The Rebel

When she got to the kitchen, she noticed that Gabe had pulled on a T-shirt, but he hadn’t brushed his hair.

“Is the instant kind okay?” he asked. “I’ve got milk in the microwave.”

“Instant is fine. I don’t think I’ve had the regular kind since I was about six. That’s the year my mother started back teaching.” Belle sat on a barstool at the granite-topped center island.

“I didn’t realize your mother was a teacher. What did she teach?”

“She taught in elementary school. We teased her that it was BK, BK and AK. Before kids, between kids and after kids. She was a wonderful teacher.”

Gabe poured the milk into two waiting mugs. “Want a marshmallow?”

“Sure.”

He plunked one into each mug, then brought them to the island and sat on a stool next to her. “Does she still teach?”

“No, she retired and bought the Double Dip. It’s an icecream shop on the square of Naconiche. Since my dad’s retired as well, they turned our big house over to my brother Frank and his family, and they live in an apartment over the shop.”

“Your father was a sheriff, wasn’t he?”

“For years and years. Now my brother J.J. has the job. What about your father? I assume that, since you’re Burrell, and Skye and your mom are Walkers, you have a different father.”

Gabe sipped from his mug before he answered. “Right. He and my mom were flower children who traveled around here and there in a minivan. Typical of the times. I was only a toddler when he tripped on LSD and flew into the Grand Canyon. Needless to say, his flight had disastrous results.”

“Oh, Gabe, I’m sorry.”

“No need to be. I don’t even remember him. He was from Wimberley, and I got his name and his inheritance. My mother and I lived in various communes that were popular at the time, and she met Charlie Walker, who was a brilliant potter. They married, left the commune life behind and moved to Wimberley. For a long time we lived in my grandparents’ old house. It had stood vacant for a couple of years after my grandmother Burrell died.”

“Did you ever meet your grandparents?”

“My father’s folks? Once, I think. At my dad’s funeral. He was their only son, and they didn’t approve of his lifestyle. Or my mother’s.”

“So sad for them,” Belle said, laying her hand over his. “They missed knowing you.”

“True.” He smiled and stroked her hand with two fingers, tracing the veins and leaving a tingling trail to the end of each nail and back up again.

Her other hand squeezed the mug in a death grip. His touch felt much too…sensuous. Much too good. She tried to break the tension by sipping from her drink, but the chocolate was gone.

“Want some more?” Gabe asked.

“More?”

“Hot chocolate.”

She jerked her hand away, “No. No, thank you. We need to get to bed. I mean, I need to get to bed. You need to get to bed. It’s two o’clock in the morning.”

He chuckled and winked. “Gotcha. By the way, is it loaded?”

“What?”

“Your gun.”

“Of course it’s loaded.”

“You’re a handy lady to have around.”

“I suppose that depends on your point of view,” Belle said.

“From my point of view, it’s excellent. I’m glad you’re here. Shall I walk you to your room?”

She smiled. “I have a good sense of direction. I think I can find my way.” She carried their mugs to the sink and rinsed them. “Good night.”

THE HOT CHOCOLATE didn’t calm Gabe. In fact, his time in the kitchen with Belle had revved him up. As he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, every cell in his body stood on red alert.

Belle Outlaw was one hell of a woman. He’d never met anyone quite like her—certainly not while staring down the barrel of a gun. He’d known she was a former FBI agent, but he’d only seen her helpless and ill in the hospital. It hadn’t sunk in that she was a formidable female. And gorgeous. His mother had seen the good bones immediately. He’d noticed the bones and the curves over them.

Gabe felt very comfortable with Belle, more so than with any woman in a long time. Even more so than with Lisa. But he dared not entertain the thought of any sort of serious relationship with Belle. He’d learned that lesson. Women expected more from him than he was able to commit. They weren’t prepared to live with the entire family that he was responsible for. Lisa had made it abundantly clear that she intended for them to have a life and home separate from his mother and Skye, but that simply wasn’t possible. He’d promised Charlie Walker, his stepfather, before he died that he would take care of the women. He meant to keep that promise to the best of his abilities. He’d fallen down on the job a couple of times with disastrous results and didn’t intend to make the same mistakes again. Flora and Skye needed him. He was their rock, their protector, and if it meant sacrificing a life of his own with a demanding wife, then so be it.

In their last big fight before Lisa walked out of his life for good, she’d called him a sanctimonious martyr giving up his own happiness for two neurotic women. Still, not even for her could he shirk his responsibilities.

Of course there was the chance that Belle might not feel the same way. She didn’t strike him as a high-maintenance type.

BELLE WAS WIDE AWAKE. The hot chocolate hadn’t helped. Maybe the caffeine in the chocolate offset the calcium in the milk. She felt wired. And a bit foolish for charging to the rescue, gun in hand. She’d almost blown away her host. Not a good thing.

She already admired Gabe, and hearing the gentle manner in which he calmed his sister added points to his score. He was a genuinely nice man. Too bad she hadn’t met him before she’d met Matt. But she hadn’t. And no way was she going to consider a relationship with another man. In the first place she wasn’t even divorced yet. In the second, she understood the dynamics of the rebound effect, and she refused to involve herself in such a situation. She wasn’t the sort of woman who needed a man to complete her. She could take care of herself—or at least she’d be able to when she figured out what she was going to do careerwise. Getting her strength back and making some decisions about employment were her priorities. Complicating things with a man would be foolish. Even a guy as appealing as Gabe Burrell.

BELLE COULDN’T BELIEVE the time when she glanced at the clock the following morning. She never slept so late. Throwing back the covers, she was about to spring from the bed when she remembered that she didn’t have anywhere to spring to. She didn’t have a job to go to or chores to do. Instead of getting up, she stretched broadly and lolled around for another fifteen minutes before she rose and dressed in jeans and a light sweatshirt.

She followed her nose downstairs in search of coffee and found Suki in the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Suki said. “How about some coffee?”

“I’d love some. I’m addicted to the stuff.”

“Me, too. Go on in the sunroom. Flora’s in there, and I’m rustling up some breakfast for her. I’ll fix some for you as well. You fussy? Flora likes that cereal with nuts and berries and seeds she gets at the health food store.”

“Sounds good to me,” Belle said. “And I can help you fix it.”

“Shoot, nothing to fix. Just scoop some in a bowl and pour some milk over it. You go on and sit down. Keep Flora company. Mugs and the coffeepot are on the table. Help yourself.”

Flora smiled up at Belle when she slid into a seat at the table. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

Belle reached for the coffee. “Yes, thanks. I didn’t mean to sleep so late. I’m usually up by six.”

“Not me. I’ve never found sunrise all that exciting.” Flora chuckled merrily. “I’m a night owl in a family of larks. Gabe has already left for the office, and Skye is at the clinic. Do you use cream? Or sweetener? Gabe drinks his coffee black, and Skye and I use only raw sugar or honey, but I think Suki keeps some of those little yellow packets around.”

“Honey would be wonderful.”

Flora moved the honey pot toward Belle. “This is local honey, the best kind. Only Suki uses cream in her coffee. I’ve tried to explain that it’s not the best mixture, but—”