Page 26 of Only for You
Chapter Nine
“Gabby, I didn’t ask you to come thousands of miles to work,” Uncle Garrett grumbled.
Grinning, Gabriella pushed down the tap, tilting an ice cold mug as beer poured out, filling the glass. Topping it off, she set it on a tray along with three other drinks. A waitress hefted it up and darted out in the crowd gathered in her uncle’s bar to celebrate his birthday and retirement.
“So when your bartender called in, what was I supposed to do? Let you man the bar?” She arched an eyebrow. Not that he wouldn’t have done just that. Uncle Garrett was a bona-fide workaholic and would’ve gladly tied on an apron and started serving beer, regardless that the building was bursting at the seams with people here to honor his eightieth birthday. Besides, he deserved to enjoy this night. Especially since it was a good one for him—he’d been able to recall everyone’s names, remembered the recollections his friends brought up. Yeah, he needed this night, and her jumping in to help keep the drinks coming and the party going was just another way to show her gratitude to the man who’d been the only father figure she’d known.
And then there was the added bonus that taking drink orders and serving them up kept her mind occupied. Each hour, minute, hell, second, she didn’t have to obsess over Killian and their parting of ways two days ago, meant another hour, minute, second of peace…
“Soooo, Gabby, where did you disappear to Friday night?” Wendy slid onto an empty barstool, a knowing smile curling her mouth.
Well, damn, there went that peace.
“Damn, Captain Obvious.” Janelle slapped the other woman on the shoulder, elbowing into a tight space next to Wendy. She grinned at Gabriella, her eyes bright with curiosity. “I waited for you to call me with the dirty details. One minute we were waiting on you to come back from the bathroom, and then the next, Rion Ward was offering to call us a cab. Without you.” She waggled her eyebrows. “So spill it, babe. Did you find Killian?”
Just the mention of his name sent a stabbing dart of fire through her chest. Inhaling a deep breath, she nodded as someone hailed her from the other end of the bar.
“Be right back,” she said, escaping from her cousin and sister-in-law. Oh yeah, definitely escaping. By the time she filled the order of two pints, one Guinness, and one Jack’s Abbey, she’d composed herself enough to face the avaricious curiosity of her family. “Sorry ’bout that. Did you—”
The fake, brittle smile she’d fixed on her lips disappeared into a confused frown. Neither Wendy nor Janelle listened to her, all of their attention focused on the front of the pub. As seemed to be the case with more and more people as a thick silence slowly spread over the bar until only a low hum of murmuring voices remained.
Following the direction of the others, she shifted her gaze toward the bar’s entrance.
And her heart stuttered in her chest before racing like an Olympic gold medalist.
Killian.
She wanted to look away, but like a glutton for punishment, she could only stare. Take in the dark, thick hair that tumbled around the strong, sharp planes of his beautiful face and brushed his broad shoulders. A part of her resented that he could still be the image of male beauty when he’d taken a sledgehammer to her heart. But apparently, that section of her psyche bore no competition for the woman who still longed to climb him like a spider monkey in heat. Damn it.
Her uncle moved forward, greeting Killian with that pounding on the shoulder/hand clap thing men did. Only then did she tear her rapt—starving—gaze away from Killian long enough to notice the two tall men behind him—Rion Ward and Sasha Merchant—as well as the stunning brunette and redhead standing next to them.
What the hell were they doing here?
As if they all perceived her question on some weird telepathic link, all five gazes swung toward her. Aaaand so did every head in the bar.
Heat climbed up her chest and crept into her face. Picking up a cloth, she started wiping up a non-existent spill on the bar top.
“Gabby,” her uncle called.
She didn’t glance up from her cleaning. “Yes, Uncle Garrett?”
“Killian Vincent is here to see you,” he informed her as if she couldn’t see the gorgeous giant in the black, wool coat. “Claims he has something to say to you.”
“Is that right?” she ground out, damn near rubbing the veneer off the bar.
“I think that top is spotless by now,” her uncle drawled. “Are you going to listen to the man?”
She tossed the rag down and crossed her arms, arching an eyebrow. “It doesn’t seem I have much of a choice, do I?” she shot back. Then narrowing her gaze on Killian, she snapped, “You fight dirty, don’t you?”
“If I have to,” came Killian’s calm reply. As if he wasn’t creating a spectacle that the neighborhood would be gossiping about until Jesus came back.
“I wasn’t aware you wanted to fight. Dirty or otherwise.” No way in hell she’d forgotten his words. They haunted her.I can’t let myself love you again.She tightened her arms around herself, the gesture now more protective than defensive. “And you couldn’t have just called like normal people?”
“I don’t have your phone number. And no, a call wouldn’t have worked.” He stepped toward her, and the silent, enraptured partygoers parted like the Red Sea. “Because then I wouldn’t be able to see your face again, even if it’s just one more time.”
“Oh damn,” Janelle breathed.
Gabriella was struck speechless. Numb, she slowly lowered her arms, certain she hadn’t heard him right. She would’ve sold her soul to have that said to her two nights ago. When her courage had been a healthy thing instead of a bruised one.
