phony, innocent look you keep making.”
“What look? I’m studying my handiwork. I should work in a salon. I don’t know anyone who can cut a good haircut while being manhandled by a sexy ex-con.”
“I don’t want you running your fingers through anybody else’s hair,” he murmured into my lips as he pushed my jeans down my hips as far as he could manage before he had to lift me off the table.
“Bossy doesn’t work on me.”
He yanked the jeans to my feet and made me step out of them. Chills marched up the back of my legs trailing his fingers all the way to the edge of my underwear. I could tell he liked my knee socks.
“It works for me,” he said.
We were going to do it.
I bit the inside of my cheek in preparation for his next move. But he stopped. He stood up. He scanned the floor.
“Goddang phone. Where’d my jeans go?”
I stood alone in my underwear and pointed to the buzzing noise as he made his way around the pool table.
“What?” he spat into the phone and then paused for a moment. “She’s in Canada. I don’t gotta tell you
a damn thing.”
I covered myself and tried to look dressed.
“No, you don’t. Don’t you dare,” he spoke tersely, eyes tightening. “I don’t want to know.” Then he listened for a few seconds and threw the phone back onto his jeans. Returning his attention to me, he stopped my hands from rubbing up and down my arms where I was pretending to be cold. I was uncomfortable standing in Lane’s basement in my underwear with chickenpox marks all over me.
“You trust me?” he asked at my shoulder as he pulled the bra strap off and tugged it down far enough to make the entire bra turn inside out and flip down. His eyes widened.
“Uh huh,” I muttered with absolute certainty as he pressed his bare chest into mine so he could scoop me up. He started to a door and kicked it in with his foot. Then he set me on a bed and brushed a pile of books and a cowboy hat to the floor. “I was planning to stay in here, but Molly came back.”
“Who called?” I asked covering myself, even though I guessed it was his sister.
“Mona Deliah trying to ruin my sex life,” he said as he unclasped the front of my bra without removing my hands. I fixed my gaze on his hazel eyes and watched them smile. He took my hands and set them on either side of my hips and shook his head. He looked different with less hair. “Dang, I want this, Av’ry. You drive me mad looking all friendly and topless and girly-soft. I love your spots.”
His sultry voice made me squirm. I scooted back to the pillow and tried to relax, but I could hardly lie still with his eyes drinking me in and his fingers connecting my scars.
Were we going too fast?
“I look friendly?” My voice made my whole body tremble. “I know we talked about all of this, but you know I’m—”
His lips vibrated against my skin. “Lord help me if you’re gonna tell me you’re a virgin.”
“Gabe, be serious. You know I am.”
“You lied about your age? You’re sixteen and three-quarters? I can work with that.”
I grunted and tried to cover up again.
“You’re off the pill? You’re afraid I’ll hurt you or give you some disfiguring disease? You don’t think I like your knee socks? That it? You’re afraid I’ll compare you?”
Stubborn Truth (The Stubborn Series Book 3) Page 5