The Rebel

A sudden flush warmed her, and Belle glanced quickly at Flora and Daisy, but they hadn’t heard. “Down, boy.”

Gabe laughed. “Yes, ma’am. And for the record, chocolate does it for me. Want to stop in for a scoop? Or two?”

“Not today. I’m fading fast.”

“Damn! Sorry I didn’t pick up on that,” he said, scowling. “Let me get you to the car.”

From his fierce expression, Belle was afraid that he’d throw her over his shoulder and take off. “Take it easy, Gabe. I’m okay. Just getting a bit tired. I’ve gotten too used to my afternoon nap.”

“You’re pale as a ghost. I’ve let you do too much too soon.”

“I’m fine, Gabe. Honestly.”

He ignored her protests, grabbed the bags of merchandise and steered her out the door, leaving his mother to trail after them. He refused to listen to her objections and installed her in the front seat and began buckling her seat belt.

She slapped his hands. “I can do that!”

“Feeling out of sorts, are we?”

She bit back a snotty reply. She felt six years old again, and she didn’t like it.

Belle had thought her brothers overly protective, but Gabe could hold his own with any of them. Her brothers’ over-bearing behavior had always rankled, but after years of hissing and spitting on her part, they’d finally learned to back off and keep their mouths shut. Most of the time. She hated coddling. She was tougher than a two-dollar steak, and she didn’t need to be carried around on a silk pillow. The sooner Gabe Burrell figured that out, the better things would be.

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