Two of a Kind (Fool's Gold #11)(31)
The world righted itself when he was here. It was just him and the night and the music. He’d been around people too much lately, and that always wore him down. He needed his solitude, his routine.
When he’d first found his way to Fool’s Gold, he hadn’t known what to expect beyond what Ford had told him. That the town was small but lively and that he might be able to settle here. Gideon had wanted to disappear and had assumed a big city was the best place to do that. Still, he’d visited and had been unexpectedly taken in by the pretty streets and friendly locals.
The first person he’d met had been Mayor Marsha. She’d stopped him outside the Fox and Hound, stared at him for several seconds and asked, “Gideon or Gabriel?” He’d been so rattled that she’d not only known his name but the name of his twin, that he’d taken off without saying a word.
He’d gotten in his car and driven mindlessly, wondering who she was and how she’d guessed his identity. Twenty minutes later he’d found himself outside the radio station. The big For Sale sign had made him laugh. It was a radio station, for God’s sake. Not a garage sale. But he’d walked inside and asked for a tour.
Less than a month later, he owned both the AM and FM stations.
The purchase had about cleaned out his savings. He’d had enough left to finish the house he’d bought and little else, but he was fine with that. The stations did well, and he was able to put most of his salary away. He didn’t need a whole lot. While he would never be anyone’s idea of a business mogul, he was unexpectedly successful, and when the nights got bad, he remembered that.
Mayor Marsha had visited him on his first shift. She’d apologized for telling people he was Gabriel rather than Gideon and had explained she was so sure his brother would be the one coming to town. A statement that hadn’t made sense. His brother was a doctor working with the most gravely wounded soldiers. Saint Gabriel, Gideon thought grimly. Or was it Angel Gabriel? He hadn’t spoken to his brother in years. Not because of any particular disagreement but because there wasn’t much to say.
The song ended. Gideon moved on to the next one on his playlist, but thoughts of his brother led to thoughts of his family. He should probably call his mother in the next week or so. She worried if she didn’t hear from him every now and then. But first he needed to spend some time alone. He would go running in the morning. Let the miles work their magic and heal him.
The light on the wall flashed, indicating someone was at the door. He glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight—late for visitors. He stood and walked down the hall.
While he knew he would most likely find Ford or maybe Angel waiting, his gut tightened slightly at the thought of other possibilities. Or just one. And if his need to see a leggy redhead who spoke her mind and looked at him as if she wanted him tied up and naked was dangerous, it was a flaw he was willing to live with.
He walked to the door and pulled it open. Felicia stood there, her mouth twisted and her expression troubled. Need flared, both to have her back in his bed and to offer comfort. He wanted to hold her and tell her whatever was bothering her could be fixed. The latter pissed the hell out of him.
“What?” he barked, more sternly than he intended.
She raised her chin and glared at him. “I need to speak with you.”
He held the door open wider and motioned for her to enter, then led the way back to the studio. At least if he walked in front, he didn’t have to look at the way her hips swayed with each step.
When he was safely behind his equipment and she was seated across from him, he risked looking at her again.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice less hostile.
She drew in a breath. “Denise Hendrix came to see me.”
It took him a second to figure out who that was. “Ford’s mother?”
She nodded. “She wanted to have a booth at the Fourth of July festival.” Felicia went on to explain about the purpose of the booth.
“It’s not that I’m interested in Ford. He’s like a brother to me, and I’ve never met Kent, but that’s not the point.” Felicia pressed her lips together, as if fighting emotion. “Why didn’t she consider me? I meet her criteria. I’m single, I live in Fool’s Gold, there’s no reason to think I can’t produce healthy offspring. That’s what she said she wanted. Grandchildren. So why am I not good enough?”
He didn’t know which was worse—the slight tremor in her voice, the pain in her eyes or the vicious jealousy ripping through him. The thought of her with Ford or someone else made him want to slash and burn.
He was in trouble, and he knew it. Staying centered, keeping calm, were essential to his survival. He’d been to hell, and he didn’t want to go back.
“I think she knows the truth about me,” Felicia continued. “Somehow she sensed there’s something wrong with me.”
“There’s not,” he said, focusing on the words and ignoring his unease. “You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman who wants to settle down. What potential mother-in-law wouldn’t put you at the top of her list?”
“Denise Hendrix.” Felicia stared at him. “I want to be like everyone else.”
“A state that’s highly overrated.”
“Easy for you to say. You fit in wherever you go. You understand how to speak to people. You walk into a room and you know you can figure out what to say.”