Breathless (3 page)

Trust her to pull the duty card. “Yes, I’m still coming. I told Dan around seven. That’s right, isn’t it? We’ll eat while Julie looks after the bar, then she can go home. Dan and I’ll take over while you and Amy get to play queen bees. Sound fair?”

A very pleased Darby answered. “Yes. That sounds perfect. I like to watch men do all the work. Okay, I’ll see you tonight. Love you!”

She hung up before he could answer.

“Yeah. You too. Though I don’t know why sometimes,” he muttered as he ended the call and shoved the phone back into his jeans pocket.

Gabe checked his watch and picked up the wrench again, mumbling about time lost on his sister.

“What are you grousing about in here, son?”

Gabe glanced up from his position to look at his dad. He rested his arm on his knee. “Nothing important. How’s Jezebel doing? She ready yet?”

His favorite breeding cow was ready to calve any day now. She’d seemed out of sorts the last few days, more so than usual when at this stage.

“No. I think she’ll go a few more days yet. She doesn’t look too comfortable though. We’ll just keep an eye on her. She’ll be all right,” Ed Jameson said.

Looking at his dad was like looking into a time machine and seeing what Dan would be like in thirty years. It was uncanny how alike they were.

Tall and broad and lean, his dad was as fit as they came. Gabe believed his dad would even give
him
a run for his money. He had his dad to thank for his height and build, and his mother to thank for his face. He and Darby took after her, right down to the flint-grey eyes, while Dan and their father’s were bright blue. While his mother had naturally blonde hair, theirs was their father’s black.

“Was that your sister on the phone?” his dad asked. At Gabe’s distracted nod, he continued. “She end up going over to see that new filly everyone’s been making a fuss about?”

Gabe glanced up at him. “She’s not a horse, Dad. Yeah, she did.”

“And?” Ed prompted.

Gabe shrugged a shoulder. Leaning into the lug nut, his muscles ached with the effort. “And what?” he growled.

“And is she as pretty as they say? What did you think? She worth another look?”

Gabe’s grip on the wrench slipped. The wrench flew off the lug nut, causing his knuckles to scrape hard over the rough metal of the nut. Gabe swore loud and long, and threw the offending tool to the ground, sucking at his hurt hand through his teeth.

Ed picked the wrench up and held it out to Gabe.

“I take it that’s a yes,” he said. A grin flooded his face.

Gabe glared at his father and shook his throbbing hand. “You take nothing.” He dropped the wrench into the open toolbox. “I’ll finish this tomorrow. I’m going for a shower.” He didn’t wait for an answer, turning his back on his grinning father.

Chapter Four

Emma stopped and grabbed at Darby’s arm. Darby turned toward her, puzzled.

“What is it, Emma?”

Emma swallowed. Heat suffused her skin and made her all clammy. “I don’t know if I should. Go in, I mean. What if…” She trailed off, not wanting to sound like a nervous schoolgirl.

Darby sent her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. There’ll be a fuss, but you’ll be fine. I won’t let them eat you alive. Maybe chew a little,” she teased. “We’ll all be with you. Dan and Gabe won’t let anyone hassle you. There’s no need to be nervous. You look amazing, so you don’t need to worry on that count.”

Emma looked down at her dusky-pink-and-cream sundress, the shoestring straps flowing into a fitted baroque-style bodice that pushed her small breasts up and cinched her waist, giving her the illusion of a longer line. A full chiffon skirt ended just below her knees. Silver, heeled sandals with ties that wrapped around her ankles finished the look. She’d calmed her thick hair with hot rollers, giving her a glossy, chocolate-brown mane that fell over her shoulders and halfway down her back.

She’d worried that she’d overdressed, but Darby had arrived wearing a lovely flowing cotton dress that reached almost to her ankles.

Emma nodded. She was being ridiculous. “Okay. Lead on, Macduff.”

They pushed in through the double front doors, the smell of fresh-cooked food and the underlying scent of stale beer instantly overwhelming her senses. Emma looked around, curious. She hadn’t taken much notice last time she was here, because she’d been more concerned with finding her new home before dark.

This was a busy place. The general hubbub of conversation and background country music from the jukebox complemented the relaxed dinnertime atmosphere. She willed herself to relax a little. This was what she’d wanted when she picked Jefferson’s Crossing. The relaxed country atmosphere, the fresh air with no hint of smog and the feeling of community. A new place to call home, and if she was lucky, somewhere to fit in. Somewhere far away from the troubles and memories in Australia.

Eyes slowly turned their way, pair by pair, as more people became aware of her presence. Conversations stuttered and stopped, until all that was left was the sound of the jukebox.

Emma faltered, ready to turn and run, when a warm, soft hand grasped hers and squeezed gently. Darby walked ahead, ignoring the scrutiny they were receiving, her hand a thread of support in a suddenly scary world.

Emma looked around and was caught by several sets of eyes, some welcoming, some openly hostile. She smiled quickly at them, glancing away before seeing reactions. She was as nervous as hell. Not even on her first date had she been this tense. She’d never felt so on show in her life, and it wasn’t a feeling she liked.

They reached a booth up near the bar on the right. Emma lagged slightly behind Darby, still tethered by her hand. Darby stopped in front of her, beside her brother.

Gabe glanced up, not seeing Emma behind Darby, then back down to the bottle in his hands.

“Hell, Darby. About time you showed. I’m just about dying of thirst. Amy said I couldn’t open this until you got here.” He reached forward and slid the corkscrew into the bottle, twisting until it popped out.

Belatedly, he seemed to notice all had stilled in the bar. He looked around, his eyes betraying his surprise at Emma’s presence.

Emma’s face erupted with warmth. Heat rushed in tiny pinpricks all over her body. Even her ears felt hot. Gabe’s eyes seared her skin as she felt his gaze travel down over her chest and waist, then on down to her feet. For a gay man, he sure gave the once-over.

“There’s an extra for dinner, Dan,” Darby called as the man in question walked toward the table. “Amy, this is Emma. Emma, Amy. Gabe, you know.”

Emma smiled weakly at Amy, absently noting her soft, blonde curls and brown eyes. At least Amy was smiling at her. Darby pushed Emma into the booth beside Gabe and sat down opposite.

Gabe scooted over. He moved up against the wall, as far from her as he could without changing seats. Disappointment sat hard in her stomach. The man really didn’t seem to like her much.

“Dan, I’d like you to meet our newest citizen. Emma, this is my bigger brother,” Darby said.

Emma held out her hand to shake Dan’s. His grip was firm and warm.

“A pleasure, Emma.” He sent an accusing glance in Gabe’s direction. “Gabe didn’t mention that you might be coming for dinner.”

“I didn’t know,” he said, eyeing a deliberately oblivious Darby.

Emma cleared her dry throat. “If this is a problem, I can leave. I understand. I didn’t mean to intrude on a family thing.”

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere,” Amy interjected, smiling and winking at her. “You’re stuck with us. For a few hours at least.” She turned to her husband. “Get us another wine glass, would you, babe?” Amy returned her brown gaze to Emma. “You like wine, right?”

Emma nodded, overwhelmed by the situation. It wasn’t often that she was so out of her depth, but she felt severely unprepared tonight. It was hard enough moving from everything she knew, let alone facing the entire population of her new town at the local bar.

“Yes, thank you.” Emma took the offered glass of red wine, taking a large gulp, hoping a fast infusion of alcohol would steady her crazy heartbeat.

Before dinner, Darby had taken her around the room, introducing her to the more reticent patrons, and they’d stopped at Millie’s table. She’d given Emma the once-over and promptly dismissed her, turning back to her friends and ignoring them after offering a terse “hello”. Some of the other girls had been a little more welcoming, but after a sharp glance from Millie, they’d sat back and avoided her gaze.

Emma watched contentedly as the dinner plates were cleared from the table. She felt so full she worried that she’d burst. Dan had gotten the cook to put such a big steak on her plate Emma thought she’d gotten half a cow. She sat back in the padded seat and contemplated Millie’s table. Millie had turned to place her back directly at Emma, showing her exactly what she thought of her.

“Don’t worry about them.”

Darcy’s gentle command brought Emma’s attention back to the table.

Amy nodded, agreeing. “Millie’s just sore she’s not the prettiest thing in town anymore. She’s used to having the guys fall all over her, and she doesn’t like it that the attention’s not on her anymore. She’ll get over it.”

Darby’s laugh made Emma’s lips tilt in response. These women were so nice. They’d made her feel comfortable and fielded the expected questions, comments and introductions from the more welcoming citizens of Jefferson’s Crossing.

“Yeah, she’s not happy that the boys didn’t make a list about her!” Darby laughed, then swung horrified eyes to Emma. “I mean, ah…”

Emma frowned and flicked her gaze between the two women opposite her. “What list?”

Amy shook her head at Darby. “Good one, Darb. She didn’t have to know.”

Emma sat up straighter, her stomach beginning to twist into knots again, just when she was finally relaxing. “What list? What are you talking about?”

Darby’s shoulders dropped. She waved a dismissive hand around the room. “Them. The guys. They’ve set up a bet on who they think you’ll agree to date first.” She grabbed hold of Emma’s hand across the table, her eyes earnest. “It’s harmless. They’re just being idiots. If it helps, they all want to be first.”

Emma’s eyes jumped to Amy.

“She’s right, Emma. It’s all in good fun. We weren’t going to tell you.” She glared at her sister-in-law beside her. “But now you know. I hope you don’t think any less of us.”

The surprise at the existence of the bet sank in as her heart settled its rapid pace. “No. Not of you, if that’s what you mean.” Humor started like a small seed in her belly. “Who’s winning so far?”

Darby shot Amy a relieved look and grinned at her. “Ryan’s tying with Donny, the last I heard. The pool is up pretty high, apparently. After tonight, it should skyrocket.”

Ryan. Gabe’s friend. The cute blond who had sat himself down next to her within minutes of their arrival at the family’s booth.

Emma looked over to where he was standing propped up with one elbow on the bar. The toe of his boot was hooked over the stool in front of him. He was talking to Gabe while Gabe served clients around him.

Gabe’s grin as he joked with the men at the bar sent heat spiraling in her blood and burning its way through her body. His eyes caught hers, and his grin faded slightly. Ryan raised an eyebrow and turned to look at what had caught Gabe’s attention, raising his beer to her in salute, a cheeky grin widening his full mouth.

Emma dropped her eyes to her drink and wrapped her hands around the half-empty glass.

Stop it, girl. He’s gay. He’s most definitely not available.

She almost laughed at the irony of that. The first man she was attracted to—an unwanted attraction, at that—and he was gay. There really
was
something wrong with her head.

“He’s not in on it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Emma blinked. “Who?”

“Gabe. He’s not on the list,” Darby clarified.

Of course he isn’t.

Emma’s reply didn’t make it past her lips as her eyes caught on a lone figure sitting on the other side of the wide dance floor, in the last booth, far to the back in the shadows.

“Who’s that?” She was sure she hadn’t seen him sitting there when Darby had taken her around for introductions.

Darby spun in her seat and followed Emma’s gaze. “Oh, that’s Old Pete. His wife died a few years ago. He comes here every night for dinner. He doesn’t say much. Keeps to himself. He eats, listens to the band or the jukebox for a while, then disappears again. Same time every night.”

Emma’s heart constricted and clenched tight. The poor thing. She glanced around at the other tables. No one took any notice of him. No one even looked in his direction. Tears for the loneliness this man must be feeling—to come and spend time at the busiest time of day in a crowded bar—welled up.

She bit down hard on her rampant emotions and picked up her glass, scooting to the end of the bench seat. “I’ll be back soon.”

Taking in their surprised expressions, Emma stood and walked across the dance floor. Every eye in the place followed her progress. The strength of their stares impaled her. She forced herself to ignore it and stopped in front of Old Pete’s booth.