Page 24 of Guarded Knight (Echo Valley #3)

That afternoon, I played it cool, even though from Gabriel’s expression he was feeling anything but after the barn.

…Being with you is something between losing my mind and finding my soul.

Every wall I built, every line in the sand drawn, disappears because my world tipped upside down. Every intention of leaving here, every need to make space between us, evaporated.

Which was exactly why after the party died down, I excused myself as tired and boarded myself back up in Gabriel’s room for the night.

But I didn’t sleep. I tossed one way, wondering if maybe we should give things a try, the other thinking that we could try friendship only to roll over and over like a twisting tornado with the thought of his lips on mine.

His hands.

His thick cock…

But even though he made his confession, I swear I saw regret in his eyes when Anton came in. He’d lost control and needed to claw it back. Is he afraid of what Xander would think? Or is he afraid of himself? Or still… of hurting me?

It’s not easy that we’re still staying in Anton and G’s house together, but equally, it’s meant that I haven’t had to explain the barn incident to Freya, not the kiss, not the accusation, because we haven’t been alone long enough for me to blurt it all out.

The next day, we work at G’s formal dining room table that’s at the far, unused-looking end of the open-plan space.

Gabriel sits in the living room, his glorious features illuminated by the blue light of his laptop as the sun dips and another day of not knowing what the hell is going on in my life has nearly come and gone.

I glance at Freya, all focused on her laptop, blowing one of her cute, bouncy black curls off her forehead.

What will I tell her when we go back to the apartment later?

When Gabriel watches from a distance and she wants the scoop?

Does Gabriel really suspect my best friend?

Or is it his typical due process of guilty before proven innocent?

All I know is he’s wrong and needs to stay focused. Not that he isn’t.

I get why Gabriel would be suspicious, I guess. It seems impossible that Cameron could have done these things without a key. That makes Freya an easy target, but hardly the only possibility.

Should I be suspicious?

I’m a lot of things, but naive isn’t one of them.

Yeah, I’ve always picked the wrong guys. On purpose, mostly. I took applications for caterpillars only, warm and fuzzy, no butterflies, no risk of heartbreak that way on their side or mine.

Cameron? It’s not a shocker he turned out to be a creep. I always saw the intensity in his eyes, the clinginess, the frat boy who sold his diploma to pay for the party. But this… the break-ins, the intrusive pictures, the smoke bomb… I didn’t see that coming.

I tighten my grip around my Stanley Cup.

I will not blame myself for his choices.

And Freya? Gabriel is point-blank wrong.

I take a long sip of sweet iced tea and stare at my laptop screen, spreadsheets cluttering every inch.

Now that Freya’s opened the door about Kevin, I’m determined to find what Scarlet Hope’s money is being spent on.

I need to get to the bottom of this for both of us, and fast. My guts are telling me something is off.

And today, something very strange emerges.

One name pops up on the board of trustees at both the Harris Foundation and several charities where Scarlet Hope offered funds recently. Belinda Doyle.

Who the hell is Belinda Doyle? Why is she on the board of so many charities?

Could she be skimming funds from Scarlet Hope?

The idea makes me sick. I’ve given my everything to this place—late nights, cold calls, speeches, the works.

And for what? I glare at last year’s annual report for one of Belinda’s charities, Tiny Heroes.

That money could’ve covered treatments for dozens of kids, dozens of hotel rooms for underprivileged families who struggle to see their child in the hospital every day.

I stare at the luxury car purchase on the financial report I pulled. Unless this charity gave the Range Rover as a last wish for a kid, there is no reason anyone in this sector needs that sort of expenditure.

I sip the last bit of liquid from my cup until air slurps through.

My eyes ache. My head pounds, and my mind turns back to G. We’ll need to talk. I want to talk.

“Lara?” Freya’s voice cuts through the fog. “You with me?”

“Yeah.” I blow hair off my forehead. “Just tired.”

“You look it.” She tilts her head, studying me.

She glances briefly behind, and Gabriel still stares at his laptop. She turns her back to him again and mouths: Are you two okay?

I have been wanting to talk to her about the kiss all day. Desperately. But Gabriel hasn’t given the space.

I mouth back: I have so much to tell you.

She brings her hand to the middle of her chest, where he won’t see it, and gives me a thumbs-up and then a thumbs down, asking me which way the barn went.

I make a fist with my thumb out, keeping it in the neutral position.

Is what happened in the barn good or bad? I know Gabriel and I can’t be together. But nothing about that kiss or the way I feel every time he brings up the past makes me feel bad.

I tilt my thumb to the sky but do it with a shrug.

Her lips ask silently: What happened?

I make a kiss with my mouth.

Freya’s jaw drops, and she squeals.

That’s when we’re both back on Gabriel’s radar, his gaze squarely on me.

She composes herself. “Oh!” She says almost as if emulating the previous squeal but less so. “I can’t wait to have those leftovers for dinner.”

Good catch, Freya.

Not.

She closes her laptop. “Wanna eat?”

Not really. I haven’t felt hungry since I anticipated Luis’ magic sauce ribs yesterday, but I hit save on my spreadsheet, determined to pick up where I left off tomorrow.

Freya’s voice drifts from the fridge. “Ribs. Burgers. Tacos. The guac’s gone a little brown…”

I head for the kitchen, and behind me comes the soft snap of Gabriel’s laptop closing. I turn just in time to see him moving toward me, all raw edges and exhaustion, like he’s wrestled the whole damn world today.

His gaze catches mine from beneath those dark, severe brows—God, even his eyebrows shouldn’t be allowed to look that good—and my pulse stumbles.

“Can we talk?” His voice is low, weighted.

Freya sets the Tupperware down with a thud. “I’ll give you guys some space.”

“No, you’re fine.” His focus doesn’t waver from me. “Will you head out to the bar with me?”

The words tumble into me like something dangerous. A date, my brain whispers, though I know better. Still, butterflies riot, wingbeats battering my ribs until I can hardly breathe.

“Yeah. Sure.” My voice is steady, but my hands aren’t. I glance at Freya. “Will you be okay here?”

She laughs. “You mean with Anton? That guy’s so big I don’t think I’d be alone if I crossed state lines.”

I spin back to Gabriel and I’m instantly caught in the orbit I swore I’d escaped years ago. My heart hammers so loud it drowns out all thought. It’s crazy how you live with it, a hundred thousand beats a day, silent and steady, unnoticeable, and then one man gazes at you and you remember it exists.

But I can’t tell if this pounding is the sound of something beginning or something breaking.

The shadows in his eyes hold me suspended. What is in those mysterious brown eyes right now? Danger? Or Desire?

I don’t know which one to fear more.

We don’t talk in the car on the way to the bar. Gabriel doesn’t say a word. I try to think of something light to say, but everything sticks in my throat.

I can’t stop thinking about the barn, his hands on me, the heat of his breath, years of wanting crashing together in a big bang of truth.

Gabriel feels right. It’s annoying. Hell, it’s hurtful because I still know him well enough to recognize the way he looked after we kissed.

As if he’d crossed a line he didn’t know how to uncross but he sure as hell should try.

By the time we step into the Wild Cantina, I sure could use the drink that’s on the way.

Echo Valley seems like an eclectic mix of people.

Clearly, Santi’s horse operation draws cowboys to the area.

Several ranch hands lift their heads in silent greeting to Gabriel as we walk in.

But there’s a mix of others, too. I spot Penelope from the bookstore sitting with a very handsome police officer at the far end by the stage.

They don’t notice me, Gabriel, or indeed, anything but each other.

There are all walks of life here, a little like Santa Fe, where anything goes. Behind the bar, the same bartender from last time tips his chin at me. “Hey there, trouble. Back for round two?”

Before I can answer, Gabriel’s hand settles possessively on the small of my back, branding me with a warmth I feel all the way to my bones.

He answers for the both of us. “Send a whiskey sour and a tequila, Mendez supply, with a bottle of water to the corner booth, please, Hudson.”

He looks like a Hudson. Something between old Hollywood charm and a man who might rope you and make you like it.

Hudson salutes. “You got it.”

I try to act normal, even with Gabriel’s hand still hot on my back.

“What’s Mendez tequila?”

“The supply Rio keeps here. Good stuff. Something I can sip.”

Of course Rio Mendez has a secret stash at the local bar. He’s the only one of the brothers who seems to have leaned fully into enjoying their new, wealthy lifestyle.

I don’t begrudge the Rolex I saw on Rio’s wrist, or the fact that he keeps a top-shelf tequila just for him and his family at the local; not after how hard things were on their ranch back in Starlight Canyon.

Those boys worked harder than anyone I knew.

But I can’t help but notice that Gabriel’s still dressed the same as always—simple, clean-cut, no-nonsense.

Sigh.

He’s still my boy next door.