Place Your Betts (The Marilyns) (25 page)

“Everyone’s got a gift. Hers is being snooty.” Gabe picked up the asparagus. “Tom loves asparagus. When he was little, I told him they were long green beans.”

Betts smiled. Yearning to know every miniscule detail about her son’s childhood gave her something else to think about.

“Cold?” Gabe slung an arm around her.

Betts relaxed into it and let her body memorize the feeling.

“No.” She studied his profile. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” His eyes stayed on hers.

“Promise not to get mad.” She needed some heads up on his feelings for her.

“Nope. Is this about my clothes? ’Cause those purple boots ain’t ending up on these feet.” Gabe grinned. The third tooth from the middle was crooked, which added wattage to his smile.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Betts held up her hand like a traffic cop. “Not that I don’t like it, but it’s kinda creeping me out.”

It made it hard not to beg him to love her back.

Gabe threw back his head and laughed. If soft, comfortable, well-worn leather had a sound, that would be it. He checked the grill temperature. “I’m tired and hungry, and you defended Tom. You killed the Smiths with kindness when I could tell that you wanted to light her up. Tom’s important to you. I haven’t figured out your game plan yet, but I’m willing to let you play it out. Tonight, I realized that you wouldn’t hurt Tom, and my son is all that matters to me.”

Tom was all that mattered to Gabe. A pinprick of disappointment dented her heart. And he hadn’t called Tom their son. “I don’t have a game plan.” Betts laughed low and deep and faked a smile. “I actually have no plan at all. For the first time in a long time, I don’t have a schedule or people following me. I’m living day by day, and it’s nice.”

“Look at you, the famous singer.” Gabe lifted the lid and put the steaks on. Sizzling meat mixed with the faint hum of cicadas. “I guess you got what you wanted.”

Betts didn’t detect any animosity, just two old friends making easy conversation. “All I ever wanted to do was sing.”

And to be with you, raising our son in a house full of love.

“Still afraid to fly?” Gabe stuck the corn on the top rack and closed the lid.

What else did he remember about her?

One side of her mouth curled up. “Yep. Pathetic, I know.”

“Don’t you tour all over the world? Kinda hard to drive a bus across the Atlantic.”

“International travel requires lots of sedatives. If God had wanted me to fly, he’d have given me wings.” Next, they’d be talking about the weather.

Betts opened the grill lid and spread out the asparagus next to the corn. “If memory serves, your daddy had a couple of planes. Don’t you have a license?”

Gabe’s back went ramrod straight, and he didn’t make eye contact. “I have a license, but the planes are history.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, but clearly he really didn’t want to talk about it. Not wanting to ruin the jovial attitude, Betts made a promise to herself to avoid subjects that were uncomfortable.

Gabe handed her a beer and picked up the other one. “To the past. May she rest in peace.”

That was an olive branch the size of a city bus. Betts clinked her bottle against his. “To the future. May it be bright and sunny.”

Gabe studied her face. “Do you want a future with Tom?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Wasn’t making a life with both her men what she’d been doing?

Gabe nodded slowly. “Yep, you sure are.” He gazed directly into her eyes.

Betts looked deep into his blue eyes, searching for a hint of feeling, but all she saw were flecks of gray and gold around his irises.

He set his beer down and then took hers and set it next to his. His hands were cold and damp from the sweaty bottles, but it didn’t account for the shiver that ran through Betts as his finger traced her lips and then moved to cup her jaw. Betts shivered again.

He stepped closer.

She willed him to say something, anything about how he felt about her. All she needed was a hint that they had a future.

Gabe brushed his thumb across her cheek and lowered his head.

Betts closed her eyes and…nothing.

Gabe didn’t take her mouth. Instead, he kissed the tender area below her ear. Heat tingled from that spot and skittered down her body. It was familiar, and he’d been the only man who’d ever found it. He already knew what buttons to push and the order in which to push them. She wanted more but wasn’t sure if she had a right to ask.

“I love the way you melt when I do that,” Gabe whispered against her skin and continued his lazy exploration of her neck. “Remember the first time I kissed you right there?” His lips found the perfect spot again.

“It was our third date… Well, the third time I climbed out the window to meet you because Gigi wouldn’t let me date. We were in your back seat, parked under the stars, with the T-tops off, and you were explaining the benefits of kissing more places on my body than just my mouth.”

Betts put her hand on his chest and leaned into him. His heart was hammering as hard as hers. Gabe trailed feather-light kisses across her jaw. Lust—hot and pure—gathered in her middle. Slowly, Gabe’s warm hand slid across her cheek, down her neck, and ended on her breast. His thumb brushed her nipple through the silk of her shirt.

“I spent a fair amount of time explaining the ways of the world to you back then.” His voice was raspy and low like it was coming from deep inside him and having a hard time climbing out.

“Yes, you did. It was a long time ago.” Betts let her body take control. Her heart was full even if her mind still had questions.

Gabe worked the buttons on the front of her shirt, got two undone, slid his hand inside her bra, and cupped her breast.

“Don’t you think we should take this inside before Tom gets home and finds us minus some important pieces of clothing?” Betts slid her hands down his back and cupped his firm bottom.

“Nope.” His hand snaked out of her shirt, and then his fingers fumbled buttoning it up. “I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead.”

It took a full minute for his words to register.

“You’re not that far ahead.” Betts locked her arms around him. “I think we need to talk about the rules.” Lightly, she licked his nipple through the cotton of his tee shirt. “Set some boundaries.”

“I’m pretty sure I know the rules of romance. It might have been a while, but some things are like riding a bike.”

“Whatever you want to call it, we need to get some things straight. First, discretion is paramount for Tom’s sake.” Betts knew what it felt like to walk in on a parent fooling around, especially since the last time she’d found Mama in a compromising position had been less than a month ago. Unfortunately, there were some images a person couldn’t un-see. “As long as we’re together, I expect monogamy—”

“Betts—”

“I know that’s old-fashioned, but with diseases and everything, I must insist—”

“Betts—”

“I think we need some sort of plan, like only be together when Tom’s not around or asleep. It kinda sends the wrong message—”

“
Betts
.”

As she leaned back and looked up into his face, the acrid scent of burned meat clawed her nose. “Is something burning?”

Gabe tugged her arms from around his waist. “Yes.” He threw open the grill lid. “Our dinner.”

Flames shot into the air about three feet. Gabe turned off the gas. The flames lost some gusto but didn’t die out so he slammed the lid shut and stepped back.

“I’ve got a couple of Hungry-Man frozen dinners, or does Dairy Queen sound better?” His eyes twinkled. “Or we could have the cookies?” He nodded. “Thought I forgot. Didn’t you?”

“You have a one-track mind.” Cookies were all she was good for. She opened the door and walked up the steps. It would be a while until the grill was cool enough to clean.

Gabe followed her inside her bus. “Yes, ma’am, I sure do.”

Betts glanced at Gabe. His eyes were on her butt. Feminine pride brought a smile to her lips. All that “quit while I’m ahead” crap didn’t mean a thing. He wanted her…badly.

Gabe sat at the kitchen banquette and propped his feet against the seat across from him. “Man, I’m tired.”

“What did you do today?” Betts grabbed two more beers from the fridge and handed him one. Beer and cookies…food of champions.

“Nothing.” He didn’t make eye contact. “Helped out a friend.”

Gabe was lying. Helping out a friend involved shoveling shit? When he’d gotten home, he’d reeked to high-heaven of it. Where did he go every day? Clearly, he wasn’t going to tell her because he didn’t trust her. That was fine; she didn’t fully trust him either, so they’d dance around issues until they’d felt their way along. He didn’t owe her an explanation, but one would have been nice. Secrets had caused them problems the first time around.

Tonight had been the first glimpse of the old Gabe she’d spent her adult life trying to forget. She was tired of separating sex and love. The whole package was what she wanted—sex, love, commitment, and family.

“Oatmeal raisin?” She pulled the cookie dough out of the fridge.

“My favorite.”

After she set the oven temperature and pushed the start button, Betts reached above the oven for the cookie sheet, and her shirt pulled free of her low rider jeans, revealing several inches of her tummy. She scooped dough onto the pan, shoved it in the oven, and set the timer.

He jerked bolt upright. “That scar. I mean, I saw it the other night, but I didn’t realize it was so big…it looks like they cut you in half. Were you sick? Was it cancer? 
Are you okay
?”

The urgency in his voice bordered on panic.

She smiled and nodded. “I’m fine. It’s from my C-section. Tom was a big baby. I’m a small person. After thirty-something hours of labor, they cut me open.”

***

Gabe’s breath caught in his throat. The pale pink scar ran from hip to hip. From this distance, he could see it wasn’t neat but jagged and clumsy and lopsided. The other night when he’d discovered it, he’d been otherwise occupied and hadn’t spent much time analyzing it.

“It’s not straight.” Having Tom had hurt her. Jesus Christ, they’d cut her in half. It must have been unbelievably painful. Was that why she’d given Tom up? It would be hard to love a baby who had caused her so much pain.

“Sorry. The free clinic did the best they could. I couldn’t exactly afford the best.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but it didn’t work.

Free clinic? Gabe shook his head. “What happened to the money?”

Betts sighed long and loud. “What money?”

“The money my father gave you the night you, um…walked to our house—”

“You mean the night Gigi kicked me out in the rain and you let your father call me a whore—”

“She kicked you out?” Gabe swallowed. Guilt balled in the pit of his stomach as that long-ago night took on a new perspective.

All these years, he’d prided himself on the fact that he’d sacrificed what he wanted to save someone he’d loved, but in the end, it hadn’t mattered. Gabe gritted his teeth. Just another sucker letting himself be pulled around by his daddy’s purse strings. But Betts had had the money his father had given her, so she hadn’t been destitute. Gabe’s pulse slowed down to something close to normal—at least she’d been able to afford to take care of herself. “Now I understand about the money. I’m glad my father wrote you that check.”

Betts snorted. “I tore it up and scattered the pieces all over your front yard. I wouldn’t take a dime from that son of a bitch.”

That wasn’t the way he remembered it. His father had offered her a thousand, but she’d wanted ten.

Had she really torn up the check? That explained the free clinic. Why didn’t he remember her tearing it up? Because after she left, he’d proceeded to drink himself into oblivion. His father had been having a party, so the bourbon had been flowing that night, and he’d funneled quite a bit of it into his mouth.

“I didn’t know you tore up the check.” It was as good as an apology. Now he understood why she’d had to do what she did with Tom. With medical bills and whatnot, she’d needed money. Gabe couldn’t quite forgive her for handing Tom over to the Synders, but he could understand. She’d needed the fifty thousand they’d paid for Tom. Betts had been young and all alone and probably scared out of her wits. It wasn’t an excuse, but it was justified.

“Your father was a dyed-in-the-wool bastard. I hope he rots in hell.” Betts sat opposite Gabe. She folded one leg under her.

The only person in the world who hadn’t been afraid of Peyton Swanson was little five-foot-two Betts Dittmeyer. She hadn’t cowered from him or anyone. Betts was strong, and Gabe was weak. He’d sent her away, alone and pregnant. Was there an explanation that made that okay?

“That night, my father said some pretty bad things—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Betts pressed her lips together and studied the table.

She must hate Gabe. From her point of view, he had betrayed her. And with Betts, there was no gray area—you were either with her or against her. At least that’s how she used to be. It must have cost her a lot to come here and face him—she truly loved their son because that was the only explanation for her being here. Everything he’d believed about her was wrong. And she’d come back. Was it only for Tom?

Gabe cleared his throat. “I had no choice. My father threatened me.” The words didn’t come easy. Seconds eased by like hours.

“Go on.” She met his eye, but her face was blank.

“In addition to cutting me off financially”—Gabe waved his hand—“which I really didn’t care about, he told me that he’d send my mother away…forever. She was an alcoholic, and he controlled me through her. I’d do something he didn’t like, and he’d lock her in her room for a few days or slap her around.” It wasn’t the most noble of excuses, but it was the truth.

“Oh God.” Her eyes went wide. “Why didn’t you call the police?”

Gabe swallowed. His poor mother had suffered until the day she died. “I did…a couple of times. When I was fourteen, he broke her nose because I disrespected him in front of a business associate. When the cops came, my father had twenty ranch hands who swore she fell down the stairs.” He shook his head. “You met my father; he was capable of anything. That night after the police left, he had her things packed and sent her away to “dry out” for two months. When she came back, she was broken and helpless. She’d lost weight and the will to defy him. She was scared—I never did find out where she’d gone or what they did to her. She pleaded with me to never call the police again.”