Someone to Watch Over Me. Roz Fox Denny

by her equally unscrupulous ex-husband.

      The three friends fell silent. But it meant everything when Colt’s roving gaze sought each of them out. He smiled and mouthed semper fi. A hole opened in Gabe’s chest again. Damn, he was going to miss these guys. Marc might’ve figured he was kidding, calling them family. But the unvarnished truth was that no one else on earth gave a damn about Gabe Poston.

      Not a soul since he was twelve, anyway. That terrible morning in Texas when his mom’s body washed up in Baytown on the shores of Galveston Bay. All the neighbors whispered she’d have died anyway. Shooting heroin off a dirty needle killed her, some said. Russ Poston, a long-haul trucker, claimed he couldn’t, or more likely wouldn’t, raise a kid he’d never believed was his. Gabe’s grandparents backed their son’s claim. And his mother’s folks lived hand-to-mouth on public assistance. They couldn’t afford to feed the eight kids they’d already produced, let alone take on another. In a blink he was made a ward of the Houston court.

      But Gabe had always been good at taking care of himself. Or so he thought, until at seventeen he ran afoul of the law and a cop invited him to join the Marines or spend more than four years behind bars. He’d made the wisest choice, it turned out.

      So what in heaven’s name was wrong with him now?

      Blinking to clear a vision gone cloudy, Gabe did his best to work up enthusiasm for watching Summer and Colt trade promises along with bites of cake. He raised his glass with everyone else. He even prompted Trace when he stumbled and got flustered during his one-line toast.

      The icy champagne tasted good going down, but Gabe declined a second topping off of his glass. After setting his empty flute on one of the trays situated around the patio, he let himself be swept forward with the boisterous crowd, all bent on hugging and back-slapping the happy couple. Gabe attempted to veer off the moment he saw that the caterer with the haunted eyes had returned to finish cutting the cake. But the other revelers were too determined, and Gabe soon found himself pressed into a corner with the blushing bride.

      “Gabe, hi.” Summer inched farther backward, letting Gabe’s broad shoulders conceal her from the crush of well-wishers. “Hey, block for me a minute, will you, please? I’ve been hugged so many times my ribs are all but cracked. Just until I catch my breath,” she added, holding Gabe in place.

      “No problem. Especially as you’re just the person to answer a question for me.”

      “You have a question?” Summer smiled. “Colt calls you the answer man.”

      “Afraid I’m out of my depth on this one. See the woman cutting your cake? Who is she?” Gabe spoke in a rush because he was bumped from behind.

      Summer dipped her head to look beneath the arm he’d anchored to the wall. “Izzy, you mean? Isabella Navarro.” Summer straightened, lowered her voice and frowned at Gabe. “We’ve got a large Basque population living east of Callanton. She’s from their community.”

      Gabe didn’t say anything. He made it obvious that he was waiting for more information.

      Summer grudgingly gave a little. “Granted, Izzy’s beautiful, talented and about as nice a person as you’d ever hope to meet. She’s also in the midst of a horrible personal tragedy, Gabe. I’ll gladly introduce you to any other of the unattached females at our reception, since you seem to be put off by Megan. Oh, look—over near the grape arbor. It’s Maggie Fitzgerald and Dawn Cunningham.” Summer physically turned Gabe’s head in the direction she wanted him to look.

      He couldn’t pretend interest in either the flashy redhead or the petite brunette who chatted with Jesse Cook, owner of the Broken Arrow Ranch. Gabe had met Jesse weeks ago and liked what he’d seen of Summer’s nearest neighbor.

      “Tell me more about Isabella,” he murmured, returning his gaze to the cake table.

      Summer pursed her lips, first studying Gabe, then slanting a worried glance toward her friend.

      Colt Quinn elbowed his way into their corner and slipped an arm possessively around his wife. “Go find your own woman, Poston. This one’s mine.” Bending, Colt pressed a kiss on Summer’s mouth. As their kiss ended, Colt started to move Summer out of the corner.

      “Hey, hold on.” Gabe caught at her lacy sleeve. “I’m serious about wanting to know why a beautiful woman has such soulless eyes.”

      Summer’s voice dropped even lower. “I’ll tell you because you’re Colt’s best friend. But Izzy’s my good friend, too, so listen up and then forget about this fascination you have with her, okay?” Clearing her throat, Summer said tightly, “Ten months ago, not long after she won a bitter divorce, Izzy got home late from work to find her ex in her garage—sitting in his car with the motor running.”

      Gabe shifted uncomfortably. “God,” he exclaimed. “You’re telling me the SOB killed himself at her place?”

      Summer squeezed Gabe’s forearm. “Julian Arana was unconscious but alive. The same wasn’t true of their two beautiful kids. Five-year-old Antonia and three-year-old Ramon died of carbon monoxide poisoning. Izzy…well, she’s making it through day by day.”

      Gabe’s body jerked spasmodically. The champagne he’d just downed threatened to come up again. Of all the scenarios he’d conjured up after glimpsing the woman’s eyes, none compared to the horrible truth.

      Colt Quinn wrapped his wife in the protective shelter of his arms. “I know that’s why you gave Isabella our catering contract instead of going to the Green Willow like your family always did. But, honey, this isn’t good wedding conversation.” He glared at Gabe.

      Gabe immediately backed off. “You’ve gotta believe that if I’d had any idea, I would’ve kept my mouth shut. Go on you two, enjoy what’s left of your big day.”

      “Are you sticking around a while?” Colt clapped Gabe on the shoulder. “Marc and Moss are taking off for the airport within the next hour to catch their commuter flights. We’ve said our goodbyes. You drove, I know. I saw your Lexus SUV outside.”

      “I haven’t decided exactly when I’ll check out of the Inn. They’re still skiing at Sun Valley, and I’ve leased out my condo until the season ends. Maybe I’ll stay here a week or so and see if Marley wants me to close on Marc’s Utah project.”

      “Great. You guys aren’t all taking off on us at once,” Summer said. “Promise you’ll come to the ranch for dinner one night before you go. Coltrane, call him tomorrow and set a date. Oh, excuse me, please. I see Rory helping himself to a second piece of cake. That little scoundrel will be sick as a dog tonight if I don’t call a halt.” She left her husband’s arms to dash off and intercept her son.

      Colt had difficulty taking his eyes off her as she threaded her way through the guests, who stood in small groups, talking and eating cake.

      Gabe experienced a vague surge of envy as Colt finally stirred.

      “You’ve been awfully tight-lipped about any plans you might have if Marley’s source of funds for the agency dries up. You got something cooking on a back burner, Gabe?”

      Gabe shook his head.

      “Callanton needs a good accountant. Or, hell, if you can hang on for a year, Summer and I will hire you to handle the Forked Lightning accounts exclusively. We’ve already talked it over. We just can’t swing it this year.”

      “In other words, I’m not the only one having a hard time watching the old gang scatter?”

      Colt gave a short laugh. “Dumb, isn’t it? Four grown men like us. It’s not as if we don’t all have the means to visit one another, no matter where in the world we decide to sink roots.”

      “We all have the means, but will we make the time?” Gabe shrugged.

      “You’ve nailed what’s been bothering me. Ranching’s a three-hundred-and-sixty-five-day-a-year job. I kinda figure being a vet’s the same. And who knows about Marc? He said Lizzy’s