Marquita Valentine - Not Over You

Harrison Collins, the bank’s president, sat at a desk large enough to command Wall Street. He didn’t look surprised to see her as he removed his glasses and rubbed them against a cloth to clean them.

“I need to get money from the bank,” she said.

Replacing his glasses, he said, “This is a first—a criminal informing the victim of her intent before it happens.”

Wasn’t this just her day to be reminded of her past deeds? She crossed the room to his desk, plunking her bright green purse down on the mahogany surface. “Stick to your day job, Harrison.” She sat down in one of the high-backed chairs in his office. “Rose said you would be able to help me. I’m running Carolina Dreams while she’s gone, and I’d like to be able to shop.” And eat. Basic things she would never admit to him.

“Rose asked me to set up a separate account for you.”

Her stomach plummeted to her feet. Rose didn’t trust her.

“She wanted you to have something of your own.” He slid a small card her way. “This is the account information for the store.”

“Thank you.”

“What password would you like for the log-in portion?”

“Isn’t that supposed to be private?”

“Isn’t arson supposed to be illegal?”

Regret poked at her, but only for the hurt she caused Rose. Burning down Strawberry Grove had made Summer’s heart dance and sing. Setting fire to a legacy that had done nothing more than confine the women in her family to a role the newest generation of Hollands no longer wanted to play had given her pure joy.

As she watched the flames grow, the pain that had been living inside of her seemed to extinguish, but only for a short time though. She had been shortsighted, unable to touch an enormous sum of money that would’ve made it possible for her to never come back to Holland Springs, possible for her to take care of her daughter, without worrying about food, shelter, and clothing.

Eventually, she’d given it all to charity. Specifically she had anonymously donated every penny to the organization Gabriel had started with his church. It served at-risk kids in the surrounding counties.

“Summer?”

“Angel,” she managed to say without blushing, even as Harrison cast her a sharp look. Of course, she’d pick the nickname of the man who’d wanted to save her. Gabriel was always on her mind.

Glancing around the room to avoid his knowing eyes, her own widened. There were pictures everywhere… of her. Of Rose. Of Skye. And not creepy pictures either. School pictures of the three of them, graduation pictures (though not of Rose), baby pictures—

She swallowed, her fingers digging into the arms of the chair. Pain radiated from the tips. He had pictures of Ivy. A knot grew in her throat, breathing a soon to be impossibility.

“My granddaughter’s pretty, isn’t she?” he asked, handing over another card and a piece of paper to sign. “Last week I showed off the picture she drew for me to all the bank board members. Said I had a Georgia O’Keefe in the making.”

How grandfatherly he relayed this information. How totally hypocritical. “Lorelei loosen your leash?” She flung the card into her purse, uncaring where it landed.

“My wife has accepted my choice.”

“Ivy’s not yours, not by blood,” she pointed out, wanting to wipe that proud look off his face.

“It doesn’t matter to me.” He took off his glasses, polishing the lenses with a soft cloth. “I’m trying to be a better man.”

Summer made a noise of disbelief. The world was short of good men, much less better ones.

“You haven’t been treated right, and neither has Rose…and in some instances Skye, but things are different. The old guard is passing and with the influx of new people, things are changing. For the better.” Harrison had always had a way with words. He could also read people, like Rose. Maybe she’d inherited that from him, and not some supposedly witchy ancestress.

“Good, because I plan on staying here for a very long time, whether the old guard likes it or not.” She stood. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another appointment.”

“With whom?”

“It’s really none of your business.” Besides, if he knew, then he’d find a way to tell Rose, then she would come back, and Summer would lose her nerve.

Her sisters’ happiness had always been her biggest weakness.

Summer stood at the edge of the party, near the white tent in the middle of the expansive gardens at The Chesson House Bed and Breakfast. Out of habit, she tipped up her chin, and fisted her hands on her hips, daring anyone to take a jab at her, but no one did.

She shivered in the shade of a great oak tree.

No one noticed her at all, just like Jemma Leigh said when Summer had shown her the invitation Rose had received to the Montoya-Wilson rehearsal party.

Except one man.

He stood apart. Tall and broad shouldered, with hair black as a midnight sky. Despite being too far away to actually see the color of his eyes, she knew they were deepest blue and framed with heavy, long lashes.

Gabriel Edwards had a beautiful face to match those eyes, but unlike some men, he didn’t use it against women. No, he saw through a woman, made her feel guilty about her past deeds (true or fabricated)—and crimes she hadn’t yet committed.

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.

Elise moved closer to him, her brows so tight Summer was sure she was furious. Yet he kept staring, lips full and lush enough to tempt a saint. A wave of heat passed through her, and she couldn’t stop the shiver following in its wake.

Elise whispered in his ear, making him smile, but then his attention turned back to Summer and a frown appeared. Of course he wouldn’t smile at her. Why would he ever smile at her?

Why did she still want him to smile at her?

She gritted her teeth to keep the scream from breaking free.

He started in her direction, and try as she might, Summer couldn’t stop her heart from racing.

Finally, he was coming to her. Though she had to acknowledge that she came to him, first, by showing up to a party that Rose had been invited to because she’d been the one to introduce the couple to one another.

His gaze flickered over her. She shivered again. “Did you bring a sweater?”

“Too much skin for you, angel?” she cooed, fully aware her dress showed nothing at all. It barely dipped in the front.

His lips thinned, but his voice and demeanor remained the same. Calm, helpful, and exasperating. “You looked cold, standing in the shade, and with that dress—”

“Noticed it, did you?” She smoothed her hand down the front. “Lustful thoughts are a big sin, angel, even for someone as pure as you.”

He frowned. “Can’t we ever have a normal conversation?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you need to leave. Crashing a rehearsal dinner is a little much, don’t you think?”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “I think I have an invitation, and your name wasn’t on the RSVP.”

He gently grabbed her arm, and a thrill of awareness passed through her. “Don’t do this, Summer. Carlos and Shelia are nice people. They don’t deserve whatever you have planned tonight.”

“So no lap dances for the groom-to-be. Got it,” she said with a smile. Inside though, everything hurt. Everything was wrong.

“Summer Jean Holland,” he growled. “Stop it, right now.”

She managed to blink up at him. “Did you want one instead?” Tilting her head to one side, she peered at him through her lashes. “I suppose I could work you in.”

His eyes closed, briefly. “Come with me.”

“Like I have a choice,” she muttered as he practically dragged her by the arm across the yard.

He led her to the other side of the tent, where the sound of voices and music were drowned out by distance and generators.

“So how did you meet Mary Sue Perfect?” she asked, and then cursed herself for sounding like a jealous witch. Forget sounding like one—she was one.

“Elise and I met at The Sweet Spot, before Daisy closed shop and moved.”

“Isn’t that special?” she sneered.

His gaze sliced across the way. “At the time, I thought it was very special.”

She followed his gaze and frowned. The bridal party sat at their tables, laughing, eating, and toasting. He probably wished he were with them, with people who knew what fork to use, exactly what to wear for every occasion, and how to make small talk.

She fixed her attention back to Gabriel. “Don’t let me keep you from the future Mrs. Edwards. I’m sure you two will have plenty to keep you busy on your honeymoon. Lots of Bible reading and speaking in tongues. Although, the laying on of hands is probably a no-no. I’m sure Elise can find tons for you to read on making love, though application is necessary—not just single-handed experimentation.”

His head whipped around so fast she was sure if it hadn’t been attached, it would have frisbeed across the garden. He blinked at her, and then a smile covered his face, victorious.

Running away would be really good right about now, but her feet wouldn’t move. Heat crept up her chest, then neck and cheeks. “What?”

An annoyingly adorable dimple appeared in his left cheek. “You’re jealous,” he said with an incredulous laugh. “Summer Holland is actually jealous over me.”

Oh God. She’d gone too far. “I am not,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Yes, you are. It’s eating you alive to know that I’m with Elise, that I haven’t been by Carolina Dreams to see you, and that you were the one to come to me, and not the other way around.”

Summer couldn’t deny the truth, but she also didn’t have to acknowledge it. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

Gabriel watched as the roses that had bloomed on her cheeks withered away, leaving nothing but too-pale skin. Maybe he should give her a break, but it had been a slight balm to his damaged ego to know she was jealous. Okay, so, it had been more than a slight balm. It had been a heady rush all the way to his toes and back.

Summer was jealous. Of him.

But hearing her deny it in a voice he hadn’t heard in years…well, it had skewered him straight through the heart. She’d looked…heartbroken. The sun had chosen to hide behind the clouds at that very moment, shadows washing over her beautiful face and lending credence to his theory.

And wasn’t he a big man for getting one last dig in at her?

Summer glared at him, arms crossing. This woman he recognized. The familiar Summer had returned. Nose tilting, face defiant, and attitude at the ready to make everyone uncomfortable. A thousand ugly memories invaded his mind. Daring him, it seemed, to prove her right. That he was the hypocritical, holier than thou, son of a preacher she regularly accused him of being.

Not that she was far off.

Despite apologizing to her, despite helping her whenever she needed it, she hadn’t let up on him. “I wish you and Elise nothing but the best.” Her voice was sharp, breaking into his memories.

“That’s very kind of you.”

Silence reigned as her pretty brown eyes narrowed. “Why was Elise holding the bouquet when I showed up?”

“We stood in for the bride and groom, during the rehearsal.”

“Oh.” She scrunched her nose. “Why?”

“It’s bad luck, remember?” he added. This wasn’t so bad. Maybe they could have a civil conversation.

She fisted a hand on her hip and said, “Isn’t it a sin to believe in luck?”

Not this again. It always came back to this. Her perception of him, his life, his work, and his family. He couldn’t please Summer, not when he’d fallen short of being there for her when it had counted the most. Since then, he tried his damndest to catch her whenever she fell. But as soon as she felt his arms around her, she shoved him away. Or took his money and his truck.

But could he really accuse her of taking something he freely gave?

It didn’t matter, not this time. This time he would remember. This time he wouldn’t let his need to be her knight in shining armor get in the way of his happiness. He could be happy with Elise. She was… He mentally floundered as his brain searched for adjectives to describe a woman like Elise, but all he could come up with was the opposite of Summer.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “Money or a place to stay?” Better to get this out of the way, so he could help her and then she could do what she needed to, and leave. Just like always.