Someone to Watch Over Me

Summer grudgingly gave a little. “Granted, Izzy’s beautiful, talented and about as nice a person as you’d ever hope to meet. She’s also in the midst of a horrible personal tragedy, Gabe. I’ll gladly introduce you to any other of the unattached females at our reception, since you seem to be put off by Megan. Oh, look—over near the grape arbor. It’s Maggie Fitzgerald and Dawn Cunningham.” Summer physically turned Gabe’s head in the direction she wanted him to look.

He couldn’t pretend interest in either the flashy redhead or the petite brunette who chatted with Jesse Cook, owner of the Broken Arrow Ranch. Gabe had met Jesse weeks ago and liked what he’d seen of Summer’s nearest neighbor.

“Tell me more about Isabella,” he murmured, returning his gaze to the cake table.

Summer pursed her lips, first studying Gabe, then slanting a worried glance toward her friend.

Colt Quinn elbowed his way into their corner and slipped an arm possessively around his wife. “Go find your own woman, Poston. This one’s mine.” Bending, Colt pressed a kiss on Summer’s mouth. As their kiss ended, Colt started to move Summer out of the corner.

“Hey, hold on.” Gabe caught at her lacy sleeve. “I’m serious about wanting to know why a beautiful woman has such soulless eyes.”

Summer’s voice dropped even lower. “I’ll tell you because you’re Colt’s best friend. But Izzy’s my good friend, too, so listen up and then forget about this fascination you have with her, okay?” Clearing her throat, Summer said tightly, “Ten months ago, not long after she won a bitter divorce, Izzy got home late from work to find her ex in her garage—sitting in his car with the motor running.”

Gabe shifted uncomfortably. “God,” he exclaimed. “You’re telling me the SOB killed himself at her place?”

Summer squeezed Gabe’s forearm. “Julian Arana was unconscious but alive. The same wasn’t true of their two beautiful kids. Five-year-old Antonia and three-year-old Ramon died of carbon monoxide poisoning. Izzy…well, she’s making it through day by day.”

Gabe’s body jerked spasmodically. The champagne he’d just downed threatened to come up again. Of all the scenarios he’d conjured up after glimpsing the woman’s eyes, none compared to the horrible truth.

Colt Quinn wrapped his wife in the protective shelter of his arms. “I know that’s why you gave Isabella our catering contract instead of going to the Green Willow like your family always did. But, honey, this isn’t good wedding conversation.” He glared at Gabe.

Gabe immediately backed off. “You’ve gotta believe that if I’d had any idea, I would’ve kept my mouth shut. Go on you two, enjoy what’s left of your big day.”

“Are you sticking around a while?” Colt clapped Gabe on the shoulder. “Marc and Moss are taking off for the airport within the next hour to catch their commuter flights. We’ve said our goodbyes. You drove, I know. I saw your Lexus SUV outside.”

“I haven’t decided exactly when I’ll check out of the Inn. They’re still skiing at Sun Valley, and I’ve leased out my condo until the season ends. Maybe I’ll stay here a week or so and see if Marley wants me to close on Marc’s Utah project.”

“Great. You guys aren’t all taking off on us at once,” Summer said. “Promise you’ll come to the ranch for dinner one night before you go. Coltrane, call him tomorrow and set a date. Oh, excuse me, please. I see Rory helping himself to a second piece of cake. That little scoundrel will be sick as a dog tonight if I don’t call a halt.” She left her husband’s arms to dash off and intercept her son.

Colt had difficulty taking his eyes off her as she threaded her way through the guests, who stood in small groups, talking and eating cake.

Gabe experienced a vague surge of envy as Colt finally stirred.

“You’ve been awfully tight-lipped about any plans you might have if Marley’s source of funds for the agency dries up. You got something cooking on a back burner, Gabe?”

Gabe shook his head.

“Callanton needs a good accountant. Or, hell, if you can hang on for a year, Summer and I will hire you to handle the Forked Lightning accounts exclusively. We’ve already talked it over. We just can’t swing it this year.”

“In other words, I’m not the only one having a hard time watching the old gang scatter?”

Colt gave a short laugh. “Dumb, isn’t it? Four grown men like us. It’s not as if we don’t all have the means to visit one another, no matter where in the world we decide to sink roots.”

“We all have the means, but will we make the time?” Gabe shrugged.

“You’ve nailed what’s been bothering me. Ranching’s a three-hundred-and-sixty-five-day-a-year job. I kinda figure being a vet’s the same. And who knows about Marc? He said Lizzy’s dad owns three car dealerships, and the old boy’s planning to retire. You know how crazy Marc’s always been about cars. I can see him practically living at a dealership, can’t you?”

“Yeah. Haven’t we been friends too long to lose touch now? Go enjoy your party, Coltrane. I’m gonna nab me a slice of that cake before it’s all gone.”

“Uh, Gabe. I couldn’t help noticing that you’re still zeroed in on Summer’s friend. Whatever’s on your mind, it’s probably a bad idea.”

Gabe glanced away, trying to hide his guilt. “I don’t know what you’re implying. Cake. That’s all I’m after.” He spun and walked off.

As he picked up an empty plate, Gabe tried putting himself in Isabella’s shoes. But his mind refused, and his gut churned. How could a person go on?

Damn, he’d always wanted kids someday. Gabe knew firsthand how fast life went to hell when a child lost his parents. He couldn’t begin to fathom what it’d be like for a parent to lose two kids. He’d studied law, but it didn’t take a law degree to determine that Isabella Navarro’s ex was seriously wacko. Too bad the SOB didn’t die with his kids.

Approaching Isabella gingerly, Gabe extended his plate for a piece of cake. He had no idea what, if anything, to say to her. Something innocuous, he decided, smiling automatically as she looked up. “I closed your van like you asked,” he blurted. “That was me in the parking lot. Remember? I suggested my friend and I help you carry the champagne?” Gabe hiked a thumb over his right shoulder to where Reggie and Marc were moving inside with the crowd.

The caterer paled as she set a wedge of cake in the exact middle of his plate.

“The name’s Gabe. Gabe Poston. I’m a friend of the groom. I watched you unload this cake from your van and I thought it was too pretty to eat.” Lifting a fork to his mouth, Gabe raised his eyes to hers. “Um. I was wrong. Tastes great. All the food did. Tasted good, I mean.”

Isabella inclined her head in deference to his compliment.

Gabe knew he should let it go at that and move on. But again the deep shadows in her eyes wrenched his heart. “I’ll bet it’s not easy handling a party of this size. You made it look simple, though.”

ISABELLA NAVARRO REFOCUSED and really looked at the handsome stranger who devoured his cake while trying to draw her into conversation. She couldn’t admit she’d performed her services here today by rote. Work took her mind off…other things. She’d accepted this job for the money. She’d need extra to get her through the time she’d have to take off once Julian’s trial began. Her brain rarely moved past that point. And she needed to keep her attention—all her attention—on that goal. Too many people thought Julian had simply gone off the deep end. Even the media implied he was insane.

She knew better. And someone had to be an advocate for her kids. Isabella intended to see her bastard of an ex-husband held accountable for his actions. She wasn’t letting anything get in her way.

Yet here was this poor man. A virtual stranger who obviously didn’t know he was hitting on a woman whose heart had turned to granite. Isabella couldn’t find the words to break it to him, either. Not without crying. And she wouldn’t. Cry. Not one tear until her mission was accomplished.

CHAPTER TWO

THE MAN’S EYES BORED straight through Isabella, leaving her feeling exposed. The hand holding the cake knife faltered. Why was such a knockout guy attempting to engage her in conversation? The self-proclaimed friend of Colt Quinn’s wore an impeccable gray pinstriped suit, which brought out gray flecks in otherwise lake-blue eyes.

Isabella stood five-nine without shoes. She had to look up to meet Gabe Poston’s eyes. That made him as tall as her brothers, all of whom were over six feet. Poston’s healthy tan spoke of someone who worked out of doors, especially as his light brown hair was also sun-streaked. Yet his hands told a different story.

The men in Isabella’s family—her dad, three brothers and two brothers-in-law—all carved a living from the land. Their occupations ranged from apple farmers to grape growers to sheep men, which meant that their knuckles were permanently scarred and chapped. She loved them all dearly, but she couldn’t help noticing that not one ever had fingernails as clean as the man standing across from her now. Men who looked like Gabe Poston passed through Callanton, but they never stuck around.

That at least came as a relief.

So, the larger issue that loomed on the horizon, beyond his fine physical attributes, was why he’d singled her out. Especially when Summer had invited a score of eligible searching-for-a-mate females to her reception.

She could only assume he hadn’t heard about her. Even folks Isabella had known most of her life avoided speaking directly to her now. Not because they were uncaring but because they didn’t know what to say. Truthfully, what could anyone say?

But this stranger not only spoke, he looked her squarely in the eye and forced her to pay attention. Now that she had, surely he’d see her utter misery, and he’d leave her alone with her pain—like everyone did. Like she wanted them all to do.

Isabella hurt down into the deepest parts of her soul, and she needed to feel every ounce of that rawness. Otherwise she might not have the strength to continue the fight to put Julian Arana behind bars for the rest of his natural life. That was all she lived for. Julian’s lawyer bragged that he’d won a huge victory when the judge ruled out asking for the death penalty. Only the state’s prosecutor and Isabella’s family knew she’d never favored putting Julian to death. Death was too easy an out for a person who had committed his sin.

Her hands shook harder and her stomach knotted just thinking about Julian and the case. Either Poston had no sensitivity, or he was simply the oblivious sort. For whatever reason, he was still smiling at her. A disconcerting smile that revealed tiny laugh lines around his eyes.

“I seem to be your last customer.” Gabe gestured with his cake plate. “The other guests have all gone inside. Presumably to dance. At least I hear the combo that arrived a while ago tuning up their instruments. They have a nice sound, don’t you think?”

Isabella hadn’t seen or heard a band. Of course, she’d ignored everything going on around her except when it pertained to her catering duties. But it was clear that if she didn’t say something, this guy would pester her all evening. “Feel free to take your plate inside. There are TV trays for empties set up near the dance floor.”

Gabe averted his eyes long enough to study the profusion of plates and glasses left strewn about the patio. “Give me a second to finish this, and I’ll help you clean up the mess out here.” He gestured with his plate.