One Good Reason

by Sarah Mayberry

  She smiled at him, enjoying the attention. This was what she’d been denying herself for the past few years. Male admiration. The sense that she was desirable. The sense that she meant something to someone. To anyone.

  “Let’s go dance, then.” Hooking her finger into one of his belt loops, she led him to the dance floor.

  A couple of the other guys joined them and pretty soon she was surrounded. She had no idea who half of these people were. Vaughn—Dane?—was one of Kelly’s friends. At least, she thought so. Most of them were younger than her, in their early twenties.

  “You rock, Gabby,” Dane said as he danced close behind her. “You’ve got the moves.”

  His hand brushed her hip, then the side of her thigh, then his hips were pressing against her backside, moving with her in time to the beat.

  She could go home with him tonight if she wanted to. He was attractive in a young sort of way—blond hair, blue eyes, surfer-guy good looks. His body was lean and boyish, not yet fully developed, but no doubt he’d be an enthusiastic lover.

  She tried to imagine kissing him, letting him touch her, but the notion left her cold. She’d never really been into blonds. But that didn’t mean she should rule him out all together. She’d decided it was time to get a life, hadn’t she? And Dane—Vaughn?—seemed like a good way to kick-start her social life. Definitely he seemed like a good way to create new memories to replace the old ones she’d been picking over like Miss Havisham for the past four years. Even if it was for only one night.

  She deserved a little fun, didn’t she? A little passion. A little attention.

  The song changed to a classic dance track. The area became even more crowded. Closing her eyes, Gabby gave herself over to the music for a few beats, letting the mindless joy of the moment wash over her.

  She was alive. She felt good. She was sexy and desirable and fun.

  She could do this. She really could. She could get over Tyler.

  Then she opened her eyes and caught a glimpse of a severe, expressionless face through a gap in the crowd. For a split second her gaze locked with Jon’s. He stood near the French doors, a bottle of beer in his hand as he watched.

  A devil prompted her to slip through the crowd toward him.

  “Come on, Stonehenge. Loosen up and dance with me.”

  She grabbed his arm and attempted to pull him toward the gyrating throng. His arm was hard with muscle, his skin very warm. It was like trying to move a mountain and he didn’t budge an inch.

  “I don’t dance.”

  “Now, there’s a big surprise.” She released her grip. “Do you ever do anything fun?”

  He looked at her silently for a long beat. “I have my moments.”

  “Whatever that means.” Because she wanted to get a rise out of him, she plucked the beer from his hand and took a swig. Sweet bubbles flooded her palate. She pulled a face.

  “What is this?” She peered at the label. “Sparkling apple juice?”

  What was he doing drinking apple juice?

  “If you’re thirsty, I can get you some water.”

  “You can get me some champagne.”

  He frowned. She crossed her arms over her chest and imitated both his stance and his frown.

  “Should have known you’d be a difficult drunk,” he said.

  “I’m not drunk,” she protested. “Yet.”

  She poked him in the chest with her finger to emphasize her point, then turned on her heel and sashayed to the dance floor. She knew without a doubt that he watched her backside the entire way and she put a little extra wiggle into it. Just to really annoy him.

  She slipped into the middle of the action and only glanced at him when she was sure enough time had passed.

  He was still standing there. Watching her. Disapproving.

  He’d felt as solid as a rock when she’d poked him. A big, warm, hard rock.

  “There you are. Thought I’d lost you,” Dane said.

  She shifted her attention to the younger, happier man grinning at her and wondered why she’d even bothered to talk to Jon. What did she care if he obviously didn’t know how to have a good time? It was nothing to do with her.

  She danced to song after song till she was damp with sweat and her calves and thighs ached. She danced with men and women, to hard rock and techno and a club beat. She drank the beers her newfound friends brought her and closed her eyes and raised her arms in the air and moved as though her life depended on it.

  For all she knew, it might. Crazier things had happened, and this was the first day of the rest of her life, after all. No matter what happened, she was going to make it count.

  GABBY WAS, AS JON’S YOUNGER self would have phrased it, off her face. Not quite falling-down drunk, but pretty damned close.

  Someone should do something. Step in and force-feed her some bread or water. Or at least cut her off before she did something really stupid, such as go home with one of the guys who’d been sniffing around her all night.

  Jon looked around, but as usual Tyler and Ally were lost in one another, cuddled close together on one of the garden seats. A nuclear bomb could detonate a foot away and they’d be blind to it.

  The music switched abruptly to a heartfelt ballad. The dance floor thinned predictably as James Blunt crooned about how beautiful someone was. Gabby looked annoyed, he couldn’t help noticing. Then the blond kid who had been practically humping her leg earlier pulled her close and started swaying with her. She looked as though she was about to protest, but she subsided as another couple joined them. Jon smiled at the chagrined, slightly self-conscious expression on his brother’s face as Ally stepped into his arms. Like Jon, his brother had never been a big dancer. But clearly he was prepared to make certain sacrifices to please Ally.

  If the expression on his brother’s face was any indication, there was little he wouldn’t do for her. Leap tall buildings. Split the atom. Fly to the moon.

  Jon almost felt embarrassed by the raw devotion in his brother’s eyes as he looked into his new wife’s face. A little bit of dignity wouldn’t go astray. There was no need for the whole world to know how utterly besotted the poor bastard was.

  And yet… It was hard to be truly condemning. Tyler looked happy. Happier than Jon had ever seen him. That could only be a good thing.

  He was about to cruise the dessert offerings when he caught sight of Gabby again. She was still with the leg humper, her arms looped loosely around his neck. She was watching Tyler and Ally over his shoulder and the misery and desperation on her face was so palpable it stopped him cold.

  He followed her sight line to his brother, then returned his gaze to her. Suddenly it him like a freight train.

  The unhappiness he’d sensed in her at her birthday party on Tuesday night.

  Her almost zealous dedication to Tyler’s business.

  The “not available” signal she broadcast.

  The look in her eyes right now.

  She was in love with Tyler.

  Desperately in love, if her expression was anything to go by.

  Jon looked away. He felt as though he’d seen something he shouldn’t have. Something intensely private and personal.

  A million questions crossed his mind. How long had this been going on? Did Tyler know? Did Ally?

  He looked at Gabby again. Unless he missed his guess, she was seconds from tears.

  He scanned the crowd uneasily. He wasn’t the only one watching the dancers. Any minute now someone else would see what he had and make the same connection.

  He acted before he could think it through. Gabby was a grown woman, more than capable of looking after herself in ordinary circumstances—but tonight was an exception. She’d consumed enough alcohol to fell a horse, and consequently her guard was down. He knew without a doubt that she would be humiliated if she knew her secret was out.

  He was there in two strides. He slipped past another couple, then tapped Leg Humper on the shoulder. “My turn.”

  The guy looked as
though he was going to argue the point, but Jon simply stepped between him and Gabby and pulled her into his arms.

  “Hey!” she protested.

  “Don’t worry, this is hurting me more than it’s hurting you.”

  He half danced, half walked her to the edge of the dance floor. Once they were clear of everyone, he let her go.

  “You want to sit down? A glass of water?”

  “I want to dance. Which was what I was doing until you came along.”

  “You looked like you needed a break to me,” he said quietly.

  She shot him a searching, disconcerted look. He held her gaze and she glanced away.

  “I was fine. I was having a good time.”

  “Were you?”

  Her chin came up. Some of the desolation had left her eyes. “Yes, I was. I know you probably found the signs hard to recognize.”

  “Let me get you some water,” he said again. He wasn’t going to get any sense out of her tonight. She was too far gone.

  “I can look after myself.”

  She walked away from him, weaving slightly. She made it to the bar where she said something to the bartender. Jon frowned as he watched her accept a glass of champagne. Sober, Gabby was a pain in the ass. Drunk, she was hell on wheels and the most stubborn person he’d ever had the misfortune to know.

  Sighing, he headed her way. She was about to sip her drink when he plucked the flute from her hand. Her expression of comic astonishment would have made him laugh under any other circumstances.

  “Give that back.” She sounded exactly like a thwarted child.

  “Time to take it easy.”

  Her eyes widened with outrage. “Excuse me? Who are you to tell me what to do?”

  “I’m doing you a favor. Trust me.”

  “I don’t want you to do me a favor. I don’t want anything from you. Except my drink.”

  Her hand shot out so quickly she’d grabbed the champagne from his grasp before he had a chance to react. Tilting her head, she gulped the entire contents in one big swallow.

  The look she gave him as she lowered the glass was pure triumphant defiance.

  “That’s your last one,” he said, taking the glass and handing it to the eavesdropping barman. “No more for Ms. Wade, okay?”

  Predictably, Gabby turned pink with outrage as she registered his words.

  “Who the hell do you think you are? You’re not the boss of me. You’re not even close to being the boss of me. I’ll do what I like when I like and—”

  She paused, a peculiar look passing over her face. She pressed a hand to her stomach.

  “Ugh. I don’t feel so good.”

  She’d barely got the words out before she bent over and threw up.

  All over his boots.

  CHAPTER SIX

  GABBY SCOOPED ANOTHER HANDFUL of water from the running tap and sluiced it over her face. Cold water ran down her neck and onto her chest. She blinked, then repeated the action.

  The towel Ally had given Gabby was soft against her skin as she blotted her face dry. Her bra was wet from all the water she’d splashed around, and she blotted it with the towel, also, before reaching for the T-shirt Ally had loaned her. She was a little smaller, but it was a decent fit, as were the pair of gray track suit pants, although she had to roll the cuffs a couple of times to stop them dragging on the ground. She wondered vaguely if that meant she was shorter than Ally or if Ally had to roll the pants, too.

  Gabby stood in the center of the bathroom for a moment, looking for something else to delay the moment when she had to exit and face her humiliation.

  Her sexy red dress was in the corner, a sodden pool of damp, funky-smelling fabric. Tyler had taken her shoes someplace to clean them.

  She closed her eyes. Much of the evening was still a blur but the moment where she’d thrown up all over herself and Jon was etched in her memory, like acid on stone.

  Of all the men in all the parties in all the world, why did it have to be his boots she’d tossed her cookies on?

  At least the nausea was gone. She’d thrown up twice in front of the bar, then Jon had calmly manhandled her to a distant corner of the garden where she’d thrown up a third time. After it had become clear that the urge to purge had passed, Ally had taken over, leading her inside to clean up.

  Even though she was feeling markedly less muzzy than she had been, Gabby was still drunk enough to have lost track of time. How long had she been locked in here? An hour? Twenty minutes? She honestly had no idea.

  The only way to find out was to gird her loins, open the door and face the music.

  The hall was silent when she emerged. She padded on bare feet into the living area. Empty.

  Which meant what remained of the party was probably outside—if it wasn’t over entirely. With the exception of high school parties, she couldn’t remember a single event that had been enhanced by one of the guests heaving spectacularly in the middle of festivities. Was it any wonder that people had run for the hills?

  Gabby shuffled on reluctant feet toward the French doors. Sure enough, Tyler and Ally were out there, talking quietly as they collected empty beer bottles and glasses.

  “Hey,” she said sheepishly.

  They both turned to face her.

  “Gabby. How are you feeling? I was about to come check on you,” Ally said with a sympathetic smile. “Better.”

  Tyler was trying to hide a grin, without much success.

  “Don’t start,” Gabby said. “I’m already going to get it from the guys on Monday.”

  “I had to tip the barman, he was so traumatized.”

  Gabby winced. “I’m really sorry. I have no idea what happened.”

  Tyler laughed outright. “Don’t you?”

  Ally gave him a dark look. “Don’t laugh at her when she’s feeling sick.”

  “Do you want a hand cleaning up?” Gabby asked, because she figured it was better than telling more lies.

  She knew exactly what had happened—she’d drunk like a fish because she was in love with a man she could never have.

  “We’re fine. It’s mostly glasses,” Ally said. “We’ll do the rest tomorrow.”

  “Then I’ll call a cab and get out of your hair.” Making a hasty escape smacked of cowardice, but Gabby figured there would be plenty of time to dwell on her foolhardy behavior tomorrow. Then, of course, there was Monday, when the full repercussions would come home to roost.

  She figured it would take her about a month to live this night down. Certainly Dino and the guys would give her hell for at least that long.

  “Give me a sec to find my keys and I’ll drive you,” Tyler said.

  “No.” Gabby held up her hand.

  Both Ally and Tyler stared at her and she realized she’d sounded a little too urgent. But the last thing she wanted was to be stuck in a car alone with Tyler when she was feeling this stupid and vulnerable and sorry for herself.

  “I mean, you’ve already had to clean up after me. Which, again, I’m really sorry for. I’ll grab a cab, and you guys can go to bed. I’ll be fine.”

  “It’s not a problem,” he said.

  “I’d really prefer to get a cab.”

  “Gabby. Relax. I don’t mind.” He was like the Terminator, unstoppable. Determined to do his duty.

  “I’ll take her,” a deep voice said.

  As one, they turned to find Jon standing in the doorway. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans that she recognized as Tyler’s instead of the newer pair he’d arrived in, and his boots looked damp.

  Great. Apparently, she’d hurled on his jeans as well as his boots. This evening just kept getting better and better.

  “Perfect,” Ally said. “Gabby’s place in Brunswick is pretty much on your way to Thornbury.”

  Gabby tried to find the words to protest, but Jon already had his keys in hand. Short of throwing a genuine tantrum, there was no way she could avoid having him drive her. Another good deed for him to rack up for the night.

&nbs
p; “I’ll grab a bag for your things,” Ally said, scooting past her into the house.

  A few minutes later, Gabby was walking toward a black truck, a shopping bag containing her ruined dress and shoes banging against her calves.

  Jon opened the door for her. She hesitated before getting in.

  “Look, I can call a cab. I’m sure you don’t want—”

  “Get in, Gabby.” He sounded long-suffering. Like a worn-out parent.

  Muttering under her breath, she climbed in.

  “Where are your shoes?” Jon asked, apparently noticing her bare feet for the first time.

  “They’re ruined. And Ally’s are a size too small.”

  He shut the door without commenting. She waited until he’d circled the truck and climbed in before speaking.

  “I want you to know I appreciate this. It’s kind of you to go out of your way when you must be tired.” Not to mention pissed with her for yacking on his boots.

  “You might want to hold off on the thanks.”

  She gave him a searching look. What on earth was that supposed to mean? It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, but at the last minute she decided against it. Almost every conversation she’d ever had with Jon had deteriorated into a fight and she was hardly in top form right now. Far better to let it slide and live to fight another day.

  Jon put the truck in gear and pulled onto the road. She clutched her clammy bundle and willed time and space to fold so she could be home that much faster.

  “Where am I going?”

  “Um, Perry Street. It’s off Barkly Street.”

  “Which side of Sydney Road?”

  “The Carlton side.”

  He nodded and the ride passed in uncomfortable silence. Three times she started to apologize but never got past the point of forming the words in her mind. There was something about his expression that put her off. He looked…forbidding.

  Not that she was scared of him or intimidated by him. He might be bigger than her, but she was more than his match.

  “We need to take the next left,” she said as they drove along the busy café section of Sydney Road. “Perry’s the second street on the right.”

  He followed her instructions and within moments they stopped in front of her apartment block.