by T. M. Cromer
“Oh, fuck it.” She bundled the dress and put it on a chair so she remembered to drop it off to be dry cleaned. The damned thing would probably hang in her closet until some distant special occasion that may never come. If nothing else, it could be worn to a funeral.
“Fuck what?”
Gabriel’s voice startled a scream from as far down as Margie’s toes. The unrepentant jerk grinned for all he was worth.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, embarrassed to be caught talking to herself.
“I came to see you.”
Seeing him relaxed with his arms crossed and one shoulder resting against the white trim molding sent Margie’s heart rate into overdrive. The man was tantalizing. Like a warm, moist chocolate cake with thick, creamy frosting. And she wanted to eat him up.
“No, I mean here. In my room.” Her voice broke, and she blushed like a shy virgin. Why the hell couldn’t she act normal around him for two minutes?
“Kaley let me in.” He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes.
When he didn’t say anything else, Margie crossed her arms over her chest and dropped her gaze to the floor. Yep, she definitely had insecurities.
“I can go.” The words were said softly, almost as a question, and they made her stomach knot. The problem wasn’t that she wanted him to go. Hell no! She wanted him to enter her room more fully, turn the lock, and ravish her until she forgot her own name.
He shoved away from the doorframe and shifted to leave.
“Gabriel.” His name on her lips was a plea. Her utmost desire was for him to stay and chase away her personal demons. A huge part of her wished for the easy friendship she’d been missing since Opal’s death, and Margie suspected only Gabriel could see past her prickly nature. But with male friendships came complications, and for some guys, the push for more. She wasn’t prepared for the repercussions of a short-lived affair. At least not yet.
He glanced back over his shoulder, waiting for her to continue.
“I’m sorry if I seemed cranky. I was surprised to see you.” She offered up a tentative smile. “It’s not fine dining, but I was going to whip up grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner. You’re welcome to join us.”
His all-seeing stare made her insides writhe, and Margie had a strong compulsion to hide. She feared what he’d discover under her tough-as-nails exterior. Just when she thought she couldn’t tolerate another second of his searching gaze, his focus shifted to the bunched-up dress. Had she not been watching him as closely as she was, she’d have missed the quicksilver frown. Was he weighing the aggravation of being with her against the ultimate reward?
When his eyes met hers again, he gave her a slow smile.
Her insides turned gooey.
He did nothing more than nod his agreement, but it was as if he offered her the moon and stars on a silver platter. He held out his hand, and the gesture seemed symbolic. If she took it, would she be acknowledging what they were flirting with was real?
She clasped it anyway. Helpless not to.
They entered the kitchen to find Kaley at the island, serving up dinner to her brothers. Margie had to give her daughter credit for not laughing at their joined hands. Instead, Kaley pointed with the spatula to the remaining seats. “I wanted to do something to thank you for today, Mom. Don’t make a big deal, okay?”
Margie released Gabriel to give Kaley’s temple a light kiss. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But I wish you’d rest.” Heading to the fridge, she called, “What is everyone drinking?”
“Beer,” Scotty called.
“Try again.”
“Fine. I’ll take milk.”
Margie hid her grin and removed five clear glasses from the cabinet. “Aaron? Gabriel?”
“Beer,” Aaron parroted his older brother.
She gave him a narrowed-eye stare.
“Fine. I’ll take milk.”
“Better make mine milk, too,” Gabriel said. The laughter in his voice brought a smile to her lips.
“Three milks coming up. Kaley?”
When the beverages were distributed and the sandwiches dished up, they all hung about the island, chatting and joking. Kaley sat perched on the counter, swinging her legs as she and Gabriel debated the merits of Velveeta versus real cheddar cheese.
Margie found it difficult to recall when her daughter had been so carefree. Without a doubt, Kaley had missed the influence of a constant, caring father figure in her life.
“Where’s Jamie?” Margie asked when the discussion of tasty cheeses ended.
“He went with Michael to pick out Aunt Sammy’s Christmas present,” Aaron volunteered. “He’s going to ask her to marry him.”
Margie nearly choked on her bite of sandwich. “What?” she finally managed to ask.
“Yep. That’s what he said to Uncle Jamie. I heard him.”
Carefully, she wiped each of her fingers on her napkin as she chose her words. “Aaron, if that’s true, you shouldn’t blurt it out. Michael will want it to be a surprise until after Sammy says yes.”
“But it’s not a surprise. We all know she’s gonna say yes,” he argued with little-boy logic.
“True. However, the proposal is going to be a surprise to her until he asks. It’s a tradition people cling to. Men buy a ring, pick a romantic moment, then ask the woman they love to marry them.”
“Is that what Dad did?”
Margie could feel four sets of eyes on her, and she never wanted to get up and clean the kitchen more. Anything to avoid the avid curiosity. She should lie and say yes so she could let it go, but the truth was, Scott hadn’t been romantic at all. He’d simply convinced her “getting hitched because of the baby” was the right thing to do. Even after they’d lost their first child, she remained with him, because by then, she felt stuck. A teenager with no real choice or future. God, she’d been naive.
“Not really.” For the second time in as many minutes, she wiped her fingertips.
Gabriel’s large hand settled over hers to still her movements. With a light squeeze, he asked, “Is it okay to take everyone for pie? Or is it too much sugar this close to bedtime?”
Because she couldn’t speak past the odd lump in her throat, she nodded her agreement and smiled her thanks. She didn’t know whether to be freaked out or grateful Gabriel was this in-tune with her feelings.
Gabriel helped Kaley clean up the kitchen as Margaret wrestled her sons into jackets and shoes. He hadn’t failed to notice her uncomfortableness when Aaron asked about her own proposal. Clearly, her deadbeat ex hadn’t bothered to give her the romance she craved.
As he handed Kaley the plates to load into the dishwasher, he asked, “Where’s the best place for pie around here?”
She paused and gave him an incredulous look. “You offered to feed the animals without thinking it through, didn’t you?”
His aborted laughter came out as a snort. “The animals? I assume you mean your brothers. That’s kind of mean, isn’t it?”
“You don’t live with them.”
“Valid point.”
“The Cool Beans Way.” She glanced at the stovetop clock. “They close in twenty minutes.”
“Shit.”
She giggled and shoved him toward the garage door. “Come on. This can wait. The animals can’t.”
They made it to the restaurant with minutes to spare. The pastry display was packed with a multitude of delightfully flavored pie slices, and for their group of five, the decision making was a challenging process. Gabriel was grateful the cafe owner didn’t seem to be in a hurry. After everyone chose their favorite, they took the food to go and sat at the outside table to eat.
He was surprised by how much he enjoyed himself. The boys were inquisitive, and Kaley was a smaller, sassier, pink-haired version of her mother. Already, Gabriel adored her.
But it was Margaret who held all the fascination for him. The times she lowered her guard, she was breathtakingly beautiful. Like now, her face lit and her cheeks became ros
y as she laughed at the antics of Aaron, the whipped-cream thief. Whenever his brother was distracted, her youngest would swipe a glob to add to his own pie.
Scotty eventually caught on and wasn’t at all happy. “Mom! Tell Aaron to stop.”
“Aaron, stop,” Margaret obligingly ordered. There was no heat behind her words, and the sparkle in her eyes was nothing short of mischievous when she hooked her finger and swiped the last of Scotty’s whipped cream.
“Mom!”
Gabriel loved it when she grinned unrepentantly, and he felt something within him go soft. He gave Margaret a severe warning look as he rose to his feet. “Don’t even think about stealing mine.”
Since his brother’s pub bordered The Cool Beans Way, he strode through the doors and straight back to the kitchen area.
“Gabe. What are you doing here, man?”
“I need a large bowl of whipped cream.”
Grey laughed and wiped his hands on the towel tucked into his apron. “Do I want to know why you couldn’t simply go to the store and purchase a can for your nightly activities?”
“Okay, a) there are no nightly activities happening—not in the way you are suggesting. And b) you make yours from scratch. It’s excellent.”
All the while Gabriel spoke, Grey was adding the whipped cream into a medium-sized to-go container. “Still not sure why you drove all the way here for this.”
“Margaret and her kids are outside the coffee shop next door, eating pie. I’m trying to prevent a war between the brothers.”
“Ah.” Grey grinned but didn’t punctuate his reply with a snarky comment as expected. He slid the container across the workstation. “Enjoy.”
Gabriel returned to their table to find another man crowding Margaret.
Discomfort was etched in every line of her face.
Kaley’s attitude was back, firmly on display, and the two boys were in the process of shoving one another. A full-blown fight was on the horizon.
A protective instinct emerged, and not caring to dig too deeply into the reason at the moment, Gabriel stepped behind Margaret and placed his hand on her shoulder. Plopping the container on the table between her sons, he said, “Crisis averted. Leave enough for your mom and sister.”
Margaret’s hand came up and covered his, as if she sought comfort, and Kaley’s undisguised look of relief made him feel ten-feet tall.
Finally, he faced the man.
The guy stood at least eight inches shorter than Gabriel and was about forty pounds heavier. His blond hair had a tendency toward thinning with a bald spot forming at the top of his head. Added to that unfortunate genetic blessing was the receding hairline. Still, he had a nice face. Somewhat round and ruddy, but pleasant. He was the kind of guy women found non-threatening, but Gabriel couldn’t shake the impression the man wasn’t as benign as he seemed.
“Gabriel, this is Don. He lives on our block.”
Out of politeness, he nodded to the neighbor he had no pressing desire to meet. “Don.”
Gabriel didn’t miss the look of annoyance as it flashed a second before the stranger could put a jovial mask in place. He shifted to put himself between Margaret and Don then held out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you,” he lied.
Don glared at his hand as if it were a poisonous serpent ready to strike. Three steady heartbeats passed before he offered a limp shake.
Gabriel resumed his seat with a challenging stare, hoping the fucker would take a hint.
Don didn’t linger and hustled toward Grey’s bar, looking back to glare his displeasure.
“Could he be any more of a douche flute?” Kaley muttered.
“We don’t talk like that, Kaley,” Margaret admonished.
“Can I help it if he’s creepy?”
Gabriel gave Kaley an approving look. “Savage, but I like it.”
He finally noticed a spoon-sized chunk of whipped cream was missing from his pie. He shot Margaret a narrow-eyed glare and pitched his voice low. “I leave for less than five minutes and come back to find Chester the Molester trying to make time with you. To add insult to injury, my pie is half gone. What do you have to say for yourself, Margaret?”
She reached over to take another stab at his dessert.
He held it up and away. “I draw the line at sharing my pie.” He gobbled it down in three bites.
When they were finished, the kids ran ahead to the Suburban, laughing and calling half-hearted insults to one another, as Gabriel and Margaret strolled through the parking lot.
“What does a ‘douche flute’ even mean?” he asked quietly.
“Are you not hip to teen slang, Gabriel?” She made a tsk-tsk sound and smirked.
“Apparently not.”
Margie laughed, and he reveled in the sound.
“Thanks for spending the evening with us. The kids loved it.”
With his hand in hers, he drew her to a stop and twirled her like a dancer to face him, halting her with a light arm around her waist. “And you? Did you love it, Margaret?” He led her in an impromptu waltz.
Pink crept into her cheeks, and she bit her lip. A gesture he was coming to associate with her nervousness.
“I did,” she admitted.
Wanting nothing more than to kiss her but knowing it wasn’t the time or place, he simply said, “Good.” Gabriel put his palm to her lower back and guided her toward the vehicle. Before he opened the driver-side door, he asked, “Will you come by for a nightcap tonight? After James returns?” Her obvious indecision prompted him to add, “I’ll be out on the porch until ten. If you want to join me for a glass of wine, the offer stands. If you don’t show up, I’ll understand. No pressure.”
He opened the door and assisted her inside. As he strode to his side of the vehicle, he instinctively knew she’d pull back. For someone like Margaret, Gabriel had come on too strong, too fast. He silently cursed himself for putting the ball in her court.
Chapter 9
Flowers, a giant stuffed bear, and a brand new iPad Pro showed up on her doorstep the next day, courtesy of the James brothers for Kaley. Her daughter’s squeal echoed through the house, and Margie had to smile at the consideration the guys had shown. They must’ve figured Kaley would be home for a few days, bored out of her mind while her friends were at school.
Margie didn’t want to contemplate the cost involved. From Opal, she knew the men were all successful in their own right. She imagined they had the money to spare. And while normally she wouldn’t dream of allowing Kaley to keep such an expensive gift from a stranger, she didn’t really view the James brothers as strangers anymore. Yesterday had caused a shift in Margie’s and Gabriel’s relationship—even if she wasn’t ready to explore it.
“Mom, here’s a note for you.” Kaley surprised her from her musings and passed the hand-written message to her with a smirk.
I had fun last night. Have dinner with me.
Gabriel
His handwriting was as bold and beautiful as the man himself, and Margie couldn’t help but smile. He’d always written her notes in the past. She distinctly remembered the one and only from their first night together on the Titanic.
April 1912-
Her sister sat on the other side of Andrew, drawing the gaze of all the men with her musical laughter. All but Sebastian’s. With her shining blue-black hair and laughing, electric eyes, Rosie commanded notice. Her behavior was outrageous most nights, and she had had no sense of decorum.
Ofttimes, it enraged Lucy.
That night, it didn’t.
That night, she’d welcomed Rosie’s flirty behavior because it distracted Andrew, who had not-so-secretly lusted after her sister for the better part of two years.
Lucy assumed, if their fathers hadn’t contracted her marriage from the time the couple were in the cradle, Andrew would’ve acted on his feelings for Rosie long ago. But he’d been honor bound to marry Lucy, and he’d done his duty, making everyone involved deeply unhappy—minus their parents. Neither he nor Lucy could brin
g themselves to make their marriage a real one. Having grown up together, raised more like brother and sister, the idea of carnal relations turned them both green. Even the chaste kiss at their wedding ceremony had presented a loathsome factor neither could get past.
Andrew’s preoccupation with Rosie had allowed Sebastian to slip Lucy a note across the table without being seen. It also allowed her to read the message and give a barely discernible nod in agreement to a private meeting.
Heart pounding hard enough to rock the ship, Lucy had begged everyone’s pardon, utilized the headache excuse she’d planned earlier, and convinced Andrew there was no need to see her back to her room.
Sebastian jumped up with a gallant offer to escort her. “I don’t intend to partake of the cigars and port this evening. I’m happy to see her safely to your stateroom.”
Andrew opened his mouth to protest, but never got the chance.
With a mischievous smirk, Rosie touched his sleeve and said, “Oh, do stay and keep me company, Andrew.”
Lucy met her sister’s laughing eyes. A silent communication passed between the two women. Without words needing to be spoken, Rosie had agreed to distract Andrew so Lucy could have a bit of fun for a change.
A half smile tugged at Lucy’s lips.
Rosie loved mischief, and if she thought she was pulling something over on “stuffy old Andrew,” as she was fond of calling him, she would.
“Are you going to go out with him?”
Startled from the past, Margie glanced up from running her fingertips over Gabriel’s name. “Should I?”
“Duh, of course. For an old guy, he’s cool.”
