Not Over You
Page 8

He sighed.
Maybe Summer was as desperate as the woman who’d raised him on the streets of Bogotá, Columbia. From what he knew, or at least what he thought he knew, of Summer, she and his mother had a lot in common when it came to men.
They didn’t trust them. They used them and were used and abused in turn.
It was a nasty, vicious cycle that he would never know if his mother ever broke, but maybe this was his chance to help Summer break free of her past for good.
It’s not your job to save everyone.
No, it wasn’t, but all he’d been doing for Summer was throwing her life jackets over the years. It was time to pull her out of the ocean—permanently.
But he wasn’t quite sure how to implement that. There was someone he needed to talk to, someone whose judgment he trusted implicitly, even when he hadn’t bothered to listen.
***
Sunday dinners were anything but quiet at the Edwards’ house, especially with six brothers and sisters. Gabriel’s family hadn’t always been this large. Until the age of eight, there had only been his biological mother and himself living in a house comprised of wood, metal, and pieces of cardboard. It was a period of his life he didn’t care to dwell on, much less looked upon with fond memories.
His adopted father, John, sat at the head of the table, with his wife and Gabriel’s adopted mother, Gloria, on his right. Occasionally, Gabriel would catch the two of them staring at him, and then exchanging knowing glances. It wasn’t a big stretch of the imagination to figure out what they were thinking.
Elise’s mother and Gloria had become the best of friends, since Elise’s parents had moved down here. Both mothers had made it perfectly clear they loved the idea of Gabriel and Elise seriously dating. He wouldn’t put it past either mother to have engaged in a little wedding planning either.
A spoonful of peas sailed through the air, hitting Isabella, the next to the oldest of all the siblings, in the neck. She narrowed her eyes at Hope and Faith. “Stop playing with your food,” she said while signing the words with her hands.
The twins looked at each other and silently giggled, fingers furiously signing their next plan of assault on their big sister to each other.
Gabriel caught their attention and nodded at Paul, who was busy circling his dinner plate with miniature trains. Identical smiles grew to Cheshire proportions.
“I heard Summer Holland was back in town,” Isabella said as she stabbed a piece of roast beef with her fork.
Heard his tail. Maybe he should throw his peas at his sister, along with his roll and what was left of his portion of the roast beef.
“Is this true, Gabe?” Gloria asked, her brown eyes missing nothing. She shook her head at the twins, and then instructed Michael to eat the rest of his mashed potatoes.
“Yes, ma’am.” Even if he didn’t suspect his mother already knew, he wouldn’t have lied to her. Not that he shared his private life with anyone. It stayed private—at least, when he could help it.
Gloria glanced at her husband, and then back at Gabriel. “Why is Summer back?”
“She wanted to return the truck she borrowed from me.” Not the whole truth, but it was all he felt comfortable giving at the moment.
“Is she leaving soon?” John asked as he fed Anna, another one of Gabriel’s sisters. She’d been six months old when they’d adopted her from China, and had been born without her hands. Now she was three and insisted on feeding herself most of the time.
“No, she’s planning on staying for good this time. She wants to reconnect with her family.” For a while, Gabriel had blamed himself for Summer’s extended absence. After all, he’d been the one to convince her to let Rose adopt Ivy. If anyone deserved Summer’s anger, it was him. But he’d seen the pain in her eyes, the uncertainty of her situation, and for a moment, she reminded him of the woman who’d given him up.
Given. More like sold to John and Gloria Edwards. Or had tried to sell him. Then again, his mother had been eleven or twelve when she’d given birth to him in a slum. A malnourished boy couldn’t have been anything but a drain to her. Maybe selling him to the two American missionaries had been her gift to him. He’d only wished she’d done it sooner.
He set his glass down beside his plate, tracing the condensation along the rim. For eight years, he’d endured poverty, hunger, and hopelessness. Things he had in common with his adopted brothers and sisters. Only Isabella, his parents’ one biological child, was perfect.
“I saw the two of you eating lunch together in the park,” Isabella said, eyes all wide and innocent. Yeah, his sister was perfectly annoying. But he loved her anyway.
“Oh no, not lunch. That means we’re exactly nothing, Bella,” Gabriel pointed out.
Judah, the newest member of their family, sat in his mother’s lap, looking a little scared and a whole lot overwhelmed. His baby brother had arrived only two months ago from Romania, his little legs bent at odd angles and his fingers permanently curved.
His mother frowned, but kept her comments to herself.
“Where are Ms. Kelly and Ms. Nancy?” he asked, referring to in-home nurses who helped take care of all the special needs children his parents had adopted or fostered.
“They deserved a day off,” his dad said as he balled up his napkin. He stood and began clearing off the table. “Like your mother does.”
“Yes, sir.” Gabriel grabbed his glass and plate.
Paul, the third oldest of the kids, copied him, and they both followed their dad into the kitchen.
John was at the sink, rinsing off his plate. Paul opened the dishwasher and unloaded the dishes. The twins ran in and out of the kitchen, bringing dirty plates and empty bowls with them. Gabriel could hear Isabella trying to coax Judah into sitting with her as Anna started demanding lap time with Gloria.
The three men worked in silence, Paul stopping every so often to rearrange the silverware drawer to his liking. Once the last dish was placed inside the dishwasher and all the clean plates were put away, they headed out to the front porch.
Gabriel and Paul sat in the porch swing, while their dad took his usual place in the rocking chair. It was still sunny outside, but pink and orange streaked the evening sky. The swing creaked as Paul moved his legs back and forth.
“Can’t say I’m happy about this turn of events,” John finally said. The urge to defend Summer was strong, but he remained silent as his dad continued, “But I trust you to do the right thing.”
Gabriel laid an arm along the back of the swing. “As in help her out, but nothing more.”
John nodded. “Your mother’s not happy with you right now.”
His parents knew of their past, so he couldn’t exactly blame them. “So this little man time out here is to voice her concerns?”
“It’s to voice our concerns. Neither of us are telling you to stay away from Summer. You’re a grown man—one who usually makes good decisions. But there’s only so much you can offer a woman like her, and your judgment seems to be skewed when it comes to Summer.”
Gabriel clenched his jaw. The place between his shoulder blades pinched together. “A woman like her?” Wasn’t his dad the man who preached unconditional love and to help out your neighbor? To not judge a person, because you don’t know what they had endured or were still enduring.
“Don’t take a phrase out of context, son,” John warned. “I’m not talking about her reputation; I’m talking about her actions. Actions that have hurt my son.”
Gabriel exhaled, letting the tightness in his shoulders ease up. This he could understand. He didn’t like it, but he could understand his parents’ need to protect him. “I appreciate your concern,” There was that word again, “but things are different. Summer’s different this time.”
The conviction in his voice surprised him. Maybe his heart knew something his brain didn’t. Usually his brain was telling him to stay the hell away from her, to not get involved beyond what she needed.
The last time Gabriel tried to get involved, Summer had burned him so badly that he still had scars. He looked down at his arm, at the scar in the shape of a thumbprint. It looked as though he had been branded. There were two more on his left bicep that resembled fingerprints.
If he had been a man who believed in the supernatural, he would have said that those were Summer’s marks on him. Marks she’d given to him while she was in labor with Ivy, as she clenched his hand and gripped his arm when another contraction had made her cry out.
Those marks, those little reminders of when he tried to be more than just a friend to her, were nothing like the one on his heart. In reality, they were nothing more than burns from welding a motorcycle frame together the morning Summer’s daughter had been born.
Funny how he hadn’t noticed, until that evening. Until he was home—alone and worried out of his mind for her. But it had been made very clear he hadn’t been needed.
“You said that before,” his dad pointed out.
Paul stopped swinging and shuffled back inside.
He glanced up at his dad and said, “This time I’m different, and I’m doing things differently, too.” This time, he would make a difference in Summer’s life.
John smiled and nodded. “Different is good.”
Chapter Ten
Summer hadn’t expected Gabriel to take so long to tell her no.
But here he was, two weeks later, walking into Carolina Dreams with a determined look on his face. Jemma Leigh had said that she’d heard Elise had broken up with him, but Summer seriously doubted that.
The bells on the door rang, and then went silent.
She backed up, against the counter, desperately wishing she had something in her hands other than Blackbeard, the fickle cat. He meowed at Gabriel before jumping out of her arms and heading to the back.
“Traitor,” she muttered.
Gabriel’s scent washed over her before he reached her, but this time it didn’t give her comfort. She knew she’d pushed him too far. She also knew she had no chance at getting Ivy back, that her hopes and dreams for a real family were about to be dashed to pieces.
“Are you really determined to go through with it?” Gabriel asked, stopping just shy of touching her. Today, he wore another button-down shirt and khaki pants. His dark hair was thick and slightly wavy… slightly tempting her to touch him.
She fisted her hands by her side. “Yes.”
“Then I’ll marry you.”
Her jaw and her body nearly dropped to the floor in shock. Then she remembered her threat. “So nice of you to be concerned about all those couples—”
“Stop it.” He shook his head. “I’ve known you for too long not to know when you’re bluffing. And that, sweetheart, was one of your biggest bluffs.”
“I-I…uh…well, I’m glad you’ve agreed to marry me. Hopefully, Elise won’t be too broken up about it.” She wanted to bang her head against the counter after she said that. Way to rub a little salt into the wound.
His eyes narrowed. “Elise won’t be broken up about it at all.”
“That’s good,” she whispered, growing more uneasy by the minute.
“But I have some conditions of my own, since I’m being so agreeable and giving up Elise.”
“That seems fair.”
“You’re darn right it does.”
Summer waited. This time, her fingers uncurled and fisted the material of her dress instead. Gabriel’s gaze dropped, and she could have sworn his expression softened.
“There won’t be a marriage in name only, and there won’t be a divorce. It’s either all or nothing.” He started ticking off a list, marking each item with a finger. “I want to date you, then get engaged, then having a wedding, a honeymoon—you did call dibs on that, after all—and then we’ll come right back to Holland Springs. You’ll move in with me, work here, or wherever else you’d like, or stay at home. Doesn’t matter—I can provide for you either way.”
“But…”
He gave her a look. “But what?”
“There’s always a ‘but’. You have to want…something else from me,” she said, her heart sinking and her legs shaking.
“Oh I do, but that has to be given—willingly.” He gently grabbed her arm, pulling her toward him. Cupping the side of her face with his free hand, he dipped his head. “I plan to be the man you’ve always wanted, your every fantasy, and every desire. I plan on meeting every need a wild child like you could have. And by God, I hope it’s a lot, because I’ve been waiting my whole life for you.”
Before Summer could melt into a puddle on the floor, his mouth came over hers. Hard. Demanding. She kissed him back just as hard, just as demanding. Years of pent-up need, and want, and desire for him twined, growing stronger with each passing second.
Her butt hit the counter, and his hard chest bumped into hers. She gasped, and his tongue plunged inside her mouth.
Good God, he could kiss, was her last thought, and then all she could do was feel, and touch, and taste. Take and give. Whimper, and moan, and dig her nails into his skin.
All too soon, he pulled away, his breath coming in pants.
“Do you plan on kissing me like that very often?” she asked.
He grinned, slow, cocky, and just this side of wicked. Her eyes couldn’t help but widen. Her pulse couldn’t help mimic the speed of hummingbird wings. Her angel had never looked at her like that. Ever.
“I plan on kissing you like that, every day, for the rest of my life,” he said.
Normally, this would be the time she’d say something sarcastic, but normally, he didn’t kiss her. Normally, she didn’t feel so alive.