New York Nights

“Leave it alone, Tessa. I’m not feeling friendly.” He sloshed the pitcher on the bar, which was a testament to how unfriendly he was currently feeling. Gabe didn’t slosh. Ever.

Tessa flashed Marisa a reassuring smile and turned back to Gabe.

“She’s very pretty. And she’s nice, too.”

“What is with you?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, licking suddenly dry lips.

“You’re hell-bent on setting me up with her, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I like her and I like you, and I think you two would get along well,” replied Tessa. She wasn’t the world’s greatest actress, but man, she should really get an award for this…assuming she could walk away from Gabe without bursting into tears—again.

Gabe wasn’t buying it, wasn’t even close to buying it, but at least he had stopped asking why.

“Send her over. I’ll make sure she has a great time,” he snapped, which sounded more like a threat.

Tessa walked away because, yes, she was going to fall apart here, and there were over one hundred thirsty customers and they all needed her.

She squared her shoulders, tightened her stomach and swore to herself that as soon as she was alone she could fall apart. But not until then.

Tessa was getting stronger.

GABE FELT AS IF HE had walked onto the set of some fictional drama and he had no idea who was who and what his lines were supposed to be. All he knew was that Tessa was pretty damn insistent that he hook up with Miss Marisa What’s-her-name, irrespective of whether Gabe wanted the woman or not. The Realtor looked polished, confident, a Manhattan barracuda with teeth. Completely not his type. He liked his women…

Like Tessa.

That’s what he wanted. Somebody that was soft and comfortable, that didn’t care if they went out on Saturday night or stayed at home. Somebody that understood the rules of poker.

And, most of all, somebody that needed Gabe.

The way Tessa needed Gabe.

But, okay, she wanted to go down this pathway to disaster, then he’d walk down it, if only to show her how badly she was screwing up.

His smile was cruel.

Because Tessa was screwing up royally.

Marisa noticed Gabe looking in her direction and waved. Gabe motioned her over. A discreet dip of the head, nothing more and—zoom—she was at Gabe’s bar.

Gabe took a deep breath and then proceeded to charm Miss Marisa Whoever right out of her senses. And he did. He complimented her dress, told her how the blue set off the twinkle in her eyes. He created a new drink, rum, vodka, and lemonade—and christened it the Marisa, insisting that everyone try it.

Tessa glowered at that one.

Inside, Gabe was beaming.

Everything was going along swimmingly until Daniel pulled him aside.

“What the hell are you doing?” asked his big brother, looking irate. This from a man whose general demeanor was somewhere between extracalm and not exactly breathing.

“What?”

“Why are you messing with this other girl? This can’t be the woman you were talking to Sean about. Is it?”

“Sean told you?” snapped Gabe, glaring at his other brother and deciding he was going to kill Sean after all.

“Sean would tell the Pope if he got the chance. Why did you ever go to him for advice?”

“I didn’t want to talk to you about it.”

“Why?”

Gabe threw down his rag. “What is it with why? I don’t want to tell you why, so I’m not going to. Deal with it, Daniel.”

Daniel shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Okay, look, I’m sorry for interfering, but you can’t go messing up your life like this.”

And now Daniel was drinking the same Kool-Aid as Tessa? “Messing up my life? What the—Daniel, I’m talking to a customer, that’s it.”

“No, you’re doing the whole eye game with her, Gabe. It’s like visual sex—and in front of everybody. Did you ever think you might be hurting somebody by doing that?”

“Hurting who?”

“Somebody,” answered Daniel vaguely. Too vaguely.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why are you doing it?”

Gabe was tired of being accused of being a jerk for no good reason. It was about time he defended himself, because nobody else around here would, that was for damned sure. “Tessa wants me to go out with her. She’s one of Tessa’s friends. Some Realtor chick.”

“Tessa?” Daniel stared over at Tessa, brows drawn together.

“Yes, Tessa. I’m doing her a favor,” explained Gabe self-righteously. If there was anybody that deserved a medal, it was him.

“Why does Tessa want you to go out with somebody else?”

At that, Gabe threw up his arms. “How the hell should I know? Ask her. I’m going back to work. This is a bar, not the O.C., thank you very much. I’m going back to work. Going back to work now. And if you figure anything out, I don’t want to know. I don’t want to understand. I don’t want to go boohoo. I just want to tend bar. Capisce?”

Daniel frowned but waved him away. “This is so wrong,” he muttered, and Gabe was ready to throw a punch, but he’d never hit Daniel on purpose, and tonight wasn’t the night to start. No, tonight he was going to pour drinks, flirt with the pretty lady and do exactly what Tessa wanted him to do.

Even if it hurt him.

TESSA WASN’T GOING TO watch. She wasn’t going to watch. She wasn’t going to watch. So then Lindy had to come by and tell her how Gabe was pulling a Sean with this new chick. And that it was completely weird because Gabe wasn’t like Sean, and the woman was okay, but she wasn’t that fabulous, but maybe she’d told him she could tongue him in the French-Bolivian way.

“What’s the French-Bolivian way?”

“I made it up, Tessa. You know, guys get really jacked up when you mention tongues. It’s like verbal Viagra or something. Considering the mental hard-on he’s got going over there, I’m thinking it has to be tongues.”

Tessa didn’t want to hear any more about tongues. “I’m going downstairs to smoke a cigarette.”

Lindy looked at her, confused. “You don’t smoke.”

So why did everybody have to be so literal tonight? “I’m going to learn,” she answered and then ran downstairs because she needed to get away, if only for a few minutes. Just long enough to pull herself together.

Once downstairs, she hid in the walk-in refrigerator, shivering in the cold, until a moment later when Daniel came in and sat next to her on a crate of limes. “You all right?” he asked as if it were completely normal to be sitting around in a refrigerator.

“Good. Of course, I’m good. No, I’m great,” Tessa replied.

“You don’t sound great.”

“Does anybody really know how great sounds? We all have varying degrees of great, and I’m tipping the scales here.”

He stayed silent for a minute, and she wondered why Daniel even cared about her well-being. He never was this sociable. Never. “Marisa is a friend of yours?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“She’s a looker.”

“And she’s nice, too,” said Tessa sweetly.

“That’s why you’re pushing her toward my brother?”

Tessa didn’t like the way Daniel was looking at her. As though he knew things, things that she didn’t want anybody to know. “She doesn’t have cooties, if that’s what you’re trying to ask.”

“Not asking. Merely trying to sort things out.”

“Nothing to sort out,” she said, forcing a laugh.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. If you’re thinking about the bet, don’t worry. I’m going to make Sean give everybody their money back. You won’t lose.” Technically Daniel should have won the first night. At one time, she would have insisted that he take the money, but now she didn’t care. When she had a real job, she’d pay him the three thousand out of her own pocket.

“I’m worried about Gabe, not the bet, Tessa.”

And, yes, he was worried about his brother, not the money. Wasn’t that what families did? Protect each other? Tessa wanted to tell him that Gabe didn’t need anybody worrying about him. He was unflappable, unsinkable, unassailable and every other able she could think of. Able. It was exactly the right word for Gabe. And Marisa. He and Marisa would get along fine. “Gabe’s great,” she muttered, crossing her arms across her chest, partially in defense and partially because the walk-in was freezing.

Daniel was unfazed. “I’ll leave you alone.”

“You do that, Daniel. Thanks.”

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