In Search of the Long-Lost Maverick Page 7

  “Mel. You like him. It’s obvious—and it’s not a crime to like a guy. Okay, he’s never been married. Maybe he just hasn’t met the right woman yet. Would you give him a chance if he was divorced?”

  “Why are we talking about this?”

  “Think about it. It wasn’t me who just said back to Gabe. Maybe he’s like you and doesn’t plan to get serious for at least another century. Why is that okay for you and not for him?”

  Mel couldn’t help laughing. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

  “Yours, of course. The Prince of Bronco has a thing for you. Why shouldn’t you enjoy him while it lasts? Nothing wrong with a great rebound.”

  “A rebound?”

  “You need to look it up?”

  Mel executed a blatant eye-roll. “I know what a rebound is. Too bad I can’t say whether it’s a good thing or a big mistake, since I’ve never had one.”

  “Hey, me neither.” Amanda gave Mel a look from under her lashes. “But lack of experience has never stopped me from having definite opinions.”

  Mel found herself thinking how easy things were between her and her neighbor—both of her neighbors. Brittany as much as Amanda. She’d known the two women for exactly a week, yet it felt like she’d been friends with them all her life.

  Amanda went on, “When you take advice from me, consider the source. I spend too much time online. In my spare time, I read a lot. I’m kind of rusty at real life. And that’s the thing. See, I Internet-stalked Gabe for you when maybe I shouldn’t have. Nothing I found online was really that bad. And in person, I like him.”

  “I like him, too.”

  “I noticed. And it’s because you like him that you keep letting him convince you to hang out with him. There is nothing wrong with hanging out with him. Why make it so complicated when it really isn’t?”

  * * *

  Gabe spent Friday rounding up strays in a couple of far pastures on the Ambling A. It cleared his head to work out on the land, to play the ordinary cowboy he’d originally let Mel think he was.

  Mel. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, going back and forth like a damn seesaw, telling himself he ought to do what she’d asked him to and leave her alone.

  Except...

  Those jewel-blue eyes of hers told another story altogether. They said he shouldn’t give up, that eventually she would give him a chance, offer him a little trust. Invite him in and not turn right around and ask him to go.

  He should talk to Gramps about her. And he would, soon. He tried to get out to Snowy Mountain Senior Care at least once a week. It would be good to have a long heart-to-heart with the great-grandfather who’d been his idol since he was old enough to toddle around after him in diapers.

  Nowadays, Gramps didn’t answer much when Gabe talked to him. Advanced dementia made him unresponsive much of the time. Still, Gabe wanted to believe that Gramps was listening, taking everything in, mulling it over in that careful, serious way he used to have. Now and then, Gramps would answer back. But even when he never said a word, it always did Gabe good just to sit with him. Gramps had always been the one Gabe could tell his troubles to. That hadn’t changed.

  So, yeah. Sometime in the next few days, he needed to get his ass over to Snowy Mountain Senior Care.

  As for the irresistible Ms. Driscoll, he would be there at DJ’s Deluxe tonight just as he’d promised her—or maybe warned was more like it. He needed to give it one more try with her. Maybe she wasn’t the one Gramps had always said he would find someday. But there was still something about her that made it really hard to walk away.

  * * *

  It was after nine when Gabe arrived at DJ’s. Friday night in a popular restaurant tended to be busy, so he’d waited to come in until things were likely to have quieted down a little.

  He wanted some face time with Mel, to tease her a little and have her give it right back to him the way she had the other times he’d dropped in to see her at work. Also, he needed a quiet moment when he took his best shot at finally coaxing her into an actual date. He wouldn’t get that shot if she was running around dealing with the hundred-and-one things that needed her attention during the dinner rush.

  There was one other reason he came in later than before. He kind of enjoyed the idea of making her wonder if he was going to show up at all. She kept saying he needed to stop chasing her. Fair enough. Let her suspect for an hour or two that he’d taken her word for it and given up on her.

  Was he a fatheaded, entitled SOB to imagine she cared whether he showed up or not? Pretty much. But the way he saw it, he knew she cared. Showing up later might give her a nudge toward realizing that.

  His stool at the bar was taken when he walked in. He found that kind of annoying at the same time as he grinned at his own damn ego to expect a certain bar stool to be there, empty and waiting for him, whenever he wanted it.

  But then as it turned out, he was not only an entitled SOB but also a lucky one. As he scowled at his occupied stool, the woman sitting on it and the guy next to her got up and left. He sat down and the bartender served him his usual whiskey, neat.

  He hadn’t eaten since noon and was looking over the menu, trying to decide between a T-bone and DJ’s famous ribs, when the woman he’d been waiting for spoke from behind him.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you’d changed your mind about stopping by tonight.”

  He turned on his stool and—bam. Just the sight of her hit him like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart. Tonight, her black skirt clung to her curvy hips and flared out around the hem. Her white shirt was tailored, pintucked to fit her snugly, showing off her little waist and the round perfection of her breasts. The undone button at the neck hinted at everything he hadn’t seen.

  Yet.

  “Miss me?” he asked.

  “Was that your plan?”

  “My great-grandma Cora always said it’s not nice to answer a question with a question.”

  She tipped her blond head at him, considering. “So it was your plan.”

  “Maybe.” He held up his thumb and forefinger with a half inch of space between them. “Just a little. Did it work?”

  Her gorgeous smile bloomed wide. “I’m not even going to answer that one.”

  Right then, the restaurant’s assistant manager appeared from the hallway that led to the kitchen. She signaled Mel.

  “I’ll be back,” Mel said.

  “I’m counting on it.”

  Twenty minutes later, as he was polishing off his appetizer, she reappeared. He asked how Homer was settling in.

  She shared some of the little guy’s crazy antics and admitted that she’d let the kitten sleep with her last night. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. I put him in his bed and he jumps right out and leaps to my bed. It’s a studio apartment. What am I going to do? Lock him in the bathroom?”

  “That is a puzzler...”

  She folded her arms under those breasts he was trying hard not to overstare at. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “You might be surprised. Hint. It has nothing to do with that crazy little cat you adopted.”

  She tried to look disapproving, but then ended up laughing. He laughed, too.

  And then she was gone again, off to deal with some minor crisis or other.

  She came back as the bartender served him his T-bone. “Looks good.”

  “Want a bite?”

  “I’m tempted. But not while I’m working. It’s not done for the manager to eat off the customer’s fork.”

  “I would tell you to make an exception this once. But I know you won’t.”

  “You’re right—and please. Eat. Don’t you dare wait on my account.”

  He leaned a fraction closer and lowered his voice to a slightly more intimate level. “I don’t mind waiting. Not as long as I’m waiting for you.”

&
nbsp; She didn’t say anything. The bloom of color in her soft cheeks and the shine to her eyes spoke for her.

  He took his time cutting a bite of his steak, chewing it slowly. “Excellent, as always,” he said once he’d swallowed.

  “That’s what I want to hear.”

  “I liked your friend, Amanda.”

  “Isn’t she terrific? She’s got a roommate, Brittany. I feel like I’ve known them both forever.”

  “Brittany Brandt? Works for Evan Cruise and his Bronco Ghost Tours?”

  “That’s the one. But Brittany and the ghost tours have parted ways. She’s got a job with Bronco Heights Elite Parties now. She loves it so far.” Mel tipped her head to the side, thinking. And then she said, “It means a lot to have friends in a new town.” She looked really sweet when she said that, kind of innocent and vulnerable.

  “I’m sure it does. You might discover you love Bronco so much, you can’t leave in January, after all.”

  She gazed at him steadily now. It was as if they could have whole conversations while just standing there, staring at each other. He liked that about her—liked it a lot. That feeling of connection that went deeper than words.

  But then she did speak and the words weren’t encouraging. “I’m leaving at the first of the year, Gabe. A new start with a great job in a whole new place. It’s what I need, it really is.”

  He wanted to argue that Bronco was better and if she wanted a job in finance and insurance, he could see that she found the right one here in town. But he didn’t. January, as he was constantly reminding himself, was a long way away. “Got it. When’s your next day off?”

  “Tell me you’re not going where I think you’re going.”

  “What day are you off next?”

  “You’re like an EF5 tornado, you know that? Relentless. Mowing down every objection in your path, all while looking like sin on a stick, with that easy, confident smirk on your face.”

  Sin on a stick? That meant she thought he was hot and that was just fine with him. He wasn’t a smirker, though. Was he? Stay on task, man. She’s softening. “What day?”

  “Fine. Monday.”

  “Works for me. Dinner. I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.”

  She gave him another of those long, speaking looks, after which she finally said, “Okay. Have it your way. Seven thirty.” He barely had time for a mental fist pump before she added, “Now, eat your steak. I’ve got a restaurant to run.” He watched her walk away, a perfect, petite dynamo of a woman, slim shoulders held proud and straight, curvy hips swaying.

  She didn’t come back. But that was okay. He smiled to himself all through his solitary dinner and allowed himself a second whiskey, as well. He figured he had a right to celebrate.

  Mel Driscoll had agreed to an actual date with him.

  * * *

  Monday evening, Mel answered the door in a short, sleeveless dress of cream-colored silk. The silk was covered in lace the dusky purple color of the rose of Sharon that Gabe’s mom grew in her back garden. That dress had a nice, deep V-neck and her shoes were a mile high, showing off those strong, sleek legs of hers.

  Unfortunately, she had all her emotional walls back up again. Her first words were, “I can’t believe I said yes to you.”

  He whipped out the fistful of sunflowers he’d picked up at a flower shop on his way over. “You look beautiful.”

  Her stern frown vanished and she sighed. “And you are much too handsome. Plus, I love sunflowers.” She accepted them from his outstretched hand. “Thank you—and you’d better get in here before Homer realizes the door is open.”

  Inside, she brought down a pitcher to use as a vase as Gabe pulled out one of the two chairs at her tiny table. The moment his butt hit the seat, Homer leaped to his lap. “Hey, little guy. What’s up?”

  The kitten stared at him through those perpetually astonished gray-green eyes and was silent. He allowed Gabe to pet him for about twenty seconds. Then he shot to the floor and attacked his scratching post.

  Mel put the pitcher of cheery yellow flowers in the middle of the table. “All set.” She grabbed her small purse and off they went.

  * * *

  “The Association,” Mel said as Gabe rolled his Cadillac CTS-V to a stop in front of his club. “I’ve heard about this place.”

  The valet, in black dress pants, a dressy red Western shirt and string tie, pulled Mel’s door open and tipped his hat at her. “Welcome.”

  “Thank you.”

  To Gabe, he said, “Mr. Abernathy, how are you?”

  “All good, Jack. How you doin’?”

  “Can’t complain, sir.” Jack ushered Mel out and shut the door, after which he ran around to Gabe’s side and opened the driver’s door. “You have a good evening, now.”

  Gabe got out. “I will, thanks.” Once Jack drove away, Gabe went to Mel and offered his arm.

  She took it as the Cadillac disappeared behind the sprawling clubhouse of wood and natural stone. “What happened to your ginormous pickup?”

  “It’s at the ranch. I like the Caddy now and then.” He bent to her. “Is that a disapproving expression you’re wearing?”

  She stole his breath with a dazzling smile. “Not at all. That Cadillac is perfect for a night like tonight.”

  Pleasure stole through him, just to have won her smile. “Come on. Let’s go in.”

  * * *

  Mel found the Association clubhouse every bit as impressive as Amanda and Brittany had hinted it would be.

  A pretty dark-haired woman greeted them in the foyer with its high beamed ceiling. “Gabe. So good to see you. Right this way.”

  She led them through a series of lounges filled with oversized leather sofas, dark wood tables and fine craftsman lamps with mission-style glass shades. Men and a few women greeted Gabe with nods and waves as they went by.

  Giant, heavily framed windows looked out on the shadows of the high mountains in the distance. Closer in, the gorgeous landscaping was lit by in-ground lanterns. Every room had a stone fireplace large enough to roast a side of venison, each one with a rustic wood mantel the size of a tree trunk, much like the one in Gabe’s living room on the Ambling A.

  The woman led them onward, through the lap of rustic luxury that was the bar area and the main dining room to a private room with just one table. The window on one wall had the usual gorgeous mountain view.

  “Thank you, Ariana,” Gabe said after they’d been seated. As she went out, an old man came in. He wore a Western-style tuxedo and reminded Mel faintly of the butler in Downton Abbey.

  The old guy greeted Gabe warmly, poured them water from a crystal carafe, took their drink orders and rattled off the dinner choices. Gabe asked for a couple of appetizers and the old man left, returning quickly with their drinks.

  When he left again, Gabe said, “Rex has been here for as long as I can remember. He moves a little more slowly than he used to, but he takes great pride in doing the job right.”

  “I can see that.” Mel sipped her lemon drop cocktail. It was perfect, both sour and sweet. “You know, a girl could get used to this kind of luxury.”

  Those chambray-blue eyes gleamed. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” He leaned in across the table. “You’re too far away.”

  For that, she gave him a one-shouldered shrug and surprised herself by suggesting, “Then move closer.” The words got out before she could edit them.

  Not that she really wanted to take them back, anyway. Gabe was a great guy. Why shouldn’t she thoroughly enjoy every moment she spent with him? She’d made it way more than clear that whatever happened between them could only be temporary and he didn’t seem the least concerned about that—and why should he be? So far, he’d shown no inclination in his own life to find the perfect woman and settle down.

  And as for moving closer, he didn’t need to be invite
d twice. Sliding his elaborate place setting to the head of the table, he took the chair in front of it. She scooted her own chair toward him. Now they were just around the corner from each other, in easy whispering distance.

  Not that they really needed to whisper. It was just the two of them, cocooned in this beautiful little room.

  Rex uncorked a bottle of wine and filled their wineglasses. He served their appetizers and left them alone for a long, sweet time.

  They spoke of their childhoods. Mel explained that she’d always wanted a little sister or brother. “But not desperately. I also liked having my parents’ undivided attention. I was kind of spoiled and that suited me just fine.”

  He said his dad was strict. “But my mom’s a pushover. And when I needed a man to talk to, there was always my great-grandfather. Gramps taught me most of what I know about horses and cattle.” He grinned. “Not that my dad didn’t try. He and I just always ended up butting heads, somehow.”

  Their entrées appeared. Once Rex had left them again, Mel asked, “What’s your sister like?” She was watching Gabe’s face and saw the slight frown that creased his brow. “You...disapprove of Erica?”

  He sat back away from her. “What makes you think that?”

  “I don’t know. Suddenly, you’re frowning. And you’re tensed up. Right here.” She reached out and brushed two fingers between his eyebrows. It felt good to touch him. Maybe too good. She started to pull her hand back.

  “Don’t.” He caught her wrist. His grip was firm and warm, the skin of his palm and fingers a little rough. Suddenly, her breath was all tangled up in her chest.

  He pried open her fingers and pressed her palm to the side of his face. His warm skin was smooth, freshly shaven. Her breath hitched at the contact. “Don’t be afraid of touching me, Mel. I like it when you touch me.”

  She felt thoroughly seduced, somehow, and tried to gather her scattered wits. “Wariness is not the same as fear.”

  “Why are you wary?”

  “You know why. I don’t think you really need to hear all that again.”