“Yeah. You, too.” As usual, Roger was impeccably dressed. Dark gray suit, white shirt, shiny red tie. Not a hair out of place. Camera-ready, as he liked to call it. The only noticeable imperfection was the thin line of sweat beading his upper lip.
Good. She hoped he was sweating his balls off under all those layers. She shouldn’t be the only one uncomfortable.
“Thanks.” Roger ran a hand down his tie, smoothing it as he went. “How’s business?”
The waitress delivered their order. Gabriella fortified herself with a drink before responding.
“Business is great. Busy as ever.” She hated insignificant small talk. She didn’t see the point in asking a question if she wasn’t interested in the answer, so she cut to the chase. “What’s this all about, Roger?”
He eyed her glass. “First cup?”
His condescending tone crawled all over her. She fisted her hands in her lap and took a deep breath, pondering what kind of jail time came with socking an ex-boyfriend in the jaw.
“I have work. I don’t have time for idle chit-chat. You wanted to talk. Here I am. Talk.”
His green eyes blazed. “When did you become so hostile?”
Right around the time he left her for another woman. “Is this about the house? My lawyer tells me you haven’t signed the paperwork to transfer the property over to me.”
Roger toyed with the edge of his napkin. He sighed. “I’m not going to sign.”
The room swayed.
“We agreed.” She dug her elbows into the table and laced her fingers so she wouldn’t take that punch. “If you expect me to offer you money, let me remind you it was my savings that made the down payment. Let me also remind you who’s been paying the mortgage for the last six months.”
“My name is on the mortgage, too. I have just as much right to the house as you do.”
“The hell you do!” Gabriella dropped her fists to the table hard enough to make the silverware jump.
Roger recoiled, his gaze quickly scanning the area. “Don’t make a scene.”
Because a scene would be way worse than him taking her house.
“Why?”
“It’s unseemly. Don’t embarrass yourself … or me.”
And this was the man she’d wanted to marry.
Roger hadn’t always been so self-absorbed. Or maybe he had and she’d chosen to ignore it. The saying ‘love is blind’ must be true, because the man sitting across from her now was a total stranger.
“What?” He pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief and pressed it against his lips.
“That’s not what I meant. You hate that house.” He’d been furious at the cost to remodel the front room into a secure therapy room for her. Said it would lower the overall value. “Why do you want it now?”
He refused to meet her stare. “I don’t hate it. Riverbend is a thriving community. It’s the perfect location to raise—”
“Oh my god. It’s her, isn’t it? She wants my house.” Gabriella rubbed her temple, warding off the sudden pain developing behind her eyes.
This couldn’t be happening. If she lost the house, she also lost her place of business. Everything she’d worked so hard to create. She’d have to start over. Again.
Roger reached for her hand. Gabriella jerked back, plastering herself against the booth. Was there no end to the pain he would cause?
Red stained his cheeks. He stared at her with cold, hard eyes.
“I’m not going to argue with you about this, Gabby. I’m willing to give you a fair settlement.”
“And I’m supposed to roll over and play dead because you’ve made a decision? I don’t want your money. That house isn’t just my home, or have you forgotten? It’s also my place of business.”
“Don’t be dramatic. There are other places you can work. There is a spa on every corner in this town.”
“The type of work I do isn’t conducive to the spa environment, and you know it.” She wasn’t having this argument again. Roger didn’t take her work seriously. Never had, and it seemed he never would.
She folded her shaking hands in her lap. She picked at her fingernails as tears burned her eyes. She blinked, willing them back. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crying in front of him. He’d only accuse her of trying to manipulate him.
“I don’t know why you’re getting so upset. Keeping up the house as well as paying the mortgage payment on your income has got to be a strain. An apartment would be less expensive to maintain.”
She glanced up. “Have I missed any of the payments since you left?”
A frown crinkled Roger’s brows.
“Well? Have I?” She bit her quivering lip and tried to swallow the lump lodged in her throat.
Roger drummed his short, manicured fingernails against the table. He drew in a breath, straining his perfectly starched shirt. “I’m not talking about this anymore. I thought it best to work this out between us. I expected you to be reasonable. If you can’t do that, I’ll have my attorney call yours and we will go that route. Keep in mind, I might not be so generous if you drag me to court.”
Of course he wouldn’t. He had an image to uphold.
A single tear escaped. She brushed it away as two sneakered feet came into view. Gabriella looked up and sucked in a breath.
Tyler. Sleeveless shirt soaked through with sweat, ear buds draped over his shoulders, the sexiest man she’d ever seen—Tyler.
“Hiya, gorgeous. Fancy meeting you here.”
12
Tyler maintained a steady jog. At this pace, he had just enough time to get back to the hotel, rinse off in the shower, and get over to the surgical center for his date with the MRI. Of course, if he hit any kind of traffic he’d be screwed. It couldn’t be helped, though. His legs demanded a slower pace after the brutal punishment he’d put them through during the first eight miles.
He swiped the sweat from his chin with the collar of his tee. The heat in this fucking state sucked ass. Another week and he could forget running outside for fear of suffering heat stroke. As it was, if he hadn’t gotten up at the crack of dawn he wouldn’t have had time to run at all today. He had PT after his doctor’s appointment, then planned to hit the gym for an hour or two before heading back to Gabriella’s for his session there.
His thoughts drifted back to last night for the hundredth time since he’d crawled from her bed a few hours ago. The way she trusted him with her body, gave herself over to him, made him hard even now. And the way she looked at him—Jesus Christ—if she hadn’t closed her eyes as he’d demanded, he would’ve blown like a kid just discovering what his dick could do.
Gabriella flat out rocked his world. But it was more than that. She actually defended him, handled his dad like a pro. When was the last time a woman had done that? He couldn’t remember.
The woman was a conundrum. All smart and sweet on the outside, all heat and passion on the inside. Damn it, he hadn’t planned to like her so much.
One night in the sack and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Although if he were being honest, he hadn’t stopped thinking about her since that night in the bar.
“Fuck.” He stopped, took a minute to catch his breath. He tore out the buds steadily pumping classic rock into his ears, and let them fall around his shoulders. Shoved his sunglasses to the top of his head.
What the hell was he doing? He’d be on a bird for New York the second he got the thumbs-up to play. Nothing had changed since last night.
So why did he feel as though nothing would be the same?
He bounced on his toes, then paced on the sidewalk so he wouldn’t cramp up. It was early enough the foot traffic in this part of town was minimal. Another fifteen minutes, and there’d be a line coming from the coffee shop across the street. Cube-jockeys looking for a morning fix. He squinted against the sun as he noticed the couple sitting by the window. Great. Not only couldn’t he get Gabriella out of his head, now he was seeing her everywhere. He was losing his ever-lovin’ mind.<
br />
Tyler checked traffic and stepped off the curb. He jogged across the street and stopped in front of the windows. Not crazy then. Gabriella indeed sat at a table inside the shop, staring wide-eyed at the dude across from her. The way the guy’s gums were flapping, it was obvious he had a lot to say. Unless looks were really damned deceiving, Gabriella didn’t like whatever it was.
Glancing at his watch again, Tyler cursed. He’d never make the MRI if he went inside, which would get his ass chewed and probably fined.
Gabriella chose that moment to stare down at her hands. Did her lip just fucking quiver?
Concern burned its way down his throat, turning to anger by the time it reached his chest. Fuck the fine. If that guy upset Gabriella enough to make her cry, he’d answer for it.
Tyler yanked open the front door. Playing it cool, he wandered to where she sat.
“Hiya, gorgeous. Fancy meeting you here.”
She glanced up, surprised. Her eyes sparkled. She blinked a few times, firing his protective instincts on all cylinders.
“Tyler. Hey.” Her spine straightened. “I didn’t see you come in.”
He was a sweaty mess and probably reeked to high heaven, but he didn’t care. He cared about the unshed tears in her eyes, the deep furrow between her brows. Oh yeah, he cared about those things a lot.
He rested his hand on the back of the booth. He itched to touch her, to caress his fingers along the back of her neck. He stopped short, respectful of the fact she might not welcome his touch in front of the other man, and not liking it one fucking bit.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was finishing up a run when I saw you sitting here. Thought I’d pop in and say hello.”
And to find out if the jackass across the table was the reason she looked about to crumble.
“Hey, you’re Tyler Brady.”
The jackass speaks. Mister life-sized Ken doll in an expensive suit. “I am. And you are?”
Dude stood and thrust his hand out. “Roger. Roger Ballantine. Channel 7 Sports.”
Ice ran through Tyler’s veins as a boatload of what the fuck short-circuited his brain. She was having coffee with a reporter? A sports reporter?
Tyler shot Gabriella a glance. He could guess at his expression when her panicked eyes flared wide, practically begging him not to jump to conclusions. He’d done that once already when he accused her of following him.
His dad was right about one thing. Tyler didn’t do a whole lot of thinking before he reacted. Occupational hazard—one that rarely served him well off the field. In the spirit of not making an ass of himself again, he bit back the desire to get the hell out of there. At least until he figured out what was going on.
“Channel 7, huh?” Tyler pasted a smile on his face and shook the guy’s hand. Firm handshake. Soft hands. Probably manicured weekly. Right after the teeth bleaching sessions.
Tyler hated this part of the job. He loved meeting and talking with the fans, but the media had been a thorn in his side for as long as he could remember.
Roger bobbed his head like an excited puppy. “I heard you were in town. You’ve been elusive. Not taking calls or giving interviews.” Roger waggled a finger at him as though he’d been naughty. Tyler was tempted to see how far back Roger’s finger would bend.
“I’ve been working. No time for interviews this time around.”
“How’s the recovery going? Is that how you know Gabby? She does massage for a few physical therapists in town, you know.”
“Roger.” Gabriella snapped. “Tyler didn’t come in here expecting to be attacked. He just said he doesn’t have time for interviews. Back off.”
“Move over, Gabby. Let the man sit.”
Tyler bristled as Roger talked over her. Wait. Roger. The ex, Roger? The fuckwad who cheated on her, Roger?
Well, well, well. That changed things.
Sighing, Gabriella slid deeper into the booth. Tyler ordered a water from a passing waitress and eased into the space beside Gabriella. He laid a hand on her thigh, squeezing lightly.
“Everything okay?” he asked for her ears alone.
Her lips thinned. “Yes.”
Right. And he was the pope. He wouldn’t get anything out of her right now, so he changed the game plan. Ignoring Roger, Tyler bent his head, brushed his lips over hers. Her eyes widened in shock, but she didn’t push him away. Her hand landed on his leg as he sneaked a nibble of her bottom lip. Tyler struggled to keep the kiss short. Light and flirty. Appropriate for public consumption. She tasted of the coffee she drank, rich and delicious. He wanted more. So much more.
Before he completely forgot his manners, Tyler eased back, a satisfied hum tickling his throat. “Sorry I had to leave so early this morning.”
“It’s all right.” She blushed, her gaze darting toward Roger.
Fuck that guy. She was his now. For now. Fuck.
“What’s happening here?” Roger waggled a finger between them. That damn finger was three seconds from being double jointed. “Gabby, you didn’t tell me you were dating Tyler Brady.”
“Tyler and I are friends, which is more than you have the right to know. My life is none of your business. Not anymore.”
Roger’s neck turned a similar shade to his tie. “I’m surprised, that’s all. He doesn’t seem your type of …” Roger cleared his throat. “You don’t even like baseball.”
“I guess it took the right person to introduce me to the game.”
Tyler cocked a brow at Roger.
That’s right, motherfucker. Take a good long look at the man who made Gabriella come three times last night.
“Watching on TV is nothing,” Tyler said, slanting a smile her way. “Wait until I take you to a live game.”
“That sounds fun.” Gabriella’s smile was weak at best. Damn if he didn’t want to put the fire back in her eyes. What the hell had happened before he walked in?
“It’ll be more than fun, gorgeous.” Tyler decided then and there he’d make it happen. “We’ll eat over-priced hot dogs and salty-as-hell popcorn. Drink a few beers. There’s nothing like an afternoon at the ballpark.”
“Does that mean you aren’t planning to play yourself this season?” The excited puppy was back.
“I believe I said my girl and I are going to a ballgame.”
The waitress brought Tyler a glass of water. He drank slowly, enjoying the impatient look on Roger’s face.
“Your girl? Are you and Gabby a thing, then?”
“Stop it, Roger,” Gabriella ground out. “I know what you’re doing and you need to stop. There’s no story here.”
Fed up with Roger, with his perfect suit and plastic smile, Tyler lowered his glass, and his voice. “I take it I interrupted more than a friendly cup of Joe here.” Hardened game-face on, he pinned Roger with a stare. “Gabriella looked upset when I came in. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“Tyler, it’s okay.” Gabriella backhanded his leg.
Roger adjusted his tie. “Gabby and I had some personal matters to discuss. Nothing for you to be concerned about.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, Rog. If it upsets Gabriella, it concerns me. Being she and I are friends and all.” Gabriella’s nails bit through the thin material of his running shorts, digging into his thigh. A warning he ignored. “Since you seem to think it’s none of my business why Gabriella is upset, how about you explain then how my relationship with her concerns you? Because I’m fairly certain that part is very much my business.”
Roger’s palms came up. “Whoa. I meant no offense, man. Gabby and I have history. I didn’t realize she knew you. I’m a big fan. I’ve followed your career since the beginning.”
Ball-less bastard. “I appreciate the support. Let’s get clear on one thing, though. I don’t appreciate the hurt I saw on Gabriella’s face a few minutes ago. I’m assuming since you were the one doing the talkin’, you had something to do with that. So…” Tyler rapped his knuckles against the table. “Here’s
where we are. Whatever business you have with Gabriella is between the two of you. But—and I can’t stress this enough—if you’re the cause of such a look again, you and I will have business to attend to.”
Beside him, Gabriella rubbed her temple. “Roger, don’t you have to get to work?”
Paling considerably, Roger glanced at his watch. “I do, yes.” He reached inside his suit jacket, pulling out a long, thin wallet. He cast a hesitant glance Tyler’s way, then looked at Gabriella. “I’m sorry if our talk upset you, Gabby.”
Gabriella nodded. The resigned sadness coming from her hurt Tyler’s chest. He had the urge to wrap his arms around her, shield her from whatever caused her pain.
Roger dropped cash on the table, pulled a card from the wallet, and shoved it in his direction. “I believe we got off on the wrong foot, Tyler. I’d like the chance to make it up to you. Perhaps we could sit down and chat before you leave?”
Like every other news anchor and reporter Tyler knew, the guy’s hearing wasn’t for shit. “My schedule is pretty crazy. Maybe another time.”
Roger left the card on the table. “Give me a call. I’ll buy you a beer.”
He’d rather be spit-roasted over an open flame. “Uh-huh.”
“Gabby, I’ll … I’ll be in touch.”
Tyler watched Roger head for the door. Gabriella’s fingers jabbed his ribs, hard.
“Ow! Hey.” He turned to her and uh-oh. The fire he’d been dying to see was back in full-force.
“You want to tell me what that was all about?”
“Uhhh.” Shit. As usual, he reacted on instinct. He’d stand up for any woman, but there were few he considered his to protect. His mom. His sister. And now, apparently, Gabriella. A fact he’d keep to himself for now. “Just having a little fun with your ex. That was your ex, right?”
She stared at him long enough to make him think he might’ve made a gigantic ass of himself. Again.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“You were about to lose it, Gabriella. You think I’m gonna sit by and let some douchebag get away with making you cry? Sorry, sweetheart. Not how I roll.” He gave her temple a lingering kiss. Her delicate scent enticed him. It reminded him of her bedroom, her sheets, and the way she looked spread naked on them. “God, I love the way you smell.”
Southern Heat (Game On Book 2) Page 11
