Gabe’s arrival in Knights Bridge and his involvement with the boot camp party were temporary distractions. Get through Saturday, and her life would return to normal.
* * *
Felicity refilled her wineglass, lit a citronella candle and sat with her feet up on another chair, listening to the soothing sounds of the river as dusk gave way to night. She deliberately avoided thinking about work. Her days often didn’t have hard start and stop times, and she always had eighty million things on her to-do list. All eighty million could wait until tomorrow.
Halfway through her wine, she heard a car out front. Hers wasn’t a well-traveled road. She expected the car to continue on its way and loop back to the main river road, but instead she heard an idling engine and, in another moment, silence.
Company?
She set her wineglass on the table, jumped to her feet and trotted down the deck steps and out to the driveway. A gray BMW SUV was parked behind her car. A man was behind the wheel, but she couldn’t make out his face. No one else was with him. She didn’t recognize the car. Dylan McCaffrey, here to get reassurance about his pregnant wife’s fainting spell?
Then the driver’s door opened, and Gabe Flanagan got out, stretched and looked straight at her in the shadows. “Hey, Felicity. Long time.”
“Almost three-and-a-half years.”
He grinned. “I knew you’d remember.”
She’d fallen into that one, hadn’t she? Not off to a great start. What was he doing here?
He shut the driver’s door, standing now in the light from the house. He was as strikingly good-looking and confident as ever. Visibly muscular and more obviously the successful start-up entrepreneur in his expensive, perfectly fitting clothes. Three years ago, he’d sit for hours at his laptop in a T-shirt and cargo shorts.
“We’re all set for Saturday,” Felicity said. “We’re having the party at Olivia’s inn. I need to take a quick look at it. Everything’s well in hand, but we can talk tomorrow if you’d like.”
“No problem. You’ll do a great job.”
It struck her as more than an offhand comment—as if what she did was so easy anyone could pull off a one-day boot camp of hard-driving, successful entrepreneurs and their aspiring audience. It was Dylan’s first major event, too. But, sure. Anyone could do it.
Felicity gave herself a mental shake. Gabe didn’t necessarily mean that at all. She knew better than to make assumptions. “Are you staying with Mark?” she asked. “Your dad? With Olivia and Dylan at their house? Did a room open up at Olivia’s inn?”
“None of the above.”
“Your grandfather at Rivendell? I don’t think that’s allowed.”
Gabe walked to the back of the car, opened the hatch, took out a duffel bag and shut the hatch with a soft thud.
Why would he need his duffel bag?
He edged toward her. “Remember when you said you owed me for letting you sleep on my couch?” He hoisted his bag’s strap on one shoulder, the light from the house creating shadows on his angular face, making his expression even more difficult to read. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t not smile, either. “I’ve come to collect.”
“You want to sleep on my couch?”
“It’s the best option,” he said, pragmatic. “Mark says Jess has bad morning sickness. I’m not staying there. Olivia passed out this afternoon. Dylan found out when he got home. She didn’t want to tell him, but he could tell something was up.”
“Husband’s instincts,” Felicity said.
“New dad’s instincts, too.”
She tried to ignore the sensitivity in Gabe’s tone. Much easier if he stayed the overbearing, mercenary jerk she’d convinced herself he was.
He wanted something from her. That was it. Had to be.
“Anyway,” he said, “I’m not staying with them, either. I’d pitch a tent, but tents aren’t my thing these days.”
“What about one of the Sloan brothers? There are five of them. They all live in town.”
“None of the Sloans were ever down-and-out enough to knock on my door and ask to sleep on my couch.”
“I didn’t ask. You offered. And I wasn’t down-and-out. I needed space to think.”
“What do you call no job, drowning in debt—”
“Reasons I needed to think. Obviously I should have done my thinking in Paris. I had enough room on my credit card for one more good trip.”
“Felicity math.”
There was no animosity or note of criticism in his tone. He grinned at her, as if he knew she couldn’t argue with him. Back then, she’d used time between jobs as an excuse to travel. Of course he remembered. This was miss-nothing, remember-everything, never-let-anyone-forget Gabe. He’d been that way in sixth grade. Now wasn’t the time to argue whether she’d truly been down-and-out. By her standards, no, she hadn’t been. By Gabe’s standards? She probably still was in need of intervention. But she had reined in her credit-card spending.
He flicked vainly at a mosquito buzzing around his head. “I’m still not a fan of mosquitoes.”
“If you think we can pick up where we left off three years ago—”
“I don’t. I know we’re not buddies anymore.”
There was something in his eyes. She ignored it but felt its effect in the pit of her stomach. She flashed on being out here that night at eighteen. She hadn’t noticed mosquitoes then. She hadn’t noticed anything but him. Gad. His mosquito buzzed toward her and then disappeared into the darkness.
“We stopped being buddies when you told me I was in the wrong career.”
“You were in the wrong career.”
His tone was lighthearted, but she bristled. “Everything I learned as a financial analyst has helped me with event management.”
“No doubt. I say the same thing about my failures.”
“I wasn’t a failure—”
“Didn’t say you were but your jobs in finance didn’t work out.”
“Are we going to do this? I was in a tough spot when I knocked on your door. I could have used some support.”
“I let you sleep on my couch and binge-watch Judge Judy.”
“I do appreciate that.”
“I also
