Forever Found Page 3

  Gabe grunted. “She didn’t design it. She hired some guy and just wrote the check.” Turning his back on the two, Gabe moved his patient to recovery. In the old shelter, pre-Marla, recovery had been a large plastic tub on an old table shoved in the corner of the exam room. This new shelter had a separate connected room, with plush beds that were so soft Gabe had thought about curling up in one a time or two.

  Marla’s fingerprints were everywhere he turned. On everything he touched.

  Everything he wanted to touch.

  The soft tapping of stiletto heels sounded behind him. “Is the little guy going to be okay?” she asked from the doorway.

  “Yes.” Gabe stroked the dog’s head and turned. He brushed past her, back into the exam room, and fought to ignore the subtle woodsy scent that teased his senses as he passed her. She smelled exotic and rich. He strode to the sink and washed his hands. Thoroughly. Dax had disappeared, but she lingered behind.

  Sighing, Gabe turned off the tap and ripped a wad of paper towels out of the dispenser. He leaned back against the sink and dried his hands. “You want something?”

  She stood about four feet away, examining the mural painted across one wall. She’d wanted to hang pictures in his exam room, make it a pleasant environment for him to work in, she’d said. He’d nixed the idea, not needing dust collectors where he did surgery. So, she’d had a damn mural painted instead. As tenacious as a pit bull.

  “Why would you assume that?” She tucked a loose tendril of that peaches ‘n cream hair around her ear and cocked her head, exposing her long, silky neck.

  Everything in Gabe’s body went tight.

  “This is the second time I’ve had the pleasure of your company today,” Gabe said, his tone telling her it was anything but. “Although since this isn’t my normal day at the shelter, I guess you came down here wearing that getup to flirt with our dogwalker.” He tossed the wadded-up paper towels at his garbage can, watching them bank off the rim and fall inside. “He’s too young for you, by the way. If you care about those things.”

  She turned to face him. With her boots, they almost stood eye-to-eye. “I don’t.” She pursed her lips. “How old is he?”

  “Twenty-five.” Twenty-four? Gabe shrugged. Whatever the age, not a good match for Marla.

  She made a little humming sound, and her eyes twinkled. “Would it shock you to know I’ve been with younger? Of course, I was younger then, too.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he dug his fingers into his opposite biceps. Of course she had. Looking as good as she did, and with daddy’s money, she could probably have anyone she wanted. And wouldn’t care about the consequences.

  “How old are you?” she asked, spinning a large emerald ring around on her finger. A line creased her forehead before disappearing.

  “Thirty-three.” He wasn’t quite asshole enough to reciprocate the question. “What do you want?” he repeated.

  “Oh.” She laughed, a light tinkling that was like a hook under his skin. “That.” She sidled to the door of the exam room and pushed it shut. The click as the latch slid home echoed in the room. Turning, she breathed in deep, her chest ballooning beneath her blue silk dress. “As to that, it’s you I wanted to see. I drove past your office first and when you weren’t there, took a chance you’d be here.”

  Gabe shifted his weight. “Very determined of you. Why?”

  The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten the pink inner flesh of her lips. “I thought you might have gotten a hint from my getup, as you call it.” One side of her mouth curled up. “I’m here to seduce you.”

  Chapter Three

  The ticking of her Cartier watch sounded faintly in her ears. Everything else in the room was quiet as the grave. Even her heart seemed to have paused in its rabbit pace. She hadn’t thought propositioning someone would be so intimidating. Usually men came on to her. She didn’t have to do the work. But it wasn’t as though she was taking a large risk. How many single men refused the offer of a no-strings sweaty fling?

  Although Gabe probably wasn’t lacking for company. He was six-foot-something, built, with silky-looking cocoa brown hair a woman itched to run her fingers through. And he was near the start of a decade she was soon leaving. From his perspective, the deal she offered might not look as appealing.

  “Why would you want to do that?” He stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. “You slumming today?”

  She blinked. “A person with a medical degree is hardly slumming.” And Marla had lived long enough to know that things like occupation and wealth truly didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. And so had Gabe. Which meant his question wasn’t one born of insecurity. Rather, he meant his words as an insult. To her. That she was the type of person who would care about status.

  Her stomach clenched. She’d thought that he saw past her image. It was one of the reasons why she liked him. When a woman had money, she had to watch out for those who only saw her bank account. To try to avoid the fawning and the envious. Gabe wasn’t either, and that was as refreshing as skinny-dipping in a cool pond on a hot day. She could take his jabs, his glowering looks.

  She didn’t know if she could take his rejection, however.

  She swayed forward until only inches separated their bodies. Lightly, nervous that at any moment he’d slap her hand away, she traced the neck of his polo shirt. At the vee, her fingers met crisp, dark hair. “I’m not one for playing games—”

  He snorted.

  “—so I’m going to lay it out for you.” His skin was warm under the pads of her fingers, his chest heaving slightly more than usual. She smiled. “I’m attracted to you, and I think you’re attracted to me. It’s been a while and I…” Need to feel alive again. Young. Desired. “I thought we might enjoy a mutually beneficial relationship.”

  He caught her wrist, freezing her hand. But he didn’t pull it off his body. “Those are some fancy words for a simple act.” His eyes glittered like chips of dark amber. “You’ve come to the wrong man. I’m not a flowers and champagne guy. I don’t do romance, and you, darling, are as high-maintenance as your car.”

  “I know what kind of man you are.” She looked up and down his length. The cotton of his shirt and jeans couldn’t hide the taut muscles or the contained energy. He might not be perceptive, but he had all the right attributes for what she had in mind. “And I know what I’m asking for.” Her heart did a little tap dance in her chest and she frowned. She wasn’t usually uncertain around men. Gabe should be no different. She pushed her nerves aside. “You can’t deny there’s something between us. Why not work it out of our systems? Have a little fun?” He still had a hold on her one wrist, but she rested her other palm on his chest and slowly slid it down to his stomach.

  Faster than she could blink, Gabe had her up against the door, pinning both of her hands above her head and pressing his body into hers. He scraped his jaw along her cheek, his breath teasing her ear.

  “Yes, there’s something between us.” His tone said that whatever the something was, he wasn’t happy about it. As he was plastered against her and her body was lighting up in all the right spots, she didn’t really pay his tone much heed.

  His lips brushed her earlobe. “Tell me. Are you bored? Am I your latest hobby? A project?” He flicked the tip of his tongue across her skin, and a shiver raced down her spine as a groan tore from his lips.

  “I’m not bored.” She was lying. But her reasons shouldn’t affect his decision. Either he wanted her or he didn’t. It didn’t have to be complicated. “This could be a damn fine hobby, though.”

  His lips were soft, his teeth sharp as he nibbled a path down her neck. “And if I say no, you going to stop writing checks for Forever Friends? Is that what this little game is? A power trip?”

  All the air left her lungs and she jerked, the back of her head hitting the door. “What?” she whispered. She stared into his e
yes, hoping to see a hint of amusement, something that would tell her he was attempting a bad joke.

  But the joke was on her. All she saw in his eyes was disgust.

  “And what happens when you get bored of me?” His words drilled into her. “When you go back to your fancy dinners and house parties. You gonna give me a little pat on the ass and tell all your girlfriends about the time you nailed the hired help? Because that’s what I am to you. The vet whose salary you pay.”

  She pushed him away, and he willingly went. Anger quickly swept away her hurt. “I’ve never said any such thing.”

  “You didn’t have to. Your sense of entitlement speaks for itself.”

  Her hands began to tremble and she crossed her arms, holding them to her sides. Nausea rose like the tide in her body, burning the back of her throat with bile. She knew she didn’t have much to offer the world. She’d filled her twenties with parties and college classes so she’d give the appearance of doing something without the actual effort. She couldn’t decide what she wanted to do, so had drifted, happy with her whirlwind social life until her deda had become ill. So now she didn’t have any experience or marketable skills to offer. But she’d at least thought she could offer herself and there would be ready takers. She might not be beautiful, but she was attractive enough, nice enough, smart enough that most people enjoyed her company.

  But she wasn’t enough for Gabe.

  There wasn’t much of her dignity left to gather, but she did her best, running her hands down her shift and slowing her breathing. She forced her gaze to meet his, tricked herself into thinking she saw regret before she knew better. “All you had to do was say no,” she said, her voice quiet. She turned for the door, opening it carefully and slipping into the hallway.

  She found Maddie chewing on a length of blue rope in the playroom. Marla had been proud of the room when the remodel had been completed. The shelter was adapted from an old mill she’d inherited from her grandmother. The large central space had been transformed from a derelict death trap to a room with daybeds, sofas, and play equipment for the dogs. But Gabe was right. She hadn’t designed it. Hadn’t helped build it. Only paid for it. What was there for her to take pride in?

  Tapping her hip, she cleared her throat and called, “Time to go.”

  Maddie cocked her head and popped to her feet. She trotted to Marla’s side and poked her nose into Marla’s leg, her dark brown eyes a liquid question.

  “I’m fine.” She scratched behind Maddie’s ears. “Let’s go home.”

  The sun was setting as they climbed into her car in the front parking lot. She rested her head on the seatback, feeling exhausted to her core. She’d come here looking to feel young, carefree. That had certainly backfired.

  Maddie whined and nudged her again with her nose.

  Starting the car, she tried to reassure her dog. “Everything’s okay, girl. You’ve just got a silly mama. Instead of trying to recapture my youth, maybe it’s time I started acting my age.”

  She couldn’t have everything she wanted, and that was a lesson she should have learned long ago. And she couldn’t pretend that her hobbies and philanthropy made her feel fulfilled any longer. She was bored. And lonely. And…lost.

  Punching the button to raise the roof, Marla watched as the sky shrank from view. When the last sliver of purpling twilight disappeared, so did her last delusion. No more pretending. She was a middle-aged woman with no accomplishments. No career. No family except a father she rarely saw and a grandfather who no longer needed her.

  She turned onto Route 9 and headed north. The lane passed through harvested corn fields packed with withered, broken stalks before winding between thatches of pine trees. She drove on autopilot, her eyes unseeing of the natural landmarks. When she arrived at her house, she realized she couldn’t remember the last part of her journey.

  It was some small comfort. She might be lost in life, but at least she could always find her way back home.

  * * * *

  Gabe drove past the neon lights of the local dive bar, thought about turning into the parking lot. He could use a drink after this day. Or five. His stomach churned and a burning sensation crept up his chest. Or maybe not. He headed for a drugstore instead.

  The spoiled socialite deserved it. Flouncing in, thinking she could buy whatever she wanted. Well, he wasn’t for sale.

  But why did she have to look like he’d slapped her?

  He gripped the steering wheel and made the turn for the drugstore. Screw it. She was a big girl. Not his problem.

  Cutting the engine, he strode into the store and headed for the antacids. He grabbed a box, thought about Marla’s long legs, her inviting smile, and grabbed two more. He tore open the cardboard top on one and popped a chew as he stalked to the register.

  The man rang him up and shook his head in commiseration. “Heartburn, huh? You need to stop drinking the red wine.”

  Gabe handed over a bill. “I didn’t drink any wine.” He popped another antacid. The burning sensation had started months ago. His diet hadn’t changed. Only one thing had.

  “Not the white wine.” The cashier handed him his change. “Only the red.”

  Scooping up his boxes, Gabe grunted. “Good to know.”

  He returned to his car and eased back onto the road. A couple of miles later he turned onto a narrow lane, his flashing blinker casting eerie patterns on the woods on either side of him. The moon hadn’t risen yet, and this road didn’t have streetlights. His headlights swept past a leaning mailbox. It was another mile before they lit up another.

  Gabe paused at the top of the drive and popped another antacid, the chalky berry flavor growing on him. First, he’d had to deal with Marla. Now he faced a different kind of confrontation. He’d rather have another round with the irritating woman. And maybe this time, he’d get it right. Still let her know in no uncertain terms that she didn’t tempt him but do it in a way that didn’t cause that pinched look on her face.

  He gripped the steering wheel. Who was he kidding? He’d been tempted as hell. He sucked at his bottom lip and imagined he could still taste her. He shouldn’t have put his mouth to her skin. That had been another mistake. He’d had to dig deep after that. Fight not to give in to his baser urges. But he couldn’t go from despising a woman and all she stood for to taking her against the wall. There would have been consequences if he and Marla had hooked up. Ones that would have put her in the driver’s seat.

  He stared down the lane and blew out a breath. Some consequences he couldn’t avoid.

  He bumped over the road, his Chevelle not appreciating the rutted dirt. A quarter mile in, his lights illuminated a squat two-bedroom house. It had been more than ten years since he’d been here, and the passage of time showed. The porch railing was gone, and several squares of black plastic were stapled to the roof. Weeds as high as his knees surrounded the home.

  A man with dark hair down to his shoulders pushed open the screen door and stood at the top of the stoop, a shotgun cradled in one arm. He shaded his eyes with his other hand.

  Gabe cut the engine and stepped out. “Evenin’, Jethro.”

  “Gabe? That you?” His cousin took the steps in one leap, and Gabe flinched as the shotgun bounced and almost hit the ground. Jethro grabbed it by the barrel and took the last couple steps to throw an arm around Gabe’s shoulders. “It is you!”

  “Hi, Jethro.” Gently prying the gun from his cousin’s hand, Gabe hugged him back. “It’s good to see you, too.”

  “It’s been, like, ages. I think I’ve seen you maybe two times since your pa’s funeral.” With an arm still slung around Gabe’s shoulders, Jethro herded him into the house. “Pop! Look who’s here.”

  Simon came out of the kitchen, a can of beer in one hand, a four-pronged cane in the other. He scratched at a stain on his dingy white tee with his thumb. “Huh. Didn’t think you’d ever come walk
ing through that door again. What do you want?”

  All love, his uncle. Uncle Simon and Jethro couldn’t have been more different. One all mean cunning, the other sweet and slow. Jethro was about Gabe’s height, but thin as a rake. He was a couple inches over his dad’s six feet of pudge. Whereas Simon would as soon spit on Gabe as look at him, Jethro was never anything but happy to see his cousin.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Jethro took the gun and set it beside the front door. “Or eat? We’ve got these sugar-free carrot cookies that are really pretty good.”

  His uncle snorted at that. “They taste like shit.” He stepped over a pile of magazines spread in a heap on the carpet, his cane slipping on one.

  “We’ve got to watch Pop’s sugar,” Jethro said. “Maybe the cookies aren’t the best, but they’re still okay.”

  “No, thanks. I’m good.” Or he would be as soon as he could get out of this hellhole. It looked like the walls were covered in a dusting of mold, and two round circles of grease rested above the back of the couch along the wall. “I came to talk.”

  Simon plopped down on the couch, rested his head back on one of the discolored circles, and popped the top of the beer can with one hand. “So, talk.”

  “A dog came into the shelter today.”

  “Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke,” his uncle said.

  Jethro chuckled until his dad shot him a look and he fell silent.

  “A dog going to a shelter isn’t unusual.” Simon chugged back some beer but kept his eyes pinned on Gabe over the can.

  “No. And unfortunately his wounds weren’t unusual either.” Nothing Gabe hadn’t seen hundreds of times before, but every instance turned his stomach. “He was a bait dog, and I want to know if you’ve starting running fights again.”

  “Aw, Gabe.” Jethro slapped a hand on his shoulder. “You know Pop wouldn’t do that. He gave you his word.”

  The word of a dogfighter wasn’t worth a hell of a lot. Not to Gabe. But he forced a smile for Jethro. “Just need to make sure.”