Unfinished Dreams (16 page)

“Since when do I have to answer to anyone?” Gabe snarled back, then immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry. This waiting is getting to me. I’ve been sleeping in the truck. I called her office.” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Maybe I should just go on home and leave it alone.”

Roy’s face scrunched to a frown as he peered at Gabe. “Well, seems to me, one of us thinks that the young lady is worth it.” He tipped the brim of his John Deere cap up and eyed him.

Gabe sighed again, looked away, then narrowed his eyes at the old man. “I wouldn’t go setting my sights on her Roy. She’s a handful.” Gabe smiled. “I reckon I can hang in there a little longer.”

“All right, then.” Roy nodded in agreement. “Great. That’s what I hoped. Got us a couple of Velda’s cheeseburgers and her heart stopper fries in the truck. Thought you could use some company for dinner tonight.” He grinned and threw an arm over Gabe’s shoulder.

“How’d you know I was staying out here?”  Gabe glanced at the old man warily.

“Son, when you live in a small town, it don’t take too long to figure things out. ‘Sides, Velda told me you’d been going for a world’s record on carry out.” Roy shrugged, “I just put two and two together.”

“Cheeseburgers, huh?” Gabe’s eyebrows rose even though his stomach turned at the thought of one more greasy crinkle cut fry.

“Yep, Velda said that was your favorite.”

Gabe nodded, not wanting appear ungrateful. “You happen to bring any coffee?”

Roy beamed proudly. “Always got my thermos with me, you know.”

Gabes picnic guest stayed until late in the night keeping him company. “How do you know she’s coming back? Who’s got the dog’s?”

Gabe shrugged at all of Roy’s questions. They were all the same ones he’d asked himself and more than once. “I just know she’ll have to come back sometime. I need to talk to her and straighten things out.”

* * *

Later, after Roy left, Gabe sat in his pickup, pondering his choices. He could spend another frosty evening out here in his pickup or logically he could go on home and sleep in his own comfortable bed. That seemed the most obvious of reasonable choices. So he’d already been waiting for days for her to return anyway. What was one more night? Maybe if he could sneak a shower and a shave he could catch a few winks inside.

Gabe frowned at the possibility. Surely he would hear her if she came home. There was the couch. Besides, with her being gone this long, he had yet to see anyone come by to keep an eye on the place. She should be grateful that he was here doing precisely that...well, almost precisely that.

He grabbed his hat, hopped from his truck and pocketed his keys. Making his way around back, he stumbled up the stairs in the shadows created by the bright harvest moon. He groped above the door, smiling as his fingers touched the small metal key hanging on a nail. As he struggled with the lock, he considered the way he smelled after two days and no shower that a thorough scrubbing might improve his chances considerably with Tess. Once she got back home, that is.

Gabe trudged through the hall and up the stairs in the dark, knowing he knew the inner structure of the house by heart. His leg smacked against the sharp corner of a small telephone table near the stairwell. “Ow, dammit.”  He scolded himself for being presumptuous.

Chapter Sixteen

Choosing to come in on the late flight to Des Moines, Tess made the decision to drive on home even though the late night edged into the wee hours of early morning. But thoughts of sleeping in her own bed pushed her to stay awake on the dark, lonely stretch of highway.

Her thoughts wandered to the last time she’d seen Gabe, stalking down the hallway at Sullivan Loan as hurt and probably angry as she’d ever seen anyone. Tess swallowed the lump in her throat, blinking back her tears. She’d thought her tears were spent. Thought that her heart could not ache anymore, yet her chest burned at what might have been if things had been different. Why hadn’t she told him when Roy suggested? Why did she wait? The
‘whys’
made little difference now, she realized.

She stared at the pitch-black fields lining the back road and her heart wrenched as the tiny billboard signs advertising Velda’s diner, and Merle’s car repair came into view.

Reaching to her radio, she punched at the buttons until she found her favorite country western station. Maybe it was better this way. She’d not seen him in a few days and had survived. Granted, not with any degree of happiness, but she had survived heartache before and she could do it again.

Seeing the old farmhouse in the sweep of her headlights produced an unexpected heaviness in her heart. A bittersweet emotion arose as she drove up the gravel lane. The clarity of the full moon’s light cut a swathe of brilliance, illuminating the front yard. Exhausted from the long drive, she paused long enough to look at the star-sprinkled night sky.

Taking a deep breath, a part of her allowed the feelings of regret in not telling Gabe of her new plans. Then again, why should she bother? He hadn’t wanted an explanation from her, hadn’t even waited when she called to him. They simply did not have the trust between them to make it work.

Fishing for her keys, she let herself in and sat her overnight bag on the floor. She could repack it tomorrow, right now, all she wanted was to wash her face and crawl under the covers for a few hours of much needed rest.

Wearily climbing the stairs, she thought about the past two days. The interview in Kansas City went very well. They were anxious to have her begin work immediately. Already they were in the planning stages of repainting her a luxurious loft apartment overlooking Crown Center.

She’d made the request to Jack that she should be allowed to tell Gabe the news about the house and farm. Though she hadn’t thought about how she was going to broach that subject with him. Tomorrow would be soon enough. Right now, her mind was too muddled to think of such things.

Stifling a yawn, she trudged her travel-weary body up the stairs and into the tiny bathroom. Slipping out of her skirt and jacket, she slid on her boxer shorts and t-shirt, pausing as she lifted them from the hooks on the back of the door. There hung Gabe’s flannel shirt exactly where she’d left it. Tears pricked the back of her eyes as she thought of the last time she’d worn it. His eyes held the promise of the future then. She wanted to sit down and have a good cry, but her fatigue wouldn’t allow her the luxury. Flipping off the light, she opened the door connecting to her bedroom and padded across the carpet to her bed.

The weariness of stress, schedules, meetings, and travel overtook her and she peeled back the covers, climbing into bed. Letting out a slow even sigh, it took her mind a split second to realize she was not alone.

A deep snore rumbled in her ear and she bolted out of bed, stubbing her toe in the process. Turning, she quickly picked up the bedside lamp ready to hurl it at the intruder. But first, she’d have to see where to throw it. Tess flipped the switch and quickly turned her face from the sudden glare. She peered across the bed to meet the intruder’s astonished, though decidedly groggy expression.

“What are you doing in my bed?”

Gabe’s feet hit the floor, his expression holding a startled look as he blinked to the light shining in his eyes. He rocked on his heels, shielding his hand to the searing beam of light.

She lowered the lamp and the room returned to its normal lighting, which did nothing for the abnormal beating of Tess’s heart. Was it from fright? Certainly. But she could not dismiss the fact that Gabe stood on the other side of her bed, his boxer shorts riding low on his lean hips, leaving little to her imagination. He tried once, then twice to brace his hands to his hips, missing each time in his sleepy state. So he tugged at the waist and the movement clarified everything underneath.

Her weary emotions warred within her, wanting to curl in bed beside him and let the rest of world be damned.

“Tess, you’re home.”  The statement, at some other time, in another place might well have been a seductive welcome.

At present, she used it to overcome her attraction with anger.

“We need to talk,” his voice was sexy, still deep from his sleep.

The man is standing in her bedroom in nothing but boxers, and he wants to talk? She closed her eyes, counted to ten, and then opened them.

“You can’t just use a phone like everyone else?” Her voice rose in agitation. What right did he have sleeping in her bed? Not that there wasn’t a time when she’d dreamed of that very thing. But
now
everything was changed and how dare he choose now to look at her with those soft eyes and gentle smile, offering his nearly naked body to her in this kind of display. She felt a whimper coming on and swallowed it, stiffening her spine.

She searched the room, found his jeans, and threw them, smacking him in the shoulder. He stumbled sideways and frowned sleepily at her. Damn, why did the man have to look so adorably innocent even when he was totally guilty? Though of what she wasn’t quite certain. Somewhere between trespassing and breaking her heart, she guessed.

The soft-glow of the bedside lamp gave a gentle sheen to his tanned body. The man was a testament to nature’s perfection, of making a living from the solid earth.
Oh for heaven’s sake. This is ludicrous.

She tore her gaze from watching him slip into his jeans, stealing a glance under hooded lids as he zipped them. Reminding her yet again, that he’d violated her privacy by trespassing on her property. This was still her house technically, at least for the next month. She realized
that
was another topic of conversation they needed to have.

Turning on her heel, she headed for the door, but his clear voice stopped her.

“I’ve been waiting two days for you to get home.” His glare told her he was none to please about the fact.

She suppressed the urge to childishly stick her tongue out and say, “You deserve it, you big oaf.” But she refrained out of her own guilt of the whole mixed-up matter.

She turned, grabbing her robe from the chair and headed for the stairs, but he blocked her grand exit.

“Where are you going?” His arm stretched across the door opening.

“Downstairs. I can’t do this. We can’t talk here.” She cinched her robe tighter, but did not look at him until he dropped his arm.

Nodding, he held her gaze. “I’ll get my shirt and be right down.”

Tess hugged herself to the chill of the wooden stairs beneath her feet. In a couple of weeks, she wouldn’t have to deal with cold wood floors, falling down barns, facts on growing Christmas trees. No sir, she’d be living above the city lights in a posh suite with mile high thick carpet, entertaining and elbowing with refined people who knew nothing, much less even cared about a Dixie two-step, or if Ford trucks were better than Chevy.

She stepped from the last stair, her lip trembling, yet she held it stiff. So,
why did she feel so lonely?

She turned on the stove and filled the teakettle, hesitating as she looked out into the inky black night. From the kitchen window, she could see the millions of stars hovering over her backyard. The water spilled over her wrist. “Good lord, Tess, get a grip,” she muttered. Turning she glanced up and Gabe stood in the kitchen doorway, his boots in one hand, his shirt un-tucked and looking for all the world like a lost man.

* * *

“I need to apologize, Tess. That’s one of the reasons I’ve been waiting here. I tried to find you, but I couldn’t get any answers.”

The daggered look he received spoke volumes.

“I’m listening.”  She poured hot water into a cup. “Can I get you something?” She did not look up, but dunked her teabag casually.

His heart ached, sensing the distance that already had occurred. Wherever she’d been the last couple of days seemed to have blotted his existence right out of her life.

“No thanks.” He pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down, dropping his boots wearily beside him. Part of him considered it better to leave well enough alone, as it appeared this conversation was going to be a mere formality of ending something that never really had the chance to get started.

She slipped quietly into a chair across from him, cradling her tea mug between her hands, yet to meet his gaze.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you?”  Her brow furrowed, her eyes searched his with confusion. He glanced away, then narrowed a look at her.

“About you and your boss, Jack.”

She sighed, leaning back in her chair, but she did not take her eyes from his. “First, I don’t know what you are referring to.”

“He stayed here just a few weeks ago.”  He realized with a sense of guilt that his tone smacked of possessive.

She tipped her head, the displeasure more than evident in her expression. “On the couch, if it happens to be any of your business.”  She sipped her tea, shaking her head slowly.

Gabe’s insides churned out of control. He could feel her slipping from him, yet his pride would not let him get past the anger to a resolution.

“When were you going to tell me about the house, then?”  His anger mixed with old-fashioned fatigue and stress showed clearly in his patience level.

“I’d planned on telling you everything.”

His next words spilled out before he realized how childish they sounded. “Yeah, the question was, when?”  His voice snapped as he slapped the tabletop with a resounding thump.

“Look, if you’ll relax and listen—”

“You were in his arms, Tess.”  He focused on the clock on the wall above her head, trying not to feel like he was losing something he loved. It couldn’t be happening again.

He glanced down after a moment of heavy silence and found her staring at him, her mouth parted in shock.

“I was there, remember?”  The side of her jaw went rigid and her lips formed into a thin line.

“Was it fun? Did you enjoy your little game of testing out the
‘country boy’
to compare with your
‘city boy’
?”  He stood, pacing back and forth across the linoleum. Wondering if what emitted from his mouth was fact or fallacy. “What besides the house did he promise you, Tess?”  He grabbed the nearest chair and gripped it tight as he bore his gaze to hers. The lump in his throat threatened to choke him.

“Are you finished?”  She brushed her own tears roughly from her cheeks. “First of all, I knew nothing about this until Betsy showed me the papers when she came down.”  Her gaze locked into his and he could see she too, was remembering that passionate day.

He blinked and gave her an expectant stare.

She closed her eyes, then continued. “I planned to tell you, I wanted to talk to Jack first and find out why. What hand he played in all of this.”

Gabe’s mind raced back to the scene that met him the day he burst into Jack’s office.

“And?”  He knew his voice sounded impatient, But the unexpected reminder of seeing her in Jack’s arms sent his insides to turmoil.

“And, it seems Jack was hoping eventually, more would come of our relationship than just business associates.”  She paused taking a sip of tea.

He chewed on the inside of his lip waiting to hear the rest. Wanting to hear what she hoped for between her and Jack. Right now, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what she was going to say next.

“I also wanted to find out what your intentions were.”

He blinked again; stunned that she would even consider his intentions.
Had he ever told her?
Before he could answer she spoke again.

“You were always teasing me, telling me or implying that I wasn’t cut out for farm life. How was I to know that you weren’t using my money to do repairs on what you hoped to recover one day? You told me once how much you loved this place—”

“Well for cryin’ out loud—” He shook his head. “You really think I’m capable of scheming that?”

She gave him a sad smile. “No more than you thought me capable of playing you and Jack off one another for pure entertainment.”

Ouch. The truth stung.
Unfortunately, she was right and he had to find some way to make her see how things had changed for him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held her hand up, stopping the words.

“None of this matters anyway.”  She stood, walking to the stove and refilled her teacup.

He frowned and came around the counter, leaning his hip against it. He folded his arms across his chest, in defense of what he was afraid was coming. Still, he ventured tentatively forward. “Why doesn’t it matter?”