Mel grabbed her arm. “You know what? You’re right. I’ll talk to him.”
Gwen hit her with a wide grin. “Excellent. I really wasn’t looking forward to telling Gabe Abernathy that the manager didn’t have time for him.”
Mel emerged from the hallway and saw Gabe right where she expected him to be—at the bar. He’d already spotted her. As their gazes locked, a slow, gorgeous smile spread over that heartbreaker-handsome face of his. He wore a Western-cut jacket over a dark blue dress shirt, his spiky hair just begging her to shove her fingers in it.
She strode toward him with a rising feeling of pure anticipation. She’d missed him so much. The ass. “What can I do for you?” she asked, ladling on the irony, as she slipped into her usual spot between his stool and the next one over.
“Pick up the phone, for a start,” he said downright tenderly.
She resisted the urge to fold her arms across her middle in a clearly defensive gesture. “I was reluctant to bore you, the way I obviously did the last time we spoke on the phone.”
“You have never once bored me, Mel.”
“If you weren’t bored, then what?”
“Crazy ’bout you, Mel, and frankly scared of my own damn feelings.”
Warmth stole through her. She stiffened her spine, but her anger had fizzled. She asked, a plaintive note creeping in, “Really, Gabe. What do you want from me?”
He answered without having to stop and think about it. “A little while alone, just you and me. Somewhere other than here, someplace quiet, where we can talk privately.” His eyes were steady on hers. She believed him, believed his sincerity in this moment, even though she wanted to wrap herself in a protective shell of doubt and suspicion. “Are you off tomorrow?”
Her throat felt tight. She gave a little cough to clear it. “I am, yes.”
“Meet me at noon. On the Ambling A. Same spot along the creek where I found you that first day?”
There were so many reasons she shouldn’t. But none of them mattered in the least—not against the hungry, deep beating of her heart and the longing she couldn’t seem to shake. “All right, Gabe. Noon tomorrow, that spot by the creek.”
He tossed some bills on the bar, got down off the stool and leaned in. His breath warmed her cheek as he whispered, “See you then.”
She watched him walk away, so tall and broad-shouldered, proud and strong. The last thing she’d planned to do was give the man another chance.
Yet, she’d agreed to meet him. She should probably be having second thoughts about that decision.
However, the mere sight of him had reminded her sharply that she really had missed him. It was hard to stay mad at him when every cell in her body yearned to be close to him again.
Chapter Eight
By noon the next day, when Mel pulled her Audi in behind Gabe’s giant black pickup on the dusty ranch road, all her doubts had resurfaced. She really shouldn’t be here, yet somehow, once again, she’d let him convince her they needed to...
What?
She didn’t even know what this meeting was about. Some men were just plain dangerous to a woman’s heart and mind and, well, general equilibrium. Gabe Abernathy was the premiere example of that kind of man. She ought to just start up the car again and drive away.
But she’d said she would meet him here and she was a woman who followed through on her commitments.
At least, that was the excuse she gave herself as she emerged from the car and climbed the dirt path that led to the spot by the creek under the cottonwoods where they’d first met. She crested the gentle rise of the hill and there he was, below her. He sat on a blanket beneath the dappled shade of a cottonwood, next to a picnic basket, facing the creek.
How was she supposed to stand firm against him when he showed up with a picnic—and at the spot where they’d met and shared their first kiss, no less?
Squaring her shoulders and reminding herself that she had to be strong, she descended the hill.
* * *
Gabe heard boots on gravel. Rising, he turned to greet her.
Damn, she was beautiful, in rolled-cuff jeans that fit her curvy hips like a glove, those cute short boots she favored and a silky shirt splashed with a swirling blend of pink, purple and jewel blue. “Hi.”
She stopped on the edge of the blanket. “Hey.” Her gemstone eyes spoke of doubts and her plush mouth twisted down at the corners.
Refusing to feel the least discouraged, he offered a hand. She took it with obvious reluctance. He reminded himself that at least she was here, her hand cool and soft in his.
“Come on,” he coaxed. “Sit down.” She dropped to the blanket and he settled in beside her. A few feet away, Little Big Bear Creek burbled cheerfully. The sweet, high warble of a meadowlark rose from the wild grass somewhere nearby and Ambling A cattle grazed beyond the fence across the rippling ribbon of water. The sky was cloudless, an endless sheet of pale blue. No rain in the offing today. “Malone makes this chicken salad with grapes and pecans and all kinds of stuff you wouldn’t think of when you think chicken salad.”
At last, she gave him a smile. Suddenly, the world was a brighter place. “I love chicken salad with grapes and pecans.”
“On crusty bread, with chips and a wine cooler?”
“Perfect.”
He flipped open the basket and served her lunch. Except for the intermittent serenade of that lone meadowlark and the babbling of the creek, they ate in silence. As each minute passed, his feeling of dread increased.
He’d asked her to come here to the exact spot where they’d met so that he could tell her he’d fallen in love with her. But she held him at a distance with her careful silence. He had a sinking suspicion that a declaration of love from him right now would have her leaping to her feet and sprinting for her car.
Clearly, he needed to slow the hell down to baby steps with her. No sense in making his big declaration if it was only going to send her running for the hills.
“That was so good,” she said, once he’d put the remains of the food back in the basket. She took another sip from her wine cooler, carefully set the half-empty bottle on the blanket beside her and leaned back on her hands. Almost shyly, she turned those deep blue eyes his way. “So, um, you had something you wanted to talk to me about?” Her mouth was softly parted. He wanted to kiss her so bad, to wrap her up good and tight in his arms and never let her go.
But she gave off a definite vibe, one that said he’d better keep his lips and grabby hands to himself. “I can’t stop thinking of our night together. I really have missed you, Mel. I want another chance. I want to spend more time with you.”
She tugged at a loose thread on the blanket and dragged her gaze up slowly to collide with his. “Have you forgotten how you couldn’t wait to get rid of me that night?”
“You have to know, that wasn’t about you.”
“You acted like it was about me. When I tried to apologize for upsetting you, you said it wasn’t my fault. But your eyes were cold and when I said I should go, you couldn’t hustle me out the door fast enough.”
He wanted to keep denying his own behavior, but he knew that wouldn’t cut it with her. “You’re right, about all of it. Will you let me explain?”
She answered with a half shrug. “Go ahead, then.”
“It got to me, got to me bad. Just the idea that my family might have a whole other story I never knew a damn thing about, that my Gramps might have loved someone else before he loved my great-grandmother, that my grandpa Alexander might have a half sister he’s never met. It was a lot to process and I did kind of blame you—you know, like that old saying. I wanted to shoot the messenger.
“I knew at the time I was in the wrong, but I wanted so bad not to know what you’d just told me. It was completely unfair of me, Mel, to blame you for telling me something I didn’t want to hear. And I really am
sorry. I only hope that maybe you’ll forgive me for being such a jerk about it.”
For several uncomfortable seconds, she simply stared at him. And then slowly, she nodded. “Okay, yeah.” The word was more breath than sound. “I do understand. It’s hard information even for me to deal with—that the Winona Cobbs I know and love in Rust Creek Falls might have this tragic past she’s never said a word about. Gabe, I didn’t even want that diary. Lately, I feel like this heavy burden has been laid on me. I try to ignore it, but it nags at me, you know? The questions echo in my head. What really happened all those years ago? And did it happen to strangers—or to your great-grandfather and my Winona?”
He caught her hand. She let him, so he went further and wove their fingers together.
She held his gaze. She wasn’t smiling. “You didn’t call.”
“No, I didn’t. And that was wrong, too.” A humorless laugh escaped him. “And then you finally called me. You were so sweet.”
“You weren’t.” She scowled at him.
“Most men are fools.” Especially when it comes to love. He thought that last part, but somehow kept himself from saying it. “I’m sorry, Mel. I’m beggin’ for another chance here, but I have to admit, if you say no, I can’t really blame you.”
She squeezed his hand. He told himself that had to be a good sign. When she spoke, though, he wasn’t so sure. “I just... Gabe, I don’t want to give my heart again. I really don’t. My heart broke when I lost my parents. Todd broke it a second time. My poor heart just doesn’t have another break left in it.”
He wanted to swear he would never hurt her—but he already had, hadn’t he? And as for the whole love thing, well, how could he bear to say he loved her when she’d just said she was through with love? He brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles one by one.
His hope rose again when she leaned her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her, brushed his cheek against her silky hair and breathed in her perfect scent of vanilla and roses.
She glanced up at him with a sad little sigh. “Oh, Gabe. If any man could tempt me now, that man would be you.”
He pressed his lips to her hair. “How ’bout this, then? Could you be with me for right now? You’re not going anywhere for months, right? There’s plenty of time for us to just be together. We could see where it goes between us. All I would ask is that you try to keep an open mind and heart.”
“It seems so dangerous...”
“Most good things involve an element of risk.”
She chuckled. It was the sweetest sound. “Gabriel Abernathy, you are far too convincing, you know that?” They stared at each other.
He dared to suggest, “So, that’s a yes?”
When she didn’t say no, he saw his chance and lowered his mouth to hers. She didn’t pull away.
He gathered her closer, grateful for this, at least—the feel of her small, soft body in his arms again at last, for her kiss that was sweet and tender, with a promise of more.
He lifted his head sooner than he wanted to, just to show her he understood the meaning of restraint. “Yes?” he asked again.
Her eyes were deep as oceans. “What do you do to me?”
He smoothed an errant lock of hair away from that irresistible mouth of hers. “Everything. I hope. If you’ll let me.”
She put a hand to his chest. He wrapped his fingers around it. “Okay. We’ll, um, try again.” And she dipped her head a little shyly. “Whatever that means.”
He tipped up her chin so she was looking in his eyes again. “How about we start with right now and the whole afternoon and on into the evening?”
She laughed and playfully pushed him away. “You’re not wasting any time.”
“Hell, no.”
“It is nice here.” She lay back on the blanket, laced her fingers behind her head and stared up at the shifting leaves of the cottonwood overhead. “So the plan is to just hang out by the creek, you mean?”
He thought of Gramps and the other information he’d uncovered yesterday. She’d just agreed to give him another chance. He almost wanted to forget the diary and the sad story it contained.
But she’d asked to meet Gramps. And for a moment, Gramps had blasted through the wall of his own silence. He’d commanded Gabe to bring her to Snowy Mountain. There seemed no choice now but to go forward, to do what he could to solve the old mystery. “Well, there is something else I’ve been meaning to talk to you about...”
She’d shifted her gaze from the leaves above to his face. “What’s going on?”
He stretched out beside her, bracing up on an elbow so he could look down at her and hold her gaze. “I’ve been out to see Gramps twice since our night together—last Friday and then again yesterday afternoon. I really have been thinking about the story of Josiah and Winona and the missing baby Beatrix.”
“Did something...happen?”
“Not on Friday. I told him about the diary that day, and a little about you. He didn’t respond. I got nothing, you know? It’s the way he is most times now, like the lights are on, but nobody’s home.”
She reached up and laid her hand on the side of his face. “I’m sorry. I know how much you love him. It must be so hard.”
He caught her fingers and kissed the tips of them. “Yeah—but anyway, then you called on Saturday and I was a jerk. After that, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about what an idiot I am and about Gramps, too, and the story of the diary. So I went to see him again. I talked about you and the diary. He was silent. I got nothing. But then I got up to go and he spoke. Just a few words. He said, ‘Bring her to me.’”
A small gasp escaped her. “He meant me?”
“Yeah. He meant you.” Gabe almost told her the rest of it.
Don’t give up on love, Gramps had commanded.
But no. The way Gabe saw it, at this point those words were just for him. She wasn’t ready to hear them yet.
She sat up. “Does that mean you’re taking me to meet him?”
He nodded. “If you still want to meet him.”
“Oh, Gabe. Yes. I do.”
“There’s more...”
Her eyes widened. “Tell me.”
“All right. I started thinking of ways to find out if the Abernathys of Rust Creek Falls might have anything to do with my family. At lunch yesterday, I asked my dad and my grandfather about the family history in Bronco and about my great-great-grandparents, Gramps’s mother and father. My dad and Grandpa Alexander weren’t very helpful. They both insisted that the Abernathys have ‘always’ lived in Bronco. Grandpa Alexander didn’t remember a lot about Josiah’s parents, except that they were kind of distant and strict. Later, it occurred to me that property sales are a matter of public record. And if my family showed up here seventy-plus years ago and bought the ranch that is now our Ambling A, there would have been a deed, proof of the sale and when it happened.”
“You mean, at the county offices somewhere?”
“Well, as it turns out, I didn’t have to look that far. My grandfather has the information in the safe in the office at the main house. He’s very proud of the fact that it’s a fireproof safe, impervious to burglars and whatever. Also, he assures me the deed is duly recorded at the assessor’s office.”
“So then, when did your family acquire the Ambling A here in Bronco?”
“In 1920, my great-great-great-grandfather, a wealthy speculator from back east, bought up several parcels from poor farmers who’d gone bust after claiming the land in the land run a few years earlier.”
“Wait. So then, you’re saying your family has owned the ranch here in Bronco since 1920? Are you trying to say that proves they aren’t the Abernathys who vanished from Rust Creek Falls?”
“No.”
She sat up and slapped him playfully on the arm. “Gabe. What are you getting at?”
>
He sat up, too. “My family has owned the land for a hundred years. But they didn’t incorporate it into the Ambling A until seventy-five years ago. My great-great-grandfather, Josiah Sr., did that.”
Her sweet mouth dropped open. “That would have been about the time the Abernathys in Rust Creek Falls disappeared.”
He grinned. “It doesn’t really prove anything.”
“I know. But it does kind of give me the shivers.”
“Yeah. I have to admit, I got a shiver or two myself when I saw that the dates match up.”
“So then, you told your grandfather about the diary?”
“I didn’t need to. As an Abernathy heir, I’m expected to take an interest in the ranch and everything else my family owns and/or controls. I also have the combination to the safe. My grandfather Alexander didn’t question me when I said I wanted to look over the articles of incorporation.”
“I think what you’re telling me is that you didn’t explain to your grandfather about the diary because you were afraid that if you shared the real reason for your interest, you might upset him. Is that right?”
“Pretty much. You saw how I reacted when you told me—and really, didn’t we just agree that nothing is in any way proven yet?”
“Fine. I get it. Until we have a better idea of what really happened in the past and if your family might be somehow involved, why take the chance of getting everyone stirred up?”
“Yeah. I’m thinking that at this point the story of the diary ought to be on a need-to-know basis.”
She was frowning. But then she nodded. “Okay, that makes sense—yet you did tell Josiah.”
“Because he might be the key. Somewhere deep down, he might know everything. As for my dad and my grandfather, though, I really do think they’re completely in the dark about what happened seventy-plus years ago. I’m not ready to go there yet with them.”
In Search of the Long-Lost Maverick Page 12