Gabe
Iwalked toward the Drip Line, shoulders and feet weighted down.
Stella had left upset. Of course she had. And now I was officially the most deplorable person in history.
But the way Sabrina spoke in there and how she garnered excitement had inspired me. The thought of falling into old patterns held no appeal.
So when Stella had approached, I knew what I had to do.
It was fucked up, sure. And unease still gnawed at me.
But I’d let it go on for too long.
And despite how shitty I felt on that front, a small part of me was optimistic. The meeting had gone well; the townsfolk were responsive and engaged, no matter how much Bitsy blustered.
Inside the Drip Line, I waved hello to half the town, scanning for my parents.
Except my focus snagged on someone else completely.
Sabrina.
Talking to Ethan Calloway.
He was standing just close enough to make the scene intimate, and the way he leaned in was more than friendly.
His eyes never left her face. He was behaving respectfully, from what I could tell, but I wanted to fight him.
He was taller than me, but skinny in that marathon runner kind of way. I’d spent my life fighting with Nate, Sam, Josh, and Jasper. I’d knock the Brooks Brothers right out of him.
That thought replayed in my head and I frowned. What the hell? This wasn’t me.
I had no reason to hate the guy. Sure, he was a rich kid with a billionaire daddy. Yes, he got his job through straight nepotism. But he was a decent person.
He was involved in the goings-on of our town.
He showed up for Maplewood. The house he’d built on the river was not ostentatious, and he’d blended in well.
Came to meetings and events, lent a hand when needed.
Sure, there were endless rumors and speculation about his family and the origin of all their wealth, but I took him at face value.
But now, looking at his smug face, I wanted to beat the entitlement right out of him.
Sabrina was cool and composed. So put together. Like the chaos of small-town Vermont didn’t faze her at all. Her hair was slicked back, her lips a deep red, and she was still wearing that black dress that made my imagination run wild.
Ethan was still wearing his expensive wool overcoat. It probably cost as much as a car. Not a single flake of snow stuck to his hair or the fabric, like winter had politely stepped aside for him.
He leaned farther, one elbow on the bar, looking down at Sabrina with fixed concentration while she spoke. He didn’t rush or fidget. No, he seemed completely at ease.
Like she deserved his full attention. He was like that. He made the person he was talking to feel like no one else existed.
It was obnoxious.
And yet another trait that made me want to fight him.
But he’d always made my senses tingle. Just a little. He was too rehearsed, too polished. Like he’d been planning and practicing for his whole life. Like a robot who wanted to be a real boy.
He was probably praising Sabrina’s brilliance.
As he leaned in and spoke into her ear, jealously flared to life inside me and I contemplated going home.
But before I could back out of the place, Jasper called out to me, and every eye turned my way. Rather than the scrutiny I’d gotten so used to lately, their attention was lighter. Almost hopeful.
I approached the table where my cousins and Logan sat.
“Why do you look like you’re about to commit a felony?” He held out his half-drunk pint of beer, and I took it. “The meeting went great. Bitsy was humbled. You guys crushed it.”
I looked back over my shoulder, noting the way Sabrina was laughing as Ethan carried on.
“Are you really going to dance on TikTok?” Josh teased. “If so, could you not do it on our family farm? We’ve got multiple generations of ancestors I’d like not to offend with your dance moves.”
The conversation swirled around me, the guys going on about how great Sabrina was and how Harper Fleury was some kind of social media genius.
But I could not stop checking on my former archnemesis. There was a pull. Low and constantly vibrating inside me. Drawing me toward her.
It wasn’t protective. Sabrina could take care of herself. It was possessive.
And that was not cool. I wasn’t a possessive guy. I prided myself on being logical rather than some meathead with a hair trigger who would go off when someone talked to my girl. Not girl. She’d hate that. My woman?
No. She wasn’t mine.
And I certainly didn’t want her to be.
So why couldn’t I focus?
A sharp elbow jabbed me in the ribs. “Dude. Stop staring,” Logan whispered, not drawing the attention of the rest of the table.
“I’m not,” I said reflexively while still fixated on her.
“Liar. Stop it. It’s weird.”
Maybe I should step in. Tell Ethan to get lost. Offer her a ride home.
My heart pounded at the idea.
The second elbow was a lot harder.
“Cut the shit. You’re acting like a weirdo.”
I glared at my friend.
He only cocked a brow. “So that’s what this is?”
I dragged my hand over my face and forced myself to breathe.
The people here wanted to talk to me, to discuss the new plans.
More than one had given me a head nod that silently conveyed they’d like a word, and some had already tried to wave me over.
I’d dreamed of this kind of engagement. I needed to do my damn job and be a professional. Not obsess over a woman.
“It’s nothing,” I said, eyeing Mark Fitzgerald and Curtis Long across the room. I’d stop over there first. Thank them for consenting to the maple cams and offer to help with harvest this year. Make everyone feel included in the plans to save Maplewood.
Because of Sabrina, we had a real shot at this. I needed to get my head out of my ass and get to work.
Making conversation was the right thing to do. Yet my feet thought otherwise. One second I was standing next to Logan, a fully rational adult, and the next I was standing next to Sabrina, looking into Ethan Calloway’s piercing blue eyes.
“Sabrina,” I said a little too sharply.
Her response was an annoyed purse of those red lips.
I cleared my throat and willed my voice to stay even. “Good meeting.”
“You survived,” she said, not even bothering to look at me.
“I always do.”
Ethan awkwardly sipped his drink, his attention flitting between us.
Sabrina didn’t have one. Instead she’d brought the massive black water bottle she always carried around.
“Mayor Harding,” Ethan said formally, offering his hand. “Good to see you.” He was speaking to me like we hadn’t played in the woods together as kids.
I took his hand anyway. His grip was firm and controlled, just like the rest of him.
“How are your parents?” I asked.
He let out a practiced laugh. “You know Dad. Probably looking for wife number six, and Mom is in Palm Beach full time now.” Another sip, still watching me over the rim of his drink.
“I was just congratulating Sabrina,” he said.
“Impressive presentation. I was telling her that this town needs someone sharp like her to turn things around.”
The insult was thinly veiled, but I smiled anyway. And he wasn’t wrong. Sabrina was smarter and sharper than every person in this room, him included.
She didn’t react. She didn’t smile, didn’t soften. Just sipped her water, then turned to me slowly. “Do you have feedback? Is that what brought you over?”
She blinked a few times while I stared at her face, unable to look away.
She was focused and sharp, but with a hint of softness underneath. And an unreadable air. There was a lot more to her than she let people see. She held on to her secrets with both hands.
I wasn’t sure why that bothered me. Or why I was suddenly so obsessed with figuring her out.
Ethan cleared his throat. “I think what you’re building has real potential. Especially if scaled properly.”
Scaled.
Dumbass corporate speak. With every minute that passed, I liked the guy less. And I already hated any idea he could come up with.
Sabrina leaned forward, her brows raised in interest. “What kind of scaling are you envisioning?”
He put his elbows on the bar, his face way too close to hers for my comfort.
This motherfucker was flirting. Hard.
“We’re looking to optimize across verticals. Leverage assets dynamically.”
Was this guy serious? Teeth gritted, I eyed Sabrina.
Her expression was as serious as ever. She wasn’t flirting back, was she? No. Granted, I wasn’t sure she could flirt.
Not that it was stopping Ethan. With a sparkling smile, he went on. “Strategic partnerships. Investment. Expanding reach.”
Nothing specific; just more bullshit.
“We’re quite busy, but I’d be happy to talk specifics.” Sabrina’s response was polite and professional, but definitely not flirty. Though she wasn’t shutting him down either.
What the hell? The Sabrina Monroe I knew would have threatened him with castration by now. But she seemed unbothered.
With me she was verbally and sometimes physically violent, yet she seemed to have no trouble tolerating this.
“Maybe over dinner?” he suggested. “That will give us time to get into details.”
There it was.
The ask. It made the blood simmer in my veins.
“I’m pretty booked up.” Sabrina pulled out her phone and scrolled through her calendar. “Next Wednesday?”
“Seven?” Ethan asked, digging his own device out.
It took effort not to scoff. He probably would have agreed to meet her in five years if she asked.
“Works for me,” I said a little too loudly.
Sabrina blinked at me several times, her face unreadable.
Ethan, the predatory motherfucker, gave me a condescending smile, like I was a child, and clapped my shoulder. The gesture appeared friendly, but underneath that facade was the pretension ingrained in him. “I think Sabrina and I can handle this,” he said smoothly. “Keep things streamlined.”
My eye twitched. Streamlined?
I was going to kill him. My fists flexed.
This wasn’t me.
I’d never been in a fight in my life. Other than the typical childhood skirmishes with my brothers and cousins.
But even then, I was usually the one breaking them up. Mediating. Talking people down and shaking hands after.
I used words. Not fists.
And yet… I surveyed the oversized Rolex on Ethan’s wrist, considering what kind of damage I could do if I beat him with it.
Stop. I blinked a few times, trying to get a hold of myself.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Dragging in a breath, I willed my anger to abate. I’d never once in my life looked at another person and thought “I want to hurt them.” Yet here I was thinking about beating a man with his own luxury timepiece.
And as badly as I hated to admit it, these feelings weren’t about Ethan.
They were about her.
And that was a big problem.