Breathless

by Dakota Harrison

  Emma paused in applying her lipstick.

  Another voice piped up from the stall beside Millie’s. “But I thought they all agreed to give her some time to get settled in first? Isn’t that what Gabe said?”

  Emma replaced the lid of her lipstick and slid it silently back into her bag, listening hard.

  “Yeah, but Gabe was just making excuses for them. I heard Steve tell Sara that he wasn’t really interested, but Steve was only going to ask her out to get lucky. You know what those city girls are like. They’re all trash.”

  Halfhearted giggles bounced around the tiled bathroom, ricocheting and thrusting into her heart each time they echoed back at her.

  “That’s why Gabe didn’t want on the list, you know. He’s not interested in sloppy leftovers. Gabe told Ryan if he put his name on the list, he’d knock Ryan straight into next week!”

  More giggles, louder this time. Emma’s heart staggered and stopped, shock racing through her.

  Sloppy leftovers? Trash?

  “You know it’s only a question of time before Gabe comes knockin’ on your door, right, Millie? You two were meant to be together. He knows it. He’s just playin’ around while he still can,” another voice said.

  Millie’s strident voice once again caught Emma’s wandering attention. “I know. And I sure don’t have anything to fear from a stuck-up piece of work like her. Walking around with her nose in the air, thinking she’s better than all of us, pretending she can’t swim to get Gabe to notice her. He thinks she’s a joke. The way she maneuvered him into helping her on that waste of a house is criminal. He doesn’t want to. He only goes to keep Darby and his mom off his back.

  “Ryan would have her in a heartbeat. I say let him.”

  Emma stifled the gasp that burst from her chest, her hand hard over her mouth. Normally she wouldn’t credit a person like Millie with the time of day, especially when she knew the woman had a set against her, but her words rang with enough truth that Emma’s heart ached.

  Did Gabe really think she was a joke? Emma hadn’t lived here that long, and Millie had known both Gabe and Darby since they were small. If anyone outside his family would know what he thought, it would be Millie. Could that be why he’d been so determined to tell her he wasn’t interested? He’d made a point of coming over to her home and insisting that they be friends only—after she’d made a fool of herself the first night she’d gone out with Darby. He’d been friendly since. But that didn’t that mean he’d changed his mind—only that he was true to his word.

  She really liked Gabe. Loved his company. She felt so at ease when he was around. To think he might not regard her in the same way hurt like hell.

  She grabbed her bag from the counter and stepped quietly toward the door as fast as she could. She had to get out of there. Before the tears welling in her eyes made their way down her face.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gabe looked up from wiping the spilled drink off the bar.

  Emma.

  Man, that dress. It was enough to make him want to turn the air conditioning down ten degrees.

  For something that came up to her neck, it was getting him and some of the others more than a little flustered. It followed the sleek curves of her body like the hands of a lover, molding and dipping, clinging in just the right places.

  Her breasts created an incredible contrast to the arc of her defined waist, and the explosion of femininity that was her hips continued down to those unbelievable legs. That damn dress was so short he found himself hoping like crazy she’d drop something, just so she could bend over and pick it up.

  She was coming out of the ladies’ room, where she had disappeared more than ten minutes ago.

  Not that he was counting.

  As if sensing his gaze, she turned, impaling him with eyes filled with tears.

  Tears?

  Fear gripped his insides, clenching his stomach into a hard, knotted mass. What in hell was going on? Why was she upset?

  Millie had followed her into the bathroom with her gaggle of airhead friends. It had to be her. He almost groaned aloud. When was that girl going to learn to play nice? Just once?

  Those amazing eyes turned hard, accusing him. Of what, he had no idea, but he knew censure when he saw it.

  She glanced quickly around the room, spotting the side exit door a few feet past the restrooms. Dashing the back of a hand across her eyes, she hurried the few steps to the door and slipped out and disappeared into the night.

  Gabe threw the rag into the sink behind the bar. Without taking his eyes from the door Emma had just slipped out of, he moved past his brother to the open end of the long timber bar.

  “I’ll be back.”

  Not waiting for an answer, Gabe hurried to the door and stepped out into the welcoming warmth of the night. He jogged down the path to the sidewalk that ran in front of the bar, peering up and down the road.

  Which way had she gone?

  Making a hasty decision, Gabe turned to his right and strode down the sidewalk. If she was upset, she’d most likely head home.

  At least, he hoped she would.

  A faint sound caught his attention. He stopped, tilted his head and listened.

  There.

  The unmistakable sound of high heels on concrete echoed back to him. Gabe quickened his stride, determined to catch up with her and see that she was all right.

  “Emma! Wait.”

  The tapping stopped for a moment. It started again, faster this time. She was moving away from him, fast.

  “Hey! Wait up.”

  Gabe could see her as he rounded the corner toward the town square, Emma hurrying across the road to the park that sat in the middle. He broke into a run, his sneakers an advantage over her ridiculously high-heeled shoes.

  He caught her by the shoulder just as she passed beneath one of the antique gas lamps that had been there since the town was first settled. He spun her around, making her stop.

  “Why didn’t you stop when I called out to you? What’s wrong, why are you upset?”

  Emma was doing her best not to look at him, staring at everything else around them. “Go away.”

  Her whispered answer threw him, nearly making him lose his grip on the soft skin of her arm. “Why?” He grasped her gently under the chin, forcing her to look at him. “What made you so sad? Please tell me.”

  She bit her lip and pulled it into her mouth to stop its trembling, the action so sensual, so erotic, it nearly knocked him to his knees. He forced his mind away from focusing on her soft, full lips to look at her eyes.

  “Why did you follow me? I just want to go home.” Tears trailed silver lines down her beautiful face, glinting in the pale, warm light of the lamp above. The color of her eyes was indistinguishable, the night making them deep, dark pools of sorrow.

  “I’ll walk with you.” Gabe raised a hand to rub the pad of his thumb over the traces of her tears, erasing them from her cheek. “Okay?”

  Emma jerked back away from him, eyes wide. “No, it’s not okay. I don’t want you anywhere near me. Just go back to the Cow and leave me be.”

  Shock raced through him at her words.

  “Why? Have I done—”

  “Did you tell Ryan that you’d knock him into next week if he put you on the list?” she interrupted.

  Gabe blinked at the sudden subject change. Why had Ryan told her that?

  “Ah…yes, I did.”

  Pain flashed over her features, gone in an instant. “And my house? You didn’t want to help out with it, did you? Your mom asked you to, right?”

  An insidious, cold worm of dread began to wind itself around his insides. What was she getting at?

  “That’s right. I didn’t—”

  Emma cut him off with an impatient slash of her hand. “Don’t. Just don’t. Go back to where you want to be. Where you belong. You’ve done your duty. You can tell Darby and whoever else that you tried. I’m fine from here.”

  Confusion at her statements had Ga
be reaching for answers. Anything.

  “Slow down and tell me what’s going on. I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

  Emma heaved in a breath and glared at him. “You all feel sorry for me and think I’m pathetic. I didn’t ask for that stinking list. Or anyone’s attention, or lack thereof. You’ve been horrible to me all night. Why?”

  Frustrated, Gabe shoved his hair back from his face. “I feel something, but it isn’t sorry. Hell! This is what I’ve been feeling all night.”

  His hand, still grasping her arm, pulled her to him, his other hand sliding into her hair as his mouth fell to hers.

  At the touch of her lips on his, the park around them fell away.

  Taste. Touch.

  The soft rasp of her breath and the smooth honey of her lips were everything he’d wanted to avoid, but everything he’d dreamed about since he’d met her. Gabe slid a hand up her arm to cup her face, holding her still for his kiss.

  For a moment, he tasted heaven. The promise of sweet oblivion. Emma’s mouth moved under his, opening to his questing tongue.

  In the night’s silence around them, Gabe startled himself with his loud moan at Emma’s surrender. At the sound, Emma stiffened beneath his hands, his mouth.

  She jerked back, eyes wide in realization. “You bastard,” she whispered. Her hand was so fast he missed seeing it in the gloom. It struck his cheek, slamming against his jaw so hard he stumbled to the side, stunned.

  “Feeling like leftovers, Gabe?”

  Her sneer was unexpected. The pain in her eyes bewildered him. Heat flamed across his jaw and cheek, burning in response to the attack.

  “Leave me alone. I can get home from here.”

  She turned and stumbled up the path through the park, her heels tripping her as she tried to run. A loud sob broke free, the sound strangely deadened in the stillness of the night. She stopped, kicked off her shoes, leaving them where they fell, and ran, disappearing into the darkness beyond.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Emma tripped again, stumbled and fell to her knees. Tears poured down her face, sliding off her chin to land on the cool grass of her lawn.

  She was home.

  The thought brought a strangled sob with her tears. Home. What a joke. Her oasis in the middle of hostile territory. Why had she thought anything could ever be different?

  Oh, it mightn’t be fingers pointing at her because of Alex and Sasha, but they were pointing all the same. She rolled onto her back, her chest heaving with the unfairness of it all, and stared at the blazing stars above. First, two people who had meant the world to her—gone. And now this. She thought she’d found a place she could fit in, somewhere she felt welcome, but it was all a lie.

  One big, fat, huge lie.

  The only thing she could actually count on here in Jefferson’s Crossing was a two-week-old bull calf. Another choked-back, hysterical sound escaped from her lips, mixing with the tears still streaming down her cheeks.

  Oh, this is good. Hysteria is so my thing.

  A goddamn calf and maybe a friendship with a girl she’d known for less than four weeks. That was it. The sum total of her adult life.

  Emma brought both hands to her face, hiding from the brilliant light of the beautiful, cold stars above her.

  He’d kissed her. Really kissed her. She’d felt it all the way to her bones, the tightening in her belly and the pleasure that had swamped her entire body had proved that under different circumstances—if he’d have tried—she would’ve gone to bed with him. No qualms whatsoever.

  What a joke—and the joke was on her.

  She scrubbed viciously at her eyes with both hands, trying to rub away the evening, the last month, the last few years. Rolling to her knees, Emma stood and walked slowly to her front porch, dreading what the morning would bring with its bright, shiny light and perspective.

  Her behavior tonight had been reprehensible. She’d gone on a date with a man the age of her grandfather—regardless that he’d insisted it wasn’t a date—and had run out on him without explanation. She’d kissed another man, slapped him silly, before running away like the kind of stupid twit she hated watching in B-grade movies.

  She’d be lucky if half the town didn’t hate her by daybreak. Gabe included.

  What bothered her more than her behavior, though, was the realization that Gabe was coming to mean far more than he should. Far more than was allowable. She had made herself a promise before she left Australia.

  No men. Ever again.

  Men led to feelings. Feelings led to responsibility, and responsibility led to pain. She’d had enough of both to last her well into the next life.

  Unhooking the long, thin strap of her small shoulder bag from around her neck, she stopped on the top step under her porch light and dug for her keys. Sighing, she slid the key into her lock and turned, pushing open the door to an empty house.

  Empty was good.

  Empty meant no ties.

  Emma shut the door gently behind her. She turned the key and heard the lock tumble into place. She padded down the hall, flicking off lights as she went. She never came home to a dark house. Ghosts lived there.

  With the whole house dark, but for her bedroom, Emma stripped off her dress—one that she could now admit she’d worn for Gabe—and dropped it where it fell. She yanked the comforter down and crawled into the bed, flopping onto her back on the pillows. She stared sightlessly at the shadows the lamp on her nightstand threw over the ceiling.

  She wiped at her now itchy face. The tears had dried in place, a warning to not place her trust in others. Her emotions were too raw to bother with washing the evidence from her face. She felt across the bed and dropped her hand to the top drawer, sliding it open. Her fingers slid across cold glass. She hooked a finger beneath the frame, pulled it from the drawer and hugged it to her chest.

  Her heart hurt so badly. She couldn’t look at it. Couldn’t look at the happy, smiling face of the toddler in the photo. Holding it would be enough. It would have to be. Sasha was gone. There would never be anything else.

  A great sob burst from her and echoed in the large room. She stretched out her hand to the lamp and plunged the room into complete darkness.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Gabe tuned out Ms. Reardon’s endless prattle.

  Her miniature poodle, Cleopatra, sat on his examination table. A lovely-looking, precious little mutt that was spoiled rotten. He didn’t think the dog had ever walked on grass or dirt in its entire life.

  Perhaps she’d never walked anywhere.

  Gabe stripped off his gloves and considered Ms. Emelia Reardon, divorcee extraordinaire. In her mid-forties, the woman was stunning, always dressed to the nines, always had the right thing to say.

  Husband number five had been shed only three months ago, and Gabe could see she was back on the hunt. This time, he believed her sights may well have turned in his direction. Shaking his head to himself, he knew he had to act fast.

  “There’s nothing wrong with her that a bit of exercise each day wouldn’t fix.” Gabe looked up from the dog, straight into Emelia’s bewildered eyes. “She is only three years old. Take her for a damned walk, Emelia. She has legs for a reason. That thing?” He pointed at the fancy leather dog handbag sitting on the counter to the left. “Burn it.”

  Emelia’s mouth worked silently. She set her perfectly manicured hands on her slim hips. “Gabriel Jameson! How dare you speak to me in such a manner. You’re not the only vet within driving distance.”

  Thank heaven for that.

  Gabe narrowed his gaze and regarded her. “Then take her to another one. They’ll tell you the same thing. You’re in here every other day. Why? There’s nothing wrong with your dog,” he repeated, making sure he maintained eye contact and didn’t smile, letting her know he was on to her and was not interested.

  Grabbing Cleopatra under one arm, Emelia snatched up the handbag and stormed to the double doors of the exam room, expensive heels clattering on the p
olished concrete floor.

  She spun to stare down her ten-thousand-dollar nose at him. “You are rude and…and…rude! I won’t be back, Gabe, and I won’t be recommending you to anyone ever again.”

  He could only hope she meant it.

  “It’s on the house!” he called through the swinging doors, grinning, knowing that would rile her all the more.

  A snort was the only answer he got.

  Shaking his head, he picked up his discarded gloves and dropped them in the waste bin near the stainless steel sinks on the far wall.

  Crazy woman.

  “By the gravel flying out from behind that Porsche’s tires, I take it Ms. Reardon isn’t pleased with you?”

  Gabe looked at his father. “Sounds about right.”

  Ed nodded, a sly grin winding across his face. “I must say, that was very well done. You dodged a bullet there, my boy.” He narrowed his gaze at Gabe. “You know, this is the first time in over two weeks I’ve seen you smile.”

  The grin fell from Gabe’s lips. He straightened and turned around, pretending to look for something in the cupboards above the sink.

  “Avoid the subject all you like, but it won’t change the fact that you’re hurting. What happened?”

  The whole town knew Emma had left the Cow that night. A few people had seen her slip out the side exit and had seen him follow her. When he hadn’t returned to the bar, many had assumed he’d spent the night with her, an assumption both of them had denied. He just wished she hadn’t denied it so forcefully.

  Was the thought of spending the night with him so repulsive to her?

  He absently rubbed his jaw where she’d slapped him, still baffled by what had happened.

  In a way, he was glad she’d rejected him. The way she’d felt in his arms and tasted, he knew that if he’d walked her home, he would have taken her to bed. And while that prospect still had the ability to superheat his blood, his head knew it would be a huge mistake.

  One of the reasons he stayed well away from women was living in that old, rundown house on Roselea Drive. They were trouble, plain and simple, and he had no intention of ever allowing himself to be put in a position where he could be used so badly again.