Single and Searching (17 page)

Gabe hurried around to Casey's side, oblivious to her protests. "No, come on inside. It won't take me long to change."

Casey unfastened Henry S.' seatbelt and helped him out. Propping him on her hip, she followed Gabe inside.

"Do you want something to drink?" Gabe asked as he led her into his kitchen. For some reason, the pale beige walls and sparse furniture suddenly seemed formal and impersonal.

"No, thanks." Casey shifted, uneasily, and scanned the room. "It's a lovely house, Gabe. I can't believe you live here all by yourself."

Gabe shrugged. Was that derision in her voice?

He'd never given the size of the house that much thought, but it was twice as big as Casey's. He hoped she didn't think he was trying to show off. "Make yourself at home," Gabe said. "There's orange juice in the fridge if Henry S. wants some, but not much food. I usually eat out."

Casey settled Henry S. on a sleek, black lacquered chair. "We'll wait right here."

Gabe hesitated. Why did Casey look so anxious? Did she think he brought her here to seduce her?

Hell. He wouldn't seduce her in front of her son. "I'll go change."

Casey nodded, and Gabe noticed her fingers clench the counter. Muttering a silent curse, he sauntered out of the room.

He had done something wrong by bringing her to his place. But he had no idea what it was.

* * *

"Henry S., don't move. I don't want you to break anything in here." Casey shook a warning finger at her little boy.

"Gabe's house has nice things, not junk like ours." Fixing Henry S. with her most intimidating stare, Casey forced her voice to sound stern. The vase in the center of the kitchen island probably cost a thousand dollars.

She spotted the note hanging on the front. Curious, she began to read. "List for the Perfect Woman: Neat, understanding of my job, orderly, attractive." Gabe had several characteristics listed, then crosses drawn through them all, all but two—intelligent and attractive. Hmm.

She certainly didn't fit his list.

Then why had he been pursuing her?

Henry S. giggled, scrambled off the chair and ran across the kitchen. "Expwore," Henry S. said.

"No." Casey's eyes squinted into a frown. "No, buddy, you can't explore. Come back here!"

But her son had a spurt of energy and took off running.

"Henry S., stop!" Casey dashed into the living room just as he climbed onto the sofa.

Casey glared at him. "Get down, buddy, right now."

"No." Henry S. jumped up and down. "No, no, no, no, no!"

Gabe stepped into the room. "So, is this what they call the terrible two's?"

Casey nodded. "Yes. And all that candy and soda at the game didn't help either." Henry S. dove off the couch and landed on the coffee table. A loud crack rang through the air then the coffee table crashed to the floor.

"Henry S.!"

Her little boy screamed and grabbed the sides to keep from falling, but the table leg splintered into pieces and he toppled to the floor.

"Oh, no!" Casey cried.

Henry S. squirmed and sat up, tears streaming down his cheeks. Gabe rushed forward, and Casey froze, memories of her stepfather's harsh scoldings and spankings assaulting her.

She would not tolerate anyone treating her little boy that way.

But Gabe knelt down beside her son, his expression concerned. "Are you okay, sport?" He gently picked him up, cradled him in his arms, then held him, quieting his cries with soothing words. Then he sat down in the wing chair and checked Henry S.' body and head for injuries.

Casey visually swept her son's body, searching for blood, but thankfully didn't see any.

"Sorwee," Henry S. cried.

"Shh, it's okay, sport," Gabe crooned. "Show me where it hurts."

Henry S. pointed to his bottom. "Here."

Gabe smiled, drying the child's eyes with a handkerchief. "Well, I think that'll be okay. As long as you didn't bump your head, little fellow." He kissed Henry S. on the head then settled him into the chair. Henry S. snuggled up with the Afghan, rubbed his wet cheeks, and closed his eyes.

Casey's heart pattered. Gabe was so kind and gentle; he didn't even seem fazed by the fact that her son had destroyed his furniture.

"Casey?" Gabe slowly walked toward her.

She heard him call her name, but her throat was too thick with emotions to answer.

Then he lifted her chin with his hand, and she fell into his arms.

"Casey, what's wrong?" Gabe wrapped his arms around her and stroked her back, pressing her face into the crook of his arm. "Henry S. is okay. I checked him over. He's not hurt."

Casey nodded against him but words lodged in her throat.

Gabe cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. "Casey, what is it?"

"He broke your furniture," Casey whispered.

He tightened his arms around her, his hands continuing to stroke her, calming her. "My God, the table doesn't matter. Henry S. is more important than any piece of furniture."

Casey swiped at her tears. She was making a fool out of herself, but feelings penned up for years surfaced, and her control snapped. As a little girl, she'd longed to be held and comforted, but there had never been anyone.

She'd always been alone.

She didn't want to be alone anymore. She wanted what she had with Gabe to last.

But she'd learned the hard way that no one stuck around forever.

Still, it felt so good to be in his arms that she decided she didn't care.

She'd take whatever he could give her and worry about picking up the broken pieces of her heart later.

* * *

Gabe exhaled a shaky breath and tilted Casey's face up forcing her to look at him. "Forget the damned table. Look at me. Tell me what's wrong."

Casey trembled. "I can't."

He rocked her against him. "If you think I would ever hurt Henry S., honey, you're wrong."

"I'm sorry..." Casey's voice came out choked.

"Is that it? You thought I would hurt him?" Anger tinged his voice as he pulled away slightly. "What kind of a man do you think I am?"

Casey clenched his arms. He didn't deserve her doubts. She had to make him understand.

"That is what you thought, isn't it?" he asked. "I can see it written all over your face."

"No," Casey whispered, but her voice quivered making her a liar.

Gabe raked a hand through his hair. "That's it, isn't it? You thought I cared more about my furniture than a little boy? What did you think I'd do? Scream at him? Hit him? Throw you both out?"

Gabe's anger made Casey tremble even more, but the hurt in his eyes forced her to speak.

"No, Gabe, it wasn't you... it... was just a bad memory. My stepfather." She averted her gaze, knotting her hands together. Talking about Lou was something she never did. She couldn't bear to see the disgusted look on Gabe's face when he learned the truth about her shameful past. How could he possibly understand when he had a wonderful loving family?

How could she tell him that no one had wanted her?

He tightened his jaw. "What did he do?"

Casey swallowed hard, battling the memories. She didn't know if she could tell him.

"Casey?" Gabe tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and brushed his lips over her cheek. "Talk to me, sweetheart. I need to know what happened."

Henry S. stirred and whimpered. Casey glanced at her son and moved to go to him, but Gabe held her in his embrace.

"He's fine. We'll take him home after you talk to me."

A tense silence filled the air as she searched for words. Then his soft breath feathered her cheek.

He was waiting, being patient. She owed him the truth.

But her courage failed her.

A second later, Henry S.' small voice pierced the silence. "Mommy. Bwankie."

"I... have to get him," Casey said.

Gabe's frustrated sigh punctuated the air as Casey scooped Henry S. into her arms. "It's okay, buddy. We're going home. You're blankie's in your bed." Anxious to escape, she headed for the door, avoiding Gabe's glare.

Another strained silence fell between them as they settled back inside the car. Often in the midst of a noisy afternoon with Henry S., she yearned for silence, but not this tense kind of silence. Disappointment, anger, and hurt radiated from Gabe's every sigh, every glance, every breath.

She had no idea how to appease him, except to confess the truth. But wouldn't that force him away?

Closing her eyes, she grasped for strength. She was falling in love with Gabe. Watching him with Henry S. only intensified the feelings.

Knowing he would care for her son and wouldn't hurt him meant more than flowery words or any of his romantic presents. But what could she offer him?

She still had to deal with Travis' sudden appearance and plea for custody. Would Gabe help her if he knew the truth, or would he agree that Henry S. should be with his biological father?

He parked the car and climbed out, but Casey opened her own door, reaching for Henry S. Gabe took him instead and marched up the sidewalk, forcing her to follow.

A moment later, Casey froze when she noticed her front door was ajar.

Gabe cut his gaze toward her. "You locked it when we left, didn't you?"

"I thought so." Uneasiness skated up her spine. Had someone broken into the house? Were they still there?

He shifted the toddler toward her. "Here, hold him. I'll check it out." Gabe's hand covered Casey's. "If you hear anything, take Henry S. and get the hell out of here. Understood?"

Casey started to argue, but Gabe's expression cut off her protests. She would do whatever she had to do to protect her son.

But she cared about Gabe, too, so she touched his arm. "Gabe, be careful."

He nodded.

Tension knotted Casey's stomach as he eased inside the house. She rocked her son in her arms, wondering why anyone would break into her house. She didn't have anything valuable. No nice jewelry or cash in the house. And her TV and computer were ancient.

Long tense minutes passed and her imagination ran wild. What if someone was still inside? What if Gabe got hurt?

Finally footsteps clattered, and Gabe reappeared.

"The house is empty, but someone could have been here. Look around and see if anything's missing while I call the police."

Casey shook her head. "No, don't call them. I probably just left the door unlocked. I'm always doing that..."

Gabe frowned and she hoped he didn't get suspicious.

Then she carried Henry S. to his bedroom and tucked him bed.

Gabe waited in the den while she searched the rooms. Her office looked okay, her bedding rumpled on her bed in her room, but she didn't see anything missing. When she finally returned, she'd managed to calm herself.

"I don't see anything missing. Although I can't find that new scarf you gave me."

"Where did you leave it?" Gabe asked.

"On my bed." Casey shrugged. "Oh, well, Henry S. probably took it off to play and hid it."

Gabe nodded, although his eyes narrowed as if he didn't quite know whether to believe her.

"You know, Casey, if something's going on, you can talk to me."

Casey's heart hammered in her ribs as she battled a case of nerves. She wanted to tell him about Travis, about everything.

Then he stroked her arm. "I want you to trust me."

Moonlight shimmered across his dark hair, highlighting the whiskey-colored streaks and softening his stark features. His gray eyes looked like two luminous pool of water.

Casey ached to have his arms around her again, comforting her. But she couldn't make her voice work enough to explain.

Gabe's sigh of disappointment echoed in the quiet between them. Another heartbeat passed before he spoke.

"Good night, sweetheart. Call me if you need me."

Casey stood immobile, her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands. Emotions warred within her. She wanted him to stay. She wanted him to leave.

Still she couldn't move.

Slowly Gabe opened the door and turned away.

"He didn't want me," Casey said in a voice so low she didn't know if Gabe would hear her.

But his foot stilled. Casey whirled around, unable to face him. She heard the door close softly and felt him move up behind her. His breath brushed against her neck as his hands gently rubbed her arms.

"Did he hurt you?" Gabe asked in a thick voice.

Casey shivered. "Yes. He... he was cruel..."

Gabe's fingers tightened on her arms, and she decided she might as well tell Gabe the truth. If he walked out, she would survive. She'd survived alone before.

"My mother was young when she had me, only seventeen, and she... she couldn't take care of me, so when I was a baby, she put me in foster care. She wouldn't sign adoption papers, so I moved from home to home. When I was thirteen, she came back and got me." Casey's voice broke, and she paused, willing herself to continue.

Gabe wrapped his arms around her and pressed her back against his chest, gently stroking her hair away from her face. "What about your father?"

Casey sighed. "I don't even know his name. I'm not sure my mother does either."

Silence again. Casey expected him to leave, but Gabe tightened his embrace. "What happened then?"

"My mother married this man named Lou, my stepfather. He was obsessive about things. Compulsive. Everything had to be in order, even his foods."

Gabe tensed. "Let me guess. He didn't like his vegetables touching."

Casey laughed softly, but her laughter echoed with sadness. "He didn't like having a child around. And I was a pretty messy kid with a lot of spunk." Casey looked down, gripping Gabe's arms with her hands. "He used to yell at me and make me go without meals and clean things up over and over, stack things in neat rows. If one was out of place, he'd knock them down and make me do it over and over and over again..."

"God, Casey." Gabe gently pulled her into his arms. "What a bastard."

Casey settled into his warm embrace, his comforting touch assuaging some of the pain. Still, the shameful taunts she'd heard in high school echoed in her mind, and fresh tears rolled unchecked down her face. Her mascara streaked Gabe's shirt, but she didn't care. Between the mud and mustard on his slacks, she owed him a new wardrobe anyway.