Chapter Three
Maddox
I spend the next few hours at the bar, catching up on paperwork and doing my best not to think about my new houseguest and those kisses.
The one in my kitchen nearly had me throwing my common sense out the window and hauling her into my bed, and the sweet brush against my cheek shouldn’t have impacted me the way it did.
Both left me rock hard and wanting her, and appreciating her ability to be gracious even if she was right. She pushed me into the decision.
A knock sounds on the door, and I look up, grateful for the distraction. “Hey,” I say, leaning back in my seat.
Zach walks into the room followed by Remy. Zach was the first man to start an investigative agency as well as the first Back Door in New York City. Once Remy left the police force, he bought into both businesses, and they opened the bar in the Hamptons.
What few people know, because he doesn’t announce it, is that Remy, full name Remington Sterling, is one of The Sterlings, a family who owns a financial equity firm going back two generations.
The man is incredibly wealthy but never acts like he comes from money.
He has ghosts in his past he never speaks of, and I won’t push.
A man is entitled to his secrets. First a New York City detective, now a bar owner and P.I.
, Remy resides in Manhattan and keeps a low profile.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask my bosses.
It’s not unusual for the men to come to the bar, but Zach usually leaves me to run things unless there are issues, like when my younger brother was stealing from the liquor supply.
I still cringe at the memory. Luckily, neither man held it against me, and thanks in part to Zach’s woman, Hadley, my brother got his life back on track.
Remy and Zach go back and forth between the city and the Hamptons for business meetings with the Hamptons being the summer site of choice.
Zach settles into the chair in front of my desk. “Hadley wanted to go shopping and I figured I’d come see how you’re doing. Ran into him as I was walking in.” He gestures to Remy, who is leaning against the wall beside him.
“Everything at the bar is quiet, as in no issues,” I assure them.
“Not here to check on you,” Zach says. “We’re both killing time until lunch.”
Though I nod as if I understand my boss’s life, I’ve given up on having a woman to share things with.
While working in the city, making bank and mingling with the wealthy, women threw themselves at me.
Even having a girlfriend didn’t deter the more determined female.
But I learned fast. I never knew if a woman was interested in me as a person or my money in the bank.
My ex merely put the last nail in the coffin of relationships.
Once I returned to my working-class roots, I discovered the same kind of woman in the Hamptons wants to slum with a hot bar manager—not my words—but would never consider a man like me as a life partner.
I’m jaded and don’t want any woman for more than a night.
Not everyone can have what my parents share.
I jolt with a start, realizing I drifted off in thought while Remy and Zach are discussing the New York Yankees and soon, all three of us segue into how football pre-season is starting soon.
“Knock knock,” a familiar voice says, as Hadley strides in, her hair in a casual ponytail. No makeup, like Gabby. Apparently, Zach and I have the same type. Wait. Fuck. I shouldn’t be thinking of Gabby as my type.
“Look who I found at the gallery.”
As if my thoughts conjured her, Gabby strides in behind Hadley, holding a handful of shopping bags. She mentioned going shopping, and I assumed she’d pick up a few things to get by while she stayed with me. Apparently, figuring out her life includes spending lots of Daddy’s money.
I narrow my gaze. “How do you know each other?” I stare at my houseguest, whose face is flushed and her eyes bright. Something has her excited, and I’m curious.
“We don’t. I was in the gallery to apply for a job and Rhonda, the owner, went into the back to get an application—” Gabby begins, taking me off guard.
A job? Maybe I underestimated her determination to make choices and be on her own.
“And…” Hadley grins, happy to pick up the story. “I walked in to ask about a painting in the window. Gabby started telling me about the artist I was interested in. Then Rhonda returned—”
“And I had no idea she’d been listening, but she walked out and offered me a job on the spot!” Gabby drops her bags on the floor in front of her, walks up to where I sit behind my desk and throws her arms around my neck, hugging me tight. “I got a job!”
Her excitement is infectious, her squeal adorable, and her desire to share the news with me causes a surprising rush of happiness for her.
Over her shoulder, I meet Zach’s shocked stare.
Shit. The last thing I want to do is answer questions about my relationship with Gabby.
Hell, we don’t have a relationship, and I’ve only known her for a day.
Before I can peel her off me, she steps back.
“Congratulations,” Remy says.
“Thank you!”
Hadley walks over to Zach, who has risen from his seat.
He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her in for a kiss that’s awkward for everyone watching.
These two are in love. After almost a decade apart and a lot of drama not long ago that brought Hadley back into his life, I understand their need to be close now.
After they end the kiss, Hadley glances from Gabby to Zach. “Gabby, this is my husband Zach, co-owner of this bar. And this is his partner, Remy Sterling.”
Gabby laughs, her cheeks still flushed pink. “I assumed he was your…something after that kiss.”
Hadley ducks her head. “We’re still in the honeymoon phase of our relationship.”
Gabby smiles and raises a hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you both.”
They both nod, acknowledging her.
“That doesn’t explain how you two ended up here together,” I say, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.
Hadley shrugs. “When we walked out, we headed in the same direction. Again, we started talking and…here we are.” She shoots me a concerned look. “Something wrong?”
I shake my head. I’m just overwhelmed by the whirlwind that is Gabrielle Davenport.
“Ready to go grab a bite?” Zach asks Hadley.
She nods. “Ready. Remy?”
He walks towards them. Like me, Remy is single but the three of them are a tight group. “Let’s go get a table,” Remy says, then turns, glancing at me. “How do you two know each other?” He glances between Gabby and me, with a smirk on his lips.
As I try to find the best explanation, Gabby answers for me. “I had some…personal issues, came to the bar, got a little too drunk and Maddox was nice enough to let me sleep at his place. I can’t go home yet, so again, he’s being such a gentleman letting me stay longer.”
Both Zach’s and Remy’s eyebrows shoot upward.
I’m not sure if it was her calling me a gentleman or the fact that I have this young spitfire living with me. Temporarily, I remind myself. “It isn’t for long, and she’s in Joe’s old room,” I say of my brother.
“Isn’t that what they all say?” Zach snickers, and Remy chuckles, enjoying putting me on the spot.
Hadley rolls her eyes. “I’m sorry they’re behaving like adolescents,” she says and turns her gaze to Gabby. “Congratulations again. You have my cell phone now. Call me and we’ll have lunch or drinks.”
“I’d love to!” Gabby smiles as the trio walks out the door, then she turns to me.
“Making friends, I see.”
She braces her hands on her hips, tipping her head to one side. “Do you have an issue with that?”
Do I have an issue with her making friends with my people? Becoming even more a part of my world? Getting a job around the corner?
I have no fucking clue. “Congratulations on the job,” I say instead of answering her.
“Thank you.” She blows out a long, obviously relieved breath. “I didn’t expect it, but I’m so excited. It’s something I got on my own. I wanted to be a docent at a museum but that didn’t happen.”
“Why not?” I can’t help but be curious about her.
She lifts her shoulders in a little shrug. “My parents, of course. I majored in art history and applied to the museums in Manhattan.” Her eyes sparkle as she speaks, the idea obviously a passion of hers.
“What did they do?” I ask of her parents, already angry on Gabby’s behalf.
“They interfered, what else? Both called their friends and contacts who are on the boards of the larger institutions. Everyone turned me down. One woman on the board of a smaller museum admitted she was afraid to lose my father’s yearly donation.”
Her dejected look doesn’t sit well with me. Nobody deserves to have their dreams undermined by people who are supposed to love them.
“I didn’t get one interview.” Her normally sweet disposition gives way to a frown, and she curls her hands into fists at her side.
“I had straight A’s in my major. I paint and have taken classes for years, but do they care?
Acknowledge my ability? No, they do not,” she says, clearly on a roll and not waiting for a reply.
“They want me to be a stay-at-home wife, be active on charity boards, and host dinners for my hardworking husband.” She treats me to that cute wrinkle of her nose again.
“As if I’d marry Mr. Grabby-hands.” Her face flushes, this time not from anything good.
The reminder of how Preston cornered her has my own hands curling into fists. I’m not frustrated, I’m furious. Given the chance, I’d introduce the man’s face to a wall and remind him what happens when he touches someone without consent.
I step forward and brace my hands on her shoulders. “Breathe, Gabby.” I unintentionally hit a nerve with my question, and I want to calm her. “Hey. Be proud of what you did accomplish, okay? Forget about the past and concentrate on the present and the good things happening for you.”