Chapter Nineteen
G abe tuned out Ms Reardon’s endless chatter.
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 perfection, 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, 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.”
Well, thank God 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 onto 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 polished concrete floor.
She spun to stare down her 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.
“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.
A prime example of why 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.
Sleeping with Emma would have been a monumental mistake because she wasn’t the type of girl for a fling. Even though she didn’t want to date anyone, he could see she wasn’t the love-’em-and-leave-’em kind.
He’d love to spend time getting to know her body, to give her pleasure in every way possible, but he couldn’t give her anything else. Friends with benefits wasn’t his style.
“Gabe?” His father’s soft question brought him back.
“Sorry, Dad. What did you say?”
Ed crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the waist-high, stainless-steel operating table. “I asked you if you were okay. What happened when you went after Emma? Did you two have an argument?”
Gabe avoided his father’s intense gaze. “Not exactly. It’s just better this way.”
The silence stretched as the seconds ticked by, marked by the large-numbered clock on the far wall. Unable to find something to occupy his hands, Gabe looked up and was caught by his father’s piercing blue eyes.
“Better for who? If you didn’t fight, what’s the problem? Why didn’t you go home with her, like everyone seemed to think you did? Like I know you wanted to?”
“Enough questions, Dad!” Heat washed up his neck to lay claim to his face. Anger, frustration and humiliation flushed through him, so he aimed it at his father. “That’s not a topic I want to discuss with you.”
Ed blinked and straightened up from his relaxed stance against the table. He held up his hands, palms out.
“Whoa, there. You’ve never had an issue with talking about women before. Was a time once, you used to ask my opinion. Why is this one so different? Why so defensive about something that didn’t happen? About something a blind man would notice you want?”
Ed held up his hand to pre-empt Gabe’s response. “No, listen to me. I’ve never seen you look at a woman the way you look at her. If I thought it was just something physical, I’d tell you to get over it. Move on. It’s not, is it? I mean, that’s there. Of course you want her. Your eyes almost devour her when you’re near.” He slapped a hand to his chest. “But, it’s here. Right where you don’t want it. That’s what the problem is, isn’t it? What did you say to upset her so much?”
Gabe rounded the long operating table, unable to keep his feet still, then stalked back the way he’d come. “Why do you automatically think it’s something I did? Why blame me? What makes you so damned sure that she is upset about one single damned thing!” His voice had risen so much he was almost shouting.
Ed held up a placating hand again, trying to calm him down. “If it wasn’t you, tell me. Tell me what happened. Tell me how I can help. Talk to me.”
Gabe halted mid-step and planted his hands on the table before him, leaning toward Ed.
“I kissed her. Yeah, bet you didn’t expect that, did you?” He pointed a finger at his father. “And you know what she did? No? She hit me. Called me a bastard and slapped me right across the face. Does that sound like a woman who’s interested?” Gabe straightened up, his face set hard. “Didn’t think so.”
Ed leaned forward, eyes narrowed and thoughtful. “She called you a bastard? Why? What made her say that? Think, Gabriel. If you want to know the reason for her reaction, that’s it right there. Emma’s a gentle sort. She’s not going to slap you because you kiss her. She looks at you—dare I say it—the same way you look at her. If I’m not completely mistaken, she wants you too.”
Gabe took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Why he was getting so worked up over this he didn’t know. He wasn’t interested in something long term. Hell, he hadn’t thought past the physical attraction. Who knows? He could spend one night and be sent on his way for not being up to scratch.
Why had she called him a bastard?
She’d been fine when Max made him take the drinks to her and Pete’s table. Fine when he’d brought their meals. But she’d been upset when she walked out of the restroom, tears welling in her expressive eyes. Her gaze had sought his, accusing him.
Accusing him.
Feeling like leftovers are we, Gabe?
“Millie,” he growled.