by Holly Jaymes
Fortunately, Angela arrived and effectively distracted Dean from asking me more about Gabe. I enjoyed watching them banter and flirt, feeling envious, but not in a mean-spirited way. I wanted them to be happy and hoped they’d be able to communicate in a way that Gabe and I clearly never mastered.
Book 1: Chapter 16 Gabe—Time to Move On
Gabe
I sat on my back screened porch with a whiskey in my hand and malice in my heart. I wanted to fucking punch Dean in his too-perfect face with his perfectly coiffed hair. What an idiot I’d been to think Samantha and I could rekindle the love we’d lost. But like last time, she proved that her pull to Dean was too strong to avoid the minute I wasn’t around.
I was gone one night. One fucking night, and already he was there, looking too intimate with her. I should have figured something was up when she was cool and distant to me this afternoon.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to get the image of them sitting on the couch I’d fucked her on, out of my head. Their heads were close together, showing a familiarity and intimacy that was beyond just friends.
I’d gone to her house to tell her what was up with my work, to let her know how I was feeling, and hopefully discover she felt the same way. Dumbass.
Seeing her and Dean through the window changed all that. It didn’t matter that my job was going to take me away again. Or that I had feelings for her. In the end, she didn’t have them for me. Not enough to stay away from Dean.
“Fuck!” How did this happen again?
“Gabe?” I heard Megan’s voice come from inside my house.
“Out back.” I didn’t want to talk with her, but at the same time, she could be a distraction from the anger and pain that threatened to consume me. In fact, if she wanted to work, I was all for it. The sooner we finished this house, the sooner I could get away from Sam.
“Oh hey, there you are.” She came out on the porch. She eyed my whiskey and quirked a brow. “How many of those have you had?”
“One. But I’m only just getting started.”
She sat in one of the outdoor chairs. “I went looking for you at Sam’s.”
I scoffed. “She’s entertaining tonight.”
Megan cocked her head. “You could take him.”
I laughed derisively, as she confirmed my suspicion that she was aware of Sam’s and my relationship… No… Affair. “Just as well he’s there. It makes my life easier.”
She scoffed. “You’re full of bull.”
“No, really. I’m being sent to California. This works out great.” Maybe if I said it enough, I’d believe it.
She studied me. “Have you told her how you feel?”
“Why would I do that?” I looked at her like she had grown a third eye. Did she think I was a sadist? A glutton for punishment? Okay, maybe I was a glutton for punishment because I’d let Sam stomp on my heart again.
“Because that’s what people do when they like each other. They talk. You tell her you love her—”
“I don’t love her.”
“Yes, you do. And then she says she loves you too, and then you figure out how to be together.”
“I never pegged you as someone who believed in fairytales.”
She sat back in her chair and studied me. “I don’t. But I believe too often people get in their own way when it comes to being happy. What could it hurt to tell her how you feel?”
Was she kidding? “She clearly doesn’t feel the same about me. That man in her house with her now? That’s the same man she got back with the first time I left.” I drank the rest of my whiskey, wishing I wasn’t telling her so much. I stood to go inside and refill my glass.
She followed me inside. “Ouch. Maybe it’s not what you think. That’s the guy she’s having help over the weekend. She wouldn’t flaunt that in front of you.”
I shook my head. “He’s her first. There is power in first love I suppose.” I’d dated other women before Sam and I cared for them, but the love I had for Samantha was so deep, so intense, there was no doubt she was my first real love.
“You’ve had your ex in the house, and Samantha took it well.”
I laughed as I remembered Samantha giving me a tongue-lashing about Diana. “I told her I didn’t have feelings for Diana like that.” I poured two fingers of whiskey. “Samantha hasn’t said the same about Dean. In fact, from what I saw, they looked exactly like they did in high school.”
Megan didn’t say anything for a moment. “So, what now?”
“Now, I finish this rehab and head to California.”
“What about your family? I thought that was why we were here.”
“I’ll work with the network to get a long weekend home once a month and come home between rehabs.” It wasn’t ideal, but I’d make it work. At this point, being away held a greater appeal than remaining at home where I could run into Samantha and Dean.
Megan pursed her lips at me. “I still think you should talk to her.”
I glared at her, downed my whiskey and then set my glass down. “Oh, I’ll talk to her alright.”
I stormed off to my office, knowing Megan would follow me. But I was done talking about Samantha. Instead, I put Megan to work on gathering information about the house in California.
“Shouldn’t we wait until this one is done?” Her expression was a mixture of uncertainty and concern.
“I’m going to fly out there to take a look at the place,” I said as I pulled up pictures of Cassandra Lassiter’s home on the Internet.
“When? Now?”
“This weekend.”
She gave me a look like I was a pussy. Which I supposed I was, for wanting to avoid working alongside Dean and Sam.
“It’s the last time with the owner before the reveal. You need to be there, Gabe.”
“No, I don’t. The crew can get plenty of footage of them. I’ll be back on Monday to help the team finish the place.” Then I was out of there. Sayonara. This time I’d learned my lesson, and would break all ties with Samantha. I hoped my heart didn’t take as long to heal this time as it did the last time. Love sucked.
She stared at me in a mixture of frustration and pity that only added to my anger.
“Don’t hassle me on this, Megan. The network is right; this Hollywood house will be a good thing for the show.” How the hell did it happen that I was now touting the network line?
“Except that most of our viewers aren’t movie stars. The show is Budget Rehab, Gabe. They like your show because it helps them make changes to their own homes. Regular homes, not fancy movie-star homes.”
“I don’t have a choice, Megan.” I moved papers on my desk to look busy.
She stood up like she was going to leave. Good. I was ready to be alone.
“You know, Gabe, it’s not easy being a woman in your world. I had to fight to get where I am. Most women have to fight to get what they want in life. I suppose that’s why I’m amazed when big strapping men like you hardly raise a finger for what they want. Is it because you expect to get what you want so you don’t know how to fight when you don’t? Or are you all just a bunch of big pussies?” The question must have been rhetorical, because she walked out of my office and left the house.
Good. I’d rather wallow in quiet. Besides, she didn’t know what she was talking about. I could fight until I was blue in the face, but that wouldn’t change the fact that Samantha preferred Dean over me or that the network was going to force me to go to California. So far, my agent and lawyer hadn’t come up with anything I could do about that. Fighting for what I wanted wasn’t going to change anything. I’d accepted that. Megan would have to too. Why she cared so much about my love life was beyond me.
Now alone, I poured another whiskey, feeling the burn and the buzz that did nothing to dull my pain or temper my anger. Ignoring both, I continued to study the pictures I could find online about Cassandra’s home. This would be better, I told myself. Love just got in the way of goals and dreams anyway.
The h
ouse was a monster, and I began to realize it would take more than eight weeks if the network and Ms. Lassiter were thinking of a complete renovation. Except for a few old photos taken at social events over the years, there wasn’t much to study in terms of the condition of the home.
As Steve had discovered, the last update was years ago, and the pictures suggested much of the décor would be dated, but not in a good way. If we were lucky, there would be some features from the original build left. Original features could be ideal if they were in good condition. It was the mid to late twentieth-century updates that were almost always an eyesore. Maybe in 2070 and 2080 avocado appliances and dusty mauve would be in again, but right now, they screamed tired and dated.
I jotted notes on what I wanted to look at beyond a general tour of the home on my visit. Then I made a call to Neal to let him know I wanted to see the house this weekend.
“I’m glad you’re on board with this, Gabe. I know it’s not what you wanted but I think it will be great,” he said.
“Has Maryanne seen this?” The house was right up her alley and while the network wanted me, it didn’t seem right to keep her out of this.
Neal made an annoyed grunt. “Gabe, you’re doing the rehab.”
“I know, but it’s a big project and this era is more her domain.”
“See the house and give me a report.”
That was my cue to stop asking about Maryanne and do my fucking job.
The next morning, I avoided going to Sam’s for as long as I could. We had one more shoot together before she was given her last weekend assignment to do with her friends. Then she had to be out for the final week while my team finished the house and then we had the big reveal. Whoopty doo.
Steve, Megan, Sam and I gathered in the foyer of Sam’s home while the camera crew set up in the living area where Sam and I were supposed to finish staining the hardwood floors. The sounds of construction echoed from other areas of the house. The house was going to look great and I was bothered that the joy of working on it was diminished by my relationship with Sam.
“So today is the last day you two will film together until the reveal.” Megan put on a smile, but I could see the concern in her eyes. Whatever chemistry had been there before was now gone. If sparks flew, they’d be angry ones, not sensual ones. I nodded that I understood and would do my best to contain my anger.
“Can I talk to Gabe for a minute?” Samantha asked as she descended the stairs. Seeing her again made my heart ache, which in turn pissed me off. Why did she have to go and ruin a good thing again?
Megan looked at me and I tried to shake my head because I didn’t want to talk with Sam alone. It just didn’t seem like a good idea right before we were about to go on camera. But Megan ignored me. “Sure. Steve and I will check with the crew.”
They left us and I stood alone in the foyer with Sam. “Everything alright?”
“You tell me.” If she felt guilty about being with Dean, it didn’t show. In fact, she looked at me like I’d done something wrong.
I shrugged. “Everything is good on my end.”
“That’s it? You know last week, you couldn’t get enough of me and now, you act like you don’t know me. What happened down in Florida? Did you see one of your other women?”
Anger rose in me. Did she still really think I was that type of man? Well, yes, because it wasn’t the first time she’d accused me. “What the fuck are you talking about? I was working.”
She scoffed. “I know you, Gabe. You like to combine work and play.”
She wasn’t wrong, except the only time I’d combined work and play was with her. “You’re one to talk. I wasn’t gone twenty-four hours before you were back in Dean’s arms again. How long was I gone the first time before you were back with him, huh?”
She jerked back, her eyes widening in surprise. “What are you talking about?”
I pointed my finger at her. “Don’t play coy, Sam. I saw you two looking all chummy with your wine and your heads together. Is that couch where you fuck all your men?”
I knew the slap was coming, but I took it. Any physical pain she gave me would pale to the one crushing my heart.
“You bastard.”
I glared at her, not flinching at the heat in her eyes. “I’m not the one who’s cheating.”
Her expression was filled with hate. “Oh, like you’re pure as snow. Spare me the sad song.”
“Hey.” Megan jumped between us. “You’re making a scene.” She looked up at me, willing me to be the leader I was supposed to be. She was right. There were network crew and local hires all around the house.
I turned back to Sam. “Get Dean to help with the floors. You need to be out by Sunday, although I’m sure he has room in his bed for you.”
“You’re talking crazy, Gabe,” Samantha sneered at me.
“Falling for you again, Sam, that was crazy.” I walked out the door, knowing Megan would follow.
“Gabe, that wasn’t professional.”
“Don’t start on me, Megan.” I made my way to my house. “Deal with the floors and getting ready for this weekend. I’ll be back Monday to finish with you and the crew. I don’t want to see her.”
“What about the reveal?”
“I’ll get my shit together by then.” I hoped I would at least.
“At least you finally told her.”
I whirled around on her. “What?”
“You told her. You said, ‘falling for you was crazy.’ Not a declaration of love, but at least she knows you fell for her.”
Fuck! Just what I needed. “Jesus. None of that was filmed was it?”
“Ah…I don’t know.”
“If so, get rid of it.” Was it possible my life could unravel further?
“Sure. What are you doing now?”
“I’m going to California. I’ll be back Sunday to have dinner with my family, and then here early Monday. Keep me updated on what’s going on with the house so I have a sense of what we need to finish in the last week.”
She inhaled a breath. “Gabe, you really should stay.”
I gave Megan a wan smile. “But you can’t blame me for needing to leave.”
She put her hand on my forearm. “No. Love is a bitch.”
I headed inside, packed my bag again and then called Neal to see if he made the arrangements for me to look at the Hollywood house this weekend. Two hours later, I was on a flight to Los Angeles, eager to move on from Samantha Taylor yet again.
Book 1: Chapter 17 Samantha—It’s Really Over
Samantha
What just happened? I was standing in the middle of my foyer as Gabe stormed from my house after accusing me of cheating on him with Dean. What the hell?
He had some nerve. I wanted to run after him and give him a piece of my mind, but to what end? An amicable parting would have been better, but this way worked too. After all, he was leaving and hadn’t bothered to let me know. He hadn’t planned to let me know. That was what made his behavior so odd. He was pissed at me, but he was the one who was lying and cheating. Asshole.
I shook my head and started toward the living room.
“You okay?” Steve asked. His expression was bafflement. I guess he hadn’t known about Gabe and me. Megan clearly did, as she finally came back and stared at me like she had daggers in her eyes. It made sense that she’d side with Gabe. I wondered what she’d told him about seeing me with Dean last night. Was that why he’d gone nuts? I wanted to tell her nothing happened, but again, why bother? Gabe and I were finished the minute he decided he wasn’t going to tell me he was leaving.
I nodded to Steve’s question. “I’m fine. What do I need to do?”
I spent the next few hours staining my floors with the help of a nice older gentleman Megan found on the crew to help me. At one time, I thought my home renovation would make for interesting TV because of the chemistry between me and Gabe. Now I figured it would be the most boring episode in the history of home renovation TV because I just coul
dn’t muster any personality for the camera. At least my home was getting the work she needed. She’d have to be the star of the show.
I was relieved when the day ended and I could kick everyone out of my house. I had two more days in here before I had to leave for a week while the crew finished up. It should have been an exciting prospect, but instead, I felt empty. I just wanted them done and gone.
I lay on the chaise on my porch replaying my time with Gabe, especially the last moments. He accused me of cheating on him with Dean, not just now, but in the past too. Where would he have gotten that idea? It was crazy.
Falling for you, that was crazy. He’d said he’d fallen for me, but that couldn’t be true. If he’d fallen for me, he would have been truthful about why he was leaving. Even in his tirade, he didn’t say a word about why he was leaving. When he was leaving. Nothing.
And not only did he accuse me of being unfaithful, but he had no reply to my accusing him of infidelity. Did he think I didn’t know? The pictures of him were on the Internet. Or was he the type of man that thought that it was okay for men to cheat, but not women? Sexist pig.
It was really difficult to wrap my brain around the Gabe I’d been seeing now, to the cheater Gabe, but I knew what I saw all those years ago. He’d been photographed partying, always with pretty women, and then the video of the woman leaving his condo early enough in the morning that could only mean she’d spent the night. Worse, if our local news outlet had followed him down to Florida to do a story on him, I might have never known about it.
Ugh! This break-up wasn’t my fault. So why did I feel like I’d done something wrong? The only mistake I made was in letting myself fall for him again. I’d known from the beginning that being with Gabe had “disaster” written all over it. Why didn’t I listen to my head? My heart once again had led me astray and straight into heartache.
