Kissing Under the Mistletoe - By Marina Adair Page 0,83

Gabe had called his brothers. Explained in no uncertain terms that Regan was off-limits in the pursuit of finding Richard. Not that he was giving up on the search, because that was never an option, but he was done using a woman who he knew wasn’t involved.

The talk hadn’t gone well. In fact, Marc accused him of picking a piece of ass over his family. Which wasn’t true. Gabe just couldn’t justify hurting one family in order to heal his own. And if Regan ever found out that using her to get to Richard was the reason they’d first decided to let her stay, hurt wouldn’t even begin to describe what she’d feel.

He paused for a moment, just watching her sew. Elbow-deep in gold glittery fabric, her forehead scrunched as she moved to the end of the pant leg, securing metallic purple trim to the seam. Her hair slid over her shoulder as she reached for the scissors and snipped the loose thread.

Without lifting her head, she said, “I’m almost done. Let me just clean up, and then I’ll grab Holly and get out of your hair.”

She was hurt. More accurately, he had hurt her. It was there in the way she held her head, the way her body went unnaturally still.

“No rush,” Gabe said, feeling like an idiot. He knew something had changed between them. He even knew he’d blown it. Hell, he’d stalked her, ruined her career, made love to her on a wine barrel, then ignored her into regret.

She turned off the sewing machine and started gathering up her things. “I’ll take these out to the car and come back in for Holly.”

“Regan, about this week—”

“It’s okay,” she said brightly. Too brightly. Everything about her seemed amped up and all for his benefit. “Jordan told me. I get it.”

She looked up and everything inside him stilled. There in her big baby blues, hiding under all the professionalism and distance she was creating, was sadness and confusion and shame all wrapped up in one gut-wrenching look.

Panic pushed at his chest. He’d gone out of his way to make sure neither he nor his brothers were ever overheard talking about their plan to find Richard. But Monday he’d been frustrated at how the date ended, pissed that Jordan was all in his business, and might have yelled a few choice words at Marc on the phone in his office.

“Actually, you know what?” Regan’s eyes went from hurt to pissed. “It’s not okay. I get that my life can be a lot to take and that dating someone with a kid has its challenges. And even though it was hard, I never lied to you about where I was at.” She shoved at his chest, her thimble digging into his pec. “But you should have just grown a pair and told me, instead of avoiding me in town and making me feel like you’re ashamed to be seen with me.” Dig. Dig.

Ashamed? Ah, hell, he’d screwed this one royally. “I’m not ashamed of you.” He took her hand in his and set the offending thimble on the table. Small or not, the thing had punch. “And I wasn’t avoiding you.”

She raised a brow.

“Okay, I was avoiding you, but not because I was ashamed.” He slid his arms around her waist and inched her closer. How could anyone ever be ashamed of a woman like Regan?

That he’d made her feel that way tore at him. That she hadn’t discovered his brothers’ plan relieved him. That he knew he’d eventually have to tell her scared the shit out of him.

“I spent the first twenty-four years of my life being responsible for my younger siblings, and the last twelve being everyone’s hero. It’s an honor and something I take seriously, and sometimes it’s suffocating as hell.” He paused, remembering how it felt to wake up with her in his arms, and inched her even closer, until he could see the gray flecks sparkle in her eyes and the pulse thundering in her throat. “The other day with you was incredible and intense and I got spooked. Then I saw Holly at Pricilla’s and she was telling me about her party and I wanted it to be perfect so I started building her a damn throne and—”

Regan pressed three fingers to his mouth. “I don’t need you to be my hero. Holly and I manage just fine.”

“More than fine.” He kissed each one of her fingers, most of them tipped with Band-Aids. “You are