Kissing Under the Mistletoe (21 page)

Her throat worked hard to swallow, but when she finally managed it her chin hitched up, her lips tightened into a thin line and her stubborn side took over. “Which is why I think we should avoid each other.”

“Is that right?” He reached out and traced a finger over her mouth, loving how those lips relaxed and instantly went pliant under his touch. He knew he should be asking her about Richard, about her run-in with Abby, but she was ready to kick him to the curb and he needed to give her a reason to keep him around.

Not to mention, there was no way he was walking away now. Not before he got a chance to figure out what this insane chemistry was about.

“Most of your family hates me. My daughter is falling in love with you. And you’re not looking for anything permanent. I could go on.”

She had a point. A good one. But he still found himself stepping closer. Found his hand settling on her waist. Found that there was no way in hell he was going to be able to walk away.

She was quiet for a moment, her eyes studying him. “Why did you come here tonight?”

“Because my brothers were at my house, I wanted to help you set up your tree, and I needed to see you,” he said, knowing the last part was the real reason he’d come.

“Then why did you come back?”

“For this.” He cupped the back of her head and pulled her in for a kiss. It was hard and heated and over way too fast, because Regan stumbled backward, out of his arms and into the front door.

“We can’t do this anymore.” She shook her head, her hands fumbling to find the doorknob. “Because one day we won’t be able to stop.”

“Can you be more specific, because
this
will happen, Regan. And I’d like to know how many more cold showers I’m going to have to take.”

“No.
This
can’t happen, Gabe. Ever. Because there is nowhere for it to go that won’t hurt the people that we love. Between our past, your family, my family...” She looked over her shoulder at the bedroom window as if just remembering that her daughter slept only a wall away.

“No,” she repeated firmly, pushing open the door and stepping inside the apartment.

Gabe put his hand on the door before she could shut it. “It’s going to happen, Vixen. You know it. I know it. Hell, every time we share space we practically tear off each other’s clothes. Denying it is just going to make things worse.”

She shot him a glare that was part irritation, part desire, and wholly hot. Then she shook her head. “Not if we don’t let it. Good-bye, Gabe.”

“That would be good
night
, Gabe, because I will see you Sunday, bright and—”

The door slammed in his face. He heard the metal tumble and lock engage and stepped back. He listened for her through the door but only found silence.

Regan was already gone. And sadly, he acknowledged, so was he.

“I
told you that you didn’t have to do this,” Regan said from the passenger seat.

“And like I told you, it’s no big deal. I have a truck, a free day, a good set of arms.” She stared stiffly out the window. “Besides, why waste money on a rental when you don’t need to?” he reasoned, feeling pretty stiff himself, but for a whole other reason.

A
Storage Wars
marathon, a couple of ice-cold beers, and an even colder shower hadn’t helped him one bit. All he had to do was think of Regan in that yellow bra, panting in his ear, and he was as bad as a fifteen-year-old.

He’d called her a couple of times yesterday to confirm what time she wanted him to pick her up. He’d been sent to voice mail. Not that he blamed her. He’d shown up unannounced, crashed her tree-decorating party, and then mauled her in the parking lot. And on her front stoop.

Which was why, when he pulled up right around breakfast time with a box of doughnuts, two peppermint lattes, a
packet of invitations courtesy of Pricilla, and the mind frame to wait in the truck until she came out of hiding, he wasn’t shocked to see Regan already loading Holly in her Honda. She said she’d called Stan down at the service station, and he had a trailer he was willing to rent her.

Holly took one look at the doughnuts on his dashboard and said she would rather ride with him. Gabe had smiled. Regan had scowled. And Holly had polished off two doughnuts with pink sprinkles. End result, he currently had one of the sexiest ladies he’d ever met and one of the cutest girls he’d ever seen riding snug in his truck. And he couldn’t be happier.

“Thank you,” Regan said, so quietly he wasn’t sure he heard it correctly. Actually, he was positive that was her thanking him, but he wanted to hear her say it again.

“What?” He made a big ordeal of turning down the stereo. When she didn’t repeat herself, he reached out and touched her thigh, giving it a playful squeeze. “The radio was too loud.”

“You heard me,” she said to the windshield.

“Yeah, I did. I just wanted to make sure you said what I thought I heard. It sounded kind of like a compliment.”

“I said thanks.” It came out just as quiet, but this time her hand covered his. He slid her a sidelong glance, but she remained staring straight ahead.

“I can’t wait to see my new bed. I hope it will be soft and fluffy and purple with kitties on it,” Holly said from the back seat of the king cab.

“Well, I’m not sure about the kitty part. But I’m sure it will be soft and fluffy,” Regan answered.

Holly’s voice dropped in volume, a hint of sadness creeping in. “But I’m gonna miss our camping, Mommy. It was fun, just you and me under the stars.”

Tightening her hand on Gabe’s, Regan twisted in the front seat. “I had fun too. You’re a pretty special kid, you know that?”

Holly shrugged, accepting the praise like a kid who knew she was loved and cherished. Gabe was once again surprised at what a great mom Regan was. Being a single parent was tough enough; he’d seen Jordan struggle daily. And yet here sat this woman, who hadn’t been much more than a kid herself when she’d had Holly, but she’d figured it out. Even alone and struggling, she had managed to make sure that each and every decision made was in the best interest of her daughter, in turn making Holly’s world magical.

“You’re a pretty special mom,” he said in a voice just meant for her, which finally had her looking his way. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She looked flustered and surprised and adorable as hell. And that made what he was doing all the more shitty.

Oh, he wasn’t there to please his brothers and see what he could find out about Richard. He was there because spending time with the two Martin women made him feel alive, as though all of the other bullshit in his life didn’t matter. It also made him an asshole, because at the end of the day, this would lead nowhere good.

Gabe pulled into the driveway and put the truck in park. Regan was back to staring out the window. Only, instead of the wonder she’d had in her eyes a minute ago, he saw irritation—and a lot of it.

“Lauren!” Holly shrieked at the window, her hands waving excitedly at the blonde-haired girl who stood on the front porch at their final destination. “Lauren, Lauren. It’s me, Holly,” she yelled louder, right in his ear.

“Don’t think she can hear you. Window’s up,” Gabe said, amused. Regan sent him an apologetic look, but he just smiled. Holly was one cute kid.

“Gabe! That’s my friend Lauren!” Holly yanked at her seat belt. “She’s in my class and we played together at recess. She and Chloe and Summer are my BFFs. But next week I’ll be the
F
and Summer gets to be the
B
’cuz we thought we should share. Can we play, Mommy? Can we?”

Regan looked at the impressive house and twisted her hands in her lap. Plastering a smile on her face she said, “Sure, angel. Now that I think about it, I bet it was her grandma that I talked to earlier. You two could play while we load up the truck.”

“Yes!” Kicking open the door, Holly raced up the driveway singing Lauren’s name the entire way. Lauren reciprocated the excitement and before long the two girls disappeared into the house.

“Cursed,” Regan said, shaking her head.

Gabe didn’t even question Regan’s statement because the second Isabel appeared on the porch with a cordial wave,
cursed
was not the word he was thinking to describe his current situation.

Isabel was dressed in black yoga pants, a barely-there tank, and fake lashes. He watched her eyes widen as recognition bloomed and her wave took on a caffeinated tick as if she’d downed one too many skinny lattes. Her persona went from socialite to seductress.

Isabel’s plans had just shifted, and by the way her walk took on a sexy sway, Gabe was now her target of interest.

Outside of mumbling something Holly would have nailed her for, Regan didn’t move. She actually looked a little pale and completely ticked.

“You okay?”

“What?” She looked down at their intertwined hands and back to him as if remembering he was next to her. He tightened his grip. “Oh, I just expected a little old lady in a muumuu and rollers.”

“Yeah, well, this isn’t how I expected our date would start,” Gabe said.

“Date?” Regan looked over at Gabe. His shirt was soft and relaxed and made his shoulders look like ones she could count on. Then he flashed that orgasm-inducing smile, the one which curled up slightly to one side, declaring all of the things he would like to do to her, and the air rushed out of her lungs.

She’d been battling hormone-induced suffocation since he’d stepped out of his truck earlier that morning in a pair of worn jeans that highlighted his butt perfectly, breakfast in hand and ball cap pulled low on his head. He looked like your basic super-stud mover to the rescue.

Then Holly had asked him to put her hair in a rubber band. Which he did. And it ended up more of a porcupine than a pony. But Regan noticed that where she saw a supersexy guy, Holly might begin to imagine a superspecial daddy.

Even if Regan were ready to risk a broken heart to give love a try again, she couldn’t do that to Holly. Because
ultimately Gabe would get bored, move on to the next woman, and that would crush her daughter.

“This isn’t a date.
We
aren’t dating.”

He quirked a brow. “Then why am I here?”

“A good set of arms, remember?”

“Fair enough.” Did he just flex? “But if this isn’t a date, then why are you holding my hand?”

Regan jerked her hand back and crossed her arms over her chest. Partly to look tough but mostly to keep from touching him again. “You held my hand first.”

“And you held back.”

“
This
is not a date,” she felt compelled to state again.

“If you say so, Vixen.” Gabe crossed that good set of arms over his equally good set of pecs, and she had to squish her brows together to keep from looking down at his guns. She had never really been into arms before, but there was something about his that made her want to wrap them around her and beg him to never let go.

“You want to keep staring at my arms all day? Or are we going to go get you some furniture? Honestly, I’m up for either”—he smiled—“because even though floor sex or wall sex is hot, afterward a guy needs a place to lay and cuddle with his date.”

“You are not staying the night. We are not having sex. And this is not a date!” Regan hopped out of the truck and slammed the door before he could scream, “Liar, liar.” She also tied her sweatshirt around her waist just in case her pants were smoking.

Before she could shake off the post-Gabe-encounter buzz, which she told herself was caused from irritation, she was confronted with the second most annoying resident in St.
Helena. However, said resident seemed to have eyes only for Mr. DeLuca.

“Morning, Gabe,” Isabel cooed, beckoning him onto the porch so she wouldn’t have to step out into the light drizzle. Her hair looked smooth and coiffed while Regan’s was frizzing by the sprinkle.

Isabel slid her hands around Gabe’s neck in greeting, plastering her silicone to his chest. Gabe mumbled a “Nice to see you,” and with a brief pat on her back, stepped away. Fast. So fast Isabel was still doing the air-kisses.

Then she glared at Regan through a pair of Gucci glasses, as if Regan had intruded on their moment; as if it wasn’t raining; as if Gabe had come here to see her.