To top it all off on this hellish day, he had to meet Chelsea for some wedding planning nonsense later. How was she handling the news that his late uncle had been Maverick? Would she blame Gabe simply by association?
It was bad enough that he’d been roped into the wedding planning. He may as well have given up his man card for all the flowers and candles he’d been sniffing lately. If Shane and Brandee hadn’t specifically asked Gabe and Chelsea to help with the planning, Gabe would’ve given this project the middle finger. But Shane was as close as family and, even though Gabe didn’t believe in happily-ever-after, he was glad to see his best friends so in love.
Gabe just wished Chelsea wasn’t the maid of honor because until the Christmas nuptials rolled around, dodging her wasn’t an option. Nearly every single day he’d be spending hours looking at seating charts, passing on the bride’s playlist to the band, finalizing the caterers and florists...and all of that time would only lead to one more thing. Another kiss.
Why the hell did it have to be this woman who intrigued him? At first he’d wondered if he’d just felt bad for all the negative attention she’d been getting, but he’d quickly squelched that notion. He wasn’t one to take pity and turn it into lust.
But there was something about her strength and the fact she wasn’t letting this scandal break her when it very well should. He admired anyone who could rise above adversity and still remain in control.
And then there was just plain, old-fashioned, sexual desire.
She was hot, and he was a man with breath in his lungs. He would have been a fool not to be attracted.
That kiss had upped the stakes and now all he could think of was getting another taste. Given everything that had transpired today, was that wrong? Should he even allow himself to crave the woman his uncle had publicly humiliated?
Muttering a curse, Gabe turned the television off and grabbed his keys. He might as well get this little meeting with Chelsea over with and then go back to doing damage control at the Walsh Group. Not only would the clients be pouring in with questions, his employees would, too. The sheriff had told Gabe about his findings before the press conference—and cleared him of any wrongdoing, for that matter—so Gabe had already given a heads-up to his assistants that this was coming and instructed them on how to handle the expected calls.
The people in Royal knew him, knew that he wouldn’t partake in something so heinous. But there were clients who didn’t know him and those were the ones he’d be personally calling and meeting face-to-face. He wasn’t looking forward to doing damage control, but he’d worked too hard for his impeccable reputation and he’d be damned if he let anyone tarnish it...especially family.
That was business. He knew how to handle all of that, but he had no clue how to approach Chelsea. No doubt she’d heard on the news or directly from Sheriff Battle the identity of her blackmailer and Gabe would be the perfect target for her to take out her frustrations. And then there was the unacknowledged-but-hard-to-ignore attraction between them.
But she was in a vulnerable position and only a complete jerk would take advantage of that. She may put on a strong front, something he commended her for, but no doubt she still hurt. All he could do at this point was to show her he wasn’t like his uncle, that he was completely innocent, and he was there for her if she needed him.
* * *
The screwdriver hurtled past Gabe’s head and Chelsea cursed herself for missing. She was still shaken up by the news, that was all. If she’d been fully on her game, she would’ve nailed the target. The sexy, arrogant, infuriating target.
She didn’t condone violence, but this man had stepped into her bad mood at the wrong time. She’d only just learned of the Maverick’s true identity and Gabe Walsh was guilty by association. For all she knew, Gabe had helped cover his uncle’s tracks. He was a sneaky PI, after all. Even though the sheriff had assured her there was no evidence Gabe had any involvement whatsoever, she was furious and needed to lash out.
“Is that any way to treat someone who’s come to help you build this archway for the ceremony?” Gabe asked, slowly making his way toward her.
Chelsea grabbed the hammer. “I don’t need, nor did I ask for your help.”
Gabe cocked his head and kicked up his wicked smile. Gabe had that whole don’t-give-a-damn attitude down pat; nothing ever bothered him. He seduced and charmed everyone in his path...but not her. And she wasn’t going to think of that kiss, either. She wasn’t.
“Brandee texted me and asked me to come help you with the arch for the ceremony,” he informed her.
Chelsea glanced at the piles of wood, flowers, tulle and wire all spread out in the old barn at Hope Springs, Brandee’s ranch. Brandee could’ve hired a company to take over the decorating and organizing of the big day, but Chelsea had wanted to make things special for her friend. She’d wanted to be hands-on since she knew Brandee better than any stranger would.
But Chelsea would rather have worked her fingers to the bone than ask Gabe for any help. Now that the Maverick had been revealed as his uncle, Chelsea felt utterly betrayed.
“I wasn’t sure how Dusty managed to get those images of me and splash them around, but now it’s pretty clear he had help.” Chelsea continued to stare at the man who was too sexy to be legal. The tattoos, the scruff along his jawline,
the arrogant stance. “You were his errand boy.”
“What?” Gabe said, jerking back. “I—”
“Anything for the family,” she went on, dropping the hammer to the concrete floor at her side instead of hurling it at his head next. “You were trained to take over the family business. Taking orders from your dying uncle just came naturally.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gabe countered, an edge to his voice. “You might want to have evidence before making such claims—evidence you will never find because I had nothing to do with the pictures or the blackmail.”
He may have been a former special agent, he may have put the fear of God in many suspects in his time, but Chelsea wasn’t afraid. The only thing she worried about was how he managed to infuriate and turn her on at the same time. She hated how her body responded to just the sight of him when her mind told her she knew better. Why did lust have to cloud her judgment?
“I’m not arguing.” She turned her attention back to the mess before her. “I have too much to do here. If Brandee doesn’t see some progress, she’ll worry it won’t be done in time, and I won’t have my best friend stressed for her special day.”
“Then it sounds like you need an extra pair of hands.”
Chelsea shuddered. Gabe had used those hands to grip her shoulders and haul her against his hard body as he’d kissed her so fast, so fierce—