Swan Point. Sherryl Woods
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Mitch winced. “I came way too close to relying on alcohol myself after I lost Amy,” he revealed quietly, startling Gabe. “I’d like to think I wouldn’t have judged your mother for that weakness.”
Gabe wondered if there was some hereditary inclination that seemed to steer Franklins toward booze. “I took a brush with it myself after Mom died,” he said. “Even though I knew firsthand where that path could lead. Now that I’ve got my feet back under me and can see what dangerous decisions I was making, I feel a lot more sympathy for her myself than I did when I was living with it. I can also see a lot more clearly that she sure as heck had an addiction to the wrong sort of men. It was a bad combination.”
“But those shouldn’t have become your problems, too,” Mitch said. “You took them on when the family should have been there to support both of you, instead of passing judgment. It wasn’t right that you got labeled a troublemaker for trying to protect your mom.”
“Water under the bridge,” Gabe insisted. “Can we stop talking about this, please? You’ve more than made up for the past by giving me this job.”
Mitch dismissed the sentiment. “I have to admit that I’m still a little surprised that you wanted to come back to Serenity. You were awfully eager to put the town and your family behind you when you took off after your mom died.”
Gabe shrugged. “Seemed to me like the best place to get a second chance would be in the same place where you blew the first one. I guess I was finally ready to face the past, instead of running from it. Maybe I can shake those ghosts that seem to go with me wherever I am.”
“A very mature outlook.”
Gabe laughed. “Yeah, well, I imagine that’s a surprise for you, too. It sure is to me. Maybe hitting forty somehow turned me into a grown-up.” He set out determinedly to change the subject once and for all. “Now, what’s on the agenda for today? You’ve given me enough time to get settled in. I’m anxious to get started and prove you didn’t make the wrong decision by taking me on. I filled you in on my experience, but you haven’t seen my work firsthand. I meant what I told you—if it doesn’t measure up, you can tell me that straight-out, okay?”
“That’s not likely,” Mitch said. “Your job history speaks for itself. I know some of those men you worked for around the state.”
“Did you speak to them? That’s why I gave you their names.”
“No need. I trust you,” Mitch claimed, giving Gabe’s sometimes shaky self-esteem a needed boost.
Just then, the door opened and Adelia Hernandez stepped into the bakery. If anything, Gabe thought she was even prettier with her long hair tousled by the wind and wearing a dress that showed off her shapely legs. That crazy pulse of his skipped a couple of beats.
Apparently the reaction wasn’t entirely one-sided. When she spotted him, her cheeks flushed and her step faltered.
Naturally Mitch noticed Adelia’s discomfort and Gabe’s fascination. His eyes narrowed.
“You two know each other?” he asked Gabe. Adelia hesitated as if she was torn between whatever she’d come in to get and getting away from Gabe as quickly as possible.
“She was at Rosalina’s when I was there last night,” Gabe replied carefully.
“And?”
“That’s it. She was there with her family. I was there by myself. Nothing more to it.”
Mitch regarded him doubtfully. “Looked like a little more than nothing just now,” he said as Adelia hurried to the counter and placed her order with Lynn.
“I’ve never even spoken to the woman,” Gabe assured him. “And if that gleam in your eyes has anything to do with matchmaking, you can forget about it. I’m here to work. Period.”
Despite his very firm disclaimer, he couldn’t seem to keep his gaze from straying to Adelia, whose hand appeared to be shaking as she accepted a container of coffee from Lynn. As soon as she’d paid, she whirled around and practically ran out the door.
“Adelia!” Lynn called after her, then glanced toward Mitch. “I don’t know what in the world is wrong with her this morning. She’s jumpy as a june bug and she ran off without her pastry.”
Gabe was instantly on his feet. He held out his hand. “I’ll take it to her.”
He saw the startled expression on Lynn’s face and heard his cousin’s chuckle as he took off. So much for any pretense that he wasn’t interested, he thought ruefully. Oh, well. He figured that had pretty much been doomed from the instant he’d laid eyes on her, anyway. It was a darn good thing he’d had a ton of practice at controlling most of his craziest impulses.
* * *
This is ridiculous, Adelia thought as she struggled to get her key to work in the lock at Chic, the boutique next door to the bakery. How could a man to whom she’d never even spoken rattle her so badly? She’d been squeezing the Styrofoam cup so tightly since leaving Lynn’s, it was a wonder there was a drop of coffee left in there. It was all her brother’s fault for planting that crazy idea in her head, for suggesting that the stranger was a potential admirer.
She’d barely set the coffee down by the cash register when the bell over the front door tinkled merrily and she realized she hadn’t locked the door behind her. More startling was the sight of the man entering.
“You!” she exclaimed.
She must have sounded alarmed, because he stopped in his tracks and held out a small pastry bag. “I come in peace,” he teased, seemingly fighting a smile. “You left this behind at the bakery. Lynn was worried, so I said I’d deliver it.”
She sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes for an instant. “Sorry. You just caught me off guard. I usually lock the door behind me since we don’t open for another half hour. I come in early. Well, I guess that’s obvious, isn’t it? I like to get started before any customers walk in. I want to make sure the displays are neat and the cash register is set to go, that sort of thing. I’m a little obsessive about it.”
She realized she was rambling. She clamped her mouth shut. He held out the pastry bag, and when she didn’t immediately reach for it, he set it on the counter, amusement written all over his face.
“I’m Gabe Franklin,” he told her. “Mitch’s cousin.”
Adelia felt herself relaxing ever so slightly at that. Mitch was a good guy. One of the best, in fact. Any cousin of his would surely be okay, even if this man seemed to have the power to rattle her in ways no man had for years. Any rattling Ernesto had done had been to her temper.
“Mitch is great,” she said.
“That seems to be the consensus,” he responded.
She frowned at the edge she thought she heard in his voice. “You don’t agree?”
He winced. “Sorry. It’s an old habit. In the interest of full disclosure, I was the black sheep Franklin growing up. Old resentments die hard. He is a good man. I can appreciate that now.”