Treasured by Thursday (Weekday Brides Series Book 7)

“So there weren’t thirty?”

 

 

He’d never counted. And even he knew that counting past dates while dancing with another woman . . . his wife . . . wasn’t smart.

 

“Nowhere close to thirty.”

 

She laughed. “I’ll pull my notes and we can compare.”

 

He distracted her with a few quick circles, pushing her out of his arms and back in. Fred Astaire would applaud.

 

People around them offered a little more room. He glanced at Val and Meg. “Well it’s official. Everyone in your immediate family has threatened to take care of me if I hurt you.”

 

Gabi pulled in a breath before dropping her forehead on his chest. “I should apologize.”

 

“They don’t know how strong you are.”

 

“I’m not that strong.” Her voice was low, nearly impossible to hear over the music.

 

He held her a little tighter after that.

 

The song ended, the pace picked up, and Hunter led her off the dance floor. At some point he realized he hadn’t let her hand go. Jesus, when was the last time he held a woman’s hand?

 

Meg interrupted their silence. “We’re headed in,” she told them.

 

Gabi released Hunter’s hand and hugged her sister-in-law.

 

“I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow. We didn’t have enough time.”

 

“I’m an airplane away,” Gabi reminded her.

 

“Yeah. Let me know when escrow closes. I’ll help you furniture shop.”

 

Val offered a laugh. “I hope that wallet is as deep as you say it is, Hunter.”

 

It’s part of the deal, he wanted to say, but didn’t. “I think I have it.”

 

Gabi kissed both her brother’s cheeks and watched Val and Meg walk out of the nightclub.

 

With the two of them now alone, he felt his pulse pick up. Nerves? Really? Since when?

 

“Do you want to go? Another drink?”

 

Gabi glanced at the bar, wrinkled her nose. “It’s late.”

 

He offered his arm and she took it.

 

The fragrant scents of the island, along with the ocean, mixed with the warm night air. Music drifted from the nightclub until they wound past the main building and down a path to their villa.

 

“Your brother has built something really special here,” he said.

 

She sighed. “After our father died, he was driven to take care of us. It wasn’t an option for the resort to fail.”

 

Hunter understood that . . . the drive, the determination to move forward, conquer the next hill.

 

“Has he ever considered expanding . . . different locations?”

 

Her hand loosened on his arm as they walked. “At one point he talked about it. Then . . .”

 

Her words caught in her throat. A universal sign that he was treading in Alonzo waters.

 

The outside veranda of their private villa faced the ocean. The moon wasn’t full, but the sky was clear, letting the reflection dance off the waters like brilliant diamonds of the clearest cut. Instead of stuffing themselves inside, Hunter pulled out a lounge chair and encouraged her to sit. As much as he wanted to take her inside and start up where they left off in the kitchen earlier that day, he knew acting on that now would be a colossal mistake.

 

With feet stretched out before him, he toed off his shoes and leaned back once he knew Gabi had done the same.

 

He could see her mind turning . . . memories of Alonzo? Worry about what was happening between them? Hell, he had no idea what was going on inside him. For all the planning, he hadn’t expected to give a crap about her as a person. Yet much like everyone around her, Gabi demanded attention, and protection. She did it by nature . . . not practiced skill.

 

“You stiffen when you think of him,” he told her.

 

He heard her take a deep breath.

 

“Earlier today, your brother and I had a little talk.”

 

“Oh, no.”

 

“No,” he said quickly. “As much as it was against every cell in my body, I didn’t ask your brother to elaborate.”

 

He heard her relief with her exhale.

 

“I have a confession to make,” he said.

 

“Do I even want to ask?”

 

“Probably not. But the way I see it . . . we’re in this for a while. For better or for worse as they say . . . I’d just assume to avoid land mines if that’s at all possible.” Some secrets he wasn’t quite ready to reveal, but others . . .

 

“Well don’t stop now. It can’t be called a confession without an admission of a crime.”

 

He watched the gentle waves on the ocean. “I hired a private investigator to learn everything he could about you. ”

 

She stilled. “I hoped you wouldn’t follow through on that threat.”

 

“I’m a man of action, not threats.”

 

“So you already know my secrets.” Her voice was tight.

 

He shook his head. “No. Not the personal stuff. My investigator was working on the personal stuff until this weekend.” That afternoon . . . but Hunter didn’t think his confession needed that minor detail.

 

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