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Gabe’s face broke into a wide grin—one of his grins that always made her breath catch, and her panties want to fly off and scream ‘take me!’—if panties could scream.
“That’s the best part.” Gabe slipped his hand into hers and pulled her further out to the edge of the patio, then leaned a bit further and pointed to the right. The large stone wall continued around the side of the house, even blocking access to the ocean. PJ had seen a gate at the back of the yard and assumed that led to a private beach. But, now she saw another small gate in the wall and the roof of a large house beyond it.
“That’s Jack’s house,” Gabe said.
PJ laughed. “You bought a house right next to your friend?”
Gabe nodded, and his grin widened if that was even possible. “I couldn't resist. That way, I know there won't be a psycho over there. And the guy on the other side of me is Andrew, Jack’s best friend. He and his wife, Jill, will be at the party tomorrow. We all have the codes to each other’s gates so we can cut through our yards. It’s perfect. Chad lives about three houses up, so he and Jennie need to walk down the road or take the beach,” he said, as if that were the greatest hardship in the world.
PJ just continued to shake her head, but she was smiling. She couldn’t believe all his good friends owned houses so close to one another. What would she give to have that kind of life? Those kind of friends?
Anything, she realized. She had huge bank accounts and had invested in several profitable businesses, but now she saw the limitations of that. Building money wasn’t much of a life.
She could see why Gabe was thinking of giving up his hotels. Everything he needed was right here. She would want to stay here full time, too, if she were him.
PJ’s phone beeped in her purse.
“I should let you get settled in, I guess,” he said, nodding in the direction of her bag.
PJ nodded. It felt a little awkward suddenly, now that they were really here, alone in his house together. “Yeah, I should check messages and touch base with Debra. Make sure everything’s still on track for next week’s shows. I’m sure Lydia’s giving her hell. She’s probably furious that I’m not adding interviews to the schedule this week. If Lydia had her way, she would have milked this episode for all the publicity she could get.”
He ran his hand across her lower back as he guided her toward the house. “Let’s get you to your room, then. I can start dinner while you take care of things.”
Gabe showed her to a room just off the patio where they stood just moments earlier. The queen-sized bed was piled high with welcoming pillows and a vase of fresh flowers brightened the room, but it was the doorway leading out to a private side patio that drew her attention.
The French doors had an archway over them, and they practically beckoned her to go outside and sit in the sun. Teak furniture that matched the set on the patio created the perfect private sitting area. As with all of Gabe’s hotels, everything she could want was set out for her—every luxury available to her.
“This is perfect, Gabe. Thank you,” she said as he set her bag down on the bed.
“Let me know if you need anything. Something light for dinner?”
PJ wrinkled up her nose, drawing a laugh from Gabe.
“Comfort food, it is,” he said, walking toward the bedroom door. “Double bacon, blue-cheese burgers and mashed potatoes coming right up. I’ll throw a salad together on the side to fight off some of the guilt.”
PJ laughed and then pulled her phone from her bag and sank down into an overstuffed wing chair in the corner of the room.
The laugh dried to dust in her throat as she read the line of text messages on her phone. She scrolled to see the phone number for the incoming texts, but the originating numbers were blocked.
How is that possible?Her phone number was kept under lock and key. Her parents, Debra, Lydia, Ellis, the band and a few friends had it. She was fairly sure Lydia and Ellis’s mom had it since both her children worked so closely with PJ and she was friends with PJ’s mom, but no one on that list would give it out.Would they?
PJ scrolled to the top text and read through to the bottom. They’d all come within minutes of one another and they read like the kind of sing-song teasing you might hear on a playground:
Did you think I was going to let you off the hook so easily, Pretty Prudence Cantrell?
Last night was just a taste of the hell you’ll be going through in the weeks to come.
Did you cry yourself to sleep last night?
How many times do you think your baby cried himself to sleep without you?
Time to pay the price for your selfishness, Pretty Pru.
That answered the question of whether the person knew all her secrets. PJ closed her eyes and squeezed them until the tears she’d felt threatening backed off just a bit. Crying wouldn’t change anything.
Her hands shook as she typed in a response.
What do you want?
