Carolina Dreaming: A Dare Island Novel by Virginia Kantra Page B

thick cement. He already owed Grady for giving him a job. He didn’t want to owe him for helping Jane. He wanted to do this thing for her himself, his gift to her. Every time she looked at her shiny new doors, every time she saved her feet by walking from the counter to the tables instead of dashing around in the rain, he wanted her to think,
Thank you, Gabe
.
    God, he was such an asshole.
    “I got what I needed,” he said.
    “Right, right. You got the door.” Webber winked. “And a night with Sweet Jane.”
    Gabe thwacked the back of the shovel down, tamping the wet cement. Better than bouncing it off Webber’s head.
    Even with a drill, digging holes and mixing cement was hard, dirty, sweaty labor. The sun climbed as they worked, warming the air and threatening to dry out the concrete before they got the posts set properly. Webber and Tomás disappeared for a break around noon, taking the truck, leaving Gabe behind.
    “Sure you don’t want to come?” Tomás offered before they drove off.
Nice kid.
    “Nope. Thanks.” Gabe had plans for lunch. “You could bring me back a burger, though. And another for the dog.”
    “That’s a pit bull, man. You sure one burger will be enough?”
    “It’ll have to be, until I get to the store to buy kibble.”
    In the meantime, the mutt was filling up on Jane’s cat food.
    “Okay.”
    Gabe handed a twenty to Tomás through the open window.
    “I thought Jane was paying you in sandwiches,” Webber said from the driver’s side.
    Gabe shook his head. “I don’t expect her to feed me all the time.”
    Webber grinned. “Maybe she’ll pay you back some other way.”
    Another woman, another time, Gabe would have laughed and agreed. Hell, he’d even teased her about it.
    With everybody listening in.
    His mistake.
    She had to live here, on this island where everybody knew everybody else. She deserved better than to have her name linked with his.
    Don’t react. Don’t overreact. Anything you say will only make the talk worse.
He gritted his teeth, locking the words behind them.
    But his body language must have done some talking for him, because Webber lifted his hands from the steering wheel, palms out in the age-old gesture of appeasement. “No offense, man. She’s a nice girl.”
    She was nice. And kind and soft and sweet and sexy as hell. According to Kate, she’d already been married to some scumball in prison, yet she’d managed to get out of that relationship and make something of this place. Make something of herself.
    He unlocked his jaw. “Too nice for me,” he said lightly.
    Too good for me
.
    The truck drove away.
    Gabe turned on the outside hose to wash his hands. The dog lapped water from his cupped hands before it lunged, swiping its wet tongue over Gabe’s face.
    He sputtered, pushing it aside. “Hey.”
    The dumb mutt barked, like this was some game he’d invented for its amusement. Lunge. Lick. Bark.
    “Knock it off.”
    They wrestled. The hose dropped. The dog danced, splashing water everywhere.
    “Stupid bastard,” Gabe said, straightening with a final pat. “I suppose you’ll want a water bowl and chew toys next.”
    The dog lolled its tongue, grinning.
    Gabe looked at the sky. Time to get to work.
    He strode up the bakery steps, doing his best to wipe hisboots, leaving chunks of mud on the front doormat. Shit. Dirt streaked the thighs of his jeans. His shirt was wet, too.
    Jane, behind the counter, looked fresh and sweet. He wanted to get his hands on her white apron and mess her up.
    She glanced over as the bells above the door jangled. Her eyes skated over his torso before she jerked her gaze back to his face. A blush stormed her cheeks.
    Well, well. He fought a grin. Maybe the wet T-shirt wasn’t so bad, after all.
    “Gabe. What can I do for you?” she asked.
    The bakery breathed around them, releasing the warm scent of vanilla, rich chocolate, and pungent coffee. The hunger stirring his gut became a throb. He wanted to take a bite of