Much too old for her.
She dropped into her chair, and Doug was silent as a few reasonably attractive women joined them at the table, darting eyes in Doug’s direction. From somewhere behind Gabby, she heard the clearing of a throat, and there, at the table nearest them, was Carol Monroe.
Gabby jutted her chin at Doug. “I think your mother’s trying to get your attention.”
Beside her, she heard Doug groan, and with a heavy sigh, he leaned back in his chair, turning his head. Because Gabby was now curious, she glanced over at the other table, where Carol was now making less than subtle expressions at the women at table twelve. She heard Doug curse under his breath as he righted himself in his seat, reaching for the breadbasket, his jaw tight.
One last look at Carol revealed a disappointed sigh before she pushed back her chair and hurried over to them.
“Gabby,” she gushed. “I just wanted to thank you so much for putting together that exquisite arrangement. I think it was your best work yet.” She gave her son a less than subtle look. “Don’t you agree, Doug?”
After a beat, he nodded. “It was very pretty.”
“And so are you tonight, Gabby!” Carol wasted no time in taking that bait, and Gabby had to bite her lip to keep from laughing as Doug visibly squirmed in the chair beside her. “Look at you two. Why, it seems like just yesterday you were going head to head on the debate team. And now you’re all grown up.”
“Not much has changed though,” Gabby said with a little smile. She slid her gaze to Doug who was yanking at his tie.
Carol, however, was undeterred. She gave Gabby a little pat on the shoulder and said, “Guess we’ll see about that.” She widened her eyes on Doug before she scooted back to her table.
“Oh, I see what’s going on,” Gabby said with a laugh. “Your mother is trying to play matchmaker.”
“That obvious, huh?” Doug gave her a little grin. It was a nice grin, Gabby thought. Not that she would let that sway her opinion of the man. He was still arrogant, opinionated. Infuriating.
“And you’d rather talk to me than any of these lovely single ladies?” She took another sip of her wine. She knew better than to feel flattered.
“I’d rather sit between two people that won’t pepper me with small talk all night,” Doug said.
Justin had joined them by now. He looked even more out of place than Doug, if such a thing were possible. The woman to his other side was trying to chat him up, and Justin pulled at his tie nervously.
Gabby looked over her shoulder to see if Carol had noticed this, but fortunately, she was laughing at something her husband said, no longer interested in what was playing out at table twelve.
Curious, Gabby turned back to Doug. For once, she was going to watch him squirm. “So, you’re telling me that even if the perfect woman for you was sitting right here at this table tonight, you would rather sit quietly eating your dinner than get to know her?”
He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes steady on hers, giving her a chance to take in his full lips and square jaw.
It tensed before he spoke. “There’s no such thing as a perfect match.”
She should have known, but old habits died hard, as the saying went. “Maybe you just haven’t met her yet.”
He shook his head. “You mean to tell me that in a world as big as ours, there is one perfect person out there for each of us?”
Gabby had once believed this. She still wanted to, even if she was beginning to lose hope. But now, sitting here as the band played in the distance, and the crystal clinked, and the flowers were in full, fragrant bloom, and the bride was so radiantly happy, she dared to believe it all over again.
“I’d like to think so,” she said.
He was still staring at her, and now he raised an eyebrow as a little smirk curved one corner of his mouth. “What if my perfect match is living in a small village in…Russia? What if I never have a chance to go to Russia? How would I ever find her?”
Gabby narrowed her eyes. He really was incorrigible. Still, he was tapping into her worst fears, too. She hadn’t met her perfect match in all her years of Blue Harbor. There was no guarantee that she ever would.
Her gaze drifted to the bride and groom, who were now posing for the photographer near the cake, an exquisite three-tiered confection in white and lavender.
“Well, I for one think that they make a very cute couple.” The bride had summered here growing up and could think of no better place to have her wedding. Gabby couldn’t agree more.
“Cute fades,” she heard Doug say.
Her eyes widened. Was he seriously doing this? Now? At a wedding?
“What are you? The angel of doom?”
His smile was wry. “Divorce attorney.”
She fluttered her lids. Well. There it was. A man who saw more marriages end than begin. A man who was cynical and jaded. A man who didn’t believe in romance. Or, it would seem, love.
She ate her dinner in silence, telling herself that Doug was probably happy for the lack of small talk, maybe even as much as she was. Really, the last thing she needed was to spend another minute in his company, being baited by his endless counterpoints, questioning everything she had dared to believe in.
“Well, I should go,” she said with a
