Best Man Under The Mistletoe

Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

One (#u07b717ae-589e-5c3b-aa14-5ee340498864)

“This investigation has really been a community effort. Thanks to the diligence of so many in Royal, the final piece of the puzzle has been put into place. Maverick has been identified as Royal’s own Dale, a.k.a. Dusty, Walsh.”

Gabe Walsh muted the TV and tossed the remote onto the leather sofa. He didn’t want to hear any more about his late uncle’s betrayal. The old bastard had passed away last week from a brain tumor and now the mess he’d caused to so many in the town of Royal, Texas, would have a ripple effect on Gabe’s security firm. He would undoubtedly have a hell of a mess to clean up.

He still couldn’t believe it. His uncle Dusty was Maverick, the cyber criminal who had terrorized members of the Texas Cattleman’s Club for months now, revealing their secrets online and often resorting to blackmail.

Perhaps worst of all, he’d leaked nude photos of Chelsea Hunt, taken without her knowledge in the locker room at her gym.

According to Gabe’s law-enforcement sources, all evidence pointed to Dusty working alone, except when it came to the locker room photos. There was now another person of interest in that particular crime. A woman, the police claimed. They were still studying months of surveillance-camera footage from the public areas of the gym to figure out who could have planted the camera.

Who the hell had aided his uncle? And was that the only instance when Dusty had taken on an accomplice? The man had been dying. There was no way Dusty could’ve done so much on his own. The man had been too feeble, too weak.

Though not so weak that he couldn’t plot to destroy lives. Luckily, the citizens of Royal—Chelsea Hunt included—had risen above his attempts to take them down. Investigators had also seen through his elaborate attempt to pin the crimes on someone else.

Gabe raked a hand through his hair and glared at the screen as Sheriff Nate Battle continued his press conference. A picture of Gabe’s once robust, smiling uncle filled the top right corner of the TV screen while the sheriff spoke.

How and why Uncle Dusty had pulled off such a grand scheme of blackmail and betrayal were open questions, but one thing was undeniable. He’d managed to put a big dark cloud over the family security firm, the Walsh Group—Gabe’s new baby. As if taking over a company wasn’t difficult and risky enough, now he was forced to deal with the backlash of questions from clients, both old and new, because of his relationship with Dusty.

How the hell was he supposed to dodge all of this bad press? The business’s reputation was on the line. Sure, finances were the least of his concern. He’d busted his ass from the start of his career, saved every dollar, invested wisely and had worked his way up to be the best in the industry. He could close up shop and never work another day in his life, but he valued his reputation and family loyalty. Ironic now, wasn’t it?

Gabe once again thought of Chelsea Hunt and it had him seeing red. His uncle had gotten his hands on compromising photos and proceeded to put them out for the town to see. And why? Yes, Chelsea had played an important role in the Maverick investigation, bringing in computer-security experts from out of town to help. But the leak was part of a bigger pattern: Maverick had been especially vicious when targeting women. One theory was that Maverick acted this way because the Texas Cattleman’s Club had begun admitting women a few years back. By contrast, Dusty had been passed over for membership, one of the things that incurred his wrath.

Gabe’s uncle had certainly been hidebound in his views of women—but going so far as to leak nude photos like that? What had been wrong with the man? Chelsea hadn’t deserved the embarrassment and scandal that had been brought upon her by his uncle and some unknown accomplice.

Gabe cursed as he spun away from the television. He had been careful not to look at the photos when they’d been released for all the world to see. He hadn’t wanted to be totally disrespectful or to violate her privacy. Plus, where Chelsea was concerned, he had problems of his own to deal with.

Replaying that kiss he and Chelsea had shared last week, it was a wonder he hadn’t lost his damn mind.

Gabe and Chelsea had started spending a lot of time together when their best friends, Shane Delgado and Brandee Lawson, had asked them to be best man and maid of honor in their wedding. Brandee had wanted Gabe and Chelsea to be very hands-on in the process. Gabe had known full well when they’d started working together that they’d be spending quite a bit of time alone.

But the other night, something had shifted. They’d been making name cards for the reception, which had triggered an argument, which had his last ounce of control snapping.

Gabe had grabbed the gold ribbon from Chelsea and tossed it aside, gripping her face and taking what he’d wanted for months.

Raking a hand through his hair, Gabe tried like hell to forget how she’d tasted, how she’d felt against him. But the scene replayed over and over in his head.

He could use a stiff drink and the company of a good woman between the sheets. But right at the moment neither would solve his problems...and the only woman he wanted between his sheets was the very one he needed to forget.

To top it all off on this hellish day, he had to meet Chelsea for some wedding planning nonsense later. How was she handling the news that his late uncle had been Maverick? Would she blame Gabe simply by association?

It was bad enough that he’d been roped into the wedding planning. He may as well have given up his man card for all the flowers and candles he’d been sniffing lately. If Shane and Brandee hadn’t specifically asked Gabe and Chelsea to help with the planning, Gabe would’ve given this project the middle finger. But Shane was as close as family and, even though Gabe didn’t believe in happily-ever-after, he was glad to see his best friends so in love.

Gabe just wished Chelsea wasn’t the maid of honor because until the Christmas nuptials rolled around, dodging her wasn’t an option. Nearly every single day he’d be spending hours looking at seating charts, passing on the bride’s playlist to the band, finalizing the caterers and florists...and all of that time would only lead to one more thing. Another kiss.

Why the hell did it have to be this woman who intrigued him? At first he’d wondered if he’d just felt bad for all the negative attention she’d been getting, but he’d quickly squelched that notion. He wasn’t one to take pity and turn it into lust.

But there was something about her strength and the fact she wasn’t letting this scandal break her when it very well should. He admired anyone who could rise above adversity and still remain in control.

And then there was just plain, old-fashioned, sexual desire.

She was hot, and he was a man with breath in his lungs. He would have been a fool not to be attracted.

That kiss had upped the stakes and now all he could think of was getting another taste. Given everything that had transpired today, was that wrong? Should he even allow himself to crave the woman his uncle had publicly humiliated?

Muttering a curse, Gabe turned the television off and grabbed his keys. He might as well get this little meeting with Chelsea over with and then go back to doing damage control at the Walsh Group. Not only would the clients be pouring in with questions, his employees would, too. The sheriff had told Gabe about his findings before the press conference—and cleared him of any wrongdoing, for that matter—so Gabe had already given a heads-up to his assistants that this was coming and instructed them on how to handle the expected calls.

The people in Royal knew him, knew that he wouldn’t partake in something so heinous. But there were clients who didn’t know him and those were the ones he’d be personally calling and meeting face-to-face. He wasn’t looking forward to doing damage control, but he’d worked too hard for his impeccable reputation and he’d be damned if he let anyone tarnish it...especially family.

That was business. He knew how to handle all of that, but he had no clue how to approach Chelsea. No doubt she’d heard on the news or directly from Sheriff Battle the identity of her blackmailer and Gabe would be the perfect target for her to take out her frustrations. And then there was the unacknowledged-but-hard-to-ignore attraction between them.

But she was in a vulnerable position and only a complete jerk would take advantage of that. She may put on a strong front, something he commended her for, but no doubt she still hurt. All he could do at this point was to show her he wasn’t like his uncle, that he was completely innocent, and he was there for her if she needed him.

* * *

The screwdriver hurtled past Gabe’s head and Chelsea cursed herself for missing. She was still shaken up by the news, that was all. If she’d been fully on her game, she would’ve nailed the target. The sexy, arrogant, infuriating target.

She didn’t condone violence, but this man had stepped into her bad mood at the wrong time. She’d only just learned of the Maverick’s true identity and Gabe Walsh was guilty by association. For all she knew, Gabe had helped cover his uncle’s tracks. He was a sneaky PI, after all. Even though the sheriff had assured her there was no evidence Gabe had any involvement whatsoever, she was furious and needed to lash out.

“Is that any way to treat someone who’s come to help you build this archway for the ceremony?” Gabe asked, slowly making his way toward her.

Chelsea grabbed the hammer. “I don’t need, nor did I ask for your help.”

Gabe cocked his head and kicked up his wicked smile. Gabe had that whole don’t-give-a-damn attitude down pat; nothing ever bothered him. He seduced and charmed everyone in his path...but not her. And she wasn’t going to think of that kiss, either. She wasn’t.

“Brandee texted me and asked me to come help you with the arch for the ceremony,” he informed her.

Chelsea glanced at the piles of wood, flowers, tulle and wire all spread out in the old barn at Hope Springs, Brandee’s ranch. Brandee could’ve hired a company to take over the decorating and organizing of the big day, but Chelsea had wanted to make things special for her friend. She’d wanted to be hands-on since she knew Brandee better than any stranger would.

But Chelsea would rather have worked her fingers to the bone than ask Gabe for any help. Now that the Maverick had been revealed as his uncle, Chelsea felt utterly betrayed.

“I wasn’t sure how Dusty managed to get those images of me and splash them around, but now it’s pretty clear he had help.” Chelsea continued to stare at the man who was too sexy to be legal. The tattoos, the scruff along his jawline, the arrogant stance. “You were his errand boy.”

“What?” Gabe said, jerking back. “I—”

“Anything for the family,” she went on, dropping the hammer to the concrete floor at her side instead of hurling it at his head next. “You were trained to take over the family business. Taking orders from your dying uncle just came naturally.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gabe countered, an edge to his voice. “You might want to have evidence before making such claims—evidence you will never find because I had nothing to do with the pictures or the blackmail.”