Someone to Watch Over Me. Roz Fox Denny

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СКАЧАТЬ about land conservation projects currently in the works? I promised to stay with SOS until we close on that Utah deal near Heber City.”

      “So you’re really going to do it?”

      Marc lowered his glass. “Do what?”

      “Bail out on the team?”

      “I don’t call it bailing out exactly.” Mark fiddled with his glass.

      “What do you call it?” Gabe shot back.

      “Look, Gabe, I thought I already explained myself. I’m tired of the gypsy life.”

      “I know what you said. It’s just…all so sudden. First Colt. Then Moss, and now you. Hell, you guys are like family. The only family I’ve got,” he said gruffly.

      Reggie broke into their conversation. “The house that comes with the veterinary practice I bought in Idaho needs sprucing up. But it’s got two passable bedrooms and a bath with hot and cold running water.” He offered a shrug and a toothy grin. “Might do you good to take out your frustration with hammer and nails. What do you say, Gabe? The invitation’s on the table for an extended visit.”

      “Thanks, but I work with my head. I’m not so good with my hands.”

      Marc unleashed a belly laugh that drew some attention. “That’s not the word we used to get from your dates, Gabriel, old friend.”

      Gabe socked him on the shoulder.

      “Hey, pipe down.” Reggie nudged them both. “Colt and Summer are about to smash cake in each other’s faces. Trace is gonna do his thing. Then we can get to the good part. Eating cake and drinking this high-octane stuff,” he said, wagging his glass.

      Gabe craned his neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive caterer. He saw another woman, similarly dressed, topping off champagne glasses. The woman with the braided hair seemed to have vanished. Gabe hoped she hadn’t left the party. Releasing the breath he’d been holding, he massaged the back of his neck. Something must be wrong with him to be mooning over some woman he’d never even met.

      The newlyweds went to stand behind the tiered cake. The local sheriff and a rancher Gabe had met the last time he was in town were doing a bang-up job of heckling the couple. His mission then had been on behalf of Save Open Spaces. Through their efforts, Summer had not been forced to sell this historic ranch to a crooked developer commissioned by her equally unscrupulous ex-husband.

      The three friends fell silent. But it meant everything when Colt’s roving gaze sought each of them out. He smiled and mouthed semper fi. A hole opened in Gabe’s chest again. Damn, he was going to miss these guys. Marc might’ve figured he was kidding, calling them family. But the unvarnished truth was that no one else on earth gave a damn about Gabe Poston.

      Not a soul since he was twelve, anyway. That terrible morning in Texas when his mom’s body washed up in Baytown on the shores of Galveston Bay. All the neighbors whispered she’d have died anyway. Shooting heroin off a dirty needle killed her, some said. Russ Poston, a long-haul trucker, claimed he couldn’t, or more likely wouldn’t, raise a kid he’d never believed was his. Gabe’s grandparents backed their son’s claim. And his mother’s folks lived hand-to-mouth on public assistance. They couldn’t afford to feed the eight kids they’d already produced, let alone take on another. In a blink he was made a ward of the Houston court.

      But Gabe had always been good at taking care of himself. Or so he thought, until at seventeen he ran afoul of the law and a cop invited him to join the Marines or spend more than four years behind bars. He’d made the wisest choice, it turned out.

      So what in heaven’s name was wrong with him now?

      Blinking to clear a vision gone cloudy, Gabe did his best to work up enthusiasm for watching Summer and Colt trade promises along with bites of cake. He raised his glass with everyone else. He even prompted Trace when he stumbled and got flustered during his one-line toast.

      The icy champagne tasted good going down, but Gabe declined a second topping off of his glass. After setting his empty flute on one of the trays situated around the patio, he let himself be swept forward with the boisterous crowd, all bent on hugging and back-slapping the happy couple. Gabe attempted to veer off the moment he saw that the caterer with the haunted eyes had returned to finish cutting the cake. But the other revelers were too determined, and Gabe soon found himself pressed into a corner with the blushing bride.

      “Gabe, hi.” Summer inched farther backward, letting Gabe’s broad shoulders conceal her from the crush of well-wishers. “Hey, block for me a minute, will you, please? I’ve been hugged so many times my ribs are all but cracked. Just until I catch my breath,” she added, holding Gabe in place.

      “No problem. Especially as you’re just the person to answer a question for me.”

      “You have a question?” Summer smiled. “Colt calls you the answer man.”

      “Afraid I’m out of my depth on this one. See the woman cutting your cake? Who is she?” Gabe spoke in a rush because he was bumped from behind.

      Summer dipped her head to look beneath the arm he’d anchored to the wall. “Izzy, you mean? Isabella Navarro.” Summer straightened, lowered her voice and frowned at Gabe. “We’ve got a large Basque population living east of Callanton. She’s from their community.”

      Gabe didn’t say anything. He made it obvious that he was waiting for more information.

      Summer grudgingly gave a little. “Granted, Izzy’s beautiful, talented and about as nice a person as you’d ever hope to meet. She’s also in the midst of a horrible personal tragedy, Gabe. I’ll gladly introduce you to any other of the unattached females at our reception, since you seem to be put off by Megan. Oh, look—over near the grape arbor. It’s Maggie Fitzgerald and Dawn Cunningham.” Summer physically turned Gabe’s head in the direction she wanted him to look.

      He couldn’t pretend interest in either the flashy redhead or the petite brunette who chatted with Jesse Cook, owner of the Broken Arrow Ranch. Gabe had met Jesse weeks ago and liked what he’d seen of Summer’s nearest neighbor.

      “Tell me more about Isabella,” he murmured, returning his gaze to the cake table.

      Summer pursed her lips, first studying Gabe, then slanting a worried glance toward her friend.

      Colt Quinn elbowed his way into their corner and slipped an arm possessively around his wife. “Go find your own woman, Poston. This one’s mine.” Bending, Colt pressed a kiss on Summer’s mouth. As their kiss ended, Colt started to move Summer out of the corner.

      “Hey, hold on.” Gabe caught at her lacy sleeve. “I’m serious about wanting to know why a beautiful woman has such soulless eyes.”

      Summer’s voice dropped even lower. “I’ll tell you because you’re Colt’s best friend. But Izzy’s my good friend, too, so listen up and then forget about this fascination you have with her, okay?” Clearing her throat, Summer said tightly, “Ten months ago, not long after she won a bitter divorce, Izzy got home late from work to find her ex in her garage—sitting in his car with the motor running.”

      Gabe shifted uncomfortably. “God,” he exclaimed. “You’re telling me the SOB killed himself at her place?”

      Summer СКАЧАТЬ