Wild Card (33 page)

As they walked into the restaurant, it seemed all eyes watched them. Sabella had maintained a

very low profile for the six years she had been without her husband; now she was running

around town with a bad boy who wore motorcycle chaps and drove Nathan Malone's pickup.

She could hear the gossip now and she didn't give a damn. She had never cared about the

gossip, and being with Noah made it feel right.

A secret they shared, but didn't. It made the night seem more intimate.

"Sabella Malone, if it ain't good to see you out and about." Sally Bruckmeyer was tall, wide,

and wreathed with smiles as she came around the checkout and enveloped her in a hug. "And

who's this handsome devil running around with you?"

She was sharply aware of Noah's hand on her back, his fingers splayed wide.

"Sally, this is a friend of Rory's and mine, Noah Blake.

Noah, this a friend of mine, Sally Bruckmeyer. Her and her husband own the restaurant." As

though Sally didn't know his name. She bet everyone in town knew who he was and all the

drivel Rory had spilled about meeting him in a bar in Odessa.

Her ass!

"Ms. Bruckmeyer." He extended his hand for a handshake, causing Sally's eyes to twinkle as

she accepted the gesture and looked back at Sabella teasingly.

"A bad boy. Belle." Sally wagged her finger good-naturedly, her brown eyes twinkling in her

dark face. "You better watch out for this one. He's a heartbreaker."

"I figured that one out for myself, Sally.'" Sabella laughed as she looked around the nearly full dining room. '"Do you have room for us tonight?"

"If you're willing to sit out on the patio, we have tables out there. Nice candlelight." She leaned forward and whispered, "A few less eyes bugging out at you."

Sabella's grin widened. "That sounds perfect."

"Come on then." Sally grabbed two menus and silverware and led them across the room. "I

have the perfect table for you."

Sabella could feel the stares. Noah, with his long, shaggy black hair falling to his shoulders and

framing his savage, bearded face. His hard, corded body, snug jeans. T-shirt and chaps. He was

dangerous, exuded danger. Screamed it and owned it. And she loved every minute of it.

There wasn't a man or a woman in the room that would ever mistake him for her husband. He

was safe from that, if that safety was what he needed.

Sally led them to the open glass doors onto a wood patio. The lighting was low here. Umbrella

tables with candle lanterns hanging beneath the umbrellas. It set a romantic, charming mood.

There were fewer guests outside. The music was lower, the sense of intimacy thicker, while

inside, there was a feeling of togetherness.

"Here's your menus, and I'll send Katy out to get your drinks and your order. You two enjoy."

Sally leaned to Sabella.

"And dinner is on the house, sugar. A welcome back present, how's that?"

Sabella blinked at the offer. "I haven't been gone, Sally," she teased, though moisture filled her eyes.

"Yeah, sugar, you left us the same time our boy Nathan did, no matter how many times you

were seen with that Sykes boy." Sally hugged her, hard. "At least you're still with us. And

bringin' in some damned fine eye candy." She winked at Noah.

She moved away then and Sabella stared down at the tablecloth and swallowed tightly. She

hadn't realized she had been missed. She had been here, in Alpine, but she hadn't been. She had

been immersed in the past, in her loss, in rebuilding the business her husband had been so

proud of. It was as though she hadn't lived at all while he had been gone and that had been

frightening.

"Sorry about that," she whispered, opening her menu as she glanced at the patio doors. "Sally and her husband Tom were good friends of my husband's."

"Not a problem." Noah leaned back in his chair and stared around the patio as she glanced back

at him.

"Sabella Malone. I thought that was you." The rough, masculine voice had Sabella tensing as

she looked up.

Gaylen Patrick, one of the larger ranch owners in Alpine was waddling from the doorway. At

forty-five, Gaylen was still a powerful-looking man, though much of the power was the paunch

of his stomach, and wide thighs. He waddled, almost like a duck. But she had seen him

wrestling steers, she knew there was power in those heavy arms despite the decadence

beginning to show in his lined face.

He was bald, with hazel eyes and bushy dark brows. He talked too loud and laughed too hard.

And for some reason he had thought Sabella should be willing to sleep with him no more than

weeks after Nathan's death.

"Yes, it appears it's me," she answered as he stopped at the table and stared hard at Noah.

"And who's your friend? Stranger in town, ain't he?" He shoved his hand out to Noah. "Gaylen Patrick. I hear you're saving Malone's garage. That's right good of you, son."

"Noah Blake." Noah took his handshake, but his gaze was cool, his expression closed. "And

there was no saving needed. Sabella had it all under control."

"That Rory, he was helpin' her some." Gaylen nodded. "Poor little tiling. Bein' a widow and all, we've worried about her."

Sabella bit her tongue. Worried so much that the son of a bitch had pulled his gas account from

the station the minute she had thrown him out of her house after his ridiculous proposal. He'd

wanted the business, and as he had stated, he wouldn't mind marrying the widow to get it. And

for some reason, he'd thought she should be willing to consider it. That nothing but the money

should matter.

"She was doing fine," Noah said. "She just needed a few more mechanics willing to do their job."

Sabella almost winced. Timmy, the mechanic Rory had fired, was a distant cousin to Gaylen's

ranch foreman.

"Of course she did," Gaylen boomed, gazing down at Sabella with barely veiled malice. "Too bad about her husband dyin' on her. Nathan was a hell of a boy. Everyone loved him. Why,

Belle almost up and died on us when he did."

Sabella's lips tightened. Gaylen was striking where he thought it would hurt the most.

"She looks very much alive to me, Mr. Patrick," Noah drawled in that gravelly voice of his.

"It's been six years since her husband's death. I don't think you need to worry any longer."

"How long did you say you were stayin' in these parts?" Gaylen hitched the band of his jeans

over his girth and glared down at Noah in a pale mimicry of friendliness.

"I didn't." Noah smiled. "I haven't decided yet." He glanced at Sabella. "Leaving isn't exactly on my mind right now."

"Of course not." Gaylen laughed again, the sound strained. "Well." He wiped his hand over his jowls. "Guess I'll get back to my table." He looked at Sabella. "Your father-in-law is having dinner with us tonight, Belle. You should stop by and say hi."

Sabella clenched her fists in her lap. She stared up at Gaylen, the strike going deep.

"I think Grant Malone can do without my greetings tonight." she told him firmly.

"Family, Belle." Gaylen shook his head. "Making amends wouldn't be that hard."

"In this case, no amends are needed." Her smile was tight. "It was good talking to you again, Gaylen. Thank you for stopping by." But please get the hell away from me.

"Come out and see us sometime, girl,"' he boomed, his laughter so false it grated on her senses.

"Take care of her, boy." The look he shot Noah was filled with dislike.

"Of course I will." Noah smiled. All teeth. "It's uppermost in my mind."

Gaylen nodded then and waddled back to the door.

"Grant Malone?" Noah's voice was perfectly bland. "Your husband's father?"

She nodded.

"So you're estranged from your in-laws?"

"They're in-laws," she whispered. "Rory stayed around, but you know how it is. We didn't have children. In-laws don't stay close in those cases."

"Rory's grandfather comes to the garage," he reminded her.

Sabella smiled at the thought. "Grandpop Rory. He's a sweetie. Rory and I don't stress him out

over things. I still visit sometimes. Sometimes he stops by the house or garage. He still calls me

his 'girl' whenever he sees me."

She loved Grandpop. She wondered if Noah had been to see him since Grandpop had shown up

at the garage, if he had told the old man he was alive. He had told Rory, why wouldn't he tell

Grandpop?

She was saved from answering any more questions when Sally's daughter Katy stepped out to

take their order. Conversation was slower after that. Sabella sipped her wine and fought against

the need to ask him, to beg him for answers.

She watched everyone that came onto the patio. A few stopped to chat, to say hello. Most were

just curious, others, like Gaylen, sliced where they could.

It made dinner a nerve-racking experience and she wished she had directed him to Odessa

instead. That was where she and Nathan had normally gone to eat. They didn't have to socialize

in Odessa. Here, in his hometown, Nathan had been popular. Dinner out meant too many other

couples gathering around their table when they just wanted to eat, enjoy an evening out.

"Are you ready?" Noah asked as she played with her wine after dinner and frowned down at

her glass.

"Whenever you are." She slid the glass back as he rose from his chair and tossed a tip on the

table. A rather large one, she noticed. She liked that he was generous with the tip, considering

Sally had given them their meals on the house.

He guided her out of the restaurant, and she noticed that not even once had he glanced at

Gaylen's table where his father was staring after them.

Sometimes, she actually felt sorry for Grant Malone. There were times during the two years

she'd had with Nathan that she had sensed more feelings from the other man than he showed

his son. Things he held back. Nathan had been convinced his father felt nothing for him, that

nothing mattered to Grant but his ranch. And after Nathan had "died," he'd been determined to

acquire what Nathan owned as well, though Sabella had never understood why. He'd been as

determined to acquire it as Gaylen Patrick and Mike Conrad had been. As though it were a

symbol of something. She'd never understood it, had wondered if she even wanted to

understand it.

There had been so many times over the past years that she had wondered why the hell she had

stayed here. Why she had fought, why she had tried to continue on without Nathan.

Now she knew why, and the knowledge had the power to shake her to her core. She'd stayed

because she knew he would be back.

The truck was parked close to the entrance to the restaurant. They were quiet as he helped her

in then moved around to the driver's side.

Getting in, he started the motor then stared at the restaurant for long, silent moments. It took

her a second, but Sabella finally saw what he was looking at.

Grant Malone had followed them out. He stood on the porch of the restaurant, arms at his sides,

his blue eyes narrowed and staring at the truck.

"Your father-in-law?" he asked carefully.

Sabella nodded, her gaze connecting with Grant's for long moments. What she saw in his eyes

was confusing. She could have sworn she saw grief.

Noah backed the truck out of its parking space before shifting into drive and easing out of the

parking area. He didn't say anything, he didn't look back. There didn't seem to be an ounce of

regret in his expression or his attitude. But she felt the regret. She felt it filling him, eating at

him.

That was his father and she knew Nathan had always hoped that the day would come that he

and his parent could find common ground.

"Why did you stay here after your husband died?" he filly asked her as he turned onto the main

road and headed back toward the house. "You could have moved. Gone anywhere.'"

She shrugged. "My husband was here."

"Your husband was dead," he bit out. "You hold on to him like a talisman, Sabella. As though he still exists, and he doesn't."

She shook her head. "He did. And as long as I was here, with the things he loved, then I still

held a part of him." She stared back at him, feeling the pain that welled between them now.

"Do you think this is what he would have wanted for you?" he argued furiously. "To stay here grieving for him? To put up with the petty damned bullshit I've seen you put up with from

these damned people? Did he love you that little?"

"How he loved me is beside the point," she told him. "I loved him that much. And why do you care, Noah?"

His hands clenched on the steering wheel. "Then you were a fool," he finally snarled. "Or too damned young to know any better. How old were you when he died? Twenty? He married a

fucking baby."

She was quiet for long seconds. She watched the night go by and grew angrier by the second.

"I spent nineteen months living the nightmare of every way my husband could have died," she

finally stated coldly. "I was twenty when he left on that last mission. Almost six years ago. I

would wake up in so much pain I swore I'd been beaten. I woke up screaming, praying, I

watched him die so many ways I could barely function." She had seen his hell, and she knew

that now. "Don't tell me what a fool I was, Noah. I loved him. That isn't up for debate, and it's

most certainly not up for discussion. You might sleep in his bed sometimes, or drive his truck

and fuck his wife, but you don't carry the papers that could give you the right to attempt to have

an opinion on it."

She was goading him and she knew it.