Читать книгу The Third Daughter's Wish - Kaitlyn Rice - Страница 10

Three evenings later, Josie stood in her own front doorway, chortling as Gabe reacted to her costume.

“You’re going to my mom and stepdad’s shindig as Doc Holliday?” he inquired through the screen.

His bewildered expression was priceless. When she’d told Gabe that she was going to tonight’s costume party as Wyatt Earp’s favorite sidekick, she’d known he’d make a big assumption. After all, the gunslinger’s third and favorite wife had been named Josephine Sarah, like her.

She might be laughing hardest at her own joke, but Gabe wasn’t exactly crying. His gaze had lingered a little too long on her flattened chest, and now he was growing an annoyingly large smirk.

“Gabe!” she scolded. “I’m dressed as a man!”

“So?”

“So stop staring at my chest!”

“Just wondering where you’d put ’em.”

She glanced down at her buttoned white shirt and vest. “I wore a tight body suit underneath, that’s all.”

The teasing glint in his baby blues warped his look of concern. “Does it hurt?”

“Of course not.”

“This party could go on until the wee hours. Who knows how you’ll feel after several hours of being squashed up like that? If you want me to help unbind or…”

“Gabe!”

“Fluff or reinflate anything later, I—”

Josie slammed the solid wood door shut between them.

Gabe promptly opened it. “Sheesh!” he said, shouldering his way inside. “Can’t a guy enjoy a good prank when it’s played on him?”

His Ropers clunked on the threshold, and the scent that wafted in ahead of him was a pleasing mixture of worn leather and expensive male cologne. “Are you really that mad?”

“I don’t get mad,” she insisted, then ignored his rude snort as they stood together in the entryway.

“Now that the shock has worn off, let me take a gander.” He waggled his index finger around in a circle.

Sucking her cheeks in, Josie bit down on them to exaggerate the famous dentist’s hollow cheeks. She turned slowly, allowing Gabe to see her full costume. She’d found a long, gray coat at the thrift store and scrounged a pair of ancient work boots from the attic. She hadn’t been able to get her hands on a wide-brimmed hat, so she’d parted and slicked down her hair in a masculine style.

Gabe shook his head. “You look like Doc Holliday.”

“Now you show me.”

Gabe’s pivot was smooth, but he added a healthy dose of male swagger. As well he should. Tall and tanned, he had magnificent muscle tone and a face that broke hearts on a regular basis. He could probably shave a labyrinth into his golden-brown curls, leave food fragments in his straight white teeth and trade clothes with his grungiest friend, and women would still offer him paper scraps with their phone numbers. The man was a bona fide hunk.

Another thing Josie would never tell him.

“Good job,” she said. “I especially like the vest and holster.” She reached up to yank at a few strands of his thick mustache. “This isn’t yours, is it?”

After slapping her hand away, he pressed a finger against the fake facial hair to keep it from peeling off. “Of course not. You saw me clean-shaven a couple of days ago.”

“Just checking,” she said, smiling as he worked to restick the edges.

He had to be sexier than the real Wyatt Earp. It might have been fun to play Josephine to his Wyatt tonight. To arrive at the party on the arm of a handsome good guy, to dance in his arms. Perhaps even enjoy a little old time smooching out behind the barn.

She couldn’t do that, of course.

Josie was no fool. Her longest intimate relationship had lasted eleven weeks. Her platonic connections were much more solid. She hung out with the guys over whichever sporting event was in season, and they swapped tales of work and romance wins and woes. She liked men, and her buddies were the best of the bunch.

She didn’t sleep with them, though. Sleeping with men led to departures of men. She wouldn’t lose a friend that way. Especially not Gabe.

“Really thought I’d dress as your wife, huh?” she asked as she crossed her living room.

“Would it be that bad?”

“Aw heck, Gabe. You want a wife? Just empty your pants pockets before you do your laundry.”

“Beg pardon?”

She laughed. “Dial the number on one of the business cards or napkin scraps you find in there.” She strode into the kitchen to grab a paper bag full of plastic-wrapped marshmallow and cereal treats. “Those women aren’t looking for job interviews, my friend,” she hollered back.

“I’m not looking for a wife and you know it,” he shouted. “I was merely surprised at your choice of costumes.”

“Just admit it, I got you.” She lowered her voice as she returned to Gabe to exit via the door behind him.

As if he were the real Wyatt Earp facing off some outlaw, Gabe remained in place, his hands low on his hips. “You about ready, then?” he asked when she finally stopped a short four inches from his chest.

Josie throttled a grin. She’d met Gabe when she was a college sophomore running the weekend registers at the hardware store and he was a hungry carpenter with a perpetual need for supplies. These days when the proud owner of Thomas Contracting landed jobs that required interior design work, he talked up her skills. Josie referred construction work to him.

She had a great deal of respect for Gabe’s talent and integrity, but he could be too serious. Too logical. When he was in an ornery mood, though, he was more fun than anyone.

Josie craved that distraction tonight. As she looked up into his gleaming eyes, she stepped squarely on his toe. “You’re the one who’s not moving.”

He yanked his boot from beneath hers, then swung around and offered her an elbow. She hooked a hand around it and they stepped outside. He waited on the porch while she locked her house, then offered his arm again as they approached the driveway.

Tonight should be a blast.

When Josie reached her truck, she stopped. Gabe kept going and nearly yanked her arm out of the socket.

“Ow!”

He mumbled an apology, but also untangled his arm and kept walking toward his pearl-white BMW, parked behind her truck in the drive. “We’re taking my car, kid.”

“Nope.” She lifted her keys to jingle them. “Move the overpriced status symbol. I’m driving.”

Gabe stopped and turned around near his car. He shoved his thumbs over his holster and leaned a hip against his fender, appearing as though he could wait all evening.

She sighed. He’d had that dang car just over a month. Every year when the new models came out, he traded up. She’d been driving the same Toyota pickup for ten years. It had heart, like her. Gabe’s cars were simply vehicles, and she told him so, often.

After a moment, he broke their staring match to frown down at his clothes. “I can’t ride with you,” he said. “I borrowed this shirt from Nadine’s husband.”

Nadine was Gabe’s younger sister by six years, and Livy’s twin. The fact that Gabe had borrowed the Western-style shirt from his brother-in-law was no great shock, but Josie couldn’t fathom what he’d meant by the comment.

“These boots used to be my mother’s,” she said. “How would borrowed clothes factor into this decision about who drives?”

“I can’t risk ruining the shirt with blood or broken glass,” he said, deadpan. Then he walked around to the passenger side of his car and opened it, indicating with a nod that she should duck inside.

She stood her ground. “You’re not risking anything. I’m a great driver.”

“Except you rely on everyone else to be on their toes.” He leaned down to pat the car seat. “Get in. We’re taking the car.”

She waved the paper bag. “Can’t. I need to go by Callie’s before the party.”

“I know the way to your sister’s house.”

Josie scowled and kept her feet planted.

“Come on, Josie.” Gabe leaned an arm across the top of his car door. “I’ll be the designated driver and you can have as good a time as you want.”

Now, that was tempting. A couple of beers and she’d be primed to party. Maybe she’d forget all her turmoil about her visit with her father.

“You can get completely schnockered if you like,” Gabe added.

Josie didn’t drink that much. She made certain she didn’t. And worried anyway.

Lifting her chin, she crossed the space between her truck and Gabe’s car. “For your information, I’ve never once been schnockered. I drink one or two at a time, and generally only on weekends.” She slid inside and slammed the car door before Gabe could respond.

But of course, after Gabe had come around and folded his long frame behind the steering wheel, he said, “You’re practically a miniature person, so two could get you into plenty of trouble.”

“I’m five-four—almost average for a woman my age.” She sounded huffy, but she couldn’t help it. Her height, or lack of it, was also a sore point.

Gabe winked.

Ooh! The man could push her buttons! Josie opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of his teasing, but shut it again when she noticed his eyes.

His gaze had locked on her lips, and he was frowning. His mustache hopped from side to side as he wiggled his jaw. Then he pursed his lips slightly.

“Uh, Gabe? What are you doing?”

He lifted his eyes to hers. “Your mustache is crooked.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” She felt her own pasted-on mustache and discovered one side hanging loose. “Can I borrow that?” She pointed to his rearview mirror.

“Sure.”

She set the paper bag on the floorboard, then slid halfway onto his car’s middle console and tilted the mirror her way.

Gabe didn’t start the car. As she worked to peel off the left edge of the mustache and restick it, he sat with the full length of his leg pressed against hers.

“What are you doing now?” she asked.

“Enjoying the view.”

She flicked a gaze at his muscular thighs and just higher, for an instant. “Uh-huh! You were liking more than the view.”

“You’re the one on my side of the car.”

She bounced into her seat, returned the treat bag to her lap and stuck her tongue out at him. Then she reached up to jerk the mirror around to face him. “Yours is still loose on one side.”

He flipped the visor down in front of him and used that mirror to adjust his costume piece.

Immediately, Josie looked behind her visor and discovered another vanity mirror there. “You should have told me,” she said as she snapped it back into place. “I forget about the cushy doodads in your stuffy cars.”

He didn’t offer a countering response. When he finished adjusting his mustache, he turned toward her. “Better?”

His eyes held the mischievous gleam she’d seen a hundred times before, and that flash of teeth was devilish. Her heart skittered into a quicker rhythm.

Sometimes Josie wondered what it would be like to love a man like Gabe. To love a man fully. Sometimes she ached for that connection.

Gabe peered into the mirror again. “Still crooked?”

She averted her gaze. “Nope. You’re fine.”

“Good.” She heard the flap of his visor, then he started the car and backed out of the drive.

Finally.

Josie needed to get to that party. Her only thoughts should be about having a great time and forgetting the one man in the world who could hurt her. Who had hurt her, whether he’d intended to or not.

That man was her father.

Certainly not Gabe Thomas.

AS GABE BEGAN the thirty-minute drive from Augusta to Wichita, he and Josie talked about the party and who they might see there. About a hundred home-improvement industry professionals had been invited to the annual event thrown by Gabe’s mother and step-father, who owned a big lumber-supply company in east Wichita.

True to his word, Gabe drove past the east Wichita exits, continuing on to Ethan and Callie Taylor’s west-side home. By the time he approached their house, it was eight o’clock and well past dark. Yet the house behind the curtains was unlit.

“I hope everything’s okay,” Josie said, clicking out of her seat belt before Gabe had braked in the drive. “What if Lilly had another seizure? They could be at the hospital again.”

“Don’t decide that now,” Gabe said as he followed Josie to the porch. “Maybe they’re putting the kids to bed or sitting out in the backyard. Did they expect you?”

“Ethan’s working tonight, but Callie and the kids should be home. She’d leave the porch light on, I think.” Josie rang the bell.

Callie opened the door seconds later, calm and elegant despite the green glitter antennae she wore atop her blond head. “Hi, you two.” She smiled tiredly as she looked from her sister’s costume to Gabe’s. “How appropriate.”

“Everything okay?” Josie cocked her head to peer beyond her sister into the house.

“Sure. Things are fine.”

“Your lights are out,” Josie said.

“Oh. Sorry.” Callie opened the screen door and motioned them inside. “I’m trying to keep things calm for Lilly. When I ran out of candy, I turned off the front lights and took her and Luke back to the kitchen. I didn’t want the neighborhood kids to keep ringing the bell.”

Callie led them through the house to the kitchen. Lilly had fallen asleep in front of the bowl of Cheerios on her high chair. Five-year-old Luke sat at the table, his entire arm crammed inside a plastic pumpkin container. Wordlessly, the sturdy brown-eyed boy studied Gabe and Josie as he removed a lollipop from the pumpkin. After he had set it with a pile of similar treats, he said, “I didn’t know grown-ups could go trick-a-treatin’.”

“Gabe and I aren’t trick-or-treating.” Josie approached her nephew and claimed a chair next to him. “We’re on our way to a costume party.”

Callie pulled her sleeping baby from the high chair. “Lilly conked out a few minutes ago. I’ll go put her in her crib.”

Josie eyed her niece, a delicate blonde dressed in a pink bunny suit. “She’s really okay? Normal?”

“Not quite normal,” Callie said. “She hasn’t had any other seizures, but I’m noticing some eye fluttering when she wakes up. If she has another episode, her doctor’s going to give me a referral to a pediatric neurologist in Kansas City.”

“Good.” Josie saw that Gabe was still standing and yanked out a chair next to her. “Siddown, Gabe.”

“Oh, please do!” Callie said, standing with the angelic baby at her chest. “I forget you’re company. You aren’t company! Be comfortable!”

As Gabe sat, Lilly made signs of rousing, so Callie glided out of the room to put her to bed.

“Can I go to the party?” Luke asked, staring at his aunt. “I ate five red taffies. Mom says no more candy, but I can probably have some cake.”

“This is an adult party and you’d hate it,” Josie said, grinning at Gabe. “All talk and no cake.”

Luke wrinkled his nose, then picked up a piece of yellow taffy and squashed it between his fingers before sorting it into a pile. He scrutinized the badge on Gabe’s vest, then asked, “You a pleece-man?”

“Sort of,” Gabe said. “I’m dressed as Wyatt Earp, who was a lawman in cowboy days.”

Luke’s eyes widened. “Cool.” Then he studied his aunt, his expression serious again. “You a cowboy pleece-man, too, Aunt Josie?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re a girl.”

“Girls can be police officers or doctors or whatever they want to be,” Josie said. “Your mother’s a research scientist, right? That’s a difficult and very important job.”

“I know. My daddy says a girl can even be president.” Luke’s words made clear his belief in his father’s wisdom. “But does a girl pleece-man hafta dress like a boy? A spooky boy?”

Gabe chuckled at Josie’s gasp of offense. “She’s supposed to be Doc Holliday, who was a male dentist in cowboy days,” he said. “Sometimes he helped Wyatt Earp with the policing duties.”

Luke studied his aunt’s manly hairstyle for a moment. Finally, he gave a nod. Then he pointed proudly at his own badge. “I’m a pleece-man, too, but not a cowboy. I’m a detective like my dad. He rocks socks!”

“He is pretty great, isn’t he?” Josie said.

“Yep.” The little boy nodded. “Lilly can be a doctor like my mom. I wanna be a pleece-man. My teacher says I even take after Daddy!”

Josie’s hazel eyes grew distant. She sat staring at Luke’s candy piles.

Worrying about Lilly again, probably.

Gabe contemplated Luke’s blue police-officer costume. Nodding toward the cap hooked over the back of Luke’s chair, he said, “Cool hat.”

Luke yanked it from the spindle and placed it on his head, then bent sideways in his chair to eye the holster around Gabe’s hips. “I asked for a gun an’ hoe-ster, but Mommy said no way.”

Josie was still silent, focusing on a single purple lollipop that hadn’t been sorted into a pile.

“I know where to find a tool belt in your size,” Gabe told Luke. “A hard hat, too. Maybe next year you could be a building contractor like me.”

After extracting a piece of gum and a roll of hard candy from his pumpkin, Luke placed them carefully on the table before shaking his head. “No. I wanna be a pleece-man, like Daddy.”

“I understand,” Gabe said.

And he did. Josie’s nephew hadn’t met his father until he was a year old, but since then both Ethan and Luke had been making up for lost time. “Oh, well,” Gabe said, shooting a teasing smirk toward Josie. “Maybe I can talk your aunt into being a contractor next year. She’d be less spooky in a tool belt than she is in a mustache, I think.” He winked at Luke, who giggled.

Josie didn’t respond at all. She sat clutching her paper sack and eyeing that damn lollipop, appearing very much as if she hadn’t heard.

She was sure acting strange.

When Callie returned to the kitchen, Gabe and Josie said their goodbyes and returned to the car just as five gruesome-looking revelers passed the dark house.

Gabe watched Josie set the paper sack on her lap again. He’d thought it was a gift for her sister or the kids, but she’d carried it inside and back out again.

Josie didn’t talk in the car, which left Gabe to wonder what could be so wrong. Callie was Lilly’s mother, and she’d obviously decided to maintain as much normalcy as possible.

Gabe wondered how long it would take Josie to unload this new burden, whatever it was. “Something happen at Callie’s that I missed?” he asked.

“Not that I know of.”

More silence.

“Things okay at your work site this week?” he asked as they traveled through downtown Wichita. “Trouble with suppliers?”

She shifted in her seat, and Gabe prayed she’d snap out of it now. “Peter’s pushing for me to finish the first model home by Thanksgiving,” she said. And stopped talking.

Peter Kramer was a Wichita developer who had hired both of them for his current project. He was demanding, but fair. Gabe glanced across at Josie. “Gonna make it?”

She stared straight ahead. “Sure. I’m ordering draperies this week, and I scheduled the furniture to be delivered a week early.”

Josie’s tone was confident. She’d make a lot of money from this job, and she’d probably score a referral or two. Apparently, work wasn’t the problem.

“Ethan and Callie have got a handle on this thing with Lilly,” he said. “They’ll work diligently to find answers. Lucky thing your sister does medical research for a living.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Okay. Josie didn’t sound overly upset about Lilly. Not right now. But she acted…bothered. By something.

“And how’s Isabel? Still enjoying Colorado life?”

“She loves it.”

Gabe asked a few more questions about Josie’s sisters, but she simply answered and didn’t get enthused about her tales. And as soon as he stopped asking, she stopped talking. “What’s bugging you, then, kid?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re completely distracted.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You hardly paid attention to Luke.”

“Yes, I did. He commented on all our costumes. He thought it was strange that I was dressed as a guy.”

“Oh, yeah? What did he want that he didn’t have?”

“A gun and holster. He’s asked for them every year since he was two. Callie always refuses.”

“What did he say when I offered him a tool belt and hard hat?” Gabe asked.

“You didn’t.”

He caught her gaze, held it.

Josie sniffed. “I guess I missed that. I was probably watching Lilly.”

“Callie had taken her out of the room by then.”

Josie scowled.

“See? You’re acting funny.”

“If I am, it’s none of your business.”

He dropped the subject. In his family, everything was everyone’s business. But Josie had grown up with a mother who’d held a high regard for privacy. This wasn’t the first time Josie had told him to mind his own business. Perhaps she’d talk after they’d relaxed at the party for a while.

Or maybe Gabe would stop worrying about it. He’d decided he ought to start dating again—it’d been almost nine months since he’d had that fling with Kendra.

Gabe’s married sister, Nadine, had said she might bring a single teacher friend tonight. She thought the woman and Gabe might hit it off.

Maybe Gabe would focus on his own good time. And Josie could talk when she was ready.