Ross 04 Take Me On (4 page)

“And now the clincher,” Brian said, sighing as he turned to go. “She came
here
.”

Ian wasn’t one to argue with his boss, especially when said boss knew Gabriella infinitely better than he did. But after talking with her, he had a much different viewpoint. He didn’t think her showing up here was about spiraling at all. He thought, just maybe, it was about finally healing.

For the way Gabby’s back burned, she could’ve been dragged shirtless down a gravel-covered road. Wincing with almost every move, she steered into her parents’ winding driveway and hoped she could get past her mother and to her room without being spotted. As she neared the house and saw the silver Lexus parked in the circular drive, she groaned out loud. Not only was she
not
going to get past her mother, apparently, but she wasn’t going to get past Sylvia Andrews either.

Candace’s mother wasn’t as much of a ray of sunshine as her daughter, and truth be known, Gabriella’s mother didn’t like the woman. But since it appeared their kids were getting married whether Sylvia liked it or not, they were making efforts to get along.

“Ah, that must be her now. Gabriella!” Her mother’s voice called from the living room off the foyer as Gabby let herself in the front door. She wished she could keep going straight ahead and mount the stairs, but dammit, she was caught, so she’d try to get through this as painlessly as possible.

When she entered the room where the two women sat, it didn’t escape her notice that Sylvia slightly lifted a meticulously shaped eyebrow at her appearance. For about the thousandth time, Gabby had just one thought:
Poor Candace. She had to grow up with this woman.

“Hi!” Gabby said brightly. Maybe she should perch on the couch across from them in her shorts and—gasp—not cross her legs or something. That would probably give the woman a coronary, though.

“We were just speaking about you,” her mother said. If one were merely judging by appearances, Gianna Ross was the more imposing figure of the two. Intimidatingly beautiful with a rich Italian accent almost forty years in the States had done little to diminish, she commanded attention in any room she occupied. Next to her, Sylvia was almost nondescript, but between the two of them, Sylvia was definitely the shark.

Not that Gianna couldn’t bring down the thunder when she needed to. Brian, more than any of them, could attest to that; she’d actually shipped him off to her relatives in Florence once. Of course, after only a few months, they’d kicked him right back.

“All good, I hope,” Gabby said, emitting a light laugh as fake as any desire to be here that she tried to put forth. She didn’t need to be privy to any “poor, pitiful Gabriella” conversations. She might start screaming.

“Well, of course,” her mother said. Then she and Sylvia looked at each other and seemed to share a moment of silent amusement.

Gabby felt a prickling at the back of her neck. What the hell were they up to? She should have known, though, before her mother even bothered to open her mouth.

“We were just talking,” Gianna began a bit hesitantly, “and…oh, there’s no way to ease into this, I don’t suppose. Sylvia is organizing a retirement party for Phillip, and while we were discussing that, she mentioned that her nephew is coming in from Dallas to attend and—”

Ah-ha. That was where Gabby tuned her out. Jesus, really? She’d just been horrifically dumped three months ago. Like, in the worst way possible. The last thing she needed was to jump back on the relationship train—not that her mother was suggesting that, but even a date would be too much right now.

“—with the two of you living in the same city and everything,” Sylvia finished, having picked up Gianna’s pitch at some point.

“That’s thoughtful, really, but I am
not
in the market right now,” Gabby said as lightly as she could manage. Before they could launch in on her again, she turned to go…and totally forgot about the partially finished tattoo on her back, where the gauze Ian had placed over it was surely visible around the edges of her tank top.

The twin gasps from the women halted her in her tracks, and she sighed and turned to face them again.

“Gabby, what is that?” her mother all but wailed as Sylvia quickly looked down at her hands, her mouth set in a thin slash. Her tone told her she knew exactly what it was.

“I went to see Brian,” she said with a shrug, trying to suppress the cringe as her skin pulled tight. “Don’t get mad at him, though, because he wouldn’t do it himself.”

Gianna sighed and shook her head sadly. “Your skin is so beautiful, and Brian’s too. Why you want to mar it in such a way—”

“It isn’t
marred
,” she all but snapped, offended on Ian’s behalf. He’d been so damn nice to her, and his work was breathtaking. She couldn’t wait to have the finished product. It was going to be the most beautiful thing about her skin, in no way a flaw. “Don’t worry, Mom, you won’t have to see it if you don’t want to. I’ll be like Brian. I’ll keep it covered.” For probably the first time, she felt a bit offended on her little brother’s behalf too. He always covered his ink and took out his piercings when he had to be around either of the families—his or Candace’s—just to make them happy. And he never complained.

“You’re an adult, Gabby. Do what you want to do,” her mother said, though she could plainly hear the subtle tone of disapproval that Brian no doubt had been putting up with since his teenage years.

Thanks for that,
she thought
. Don’t mind if I do.
Thirty-six years old, on her way to being a doctor, and still being lectured. But Sylvia would never conceive of fixing up her nephew with a tattooed freak if she could help it, so Gabriella had managed to escape that debacle at least. One small success.

“It was nice seeing you,” she said to Sylvia, who returned a weak smile. She had almost reached the door when her mother spoke again.

“Will you be home for dinner?”

“No, sorry.”

And finally the stairs were under her feet, and she could escape into the privacy of her room.

Damn Mark Easton for doing this to her.

She’d had it all, her entire life mapped out with her usual meticulous precision. Successful husband. House in Highland Park. Successful career. Kids as soon as it was feasible. It was
her
life, and she was supposed to be living it right now. But fate, the fickle bitch, had dropped her into some fucking alternate universe.

A universe where she lived with her parents because she was essentially homeless. Where she’d suffered the worst humiliation imaginable for any bride. Where she’d lost the man of her dreams. Where having a child before the age of forty was now a remote possibility, since she wasn’t inclined to ever put herself back into that situation again. If ever.

She’d waited too long. Focused on career for too long. Now all the things she’d put off, all those things she wanted someday, were well out of her reach, and it might be too late to ever have them.
Someday
had come and gone.

Her room was more of a sanctuary now than it had been in her youth. It wasn’t much different than it had been back then. Her parents had kept many of her things when she’d moved out. One of those items, a delicate ballerina music box, still sat on her dresser because she’d been afraid of damaging it more than it already was.

Her gaze landed on it now. She wandered over and picked it up, inspecting the hairline cracks that created a web through the porcelain. It had been a gift from her great-grandmother in Italy before she’d passed away…and Brian had broken it when he was eleven. He’d been in her room, bugging her, being his usual little-shit self, and he’d accidentally knocked it off her dresser. She could still hear the sound of the porcelain shattering, could still feel the way her heart had dropped as heavily as the box had. Ignoring his apologies, she’d grabbed him and shoved him out of her room through a haze of tears, screaming how much she hated him as she slammed the door.

The next morning, she’d found it right here, just like this, all glued back together. Evan had told her that Brian snuck back into her room to get the pieces and stayed up all night trying to fix it, not even letting Evan help him. It wasn’t perfect, but he’d done a good job. Somehow, now it was almost more precious to her with the cracks he’d put in it. She could look at it and remember that he loved her…no matter how many times he’d said otherwise in the years that followed, in the midst of his wild streak.

She’d been joking when she’d told Ian he was no different now than when he was a teenager. He was worlds different.

And what was she? She wasn’t sure anymore. She was supposed to be a wife; she knew that. She’d been ready to be a wife. Now she was just…in limbo.

After the debacle that was supposed to be her wedding, she stayed with Tina until the school year was over. It had been horrible feeling so useless and helpless, crashing on her friend’s couch and depriving Tina of her cherished privacy. Gabby’s parents had been more than willing to help her out financially—they always had—and get her a place of her own, but she’d been so busy, there was little time to look. Once the year ended, she’d driven home with everything she owned piled in the back of her car. And here she’d been ever since. Still feeling useless and helpless.

The only thing that had gotten her through was Kelsey. Their nightly phone calls had been a lifesaver. Kelsey had been through it, even down to living on her best friend’s couch after she caught her first husband in the act of cheating with Evan’s former fiancée. Kelsey’s daily promises that hitting bottom could only mean something better was right around the corner—they were a little bright spot of hope she kept firmly embedded in the front of her mind.

Because more than once since The Wedding That Wasn’t, she’d considered giving it all up. Staying here, abandoning her dreams, going back to nursing, if only to stop being such a freaking burden on everyone. Hell, Gianna had probably invited Candace’s mother over only to discuss any prospects she knew of, some nice guy upon whom the Rosses could unload their spinster daughter before she got in trouble and brought shame on all their heads.

But quitting it all? What a waste of time and money. She couldn’t do that…but the thought of heading back to Dallas alone this fall was… Well, she didn’t know if she could do that either. She didn’t want to think about it.

She didn’t want to think about much, come to that. Living in the moment had become her thing. Fuck the future.

Gabby flopped back on her bed and squelched a yelp and a stream of curses as pain seared through the flesh of her back. Immediate memories of her artist flashed in front of her eyes, and she rolled over on her stomach and sighed. Now there was a cool drink of water she’d desperately needed. Ian. When he’d moved his chair around in front of her and she’d looked up at him, something had clicked inside her. Some piece that had been horribly out of whack had snapped back into place. His hazel eyes had been kind, but she’d no doubt they could smolder like molten amber just as easily. His short but somehow still messy brown hair had begged for her fingers to tame the strands. He’d told her to scream and cry if she needed to, but damn, all she’d thought about was screaming for an entirely different reason.

But that was crazy, wasn’t it? She didn’t have to ask how old he was. “Younger than You” was stamped all over him. Even so, the raw confidence and quiet strength he exuded promised a ride she would never forget.

She’d never had a younger man, had never been inclined to do so, but she’d decided at that moment it might be something to add to her bucket list. And what better time to also check it off than now, when she was free and unfettered?

Yeah, a moment ago, she’d evaded her mom’s matchmaking, but she wasn’t against making a temporary match of her own devising.

Key word: temporary.

Chapter Four

Ian swigged his beer, eyes on the Texas Rangers game playing on a majority of the screens in the sports bar. He didn’t notice he had company until a hand slid over his shoulder, and he turned to see a familiar pair of direct, amused green eyes.

Gabriella Ross smiled at him, and he almost fell off his fucking stool. “Long time no see,” she teased, lifting the longneck in her hand to her full cherry-red lips.

For a split second, he was mesmerized watching those lips encircle the mouth of her bottle, imagining them encircling something on him…and then he snapped out of it. “Hey, there. Yeah, it’s been all of, what, five hours?” He checked his watch out of some mindless reflex, not because he gave two shits what time it was.

“Come here often?” she asked, lifting a wing-shaped brow in what he took as sardonic acknowledgment of the ages-old pickup line.

“Not really. Got off a little early, thought I’d unwind for a bit. What about you?”

She indicated the beer in her hand. “I thought I would try to dull the flames raging on my back.”

“Oh.” He winced on her behalf. “Yeah, that’s all part of it. Sorry.”

“It’s all right. It’ll be worth it.”

“It will be, but in the meantime… You might need something a little stronger than that.”

“Is that your way of saying you want to buy me a drink?” She tossed her hair behind her shoulder, that magnificently shiny hair, and her come-hither look damn near drowned him where he sat.

Gone was the woman of five hours ago. In her place was…Satan. He stared at her a moment, uncomprehending, fighting his way back from whatever haze of blind lust she was dragging him to. What the fuck was this?