When It's Right (22 page)

“Gillian.”

That voice. Her father's voice. The fear swamped her from her toes up to her head. Suffocated, she opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. The man took a step toward her but stopped when she took three back. Afraid he was real, terrified he wasn't, she ran for the restaurant entrance. The hostess's eyes went wide when she rushed through the door and slammed it behind her.

“Are you okay?”

Gillian sucked in a ragged breath and tried to pull it together. “I'm fine.” She cast her gaze to the floor and walked through the dining room toward her table with her purse clutched to her chest.

She stopped steps from the table when Blake said, “She's my girlfriend.”

“Robbing the cradle these days, Blake?” a soft woman's voice asked.

Gillian looked up and noticed for the first time the beautiful blonde standing next to the table. Someone who obviously knew Blake very well.

He frowned. “She's an amazing woman. You'd like her. She's tough, like you.”

Blake didn't mind running into Abigail. He hated the guilt that seeing her unleashed deep inside him, where he tried to bury it most days. The scar along her jaw would forever be a reminder of how being wild in his youth had almost cost her her life. Since that disastrous day, he'd played things straight. Reined in his reckless nature for a more cautious and thoughtful existence. Look at his relationship with Gillian and the way he tried to protect her, keep her safe, give her the time and space she needed to settle into their relationship. It worked. She trusted him now. He'd do anything to keep that bond.

“She's pretty. What's her name?”

Blake caught a glimpse of Gillian's dress behind Abigail. He leaned to the side and didn't like the scared, unsure look on her face. He rose to go to her before he consciously thought about it. Every instinct to protect her flared to life despite the fact that he didn't see any danger, or reason for her pale skin and wide, fearful eyes.

“Gillian, sweetheart, are you okay?” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side.

“Fine,” she said too fast. Yeah, he knew that false “fine” all too well. He'd get the little white liar to fess up in a minute.

“Gillian, I'm so pleased to meet you. I'm Abigail. Blake and I go way back.”

Blake dreaded the explanation ahead. He didn't want his past to intrude on his night with Gillian. He'd planned a romantic evening. Something special she'd never done with anyone else. A night for them to remember.

“Uh, hi.” Gillian held out her hand to shake, but her gaze stayed on the scar on Abigail's face.

Abigail took her hand, turned Gillian's arm, and stared at the scars on Gillian's shoulder and neck. “Did he dare you to a race, too?”

Gillian pulled her hand free. “No. I hit a car,” she said automatically.

“I hit a tree,” Abigail said back. “Not Blake's fault, but he's going to tell you that it was.” Abigail turned her focus to him. “I didn't listen to you. I didn't stop. I took the risk because I wanted to beat you.”

Blake didn't know what to say. Everyone told him, including Abigail, that the accident wasn't his fault. He'd never believed them, but tonight he saw that fateful day more clearly and realized he owned part of the responsibility, but she had her part to bear, too.

Abigail glanced at Gillian and back to him. “Things happen for a reason. I'm here tonight with my husband.”

“How is Gary?” Blake asked, happy she'd found someone special.

“Wonderful. We're celebrating. Two years married, and I'm pregnant.”

“Congratulations. You deserve every happiness,” Blake said, genuinely meaning those words.

“So do you, Blake. Gillian, so nice to meet you. I saw the smile you put on this one's face when you came in earlier. I've never seen him smile like that.”

Gillian glanced up at him and back to Abigail. “Nice to meet you, too. I'm sorry I'm not myself right now. I hope to see you again.”

“You will. Small town and all. Enjoy your evening.”

Abigail squeezed his forearm as she passed and gave him a smile. Blake held Gillian's chair for her and took his seat beside her again. The other patrons went back to their meal now that Blake, Abigail, and Gillian weren't the center of attention.

Blake took Gillian's hand and squeezed to get her attention. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” she said automatically. He waited her out. “I, um, saw someone.”

“Who?”

Her gaze finally came up from her plate to meet his. “My father. It happened again. Like with Gabe. I got confused, or my mind played tricks on me . . . I don't know.”

“Gillian, did someone come up to you outside? Did they touch you?”

“No. No. Nothing like that. I'm not even sure anymore if someone was really there. I'm sorry. It's nothing. Really. Let's not spoil the evening.” She took a sip of her drink. Her eyes went wide on him. “Is this peach iced tea?”

“Your favorite.”

“It's nice they serve it here.”

“They don't. I got it for you.” Blake picked up his beer—­the first one he'd had in front of her—­and took a deep swallow. She didn't even notice or comment.

“You got me my favorite tea?”

“Just wait. That's not all.” Blake cocked his head toward the waiter, who held a huge platter of food balanced on his shoulder and hand. The other guests smelled the food and stared.

Blake and Gillian waited for the dishes to be served.

“Every diner in the place is going to be jealous of you two. Enjoy,” the waiter said and left them to their meal.

Gillian stared at her plate. “It's like a seafood explosion.”

“All your favorites, right? Lobster, crab, mussels.”

“Who knew you could get seafood like this at a steak house in Montana?”

“Well, it's not impossible, but I had this flown in from San Francisco just for you.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I know how much you miss the city. I wanted to bring a piece of it here to you. You didn't even have to unload the fish off the boats to get it,” he teased to make her smile.

“I can't believe you did this.”

“Well, I had help,” he admitted. “Ella owns a house in San Francisco. She was there about a month ago and raved about a restaurant. I told her what I wanted to do, and she put me in contact with the chef at Gerard's. He put the food together and shipped it overnight.”

“Gerard's is one of the most exclusive restaurants in San Francisco. Blake, this must have cost you a fortune.”

By far the most expensive thing he'd ever done for a woman. He'd never planned anything like this for anyone. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“Then I'm happy to do it for you.”

Watching the way her eyes went soft with pleasure while she ate lobster dripping with butter made him wish they weren't in a crowded restaurant. Everything she did made him want her more.

She licked the sheen of butter from her lips, placed her elbow on the table, laid her chin in her cupped palm, and stared at him. “You're quiet, and you've barely touched your meal. You keep staring at me like that, I'll blush knowing you've undressed me in your mind.”

Blake smiled. “Busted.”

“I told you I freaked out in the parking lot, so spill it.”

“What?”

“Tell me about Abigail and whatever wasn't your fault but you think it is.”

“You saw the scar on her face. She's got a few others you couldn't see. We dated when we were seniors in high school. She loved to ride with me. She loved the speed but always wanted to beat me.”

“Let me guess, no one ever beat you.”

“A bunch of us used to get together and party in the fields. Bonfires and beers.”

“Hook-­ups and heartbreaks,” Gillian said, understanding, even though she'd missed out on so much of her teenage years hanging out with friends, making stupid mistakes, and never worrying about the consequences of anything.

“It was dusk when Abigail showed up at my place so we could ride over to where everyone was meeting. I had the horses saddled and ready to go. She had a wild streak to match mine. Maybe the two of us together were a disaster waiting to happen. I don't know. I do remember I was the one who dared her to race me to the west pasture gate. A big storm came through two days before and knocked down a tree, blocking the road. When I saw it, I reined in and yelled for her to stop. She didn't. She thought she could jump it. I knew she couldn't, because the horse I gave her always shied at jumping anything. Ten feet from the tree, he slid to a stop and sent her flying over his head. She flipped in the air, hit her head on the trunk, and landed in a tangle of arms, legs, and tree limbs. A branch sliced open her face along her jaw. Several others cut up her arms and back. Not anything like what happened to you. Still, some nasty cuts.

“We weren't that far from where we were meeting our friends. They heard the horse scream when it stopped and threw Abigail. I whistled as loud as I could to make sure they came to help. I didn't want to move her. She was out cold. My buddies showed up in their pickup, and we used a two-­by-­six board he had in the back to slide under her, strap her on with our belts at her head, waist, and feet.”

“Why didn't you call for an ambulance?”

“Too far out of town. It would have taken them an hour to get to her. Although she was knocked out, she was breathing on her own. We worried about her spine but played the odds that her head was the worst of the injuries. We drove her back to my house, picked up my dad, called the hospital to have them waiting for her and give us advice about what to do. An ambulance met us on the road in, and we transferred her to them. They got to the hospital. She remained in a coma for three days until the swelling in her brain went down.”

“So, you were right, the head injury was the worst of it?”

“Yes. We got lucky. She woke up with her speech and thoughts slow, but over time she fully recovered.”

“Yet you blame yourself that she didn't listen to you, when you knew the horse she was riding wouldn't make the jump, and you yelled for her to stop.”

“I shouldn't have goaded her into the race in the first place.”

Gillian shook her head and finished the last bite of her crab legs. “Not your fault. Once she got on that horse, it was her choice how fast she went and whether she should attempt the jump. Her choice not to stop when you warned her. It's admirable that you want to take responsibility for what happened, but you can only own your part. She has to own hers.”

Blake had to admit she had a point. Seeing Abigail tonight put things into some perspective, too. She didn't blame him, so why did he continue to blame himself? He'd made a mistake and learned from it. He'd never been that reckless again.

Until he'd met a hazel-­eyed beauty, who'd stolen his heart and put his job, his partnership with Bud, their friendship, and his livelihood on the line.

“Maybe you're right.”

She narrowed her eyes on him, and one side of her mouth dipped into a half frown.

“Okay, you're right. Still, it was a stupid thing to do.”

“Everyone does stupid things. We're human. We learn. We adapt. We hurt each other. Sometimes on purpose. Sometimes by accident. We say we're sorry. We make up. A few ­people go a step further and do something amazing to make someone else happy. This dinner was wonderful, Blake. You're a good man.”

“I'm trying to be for you.”

“You just are. It's your nature. You never set out to hurt Abigail. You'd never purposely hurt me or anyone else. Thank you for tonight.”

“It's not a selfless act. I got to spend the night with a beautiful woman.”

She smiled softly. “I hope this night doesn't end any time soon.”

“We still have dessert.”

“Well, we've had my favorite tea and a wonderful San Francisco seafood dinner. I guess you've ordered strawberry shortcake for dessert.”

Blake panicked. “Uh, no.”

Gillian laughed. “I'm kidding. I bet you got a chocolate silk pie with loads of fresh whipped cream.”

He sighed out his relief. “Not cool.”

“I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. Listen, I'm stuffed. How about we take the pie home with us for a midnight snack,” she suggested, with a hint of them needing the sustenance later. He liked her way of thinking.

“I don't know how you remember all these little details,” she said.

“I pay attention to every little thing about you. Like although you got scared earlier, you're putting on a brave front and trying your best to enjoy dinner without looking at the door a hundred times, even though you know I'm watching it for you. Your right eye squints when you're nervous. You think I'm wondering if you're going nuts, but you know I don't think that at all. Besides, even if you are, I'm still taking you to bed tonight to do my best to wipe out all those thoughts and make you think of only one thing.”

“You're all I want to think about.”

“You'll get there. I'll keep working on it.”

“You're doing a really good job.”

When he walked her to the front of the restaurant and they stood before the door, she stopped and looked up at him. “I'm scared,” she whispered.

That quiet admission tore at his heart and made it bleed. She no longer lived to survive every day. That desperate need had been slowly dialed down and turned off with each day she lived on the ranch and grew to love and trust in him and her grandparents. Living every day the way she wanted made it that much harder to rev up her strength to fight her past.

“I can go out and check the lot before I come back and get you.”

“For who? My dead father?”

“Are you sure you didn't mistake someone else for him, like you did with Gabe?”