the rescue.
Then Holly had asked him to put her hair in a rubber band. Which he did. And it ended up more of a porcupine than a pony. But Regan noticed that where she saw a supersexy guy, Holly might begin to imagine a superspecial daddy.
Even if Regan were ready to risk a broken heart to give love a try again, she couldn’t do that to Holly. Because ultimately Gabe would get bored, move on to the next woman, and that would crush her daughter.
“This isn’t a date. We aren’t dating.”
He quirked a brow. “Then why am I here?”
“A good set of arms, remember?”
“Fair enough.” Did he just flex? “But if this isn’t a date, then why are you holding my hand?”
Regan jerked her hand back and crossed her arms over her chest. Partly to look tough but mostly to keep from touching him again. “You held my hand first.”
“And you held back.”
“This is not a date,” she felt compelled to state again.
“If you say so, Vixen.” Gabe crossed that good set of arms over his equally good set of pecs, and she had to squish her brows together to keep from looking down at his guns. She had never really been into arms before, but there was something about his that made her want to wrap them around her and beg him to never let go.
“You want to keep staring at my arms all day? Or are we going to go get you some furniture? Honestly, I’m up for either”—he smiled—“because even though floor sex or wall sex is hot, afterward a guy needs a place to lay and cuddle with his date.”
“You are not staying the night. We are not having sex. And this is not a date!” Regan hopped out of the truck and slammed the door before he could scream, “Liar, liar.” She also tied her sweatshirt around her waist just in case her pants were smoking.
Before she could shake off the post-Gabe-encounter buzz, which she told herself was caused from irritation, she was confronted with the second most annoying resident in St. Helena. However, said resident seemed to have eyes only for Mr. DeLuca.
“Morning, Gabe,” Isabel cooed, beckoning him onto the porch so she wouldn’t have to step out into the light drizzle. Her hair looked smooth and coiffed while Regan’s was frizzing by the sprinkle.
Isabel slid her hands around Gabe’s neck in greeting, plastering her silicone to his chest. Gabe mumbled a “Nice to see you,” and with a brief pat on her back, stepped away. Fast. So fast Isabel was still doing the air-kisses.
Then she glared at Regan through a pair of Gucci glasses, as if Regan had intruded on their moment; as if it wasn’t raining; as if Gabe had come here to see her.
“Regan, I didn’t expect to see you today,” Isabel said, her welcome as plastic as her family’s corks. “What a small world. Oh, wait, is this about the Costume Committee?”
Isabel knew exactly what she was doing there. Knew exactly who was buying her mom’s hand-me-downs, and the way she kept her face pleasantly devoid of any real emotion told Regan that she’d not only come on purpose to witness the groveling, but now she wanted Regan to voice it. In front of Gabe.
There was a whole other conversation that Regan imagined she and Isabel were going to have someday soon, but for today Holly needed a bed, so Regan sucked up the ego and played nice. Which meant she would not bring up the secret town council meeting planned for tomorrow, and she would most definitely not poke Isabel in the eye.
She reached in her purse and pulled out a red glittery envelope. “Actually, Holly’s birthday party is coming up and we wanted to drop off the invite.”
Isabel blinked down at the invitation in Regan’s hand but made no move to accept the offering. Then she looked up, a smile firmly in place, but her eyes turned mean. “Actually, I don’t think Lauren can come.”
Regan’s confidence faltered a little. Women like Isabel always made her feel insignificant, but she would be damned if Isabel overlooked Holly as easily. So she practically shoved the card into Isabel’s hand. “You haven’t even seen what day it is.”
Isabel took the card and flipped it open. “Ah, yes. Next weekend Lauren is at her dad’s. His family is in town doing the whole Christmas festivities.” She shoved it back at Regan. “Maybe next year.”
She shouldn’t be upset that they weren’t coming. Spending