by Vivian Wood
I shrug. “I’ll make do.”
She leans against the counter, giving me a look.
“What?” I ask.
“I am just waiting for you to tell me why you needed to talk to Luna alone the other day.” She crosses her arms, her gaze boring into me.
I give her a tired look. “This again?”
“Yes.” She checks the French press, then sighs. “There is a story there. I can feel it.”
I shake my head. “I wish you would let it go.”
Malkia shoots me a glare. “I am your sister. It is appropriate for me to worry about you, Gabe. Especially about your dating life.”
My immediate response is a scowl. “What dating life?”
“You need one. And Luna is perfect for you. She is extremely attractive, she is smart, she dresses well…”
“She’s a pain in the ass, just like you. Maybe you should date her. You two could annoy each other and leave me out of it.”
She smiles evenly. “If I thought that Luna was even the tiniest bit willing, I would take that advice to heart. But when I led her tour the other day, all she seemed interested in was you.”
I tap the counter. “Please say that the coffee is ready, Mal.”
She huffs, checking the French press again. Then she pulls two plastic coffee cups out and starts to pour the fragrant coffee. “Want to know how I know she is interested in you?”
She slides my mug to me. I take it, looking at her carefully. “Not really.”
“Body language,” she announces. “It is very obvious, when you look at the body language. A shift of the shoulders, a turn of the legs.”
“I’m not interested in dating anyone,” I remind her gently. “Especially not someone that works beneath me. I’m the captain of this yacht. She’s my employee. Besides, I’m still in mourning.”
Malkia takes a tiny sip of her coffee, her brows rising. “What else?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “What do you mean?”
“I am just trying to let you vent all of your frustrations here and now. Let you get it all out of your system now, when it is just us alone.”
A muscle ticks in my cheek. I take a sip of my hot coffee, considering what Malkia just said. “All right. Aside from my other objections, which I think it’s important to note are insurmountable…”
“Pfft,” she says, waving a hand.
“I’m not interested in dating anyone, period. But if I were, it wouldn’t be in anyone so…” I stop, drawing in a deep breath.
“So what?” Malkia asks, grinning. “Pretty? Well educated? Sunny? Why would you avoid any of those things, eh?”
Standing up, I look down on my sister. “Women like that… pretty, uninhibited women… they are complicated. I had a complex relationship with the last pretty woman that I knew. And it ended poorly, obviously.”
Malkia pulls a face. “Do you mean Michelle? Because she is a poor stick to measure every other woman by.”
My hands curl into fists. “Of course I mean Michelle!”
Malkia reaches out to me, her tone pacifying. “I am sorry. You know that Michelle’s secrecy was not your fault, though.”
That stings. “Says who? She was the last woman that I’ll ever love. And she couldn’t even involve me in all the shit that she was into… she didn’t trust me!” I glance at my sister, my pain raw and real. “She didn’t trust me enough to tell me anything, Malkia. Not even the biggest parts of her life. That’s what loving a complicated person can be like.”
“You have to know that not all women are so…” She pauses, searching for the word. “Duplicitous. You know that, right?”
A frown presses my mouth down. “I’m not ready for another relationship yet. Maybe not ever. I wasn’t kidding about that part. And having you making assumptions about how a woman feels about me…” I draw in a quick breath, taming my words. “It’s not helping, Malkia.”
Guilt flashes across her face. “I am sorry, Gabe. I am just trying to help. I thought perhaps if you could stop thinking about Michelle— “
I raise my hand. “I’m fine. You worry about me too much.” Blowing out a breath, I shake my head. “I think I should head home for a shower.”
Malkia sighs. “I’ll see you later at the yacht club’s fundraiser for the regatta though, right?”
I give my sister a small smile. “You couldn’t keep me from going if you tried.”
Turning and heading down the hall, I catch my sister’s parting words.
“Make sure you dress up!” she calls to me.
Raising a hand to let Malkia know that I heard her, I hit the stairs.
As I climb onto the main deck though, my mind returns to Luna. To the dream I had earlier about her. To her dazzling smile.
God, how am I supposed to have her work on the ship beneath me and not lust after her?
Repressing a sigh, I head for the gangplank.
8
Luna
I see Harper waiting on the corner before she sees me. She’s staring off into space just like a fashion model in a magazine spread; her upswept red curls looking elegant and her strappy white gown’s tulle skirts reminding me of a cold breath of air suspended in the air in winter.
“Harper!” I call to her as I climb out of my Uber.
She blinks and turns her head, her eyes widening. She looks unbearably lovely as she starts walking toward me.
“Wow! You really pulled out all the stops, huh?” she says, her gaze skating from my blonde updo down to my strappy baby pink organza dress.
I grin at her, twirling in my high heels. The movement makes the top layer my dress whirl out. She laughs as I link arms with her.
“You’re in good spirits today,” she says.
“Are you kidding me? When you called this morning and begged me to come to this event, I went into wardrobe overdrive. Usually for a to-do like this I have my outfit planned out way in advance… but I decided to see this as a challenge.” I smooth my hands over my dress. “And a reason to wear this Elie Saab dress. Isn’t it just spectacular?”
Harper smiles. “It really is. God, my dress is from Nordstrom Rack. We might as well be on different planets.”
I put my arm through hers as start pulling her toward the dark colored stone entrance of the Seattle Museum of Art. “I’m sure you don’t mean that as a negative. That dress is perfection and you look like the most glamorous woman ever in it. I’m glad to be your date to… well, whatever event this is.”
She scrunches up her face. “Thanks, Luna. And this is a benefit for a regatta, I think? Something like that.” She flushes. “Smith mentioned that he was going to be here so… I figured it couldn’t hurt to show up.”
I bite my tongue, but I have several questions. The first being whether or not Smith is actually expecting to see us. Harper and Smith were each other’s first kiss, first love, first… well, everything.
But their breakup was seriously rocky and then Smith moved to New York.
It’s sort of my impression that Harper is still in love with him, but she’s so vague and secretive about the whole thing that I don’t want to ask.
Not now, anyway.
As we walk through the museum’s front door, we are greeted by a man in a tuxedo. He bows. “Invitations, ladies?”
I look to Harper, uncertain. She pulls an elegantly engraved invitation out of her purse, smiling at the man. He looks at the invitation briefly than bows again.
“Enjoy your evening, ladies.”
“Thank you,” we say in unison.
I slide Harper a look as we walk past. “Do I even want to know how you procured that invitation?”
She purses her lips, a little smirk on her face. “I know people. You’re not the only one who is well connected, okay?”
I crack a grin. “I love it when my friends behave badly.”
We follow a trickle of dressed up people that are headed left, toward where I assume the gala is being held.
“That’s why you are he
re and not Cate. Cate would be all like, ‘but guys! that’s wrong!’. And that’s not the kind of energy I need right now.”
She stops, hesitating in the doorway of a huge room with lofted ceilings and a classical quartet set up in one corner. The whole room is draped in velvet and lace, looking more like an advertisement for lingerie than a gala for boats or whatever this is supposed to be. She seems to freeze up, swallowing thickly as she eyes the crowd.
There are already a lot of people here, milling around and mixing. The bar is on the right side and I guide Harper in that direction.
If anybody ever needed a glass of champagne, it is Harper. Before we even get into the line, a server sweeps past us carrying a tray of champagne flutes. I stop her and pluck two off of the tray, then thank her.
“Here,” I say, pressing the wine into Harper’s hand. “Drink up.”
She takes a sip from her flute, her eyes scanning the crowd. After a second, she turns to me. “Do you think this was a terrible idea?”
I give her my most patient smile. “There are no terrible ideas. There’s only terrible follow through. Drink your champagne and— “
“Oh god,” she cuts me off. “I just saw Smith enter the room.”
Playing it cool, I turn to see Smith entering. Tall, dark, and handsome, he cuts quite a figure in his dark blue tux. When he glances our way briefly, I can see the hint of his Japanese mother in the hooded set of his eyes.
“Smith is hot,” I comment, tilting my head.
Harper hits my arm. “I know that, you goof.” She smooths her hand over her dress and empties her champagne flute, handing it to me. She takes a deep breath. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck! Break a leg!” I tell her as she turns away and vanishes into the crowd.
With an abundance of free time on my hands, I turn to examining the few pieces of art in the room that remain uncovered by velvet. I puff out my cheeks as I examine a crudely-made sculpture of a naked woman made of marble.
She looks to the heavens, her expression a mixture of rapture and awe. The artist was very careful when sculpting her breasts, I see. They are pert, the nipples puffy but not hard.
That’s weird. It’s always weird when you can tell that a man made a piece of art because of his slavish attention to one piece of a woman’s anatomy.
“Luna?”
I look up and see Malkia walking toward me, looking like a million dollars in a white silk pantsuit. Against her dark skin, her pantsuit looks crisp and immaculately cut.
“Hi!” I say, motioning to her outfit. “You look radiant. What are you doing here?”
She gives me an odd look. “I could ask you the same thing. This benefit is to raise money for our yacht race.”
My eyebrows leap up. I’m certain that my cheeks stain with color. “Oh!”
Of course it is. Of course.
“Does that mean your brother is here too?” I ask.
Malkia flashes me a grin. “It does. He was right behind me…” Turning, she looks for him, finding him a second before I do. “There he is.”
My eyes land on him, drinking him in. He looks elegant if a tiny bit undressed in a dark suit. His dark chocolate hair, two days of stubble, those unbelievable cheekbones…
And as he notices me, all I can do is stare at his one-of-a-kind blue green eyes. He arches a brow when he sees me with Malkia. I notice a worry line appear in his forehead as he comes over to us.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice sounding unfriendly.
“Gabriel!” Malkia says, slapping his arm. “Be nice. Luna is here to support our race just like everybody else. That’s why we are here, right?”
He makes an uncomfortable sound. Malkia sees someone across the room and excuses herself. “Sorry, I have been trying to talk to Lydia for a week. I will be back.”
That leaves me alone with Gabe, who seems to be busy checking out my dress. “How much did that thing that you’re wearing cost? It looks like you could buy the whole city of Seattle in that dress.”
My cheeks warm. “You make it sound like a bad thing. Do you not like it on me?”
I spread out the skirt a little. Gabe’s gaze is heavy on me, seeming considering. He waits a few seconds too long before answering.
“I think it’s pretty,” he says at last. “I just wonder if maybe that money wouldn’t be better spent feeding homeless children or saving the whales. You know, spending your money where it matters.”
I give him my most deadpan expression. “And just what are you doing to save the whales, Gabe?”
He shoots me a glare. “Fair enough.”
The music swells. I look over my shoulder and see several couples beginning to dance. I sigh, raising my eyebrows at Gabe.
“Weird crowd.”
One corner of his mouth kicks up as he eyes the room full of people. “Yeah. Anytime I’ve been to one of these galas, I’m always worried that I will be mistaken for a waiter or something.”
That earns a chuckle from me. “You are one of the only men not wearing a tuxedo,” I concede. I look him up and down, appraising him. “You look handsome, though.”
Gabe narrows his eyes at me, his cheeks turning pink for a minute. “Right.”
I roll my eyes. “You can just admit that I’m attractive, you know. It won’t kill you.”
He barks a laugh. “We should definitely change the subject.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone that looks familiar. I turn my head, going pale when I see who it is.
Asher Cargill stands across the room, his tuxedo fitting perfectly, not a single blond hair on his head out of place.
“Shit,” I curse, ducking behind Gabe. “Shit, shit.”
I lay my hands on Gabe’s arm and peek around his big body, double checking that I’m not crazy. I’m definitely not; my ex stands there, as tall and imperious as ever. I chew on my lower lip.
“What?” Gabe asks, trying to look behind him.
“Shhh, don’t look!” I stage whisper, hiding behind him once more. When I look up into Gabe’s face, he looks suspicious. “My ex is here, okay? I just… I would really rather not run into him, if it’s all the same to you.”
That’s the understatement of the century.
I feel Gabe study my anxious expression for a second, hesitating. Then he says something I’m not expecting.
“Come on,” he says, nodding to the opposite side of the room. “There’s an exit over there.”
He just takes off, no further questions asked. I follow him, reminding myself to play it cool. He cuts through the crowd and I’m right behind, sweating bullets.
He steps aside to let me go through the doorway before he follows me.
I emerge from the room, breathing quickly, my eyes adjusting to the darkness of the galley we have stepped into. I walk across the room to the darkened window, turning to look at Gabe.
“Satisfied?” he asks, arching a brow.
I nod, exhaling a long breath. “Yeah.” I pull a face. “Asher messed me up. He… he’s the reason that I just like to keep my romances light and breezy now.”
Gabe looks over his shoulder, a smile playing about his lips. “Is that right?”
I thank god that it’s dark enough in here that Gabe can’t see how hard I flush. Asher really destroyed my heart once upon a time. I don’t feel like I can even begin to explain that to Gabe though.
“Light and breezy,” I affirm, reaching a hand up to catch a piece of hair that has shifted from my updo. “Just like things were with you and me.”
He crooks a brow. “Oh yeah?”
I glance at the doorway, biting my bottom lip. “Do you think anyone noticed us leaving?” I blow past his question. “God, I should have grabbed another glass of champagne before I left the gala.”
A smile curves Gabe’s lips. “If you ask very nicely, I’ll go back in there and grab two glasses.”
“Really?” I ask, brightening. “Please, Gabe? Please?”
He chuckle
s. “Alright. I’ll be right back.”
He turns and disappears through the open doorway. Unable to stop myself, I walk across the room and peek out, hoping for another glimpse of Asher.
I want him to be doing badly, somehow. I wish nothing but terrible things for him, even though it’s an uncharitable thought.
When I spot him though, he’s kissing the lips of a tall brunette who wears a slinky silver dress.
Instantly, I am so envious that I practically turn green. God, they probably are engaged. They’re going to have the fairytale wedding that I was supposed to have, once upon a time.
I lose my breath for a moment when I picture Asher, the brunette, and two adorable blond little boys. When I first found out that I had infertility issues, I was with Asher.
Actually, truth be told, Asher knocked me up.
It was in the emergency room, after miscarrying a very early pregnancy, that I first learned that I had endometriosis.
Asher took one look at me, in tears because the entire course of my life had just been radically altered…
And he dumped me.
I step back from the doorway, refusing to cry. Asher isn’t worth it and I know that.
But that doesn’t make the sting any less real.
And I can’t do much to stem the tears that come to me now. All I can do is turn, find another doorway that leads to the outside, and run out of it.
Raising my hand to hail a taxi, I let the tears start running down my face.
9
Gabe
“Okay!” Malkia calls, clapping her hands. New staff and old quiet down, turning to her. Together, we’re about ten people. I cast an eye over the indoor ropes course with some suspicion, but Malkia seems pretty sure about it.
She smiles. “Does everybody have their climbing harnesses on? Does anyone need help getting their gear to fit?”
I shift my stance, wincing at the way the harness pinches my left leg. Ralph lifts his hand uncertainly and Malkia motions to the staff member assigned to help us over to make sure he’s strapped in.
