he’d like to forget.
Which explained why he was still sitting on the porch. Not that he’d been here that long. Dinner with his friends had dragged out, as they’d talked about old times.
They were good friends. He’d made other friends in Dallas, while attending law school, but the friendships weren’t as deep, as satisfying, as those he’d made as a child.
But even with them, his best friends, he couldn’t discuss his difficulties.
He stood up, ignoring the creak of the rocker, and strode to the back door. It was locked, which took him by surprise. Gran had never locked her doors, but Mac had had the place locked up, of course. He dug out the keys Mac had given him and unlocked the door.
The house smelled fresh, witnessing Mac’s remark that he’d had someone come in on a regular basis. Gabe reached out and clicked on the overhead light.
The big kitchen was neat and tidy. Too neat. It looked barren, compared to the clutter Gran had always had. Gabe tossed the keys on top of the pine table and went back out to his Mercedes. He’d picked up a few necessities at the grocery.
Waking up in the morning with no coffee in the house wasn’t something he was interested in doing. He could go without food for a while, but not without coffee.
He pulled out Gran’s percolator, a fancy one with a timing device. He’d given it to her last Christmas. Sighing, he realized she’d never used it. The tags were still on it.
Preparing the pot and setting the timer for eight in the morning, figuring he’d sleep in after his long day, he considered going to bed.
But he didn’t think he could go to sleep until he made a plan of action. He’d carried in his suitcase and briefcase along with the groceries. He put his briefcase on the table and pulled out a chair.
With a clean legal pad and pen, he felt more confident that he could find a way out of this mess. The tools of his trade. He began listing the problems. Then he looked for solutions.
Finally he accepted what Mac had told him. The will was unbreakable. He had one option, other than the impossible one of marrying Katie. He had to get her married to someone else. That shouldn’t be too hard, he decided, anger surging up in him again. She’d already married once.
He remembered the care he’d taken with the inexperienced Katie. His father had warned him about unprotected sex. He’d taken that warning to heart, always carrying condoms. But Katie had never been intimate with anyone. He’d wanted her first time to be special. With him.
His grandmother had taken a cruise with some of the other ladies from Cactus. She’d asked Gabe to stay at her place over the weekend. He’d brought Katie there and made love to her, in his bed.
He’d protected her, loved her. Adored her.
The next weekend, he’d intended to propose to her. But her father died in the middle of the week. He’d come back for the funeral. Katie had scarcely had time for him, except to fall into his arms for one brief hug.
Now, looking back, he realized how selfish he’d been. Shame filled him at his egocentric response to Katie’s earth-shattering experience. All he’d been able to think of were his plans for the future. For the two of them.
But she hadn’t made any effort to explain. To ask him to wait. In fact, when he’d returned a couple of weeks later after his college graduation to finally bare his heart to her, she’d told him she’d met someone else.
The pain had been so intense, so shattering, he’d been unable to even ask questions. To wonder at the sudden turn in their relationship.
Unable to face those memories, Gabe ripped the top sheet from the legal pad. Immediately he began a list of all the single men he knew in Cactus. There weren’t all that many, he realized. Most of the young people had left. These days they were attracting more industry to Cactus.
The guys were telling him about a billionaire who had settled in Cactus and was building a factory outside town. But the young people who were staying were years younger than Katie. She was twenty-eight now.
He’d have to ask the matchmakers. Mabel Baxter and her cronies. They’d know who was available.
He headed a column Things To Do.
1. Visit with the matchmakers.
2. Talk to Jack Ledbetter.
Reluctantly he added a third.
3. Make a decision about my job.
He’d taken a week’s vacation to settle Gran’s estate, but it appeared it was going to take a lot longer. Once he took possession of the house, as he had tonight, he had to remain living there for a year.
He could hardly commute to Dallas.
Tucking the legal pad and pen back into his briefcase, he shut it and stood. It was too late to make any decisions tonight. Tomorrow, he’d get a fresh start.
He picked up his suitcase and headed down the hall to the bedroom that had always been his. The bedroom where he’d first made love to Katie.
No. He’d use the guest room. It held no memories for him. Neither of Gran nor Katie. It had always been kept in pristine condition, in case a visitor had dropped in. Gran was a proud housekeeper. Toward the end, he’d hired a neighbor to come in twice a week and clean for her. She’d hated that.
He opened the door to the guest room, finding it ready for a last-minute guest, as he’d known it would be. The decor was a little too feminine for his taste, but he’d suffer the flowered comforter and drapes tonight. After all, if he wasn’t staying, it wouldn’t matter. And if he was—
Nope. He couldn’t think about that tonight. He wanted to sleep, to forget the past, to deny the future. He was back in Cactus. That was enough for now.
OLD HABITS WERE HARD to break.
Gabe was awake at seven. In Dallas, he normally hit the shower at six-thirty, so he supposed he’d actually, technically, broken his early-morning habit, but there was no reason to roll out of bed this morning.
And, damn it, the coffee wouldn’t be ready until eight.
With a groan, he padded into the kitchen and adjusted the timer until he heard it turn on. Then he headed for the shower. By the time he finished, the coffee would be ready.
He was leaning against the counter, downing his first cup of coffee, when he heard a car in the driveway. A smile settled in place when he saw the sheriff’s official car. Cal had come to see him.
Then it occurred to him that maybe there was a problem. The phone wasn’t connected, but he had a cell phone. His parents would have called if—
He hurried to the back door. “Come in, Cal. Is anything wrong?”
“Not a thing. Thought you might like a little breakfast,” he said, holding up a white paper bag.
A cinnamon aroma filled the air and caused Gabe’s stomach to growl. “How’d you guess?” he asked with a grin.
“Not
