Elizabeth opened the door, but Gabe stopped her before she entered the house. "I'll go in first. Wait here until I tell you it's safe."
"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Gabe." She closed the dripping umbrella and set it down beside the door. "The house is fine."
He ignored her protest and stepped in. The layout was very simple. A small foyer separated the dining room from the living room, and a steep, narrow staircase led to the second floor.
No chandelier. That was a good omen.
The house looked dusty and empty, but the ceiling seemed solid. Nothing appeared overtly dangerous. He eyed the staircase suspiciously. It looked strong enough, but appearances were often deceiving in Banshee Creek.
"You can come in now," he said.
She gave an exasperated sigh and followed him into the foyer, pausing to give the balustrade a swift kick. "See, it's quite sturdy."
She walked quickly through the dining room, toward the back of the house.
"Aren't you going to point out the spaciousness of the foyer or the brightness of the dining room?" he asked as he followed her into what was, yes, the kitchen.
It had been remodeled sometime in the sixties and it looked a lot like his mother's kitchen. The counters were chipped laminate, and the tiny wall cabinets didn't look securely attached to the walls. A tattered wall border with green and red apples hung precariously on the walls. His mom's wall border was daisies on a blue background.
She snorted as she looked through some paper strewn on the mint green counters. "The foyer is minuscule, and the dining room has flowered wallpaper. You have a lot of flaws, Gabe, but you're not blind."
He peered over her shoulder as she spread out the papers. She smelled lovely. Like those flowers Izzy put all around the office because they made Salvador sneeze. The scent was sweet but mischievous, just like Elizabeth.
"This is the existing structure." She pointed to a black rectangle on the left side of the paper.
"Doesn't look too big," he said, examining the second floor layout, three bedrooms and one bath. Just looking at it made him sweat. Liam would diagnose him with childhood-onset post-traumatic bathroom-sharing syndrome.
"It isn't." She traced her finger across the paper. "This is a proposed extension to the house." She pointed to a very large red rectangle on the blueprint. It was easily three times the size of the original structure.
"You want me to build on this lot, a lot subject to the Historical Preservation Committee's restrictions? Do I look masochistic?"
"The Committee has already approved these plans. They also pre-approved Liam's firm as the builder."
"They really want to get rid of this house then. I wonder why."
"All you have to do is convince Liam to build it for you."
"Convince him? Isn't he pre-approved?"
"Oh, yes, the Committee loves him. But like many loves, it's unrequited. I'm sure he'll come back to build your house, though. You've been friends for a long time."
Gabe stared at the blueprint and felt anger rise up inside him. He'd asked for a house, just a house. He hadn't asked for a time-consuming project that would force him to spend a lot of time in Banshee Creek. Had she no idea what would happen if he actually built this house? His dad would be calling him day and night to give him advice. His mom would take over the decorating and bury him in white slipcovers and lace. His brothers would drop by the construction site constantly and offer unsolicited advice. His parents would criticize. It would be a disaster.
A complete disaster.
He folded the blueprints. Then he took a deep breath. "No," he said.
Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak.
"Just no," he repeated. Something about his voice made her pause.
Good. He didn't want to have to scream at her.
"I'm not buying this house," he said. "And I'm not buying in Banshee Creek."
Elizabeth stared at him.
"We are going to get in the car and drive straight to Middleburg," he said, watching her lips tighten. "And we're going to see a big house," he continued as she frowned. "A big house with no ghosts, no Historic Preservation Board restrictions, and no expansion blueprints." He took a deep breath. "Am I right?"
Elizabeth nodded slowly.
Excellent, at least now they were getting somewhere.
"Let's go," he said.
Elizabeth looked like she evaluating whether to argue with him. She apparently thought better of it, grabbed her purse, and turned to leave the kitchen. But Gabe wasn't fooled. He hadn't won. This was merely a strategic retreat. She looked very dignified walking out of the room. It was a good exit.
It also made her butt look good.
Her walk was so distracting that he didn't notice when the heel of her boot caught on the uneven pine floor. She caught her balance for an instant and then toppled. He lunged forward to catch her at the same time as she grabbed a cabinet for balance. Something hit his head as Elizabeth fell on him.
Then everything went dark.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ELIZABETH FOUND herself on the floor of the dining room, draped across Gabe's body.
This, she had to admit, felt good.
She lay there for a second, trying to figure out what had happened. She was a bit shaken, but could move her arms and legs. That was good, right? She glanced back toward the kitchen and stared, spellbound, as another cabinet ever so slowly unpeeled from the wall.
After a seemingly endless second, it crashed onto the floor with a loud, splintering sound.
Elizabeth winced then turned to look at Gabe. "Thanks for the..." she started to say.
That was when she realized Gabe wasn't moving. There was blood on his shirt. She wasn't sure where it came from, but it looked like a lot. But at least he was breathing. She straightened, reached for her purse, which had landed a yard away, and pulled out her phone. Her hand was shaking and she almost dropped it twice. She was punching in numbers when Gabe stirred.
"Stay down," she told him with as much authority as she could muster. "I'm calling an ambulance."
Gabe reached over, pulled the phone from her hand, and cut off the call. He didn't look disoriented at all. "I don't need an ambulance." He handed the phone back, wincing. He touched the back of his head and his hand came back bloody.
"Are you kidding?" She tried not to screech. "There's blood on your shirt."
Okay, so maybe that was a screech, a small one.
"It's just a shirt." He shook his head and winced as if the movement hurt.
"The shirt's not the point. The shirt doesn't need medical attention." The man was infuriating. "You. Are. Bleeding. A whole cabinet fell on your head."
"I'm used to stuff falling on my head. It happened all the time at the pizzeria." He smiled at her. "I've developed a thick skull. Anyway, we still have houses to see." He stood up, his movements stiff. "And I don't have much time."
Elizabeth scrambled to her feel and grabbed his arm, supporting him. He tried to push her away, but she stood her ground, putting her arm around him as he walked. He felt hard and warm and muscular, but she wasn't thinking about that. She only wanted to help.
Right.
After all, she wasn't the kind of girl who took advantage of a wounded man. Was she?
"I'm taking you to the clinic," she said virtuously.
Gabe started to talk, but she cut him off.
"You can't drive like this, so you have no choice." She put her hand out for his car keys.
He looked like he was about to argue.
"You'll crash the car. Is that what you want?"
He sighed and handed her the keys.
She felt smug. She knew the car comment would do the trick.
They walked slowly to the car and he took the passenger seat without complaint. Worried, she rushed to the driver's side, entered the car, and turned it on. Gabe was never this compliant. It must be the blow to the head.
She drove quickly to the clinic, a small, gray building with a red-and-wh
ite sign that read Banshee Creek Urgent Care. The clinic was a town landmark, as middle-of-the-night mishaps were a common occurrence and the closest emergency room was several miles away. Dr. Lebensburg was discreet and asked no questions.
Gabe had been quiet throughout the trip, too quiet. She parked the car, trying to recall the concussion protocols her last stunt double had explained to her. But Gabe's lethargy disappeared as soon as she pulled on the parking brake. He opened the door, stepped out and, to her surprise, walked around the car to open her door.
"Just go inside and sit down," she told him as she pushed open the door. "I don't want you walking around."
He stubbornly held the door open for her. "I'm fine. I just need this cleaned, and that shouldn't take long. We should be at the next house in less than an hour."
She followed him to the clinic. "Next house? There won't be a next house. You need to be in bed. Have you seen your shirt?"
"Head wounds bleed a lot, Elizabeth. It's no big deal."
Elizabeth stifled the urge to hit him. He was a wounded man, after all.
He reached the clinic door first and held it open for her. That gave her the chance to beat him to the reception area. No big deal, he'd said? Well, she'd show him no big deal. Her heels clicked on the worn linoleum floors as she walked briskly to the counter. She grabbed a bright red pen bearing the logo of the Banshee Creek Fire & Rescue department, and signed him in, adding a small note for the nurse.
She turned back to the waiting room to see Gabe chatting with Liam Hagen, who had a bandaged hand. Holly hovered over her brother protectively.
"Really, it's just a scratch," Liam was saying to Gabe. Holly looked exasperated. Elizabeth knew exactly how she felt.
"Ha," Gabe replied, pointing to the back of his head. "Can you see a bump? No, you can't, because it's minuscule. She—" he pointed at Elizabeth, "—still made me to come to the clinic."
"She—" Liam nodded his head toward Holly, "—wrapped my hand in two towels. I looked like the mummy when I walked in here."
"She tried to carry me to the car and then stole my car keys," Gabe replied.
"She ran all the red lights on the way here. Like I was going to bleed to death or something," Liam replied.
Holly rolled her eyes. "This town has only one stoplight, Liam." She glared at her brother. "Just make sure you rest your hand."
"I promise, mummy," he replied. Then he turned to Elizabeth. "This is all your fault, you know. I told you it didn't want to be sold."
She stared at him, confused. "What are you talking about?"
Holly sighed. "He's talking about the house."
Elizabeth raised her brows in disbelief. "The house is an inanimate object. It doesn't care whether it's sold or not."
"That's what I keep telling him," Holly said.
"Fine, you girls keep your skepticism and your selling schemes," Liam said. "Just keep me out of it. I don't want any part of it. Let's talk about something else." He turned toward Gabe. "Is this how she sells houses to her clients? She hits them on the head?"
"That's the only way she's going to sell the Dudley property," Gabe replied.
"The old farm?" Liam asked. "The one the Historical Inquisition is trying to get me to expand? You're not buying it, are you? I don't want to spend two more years dealing with the Hysteric Preservation Committee."
Gabe raised a brow. "I was told they pre-approved your plans for the house."
Liam focused narrowed eyes on Elizabeth. "How do you know about those plans? I thought I burned them."
"I gave her the last copy," Holly said. "Someone should fix that place. It's a nice property."
"Well, that someone isn't me. I already risked life and limb dealing with that homicidal chandelier." He glared at Gabe. "A reno I now have to redo because somebody wanted to play dodge ball with fifty pounds of French crystal."
"Not my fault," Gabe said with another poke in Elizabeth's direction. "She took me there."
"First the Hagen House and then the Dudley Orchard?" Liam raised his brows. "Well, Hunt, I have to hand it to you, you like a challenge."
"He wanted a big house, and those are the largest properties in Banshee Creek," she replied testily. "I have to work with the existing stock."
"Why don't you take him to Middleburg?" Liam asked. "They have lots of nice properties in Middleburg, big yards too."
Elizabeth glared at him.
Gabe gave her a smug look. "She's obsessed with finding me a house in town."
"I don't see why you dislike the town so much," Elizabeth said.
"Maybe he'd like it better—" Liam glanced meaningfully at the blood on Gabe's shirt, "—if it weren't trying to kill him."
Gabe started to answer, but the nurse called out his name, and he got up and walked quickly toward the treatment rooms. The Hagen siblings immediately turned to Elizabeth.
Holly put on a stern face. "You are so not doing this."
"Doing what?" She raised her hands in a defensive gesture. "I'm not doing anything."
"Well, you must have done something," her friend replied, still wearing her trademark Assistant Librarian scowl. "He looked at you like he wanted to eat you up."
"He did?" she said, brightening up instantly.
"He's not going to eat her up," Liam said. "It's against the bro code."
"Bro code? That's ridiculous." Holly turned to her brother. "You wouldn't mind if I had a thing with Gabe or Zach, would you?"
"Gabe's not my bro, so no. Zach, definitely."
Holly's eyes widened in outrage. "Off-limits? Are you kidding?"
"First," her brother counted out, "you're a single mom and you don't have time to date. Second, of course he's off-limits."
"What is it with you guys?" Elizabeth interrupted. "Everyone's had a thing with Zach. He's practically a public service."
"I haven't had a thing with Zach," Holly pointed out. "You haven't had a thing with Zach. We're the only women in Banshee Creek who haven't had a thing with Zach."
"And there's a reason for that," her brother replied.
"So this is serious?" Elizabeth asked him. "Gabe really won't make a move on me."
"Nope."
That was...disappointing. Although she couldn't pinpoint why.
Liam got up, cradling his wounded hand. "They're ready for me. Don't worry, sis, you don't have to come with me. Ave dominas, nos mortituri te salutamus." He headed for the examination rooms.
Holly grimaced. "Oh, gag me with a...crap, what's the Latin for spoon?"
"How am I supposed to know?"
"It's not cucaracha, is it? Oh well, it'll come to me." She turned to frown at Elizabeth. "You're not serious about the Gabe thing, are you? Oh, Lord. Look at your face. You are." She shook her head. "Be careful, if word gets around that you two are an item, your moms will be booking St. Michael's and planning floral arrangements in no time at all."
"I'm an adult, Holly."
"Yeah, an adult with trust and intimacy issues. Do you want to play those out in front of the entire town?"
"I don't have trust issues," Elizabeth squealed. And if she did, they were definitely none of her family's business.
Holly raised a brow, reminding Elizabeth of her last birthday celebration when, under the influence of Caine's triple-strength prickly pear margaritas, she'd regaled Holly and Patricia with amusing—okay, maybe some of them hadn't been very funny—stories about her love life. Clearly, she shouldn't have been quite so forthcoming.
"I just don't want you to get hurt," her friend said. "You have a certain tendency to rush into things."
"Why do you think I'll get hurt? Shouldn't my so-called 'trust' issues protect me?"
Sure, that sounded a bit sarcastic, but intimacy issues? Really? Sure, she had a couple of bad relationships and a broken almost-engagement behind her, but that was totally normal by L.A. standards.
Holly put her hand on Elizabeth's shoulders. "You still think of him as the cute pizza delivery guy who got you out of scrap
es. He's not that guy anymore. I told you about the day Ben found him in the library in a state of, how can I put it, dishabille? And that's not all. Liam says that Gabe's relationship history is..."
Holly paused, a frown crossing her face, and Elizabeth waited impatiently for her to finish. She knew about the "pants in the stacks" incident and about the matchmaking failures, but what other horrors did Gabe's love life contain?
"Actually," Holly continued thoughtfully, "it's a lot like yours."
"Are you kidding me? I've done many things, Holly, but I've never been found in my unmentionables in an public institution."
Holly arched a brow. "What about that thing during that movie shoot in Toronto?"
Oh crud, had she told Holly about Toronto? Her movie friends would kill her. She'd taken a vow of silence about Toronto.
"And that tech tycoon guy you dumped in L.A.," Holly continued. "The one who ended up with the loony sculptor?"
"She's a lovely woman," Elizabeth said firmly, "who used to make Tibetan spirit masks out of circuit boards and sell them as protective charms. I sell haunted houses, Holly, I can't throw stones."
Not that she wanted to anyway. The Buddhist sculptor hadn't broken up her relationship. Elizabeth had left Ethan, her almost-fiancée, when his reaction to her Cannibal Clones success had turned out to be less than enthusiastic. But everything had been for the best. Ethan's new wife had cheerfully given up her art to become an enthusiastic Silicon Valley hostess, and Elizabeth had gone into therapy to figure out why all the men she dated turned into her father.
Holly sighed. "I know warnings never work with you, but please, try to be careful this time."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ELIZABETH HELD on tight to the Ferrari's dashboard, fighting down her queasiness. Gabe drove as if the devil himself were chasing him out of Banshee Creek. The rain had stopped, but the road was still wet and this speed was totally insane. That blow to the head must have killed a couple of his brain cells.
Ghost of a Chance (Banshee Creek Book 2) Page 13
