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“That’s why she’s wearing your jacket,” Sean said, slapping a hand on the bar top for emphasis. “I knew there was a story.”
Gabe ignored his friends and kept his gaze steady on Hope. She avoided eye contact with everyone, clearly wanting a subject change. There was definitely way more to her story, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that. He’d bide his time, wait her out. He’d find out what he wanted to know, eventually. Though why he wanted to know anything about her, he didn’t have a damn clue.
“No story really,” he told his friends nonchalantly, turning to pour pretzels into a couple of bowls, hoping that if their mouths were full, Ivy and Sean might shut the fuck up.
When he turned back, Hope had slipped out of his jacket and draped it over the bar. He tried his best to ignore the sharp sting of disappointment that arrowed through him.
“I just wanted to say thank you again, Gabriel.” Her somewhat sheepish tone surprised Gabe.
He didn’t often experience women being timid around him. The women in his life never treated him with anything less than confident bossiness. Then again, the women in his life consisted of his sister, his daughter, and Ivy. He hadn’t expected a show of humility from someone like Hope, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.
“Gabe,” he said. When she looked at him blankly, he clarified, “Everyone but my father calls me Gabe.” He added a shrug to make it casual. He didn’t need things feeling more personal with her than they already did.
“Gabe,” she said slowly, and damn if he didn’t feel the sound of his name on her lips right in his cock. “I’m grateful for your help today,” she continued quietly. “You saved me several uncomfortable hours loitering outside my apartment.” She gave him a half-smile that had his heart doing a slow flop in his chest. Christ, this woman.
Struggling not to overanalyze his reaction to her, Gabe busied himself pouring a second bowl of pretzels. “No problem,” he mumbled and shoved the bowl toward her.
Jesus, what was he, an inept teenager having his first real conversation with a girl? Nah, he mused, just a widowed single father who hadn’t experienced anything beyond a casual interest in a woman in six years. Fact was, Hope was stirring something in him. Something that hadn’t stirred in a long time, and it was throwing him off balance.
Before he could pull his head out of his ass long enough to find something more intelligent to say, a loud crash hit the floor beside him, followed by a string of profanities. One of the women who had been chatting Carter up had boosted herself onto the bar, but she must have given herself too much lift because she had sailed right over and crashed into Carter on the other side. Now she lay sprawled, none too elegantly, on top of his best bartender, along with shards of broken glass and spilled drinks.
Gabe carefully lifted her up to her feet. Holding her steady, he gave her a once over, assessing if she was injured.
She seemed fine until she giggled flirtatiously and ran her hand down Gabe’s chest. Her unsolicited familiarity was totallynotfine. He released her immediately.
“Ooops!” She giggled, then hiccupped loudly. Her eyes went wide as she covered her mouth with her hand, flashing her fire-engine red, inch-long nails. She burst into another fit of giggles, looking totally wasted and probably thinking this was the funniest thing ever.
“Oh, my gawd, Amy!” shrieked her friend from the opposite side of the bar. “I told you showing the bartender your thigh tattoo would be a bad idea.”
Christ Almighty. Sometimes Gabe wondered why he got into this business. Shaking his head, he turned his attention to Carter, who was sitting on the floor holding a bar towel to his forearm. It was smeared with blood.
Gabe gently peeled the towel from Carter’s arm.
A two-inch gash ran along the inside of his forearm, looking deep and nasty.
His voice betrayed his alarm when he exclaimed, “Holy shit, did she stab you?”
Carter looked pale and clammy, but he still managed to say, “Got cut on some glass.”
His blood was pouring out steadily. “Okay, hold still. Let me get some help.”
Sean had already come behind the bar, and together they helped Carter up and took him into the back with Ivy and Hope following them. On their way Gabe signaled Nala to take over the bar.
“I can’t leave Nala alone long,” Gabe said to Sean. “She’s a hell of a waitress, but she’s only tended bar a couple times.”
After they’d settled Carter into a chair, Gabe fished out his first aid kit.
“He’s going to need more than a first aid kit.” Ivy said as she inspected the bar towel that Carter still pressed to his arm. It was soaking through. “Let me take him to urgent care.”
“I’ll go with them,” Sean added, his tone serious.
Gabe regarded them both. Then Carter, who was starting to turn gray and ashen. Gabe nodded. “Take him in. Keep me up to date.” He gave Ivy a hard glare. “I mean it.”
Moments later, Ivy and Sean, with Carter between them, went out the rear door of the bar. Gabe stood in the kitchen, Hope at his side. He scrubbed a hand down his face, wishing it could erase the last twenty minutes. Hell, maybe the last hour. Hope put a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze, and damn if that sense of calm didn’t come over him again.
“He’s going to be okay,” she said reassuringly.
Gabe locked onto her eyes. Those sweet, optimistic eyes that made him want nothing more than to lose himself in them, in her, and never be found. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment.
