Someone To Watch Over Me (Harlequin Super Romance) (2 page)

“Oh, gosh. Sorry.” He righted the tray, then shifted the pen and envelope to one hand in order to relieve her of two glasses. Trace passed one flute to Gabe with a flourish. “Thanks a bunch. You know good and well you saved my sorry ass.”

Chuckling, Gabe accepted the champagne. He couldn’t help wishing the tray-bearer had been the dark-haired caterer. Then he’d have leapt to her rescue.

Shocked by that revelation, Gabe almost drained the beverage he should have saved for the toast. Lowering his glass abruptly, he swept a furtive glance around the room in search of the woman. She was at the front table, preparing Colt and Summer for the cake-cutting ceremony.

As Tracey was summoned from that same table, Gabe fell in at his heels, his primary objective being to get a second look at the caterer. Maybe he’d only imagined her somber eyes.

Perky blond Megan Ward broke away from her circle and took Gabe’s arm in a light yet oddly possessive manner. “Hey, hi there again. Did your friend find you? A tall guy with really short, sandy hair?” Megan said when Gabe ground to a halt and stared at her blankly. “I don’t know his name,” she admitted. “Gina worked the bar last night at Colt’s bachelor
party. She said the Ichabod character came and left with you and Marc. He’s the one Gina’s been drooling over these last two days.”

“Ichabod?”

“No, silly, Marc. Gina’s hot for Marc Kenyon.”

Normally quicker on the uptake, Gabe could make little sense of Megan’s chatter. “Excuse me,” he said, pulling from her grasp. “I see Reggie in the cake line.” Gabe had to rise on tiptoe to locate Moss, even though his friend, at six-five, stood head and shoulders taller than all men at the party except for Tracey Jackson. Gabe hesitated after sinking back on his heels. “I’ll be happy to introduce you to Moss.”

“Who?” Megan blinked her big blue eyes.

“Reggie Mossberger. Tall guy standing behind Marc. Reggie said he’d like to meet you.” Gabe began elbowing a path through a crowd, which had again closed.

“But…but…why me?”

“Reggie’s kinda shy.”

“Pu…leese!” Megan snatched Gabe’s left wrist. “He’s the one Gina nicknamed Ichabod. As in Crane,” she said, stopping suddenly, thus checking Gabe’s forward momentum. “You know—because of the odd way he walks.” She broke off speaking in the wake of Gabe’s fierce glare. “Goodness, haven’t you heard a word I said? Gina’s interested in Marc Kenyon.
He’s
the hottie, not the other goofy guy.”

“Reggie limps because he took a butt full of shrapnel saving me and some other Marines in a firefight. I owe him my life,” Gabe said right before he left Megan standing openmouthed while he muscled his way to where his friends stood.

The bad thing about stopping to set Megan straight
was the fact that the caterer he’d wanted to see again had disappeared by the time he reached the front row.

Marc clinked his glass lightly against Gabe’s. “Glad you hung around. Knowing your aversion to gigs like this, when I couldn’t find you, I figured you’d split.”

“Nope. I went outside for a last look at Quinn’s ranch.”

“This is country to die for, isn’t it? Old Colt’s done okay for somebody who, two years ago, didn’t care if he lived or died. So, Gabe, any idea where Marley’s sending you next?”

Gabe shook his head. “He’s not sure. Said he’s had several properties under review. But with the downturn in the economy, a lot of big contributors have pulled back on funding the program.”

“What about land conservation projects currently in the works? I promised to stay with SOS until we close on that Utah deal near Heber City.”

“So you’re really going to do it?”

Marc lowered his glass. “Do what?”

“Bail out on the team?”

“I don’t call it bailing out exactly.” Mark fiddled with his glass.

“What do you call it?” Gabe shot back.

“Look, Gabe, I thought I already explained myself. I’m tired of the gypsy life.”

“I know what you said. It’s just…all so sudden. First Colt. Then Moss, and now you. Hell, you guys are like family. The only family I’ve got,” he said gruffly.

Reggie broke into their conversation. “The house that comes with the veterinary practice I bought in Idaho needs sprucing up. But it’s got two passable bedrooms and a bath with hot and cold running water.”
He offered a shrug and a toothy grin. “Might do you good to take out your frustration with hammer and nails. What do you say, Gabe? The invitation’s on the table for an extended visit.”

“Thanks, but I work with my head. I’m not so good with my hands.”

Marc unleashed a belly laugh that drew some attention. “That’s not the word we used to get from your dates, Gabriel, old friend.”

Gabe socked him on the shoulder.

“Hey, pipe down.” Reggie nudged them both. “Colt and Summer are about to smash cake in each other’s faces. Trace is gonna do his thing. Then we can get to the good part. Eating cake and drinking this high-octane stuff,” he said, wagging his glass.

Gabe craned his neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive caterer. He saw another woman, similarly dressed, topping off champagne glasses. The woman with the braided hair seemed to have vanished. Gabe hoped she hadn’t left the party. Releasing the breath he’d been holding, he massaged the back of his neck. Something must be wrong with him to be mooning over some woman he’d never even met.

The newlyweds went to stand behind the tiered cake. The local sheriff and a rancher Gabe had met the last time he was in town were doing a bang-up job of heckling the couple. His mission then had been on behalf of Save Open Spaces. Through their efforts, Summer had not been forced to sell this historic ranch to a crooked developer commissioned by her equally unscrupulous ex-husband.

The three friends fell silent. But it meant everything when Colt’s roving gaze sought each of them out. He smiled and mouthed
semper fi.
A hole opened in
Gabe’s chest again. Damn, he was going to miss these guys. Marc might’ve figured he was kidding, calling them family. But the unvarnished truth was that no one else on earth gave a damn about Gabe Poston.

Not a soul since he was twelve, anyway. That terrible morning in Texas when his mom’s body washed up in Baytown on the shores of Galveston Bay. All the neighbors whispered she’d have died anyway. Shooting heroin off a dirty needle killed her, some said. Russ Poston, a long-haul trucker, claimed he couldn’t, or more likely wouldn’t, raise a kid he’d never believed was his. Gabe’s grandparents backed their son’s claim. And his mother’s folks lived hand-to-mouth on public assistance. They couldn’t afford to feed the eight kids they’d already produced, let alone take on another. In a blink he was made a ward of the Houston court.

But Gabe had always been good at taking care of himself. Or so he thought, until at seventeen he ran afoul of the law and a cop invited him to join the Marines or spend more than four years behind bars. He’d made the wisest choice, it turned out.

So what in heaven’s name was wrong with him now?

Blinking to clear a vision gone cloudy, Gabe did his best to work up enthusiasm for watching Summer and Colt trade promises along with bites of cake. He raised his glass with everyone else. He even prompted Trace when he stumbled and got flustered during his one-line toast.

The icy champagne tasted good going down, but Gabe declined a second topping off of his glass. After setting his empty flute on one of the trays situated around the patio, he let himself be swept forward with the boisterous crowd, all bent on hugging and back-slapping the happy couple. Gabe attempted to veer off
the moment he saw that the caterer with the haunted eyes had returned to finish cutting the cake. But the other revelers were too determined, and Gabe soon found himself pressed into a corner with the blushing bride.

“Gabe, hi.” Summer inched farther backward, letting Gabe’s broad shoulders conceal her from the crush of well-wishers. “Hey, block for me a minute, will you, please? I’ve been hugged so many times my ribs are all but cracked. Just until I catch my breath,” she added, holding Gabe in place.

“No problem. Especially as you’re just the person to answer a question for me.”

“You have a question?” Summer smiled. “Colt calls
you
the answer man.”

“Afraid I’m out of my depth on this one. See the woman cutting your cake? Who is she?” Gabe spoke in a rush because he was bumped from behind.

Summer dipped her head to look beneath the arm he’d anchored to the wall. “Izzy, you mean? Isabella Navarro.” Summer straightened, lowered her voice and frowned at Gabe. “We’ve got a large Basque population living east of Callanton. She’s from their community.”

Gabe didn’t say anything. He made it obvious that he was waiting for more information.

Summer grudgingly gave a little. “Granted, Izzy’s beautiful, talented and about as nice a person as you’d ever hope to meet. She’s also in the midst of a horrible personal tragedy, Gabe. I’ll gladly introduce you to any other of the unattached females at our reception, since you seem to be put off by Megan. Oh, look—over near the grape arbor. It’s Maggie Fitzgerald and Dawn Cun
ningham.” Summer physically turned Gabe’s head in the direction she wanted him to look.

He couldn’t pretend interest in either the flashy redhead or the petite brunette who chatted with Jesse Cook, owner of the Broken Arrow Ranch. Gabe had met Jesse weeks ago and liked what he’d seen of Summer’s nearest neighbor.

“Tell me more about Isabella,” he murmured, returning his gaze to the cake table.

Summer pursed her lips, first studying Gabe, then slanting a worried glance toward her friend.

Colt Quinn elbowed his way into their corner and slipped an arm possessively around his wife. “Go find your own woman, Poston. This one’s mine.” Bending, Colt pressed a kiss on Summer’s mouth. As their kiss ended, Colt started to move Summer out of the corner.

“Hey, hold on.” Gabe caught at her lacy sleeve. “I’m serious about wanting to know why a beautiful woman has such soulless eyes.”

Summer’s voice dropped even lower. “I’ll tell you because you’re Colt’s best friend. But Izzy’s my good friend, too, so listen up and then forget about this fascination you have with her, okay?” Clearing her throat, Summer said tightly, “Ten months ago, not long after she won a bitter divorce, Izzy got home late from work to find her ex in
her
garage—sitting in his car with the motor running.”

Gabe shifted uncomfortably. “God,” he exclaimed. “You’re telling me the SOB killed himself at her place?”

Summer squeezed Gabe’s forearm. “Julian Arana was unconscious but alive. The same wasn’t true of their two beautiful kids. Five-year-old Antonia and three-year-old Ramon died of carbon monoxide poi
soning. Izzy…well, she’s making it through day by day.”

Gabe’s body jerked spasmodically. The champagne he’d just downed threatened to come up again. Of all the scenarios he’d conjured up after glimpsing the woman’s eyes, none compared to the horrible truth.

Colt Quinn wrapped his wife in the protective shelter of his arms. “I know that’s why you gave Isabella our catering contract instead of going to the Green Willow like your family always did. But, honey, this isn’t good wedding conversation.” He glared at Gabe.

Gabe immediately backed off. “You’ve gotta believe that if I’d had any idea, I would’ve kept my mouth shut. Go on you two, enjoy what’s left of your big day.”

“Are you sticking around a while?” Colt clapped Gabe on the shoulder. “Marc and Moss are taking off for the airport within the next hour to catch their commuter flights. We’ve said our goodbyes. You drove, I know. I saw your Lexus SUV outside.”

“I haven’t decided exactly when I’ll check out of the Inn. They’re still skiing at Sun Valley, and I’ve leased out my condo until the season ends. Maybe I’ll stay here a week or so and see if Marley wants me to close on Marc’s Utah project.”

“Great. You guys aren’t all taking off on us at once,” Summer said. “Promise you’ll come to the ranch for dinner one night before you go. Coltrane, call him tomorrow and set a date. Oh, excuse me, please. I see Rory helping himself to a second piece of cake. That little scoundrel will be sick as a dog tonight if I don’t call a halt.” She left her husband’s arms to dash off and intercept her son.

Colt had difficulty taking his eyes off her as she
threaded her way through the guests, who stood in small groups, talking and eating cake.

Gabe experienced a vague surge of envy as Colt finally stirred.

“You’ve been awfully tight-lipped about any plans you might have if Marley’s source of funds for the agency dries up. You got something cooking on a back burner, Gabe?”

Gabe shook his head.

“Callanton needs a good accountant. Or, hell, if you can hang on for a year, Summer and I will hire you to handle the Forked Lightning accounts exclusively. We’ve already talked it over. We just can’t swing it this year.”

“In other words, I’m not the only one having a hard time watching the old gang scatter?”

Colt gave a short laugh. “Dumb, isn’t it? Four grown men like us. It’s not as if we don’t all have the means to visit one another, no matter where in the world we decide to sink roots.”

“We all have the means, but will we make the time?” Gabe shrugged.

“You’ve nailed what’s been bothering me. Ranching’s a three-hundred-and-sixty-five-day-a-year job. I kinda figure being a vet’s the same. And who knows about Marc? He said Lizzy’s dad owns three car dealerships, and the old boy’s planning to retire. You know how crazy Marc’s always been about cars. I can see him practically living at a dealership, can’t you?”

“Yeah. Haven’t we been friends too long to lose touch now? Go enjoy your party, Coltrane. I’m gonna nab me a slice of that cake before it’s all gone.”

“Uh, Gabe. I couldn’t help noticing that you’re still
zeroed in on Summer’s friend. Whatever’s on your mind, it’s probably a bad idea.”

Gabe glanced away, trying to hide his guilt. “I don’t know what you’re implying. Cake. That’s all I’m after.” He spun and walked off.

As he picked up an empty plate, Gabe tried putting himself in Isabella’s shoes. But his mind refused, and his gut churned. How could a person go on?