Chapter Seventeen
G abe looked up from wiping the spilled drink off the bar.
Emma.
Man, that dress. It was enough to make him 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, moulding and dipping, clinging in just the right places.
Her breasts created an incredible contrast to the arc of her waist, and the explosion of femininity that was her hips continued down to those unbelievable legs. The 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’d finally emerged from the ladies’ room where she’d disappeared more than ten minutes ago.
Not that he was counting.
As if sensing his gaze, she turned, impaling him with eyes filling 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 she 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 hurried over to Pete and leaned down to speak to him. Pete nodded and patted her hand. She looked behind her and spotted the side exit door between the restrooms and their table. Dashing the back of a hand across her eyes, she hurried the few steps to the door, 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 acknowledgement, Gabe hurried to the door and stepped out into the crisp 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 heading away from the mall. Emma hurried across the road to the walkway that headed around the near side of the lake. 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 street 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 did her best not to look at him, staring at everything else around them.
“Go away.”
Her whispered answer threw him, nearly making him let go 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 colour 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 drenched 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… yeah, 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 mum 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 Gabe 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. Dammit Emma, this is what I’ve been feeling all night.”
He hauled her to him, his other hand sliding into her hair as his mouth found hers. At the touch of his lips on hers, 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.
He pulled her pliant body against him. She pressed against his obvious arousal. In the night’s silence around them, Gabe startled himself with his moan at Emma’s surrender. Emma stiffened beneath his hands, his mouth. She jerked back, eyes wide.
“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 are we, Gabe? If I can’t trust you or what you say, how can we be friends? If you keep moving the goalposts all the damned time, I don’t think we can be.”
The unexpected sneer in her voice and the hurt 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 Lakewalk path, her heels tripping her as she tried to run. A loud sob broke free, the sound strangely deadened in the stillness of the night and soft lapping of the water. She stopped, kicked off her shoes, leaving them where they fell, and ran, disappearing under the bridge.