“I-I…uh…well, I’m glad you’ve agreed to marry me. Hopefully, Elise won’t be too broken up about it.” She wanted to bang her head against the counter after she said that. Way to rub a little salt into the wound.
His eyes narrowed. “Elise won’t be broken up about it at all.”
“That’s good,” she whispered, growing more uneasy by the minute.
“But I have some conditions of my own, since I’m being so agreeable and giving up Elise.”
“That seems fair.”
“You’re darn right it does.”
Summer waited. This time, her fingers uncurled and fisted the material of her dress instead. Gabriel’s gaze dropped, and she could have sworn his expression softened.
“There won’t be a marriage in name only, and there won’t be a divorce. It’s either all or nothing.” He started ticking off a list, marking each item with a finger. “I want to date you, then get engaged, then having a wedding, a honeymoon—you did call dibs on that, after all—and then we’ll come right back to Holland Springs. You’ll move in with me, work here, or wherever else you’d like, or stay at home. Doesn’t matter—I can provide for you either way.”
“But…”
He gave her a look. “But what?”
“There’s always a ‘but’. You have to want…something else from me,” she said, her heart sinking and her legs shaking.
“Oh I do, but that has to be given—willingly.” He gently grabbed her arm, pulling her toward him. Cupping the side of her face with his free hand, he dipped his head. “I plan to be the man you’ve always wanted, your every fantasy, and every desire. I plan on meeting every need a wild child like you could have. And by God, I hope it’s a lot, because I’ve been waiting my whole life for you.”
Before Summer could melt into a puddle on the floor, his mouth came over hers. Hard. Demanding. She kissed him back just as hard, just as demanding. Years of pent-up need, and want, and desire for him twined, growing stronger with each passing second.
Her butt hit the counter, and his hard chest bumped into hers. She gasped, and his tongue plunged inside her mouth.
Good God, he could kiss, was her last thought, and then all she could do was feel, and touch, and taste. Take and give. Whimper, and moan, and dig her nails into his skin.
All too soon, he pulled away, his breath coming in pants.
“Do you plan on kissing me like that very often?” she asked.
He grinned, slow, cocky, and just this side of wicked. Her eyes couldn’t help but widen. Her pulse couldn’t help mimic the speed of hummingbird wings. Her angel had never looked at her like that. Ever.
“I plan on kissing you like that, every day, for the rest of my life,” he said.
Normally, this would be the time she’d say something sarcastic, but normally, he didn’t kiss her. Normally, she didn’t feel so alive.
“Oh,” was all she could manage. Her voice was breathless. When had she ever been breathless around a man? Oh yeah, not even two minutes ago when he was kissing the daylights out of her. She placed her hand on his chest to steady herself, but all it did was throw her off balance once more.
“Summer,” Gabriel murmured, and she had to look up at him. “I’d like to take you out tonight.”
Gabriel had heard the line about drowning in someone’s eyes before. He had even thought it was pure junk science, but as Summer gazed up at him, all wide-eyed with desire and confusion, he could picture himself falling into those chocolate depths.
Under his hand, her fingers curled. “What time should I be ready?”
“How about six?” How did his voice remain so calm when, inside he was utterly devastated by her—in a completely excellent way. He had kissed her and she’d kissed him back. She hadn’t pushed him away or critiqued his technique. In fact, she looked as turned on as he felt. His entire body vibrated, pulled tight, and ready for release. For relief.
Breathe in, breathe out.
He could stay strong. He could also rethink the timeframe he’d given himself to date Summer before “officially” asking her to marry him. Honestly, he didn’t know if he could wait a day, much less a month.
But what was thirty days compared to twenty-nine years?
She nodded, licking her bottom lip. She was the difference. Summer’s lips, her hand on his chest…her body against his…that’s what made thirty more days seem like thirty million years.
“Pick me up here.”
He’d rather pick her up at her place, but he’d go along with her wishes. “We’ll grab a bite to eat, and then catch a movie, or go to Poor Boy’s so you can dance.”
Desire faded from her eyes. “Sure you want to take me there?”
He’d forgotten about the last time they been in Poor Boy’s. She’d flirted, he’d snapped, and neither had spoken to the other for two months. Not until he’d driven past her on Highway 13.
“Need a ride?” he asked, his truck keeping pace with her strides.
She tilted her nose in the air, hiked up her purse on her shoulder, and walked faster. “Does it look like it?” Then she stopped suddenly, bent over, and retched.
He put the truck in park, hopped out, and was by her side in an instant. Gathering her hair back, he held it while she finished. “I have some water in the truck—haven’t even twisted the cap off.”
“Isn’t that convenient?” She grimaced, and then breathed through her mouth. “Always showing up at just the right time, like my own true knight in shining armor.” Once again, she was pushing him away.
He let her hair fall, looking around at the fields that had been turned over for an early spring planting. “I’m no one’s knight,” he said and moved back to his truck. He reached inside the open window, grabbing the bottle of water and a couple of loose napkins. “I’m giving you a ride into town as an apology.”
“Fine.” Her spine straightened as if steel had been poured, and then cooled inside of it. “I need to go see Dr. Reed.”
He placed his palm over her forehead, a gesture his mother made whenever he or his brother and sisters were sick. Her skin was clammy, not feverish. A fine sheen of sweat glistened along her cheeks. “What’s wrong, Summer?”
There was the barest hint of tears surrounded by anguish before she blinked, clearing everything away. “I’m pregnant.”
The bottle of water fell to the asphalt, but it was his body that felt the impact.
Gabriel gave himself a mental shake, and then smiled at Summer. “It’s all in the past, and I’m ready for the future.”
Chapter Eleven
“A date,” Summer said to her reflection.
“Yes, a date,” Jemma Leigh said, walking up behind her and placing her hands on Summer’s shoulders. “All you need is some lipstick, and you’ll be ready to go.”
Summer smiled faintly, accepting the tube from the woman who seemed to be bound and determined to be her friend, whether she liked it or not.
“Gabriel’s gonna die when he sees you.”
Summer made a little noise. “Gabriel will probably order me to change.”
“If by change, you mean put on some sexy lingerie, then I have some you can borrow, too,” Jemma Leigh said with a conspiratorial smile. “That man won’t know what hit him.”
“You know Gabriel Edwards as good as I do, and we both know that will never happen.”
Jemma Leigh pursed her lips. “You have to stop thinking that way about yourself.”
Easy enough for someone like Jemma Leigh to say. “I’m stating the truth.”
“Then why did you bother inviting me over?”
Summer leveled her with a look. “The devil made me do it.”
“I’ve never been called that before,” Jemma Leigh said wryly.
Earlier in the afternoon, Jemma Leigh had caught Summer in another weak moment, and invited her to coffee again. Over caramel lattes, Summer had blurted the news. Okay, so if she was honest, she hadn’t blurted it. She had wanted Jemma Leigh to know, and not ju
st because she would spread the news around town, but because Summer was nervous. With a capital OH DEAR GOD, WHAT HAD SHE AGREED TO?
And that’s how she ended up with Jemma Leigh helping her get ready at Carolina Dreams. Rose’s office had served as a dressing room, while Jemma Leigh had served as makeup artist and stylist by rushing home and back again with clothes, makeup, and anything else she could find. The room looked like a department store had exploded inside of it.
Summer plucked at a bead on her shirt. It was hot pink (naturally), with tiny, silver-colored beads along the sides. The sleeves were short and capped, and the white miniskirt with more pink and silver beads made her feel like she was bedazzled to the max. Matching silver and pink earrings dangled from her ears.
Overall, she looked nothing like herself and everything like the woman standing behind her, but Summer didn’t have the heart to tell her so. Mostly because she didn’t have a heart in the first place.
However, the makeup Jemma Leigh had applied was another story. Summer had never been able to pull off really dark or bright colors, at least not in her opinion, so she felt like a clown, even if she didn’t remotely resemble one.
“Could we tone down the eye shadow a bit? The hot pink at the top seems a little—”
Jemma Leigh’s face fell. “You hate it, don’t you? I bet you hate the entire outfit.”
“No!” Summer all but screamed, and Jemma Leigh’s smile returned in full force. “I don’t have the bones for this, not like you do…so I think we need to go a little neutral on the eye makeup.”
Striking a pose, as her new friend had been doing in front of the mirror she’d brought over all afternoon, Jemma Leigh tapped her chin. “You might be right. I thought with your attitude that you could carry it off, but the more I think about it….the more I see what’s underneath.”
Summer’s eyes widened, and she turned around to face Jemma Leigh. “Underneath what?”
“Underneath all that attitude. You can’t fool me, Summer Holland, but I won’t tell a soul.” Jemma Leigh winked at her. “Now, go wash that pretty face and we’ll take it from the top.”
Gabriel took one look at the woman walking toward him and forgot how to breathe.
Summer wore a pale blue sundress, a string of dark blue beads, and silver sandals. Her pale hair flowed down her back in big, bouncy curls. Brown eyes with the longest, blackest lashes he’d ever seen gazed at him, without malice, anger, or even scorn.
In fact, Summer looked nervous.
But how could she? It wasn’t her palms sweating. It wasn’t her heart pounding against her chest. It wasn’t her knees that were weak. It wasn’t her brain reminding her of the last kissed they shared, of how she felt in his arms and pressed against him. Oh no. That was all him, with all his body parts and brain conspiring against him.
“Let me take a picture,” Jemma Leigh said. She rushed around the counter, phone in her hand, and waited for Summer to join him.
“Do you mind?” he asked as she moved to stand beside him.
She shook her head in answer, sending the scent of flowers washing over him. It wasn’t her usual scent, but he liked it. Hell, he loved it.
Wrapping an arm around her, he whispered, “You look beautiful.”
She glanced up at him, giving an up-close and personal view of her flawless skin. There was a tiny mole, right by her left eye. The beauty mark hadn’t been there when they were younger, and every other time they’d been this close, it was to push the other away.
Well, with the exception of today, but he could give himself a pass for not noticing when he’d been consumed with kissing her. He hadn’t had a thought in his head about anything else but the way she tasted, which was how it should be.
“One more, you two. These are so good!” Jemma Leigh squealed.
Except now, when he wasn’t kissing her, and he was posing for a picture, all he could think about was kissing her again.
“Thank you. You look handsome.” Then she looked at the camera again. Her hair fell forward, obscuring her face, so he couldn’t see if she was smiling as Jemma Leigh took just one more picture.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Yes.” Answering in monosyllables had never been Summer’s style. Usually, she had an accompanying skewering remark. Usually, they wouldn’t be going out on a date.
“I made reservations at Bluebelle. Hope you still like seafood.” He’d decided against taking her to Poor Boy’s tonight, for an after-dinner activity. Besides, he was getting a little old for that honky-tonk bar, and the crowd was getting younger every year.
Jemma Leigh beamed. “Taking my bestie to Palm Island. I approve.”
Summer and Jemma Leigh were best friends? That was…unexpected.
Placing a hand over her heart, Jemma Leigh sighed. “Bluebelle is so romantic. Lots of surprise engagements are on the menu there, or so I heard.”
Summer stiffened beside him. He wasn’t sure why. It had been her idea to get married in the first place. Did she think no one would notice when they got married, or when she sued for custody of Ivy?
Whatever she thought, he’d be there for her, in whatever way he could. In the meantime, he would unequivocally convince her that in order to have a family, she didn’t have to destroy the one she helped create. That she was worthy of love, of a family, and of everything she thought she wasn’t.
He pressed his hand against the small of her back and blinked, slightly startled by how warm and delicate she felt under his palm.
“Have her back at a decent hour, Mr. Edwards,” Jemma Leigh admonished. “A lady is never kept out later than midnight.”
He laughed softly. “Don’t worry.”
“Yeah, I’m not a lady, so Gabriel can keep me out until the cock crows, but I’m pretty sure the preacher’s son isn’t allowed to be out past the sinning hour.” Summer stepped away from him, and headed to the front door. The bells rang as she went outside.
“Tonight should be fun,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“She doesn’t mean it, you know,” Jemma Leigh said, staring out the window. “It’s just battle armor.”
Yeah, he knew it. He’d always known it, but it was hard for him to keep his temper and be patient with her. “Don’t you think it’s time for her to be at peace?”
Jemma Leigh shrugged. “Sometimes, when you’ve been battling for so long, it’s hard to know when to lay your weapons down and surrender to love.”
Chapter Twelve
Summer rode in silence as Gabriel drove them over the bridge to Palm Island.
The bridge only had one lane, and constantly had traffic backed up, as cars filled with vacationers lined up on opposite sides, waiting for their turn to go. Luck had been with them, and just as they approached, the light turned green.
Summer glanced at Gabriel, then back at the scenery. Possibly, it had been divine intervention.
Palms trees and small sand dunes, with vibrant orange wildflowers growing on them, flanked the road, while houses built on stilts rose above it all. Every now and then, she got a glimpse of the ocean or the Pamlico Sound.
“Have you ever been here before?” Gabriel asked. “I couldn’t remember.”
This was his second attempt to try to get her to engage in conversation. The first time had been on the outskirts of Holland Springs. He’d pointed out new shops and subdivisions that hadn’t been there three years ago, but after she’d only crossed her arms in response, he’d shot her an amused look and turned up the volume on the radio.
For a minute, she considered remaining on the defensive with him, but why should she? He’d agreed to help her, even if it meant a marriage not in name only. Even if it meant that he’d promised to meet and fulfill every want, need, fantasy, and desire a wild child like her could have. Too bad she’d never let him know that just by kissing her, like he had in Carolina Dreams, that he’d already met more than half of them.
Yeah, too bad, but for whom… him, or was it her?
But he hadn’t ignored them.
That man had watched them, with a hunger in his eyes that had made Summer’s skin crawl. Thankfully, Azalea had noticed as well, and after hurrying them out of the beach house, with the real excuse of Skye being sick and possibly contagious, she had promised never to take them around him again.
It was the first and only promise she had ever kept.
“We have a lot of catching up to do,” he said, and the thought of him knowing all of her secrets—true or not, scared her so badly that she automatically looked for an exit. “We have a lot of misconceptions about each other, and I’d like to finally clear them up.”
“Or everything about me is entirely true, and there’s nothing to clear up, because what you see is exactly what you get.”
Gabriel pulled the truck into the blacktop parking lot, next to a one-story house that had the look of a seaside cottage. After finding a spot, he put the truck in park and cut the engine. At first, she thought he would ignore her again, but he did the unexpected.
He reached across her, unbuckling the seat belt, and then took those big hands of his and pulled her toward him. Right before his head dipped, she managed to ask, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” His voice had slowed to that drawl she loved to hear. “Summer Jean Holland, I plan on kissing you each and every time you utter such nonsense.”
“Oh.” His head dipped, but she leaned back, unsure if she should be aggravated with him over his gall. “What if I started uttering things that make…sense?”
Not Over You (Holland Springs) Page 7
