Reforming Gabe Page 3

  Noel smiled wryly. “Did you ever stop to think that if it had ended up on that website, the publicity could have brought you some sales?”

  “Maybe! But from what kind of people?”

  “We’ve come full circle, Neyland.” Noel sighed as she parked in the semi-circular driveway in front of Beauford Bend.

  “You decided to keep that quilt, Lazy Morning.”

  “I did, just as you’ve kept that bracelet you always wear. Nickolai loves Lazy Morning.” Noel’s voice went soft and sweet. “And, honey, I have commissions. I haven’t had to close my shop.”

  Neyland ran her finger over Cassandra, the Art Deco bracelet. Made of onyx and mother-of-pearl, it wasn’t worth a lot monetarily, but it was the first piece she’d made alone, albeit under the tutelage of her mentor, Crystal. Touching it always made her feel better when she felt bad about herself. She’d been touching it a lot lately.

  “You’re right. And here you are, giving me space in Piece by Piece, and I’m not doing anything to get myself out of this mess.”

  “Now, now. None of that. I’ve told you and I mean it. Nickolai needs me right now. And I want to be with him.” Noel’s cheeks went pink. She was newly, truly in love. “You’ll never know what a load it is off my shoulders to have you there to help Ora and the girls. But this is about you. You loved Sparkle. I want you to have your own shop back, and I want you to be successful.”

  “What about ‘art for art’s sake?’”

  “That’s a nice idea if you have a patron. Do you?”

  “No. I suppose I could throw myself at Gabe’s feet and beg him to keep me on retainer for all his future kiss-off gifts,” Neyland said gloomily. “That ought to keep me busy for a few decades.”

  Noel laughed. “That might be a little overkill. But promise you’ll think about this next time.”

  Neyland reached for Emory’s gift and opened the car door. “I will. ‘Don’t let your emotions overrule your head.’ Philosophy according to Coach MacKenzie.”

  “Your daddy’s not wrong.” Noel rang the bell. “I heard about the stadium. He’s in for a hard year. I hate it for him.”

  “Me, too.” And she did, despite her mixed feeling about sharing her father with his first love, football, and his second love, Gabe Beauford.

  Gwen opened the door. “Come in and let wedding festivity number one commence!” Gwen was the catering manager for Around the Bend and lived on the premises along with her two children and her husband, Dirk, who was head of security.

  “Number one?” Neyland said. “What about the engagement party, the tea, the shower, and—above all else—that fancy party in Nashville with all those music people?”

  “No.” Gwen stepped aside to let them in. “Those were preliminary celebrations. True festivities only occur the week of. That’s a rule. Just like no one wears white to the wedding except the bride.”

  “You’re making this up. And you’re counting on me to believe you because I believe everything,” Noel said.

  “Who’s wearing white to my wedding besides me?” Emory entered the room, followed by Abby and Missy.

  “No one,” Missy said. “If they try, I’ll put a stop to it.”

  Missy Jackson Bragg was from Merritt, Alabama and Jackson’s cousin on his mother’s side.

  “Hey, girls!” Missy gave everyone hugs, and Abby took Noel’s and Neyland’s gifts.

  “Are Harris and the kids here?” Neyland asked.

  “Lord, no. They’ll be here tomorrow with Mama and Daddy.” Neyland had known Missy since childhood, had seen her at numerous Beauford family functions over the years. Why was she only now noticing how much Missy looked like Gabe and Rafe? Maybe because Gabe had been on her mind lately? Everyone always said the twins looked like their father because they had his coloring, but there had to be some ancient Viking blood kicking around on the Jackson side of the family. Missy might not have their sturdy build, but she was tall and athletic with the same light blond hair and big luminous eyes the color of lapis. She did not, however, have their chin cleft—something she was probably grateful for. “I’m child free!”

  “As are Abby and I,” Gwen said. “They’re with a sitter down the hill at my house.” Originally from Boston, Abby was a widow with a one-year-old son.

  “Are they excited about going to Disney World after the wedding?” Neyland asked.

  “No. Because they don’t know. Carter wouldn’t know the difference, but if Julie knew, we’d never get her down the aisle with her flower petals.”

  They had just settled in the living room when the doorbell rang.

  Gwen rose. “That’ll be Christian.”

  Like the Beauford brothers, Christian Hambrick had grown up in her family’s ancestral plantation house, Firefly Hall, which she had turned into a successful bed and breakfast.

  “Sorry I’m late. Emergency Town Council meeting.” Christian rushed in and deposited her gift with the others. “You’ll never guess! Someone has anonymously donated the additional money to expand the football stadium. The plans had already been done, and today we bid out the job. They’re starting right away and promise it will be done by the end of the summer!”

  A little roar of approval went through the room, and a huge sense of relief settled over Neyland.

  “And, Neyland, guess what. Whoever gave the money did it with the stipulation that the stadium be named the Conrad Baker MacKenzie Stadium!”

  Neyland began to cry. She wasn’t a crier, and she wasn’t crying now only because she was touched by the gesture—though she was. Between the wedding, the damage to her father’s stadium, Nickolai’s accident, and her own foolishness, there had been so much happy, sad, and stupid lately, that she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

  “I’m sorry.” Neyland accepted the linen handkerchief Emory handed her. “Y’all know I have complicated feelings about football and Daddy’s marriage to it. But this is wonderful for him. No matter what, I didn’t want him having to kowtow to that coach over at Madison Grove. And he deserves to have that stadium named for him.”

  Abby passed out Champagne. “Seems we have more to toast than Emory tonight.”

  “Oh, no!” Neyland dried her eyes. “I’m done letting emotion rule me. This is Emory’s night. Let’s get on with it.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “I’ve been so blessed, I can share,” Emory said. “Besides, it means extra toasts, which means more Champagne.”

  They all clinked glasses. “To Emory and all the naughty undies we’ve brought her tonight,” Noel said.

  “And to Coach MacKenzie,” Gwen added.

  “And to whoever gave the money,” Christian said.

  They all stopped. “Who was it?” Neyland asked.

  Christian shook her head. “I honestly don’t know. Mayor Cochran, the principal, and superintendent know. I’m sure some of the attorneys have to as well. But it’s very hush-hush. Apparently the donor was adamant.” Christian let her eyes settle on Emory. “But everyone is saying it had to be Jackson.”

  Emory shook her head. “I don’t know, either. If he did it, he didn’t tell me.”

  “Makes sense,” Gwen said. “He’s always been generous. Beauford High is his alma mater. He just moved back to town.”

  “And let’s not forget he’s happy and in a generous mood,” Abby said.

  It did make sense. It had to be Jackson. “Whoever it was, I’m grateful,” Neyland said. “And I know my parents are, too.”

  “Can we eat?” Christian gestured to the silver food-laden trays on the coffee table. “This has taken a lot out of me. And this spread looks great. What is it?”

  “Brandied truffles and chicken in phyllo,” Gwen said. “Lobster salad on endive spears, baked Brie tarts, goat cheese torte with caramelized onions and spinach, and potato bites with crème fraîche and caviar. And for dessert, salted caramel mocha cake.”

  “Oh, Gwen, you have really outdone yourself,” Noel said.

  “I didn’t do a thing
but sit in the kitchen and watch Missy work. She made all this.”

  “It was the least I could do. A long distance bridesmaid isn’t much help. You girls have done all the work. But I have to admit, it’s a lot pressure making a party for an event planner.” Missy didn’t sound like she had ever been one bit apprehensive about anything.

  “Nonsense,” Emory said. “Y’all have made me feel like a princess tonight.”

  “Well, aren’t you?” Noel filled a plate and held it out to Emory. “All the magazines say you’re the newest addition to the Royal Family of Country Music.”

  “Oh, please.” When Emory reached to take the plate from Noel, the ten-carat, cushion cut diamond on her left hand caught the light, with the four carats worth of trapezoid cut stones on the side doing their part to contribute to the light show.

  Gwen took sip of her Champagne. “If she needs a crown, all she has to do is take that ring off and put it on her head.”

  “Stop it!” Emory looked at her ring and smiled before meeting Neyland’s eyes. “I’m still sorry we didn’t have you make our rings, Neyland. So is Jackson. We got caught up in the moment and bought this and our bands all at once.”

  By now everyone knew the story of how Emory had left Beauford Bend brokenhearted and gone back to her old job in New York. Eventually, Jackson had gone after her and won her back when he’d sung in public a song that he had composed for her.

  “No, Emory. Nothing I could have made for you would have been as beautiful and romantic as how Jackson whisked you off to Tiffany the second you said yes.” And Neyland meant that—though the engagement ring for Jackson Beauford’s bride would have surely been that one piece.

  “Enough about me,” Emory said. “Noel, how’s Nickolai today?”

  “Good.” A little worry crept between Noel’s eyes. “We saw the doctor today and Nickolai’s healing nicely. In fact, he went with Gabe, Rafe, Dirk, and Sammy to take Jackson out tonight.”

  “Big bachelor party?” Missy nibbled on a bit of endive.

  “Not really,” Emory said. “I think they were going to The Café Down On The Corner to have a beer.”

  Missy laughed. “That’s the lamest excuse for a bachelor party I’ve ever heard.”

  “I know,” Emory said. “I wouldn’t have minded. But he said he didn’t feel the need for a last hurrah—that he only wanted to be with his brothers and his friends tonight. And I understand because being here with y’all tonight is all I wanted.”

  “I wish Beau could come,” Missy said.

  “So he called? And he knows for certain he can’t?” Christian looked sad.

  “Yes. He’s fine, which is always a relief to hear. But that’s life in Special Forces. We had a good visit at Christmas.” Emory smiled brightly, though there was a little sadness around the edges. “And at least we’ll have Missy’s Beau for ring bearer.”

  Missy laughed. “He’s done it so many times he’s practically a professional.”

  “Then I’m counting on him to help Julie,” Gwen said.

  “I’m sure she—” Then Missy squealed and flew across the room—right into Gabe Beauford’s arms. “Rafe! I’ve been here since early this morning. Where have you been?”

  “Picking up tuxedos, getting wedding presents, running errands for Emory. A wedding will wear a man out.” He grinned. “And, since I’m Gabe, I’ve been making sure Rafe has decent clothes for the rehearsal.”

  “You are not.” Missy smacked his arm. “Y’all always do this to me. I can tell y’all apart.”

  Apparently she couldn’t—though Neyland wasn’t quite clear why she could. Unlike Rafe, Gabe’s personal fashion style tended to be flashy, “Hey, look at me” prep, but tonight he was wearing jeans and a plain, red Henley, so it wasn’t that. Still, there was something about the cocky way he held his head, while Rafe had always had a sweeter way about him.

  He laughed. “Believe what you want.”

  “Let me see your scar,” Missy said smugly.

  “Have it your own way.” And Gabe raised his shirt to reveal a faded appendectomy scar—and what had to be the world’s most perfectly sculpted set of six-pack abs. Like the baby bear’s bed—not too much, not too little. Just right, with the faintest trail of golden hair trailing down—and down.

  Neyland shook her head to stop herself from thinking about down. What was wrong with her? She shoved a forkful of goat cheese into her mouth. When she looked again, he’d pulled his shirt down.

  “Well.” Missy took her seat again. “I guess I’m off my game. What are you doing here anyway?”

  “Oh, that’s how it is.” Gabe leaned against Emory’s chair and rested his hand on her shoulder. “When I was Rafe, you were all, ‘I’m so happy to see you.’ Now that I’m nobody but Gabe, you want to know what I’m doing here.”

  “It’s a valid question.” Emory looked up at him.

  He pushed his hair back. “Things weren’t working out too well at The Café Down On The Corner. The press has descended on the fair town of Beauford for the wedding of the century. They wouldn’t leave Jackson alone, and Dirk was about to have a come apart. We didn’t want to come here and interrupt your little party, so we went to Noel’s.” He looked at her. “Nickolai said it was okay.”

  Noel looked horrified. “Sure. You’re welcome there, of course. But if I’d known, I’d have vacuumed. And left some snacks. Made cookies. Something.”

  “No worries. Rafe’s gone to get pizza and beer, and I came here to get some DVDs.”

  Christian laughed. “So the world’s lamest bachelor party just got lamer.”

  Gabe nodded enthusiastically. “I know, right? I wanted to get a limo and go into Nashville but … ” He trailed off as he caught sight of the trays of food on the coffee table. “Whoa, ho, ho. What have we here?”

  “Nothing for you,” Gwen said. “Scram. Go back to your own lame party. This is ours.”

  Gabe clapped his hands together. “Where’re the plates?”

  “There aren’t any more,” Missy said. “We put out enough for everyone invited, and they all happen to be in use.”

  “Oh. There.” His eyes landed on the round side table where the elaborate chocolate cake sat on a crystal stand beside a stack of dessert plates and silver forks. “A little small, but it’ll do.” He grabbed a plate and piled it high. “I love frou-frou party food.”

  “You love any food.” Emory laughed.

  He picked up the Champagne from the silver bucket and looked around. “Now for a glass … ”

  “There aren’t any more,” Gwen said. “Missy just told you we brought in enough dishes for the people invited—of which you are not one. You’ve already stolen someone’s cake plate.”

  Gabe looked at the bottle intently.

  “Gabriel Beauford,” Missy said. “Don’t you even think about drinking out of that bottle.”

  He shrugged. “I wasn’t. Much.” Then he set his blue, laser-beam eyes on Neyland. “Hey. Let me top you off.”

  What now? But she wordlessly held out her flute.

  “Now!” He dropped to the floor at Neyland’s feet and reached for her Champagne. “We can share.”

  And for reasons she couldn’t begin to understand, she handed him the glass.

  He guzzled half the contents.

  And leaned against her legs.

  Fire shot through her. That wasn’t supposed to happen; that couldn’t happen. Clearly, it had been too long since she’d had sex.

  She jumped to feet. “We need more Champagne!”

  In the kitchen, Neyland leaned her face against the cool stainless steel of the refrigerator and wondered if there was any possibility that she could hide here until he left. Probably not. They might not miss her, but they were out of Champagne, and they were waiting for her to bring more in.

  She didn’t hear his footsteps, didn’t feel his presence until he stepped up behind her and placed his hands flat against the refrigerator door on either side of shoulders. Her hair stood on e
nd and he hadn’t even touched her.

  “You have a special relationship with this appliance, do you?” he purred like a cat, a big jungle cat—the one in charge of all the other jungle cats.

  She could smell him now—Irish Spring soap and citrus. My stars and the moon, too. The warmth of his body was closing in on her.

  “Why did you sneak up on me?” She wanted to bolt, but if she turned, she’d be in his arms. If she stayed glued to the refrigerator door, she’d continue to look ridiculous. She opted for the latter.

  “You look like an oversized refrigerator magnet.”

  “That’s what I am. I’ve been in training for it for a while.”

  “Is there any money in that?”

  “Yes. It’s a very lucrative career. You should look into it since it doesn’t require holding on to a ball.”

  He laughed, slow and smoky. “Guess it works out pretty good for a jewelry maker with no business sense, too. Might be even more lucrative if you turned the pretty side out. On the other hand, this side has its charms.”

  And he pressed against her.

  “I am not available to you for a cheap thrill.”

  “Oh, I don’t think there’s anything cheap about you.” He pressed a little closer, and his breath was warm on the back of her neck. “I know fine fabric and a designer label when I see it.” His hand landed on her hip and stroked the fabric of her pants. “I might not know which designer, but it’s somebody with a runway. Nothing off the rack fits like this.” If he didn’t move his hand, her knees were going to buckle. Then he did move his hand, but only to let it migrate to her bottom. She would pretend not to notice. That would show him.

  “Wrong. I got this at T.J.Maxx. On sale. Half price.”

  He laughed into her neck. “Sure you did. Though if I were guessing, these pants are last year’s. A lot of women would have already given them to Goodwill. But not you. You take care of them and wear them often—though people don’t notice, because they’re black and you put different tops with them—which you probably did buy at T.J.Maxx.” Why didn’t he stop it? His lips moved against her neck when he spoke.