CHAPTER NINETEEN
JAKE
My heart seemed to have forgotten how to beat properly whenever I laid eyes on Gabriel.
Maybe it is just his smoking’ hotness that stole the air from anyone in close proximity.
He kissed me on the cheek, looking happy to see me, though it had only been a few hours.
It was hard to believe this amazing man wanted to be with me.
“Hey, sexy,” he purred.
I shook my head and accepted his hug. I didn’t feel very hot in my sweaty uniform that smelled like a variety of cheeses. I held on to him longer than I intended, his strength balancing me.
“Change in plans. We had to cancel drinks tonight. But we rescheduled it for next Friday. I mentioned bringing along a plus-one, so you’re expected.”
“Okay. What did you want to do tonight, then?” I asked and zipped up my jacket. Now that it was the middle of November, the weather was really turning, the chill in the air a precursor to snow and ice. But with a sweet man to keep me warm, the winter shouldn’t be a problem anymore.
He threw a claiming arm around my shoulders and pulled me close, the heat of his body exactly what I needed. “Was thinking of dinner and a movie? I do dabble in the kitchen, but lasagna is about the extent of my skills. Then afterward, some dessert. How does that sound?”
The mention of dessert made me shiver with excitement. I very much wanted a repeat of last weekend. “Sounds like we have a plan.”
“Perfect! We will need to grab some supplies.”
A half hour later, I walked out of the market for the second time today with a bag of vegetable-based lasagna noodles, tomatoes, ricotta cheese, a green pepper, and a baguette.
The walk to the garage where he parked his car was pleasant, despite the plunging temperatures.
And the ride to his home was filled with both trepidation and excitement for what the weekend would bring.
He talked about a chiropractic conference coming up and although I didn’t understand a lot of the terminology he used, I savored the moment of simple conversation.
“My mouth is running away with me again,” he said as he pulled us out of the parking garage and onto the street. “Tell me about your day. Anything interesting happen?”
“Well, if you consider a Karen demanding to know why we don't have watermelon in the middle of winter, then yes, it was a fairly interesting day,” I said. “But things like that happen often, so…maybe not so interesting.”
He chuckled. “Oh, hey. I made a reservation for Alinea’s in March. It’s a Saturday.”
“What’s that?” I inquired.
“An experience. Art you can eat. You’ll see. You’ll like it.”
“It sounds expensive,” I countered.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“But I want to treat you sometimes.”
“Okay. You can pay me back in blowjobs, how about that?”
I tried holding an annoyed face, but it was impossible.
I shook my head and looked away to hide my smile.
He reached across the car and took my hand, his skin warm and smooth.
Though the drive to his condo was short, it took us a good half hour just to get upstairs as he chatted with the security guard at the desk.
There was a lot of football involved that made the conversation hard to follow, so I simply nodded whenever Gabriel looked at me.
“Sorry,” he said as we entered the elevator.
“It’s okay. You’re a natural chatterbox,” I said. “It’s kind of weird though, you being into football.”
“Why? Because I’m gay?”
I shrugged. “I just didn’t understand anything you two were saying and felt bad when he asked me about my favorite team. I don’t like it when people think I'm not interested in what they’re saying because I have no comment.”
“You’re overthinking it. Besides, I do enough talking for both of us.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and kissed my temple, the simple gesture making everything okay.
We stepped into his condo, and I had to admit that it was nice coming home to such grandeur and comfort.
The carpet was plush under my feet, the scent of lemon and mint pleasant, and the idea of sinking into his cloud of a bed tonight was exciting.
I couldn’t get this kind of relaxation where I lived and was thankful for it.
Pixel came racing for us and Gabriel scooped him into his arms. He talked to the cat like a baby and scratched his ears. He said to me, “Why don’t you shower, and I’ll get dinner started?”
“Okay.”
The bathroom was easily the size of my apartment, with a jacuzzi tub and rain shower combo, and a sink and mirror expanding the length of one side. There was even a towel warmer in one corner. I put a fresh towel inside and turned it on, fascinated with the whirl it made.
I pulled out a fresh change of clothes from my duffle bag and turned the rain shower on.
A moan left my lips as I stepped under the spray.
The warmth of the water was perfect, and I closed my eyes, imagining I was somewhere in the tropics.
As the heat of the water sank into my bones, I rested my head against the tiles.
The sensation of liquid sluicing down my neck and back was one of the greatest sensations in the world.
The sound of pots and pans banging around pulled me from the tranquility and I examined the selections of high-quality soaps, shampoos, and conditioners.
I smelled each and every bottle and discovered Gabriel had an affinity for natural scents like sandalwood, pine, and almond.
I took my time washing using the sandalwood bar of soap, then scrubbed my hair with something that smelled like roasted almonds. I could get used to all this luxury.
When I was done, I wrapped the heated towel around my body and snuggled in it like a teddy bear. I sat on the edge of the tub for a long while, just savoring the humid heat and coziness wrapped around me. Hope and happiness were tangible things.
When I was ready, I dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.
I combed my hair and brushed my teeth. Feeling nosy, I glanced at the fancy man-scaping instruments tucked away in the linen closet.
He had everything from shaving supplies to ‘down-there’ care.
I wondered if one day, my simple and cheap toiletries might be next to his.
I joined him in the kitchen, the scent of garlic luring me in. Except for when Maria cooked, I didn’t get to experience everything that went into preparing a meal.
“Feel better?” He inquired with a smile as he dumped chopped green pepper into a large pot of sauce.
“Yes.” I eyed the ingredients set out on the counter. “Can I help?”
“If you can peel and mash some garlic cloves, that would be great.”
“Okay.” The task had sounded easy enough, but working the garlic masher wasn’t as straight-forward as I thought it would be. I’d never used one before.
“Here,” he said and took the masher from my hands. I watched as he showed me how to properly peel and mash garlic cloves.
“Sorry, I don’t…cook very much.”
He kissed me chastely. “It’s okay. You’ll learn and I’m a great teacher. At least, I like to think so.”
I offered him a smile and set about the task of mashing garlic. When that was done, he had me slice up the baguette and lay them on a tray. I found that I enjoyed cooking together, even if my contributions were limited. It made it feel…normal, as if I were a part of something.
We sat down at a darkly-polished table. He lit a single green candle in the center then poured some wine into two glasses.
An explosion of spice hit me, like fresh mint or pine.
The dinner was delicious, the substitution of vegetable noodles curious but good and my garlic bread had turned out half decent.
“Good?” He prompted.
“Mhm,” I said with a full mouth.
“It’s taken me years to perfect this lasagna. Glad I can entertain your taste buds.”
“You’ve certainly impressed, sir,” I said and took a sip of the wine.
He rewarded me with a dazzling grin. He didn’t say much more, and the silence only made everything peaceful.
A few months ago I never thought I’d be enjoying a home-cooked meal with wine, and candlelight with a man I was crazy about.
It made the whole thing magical. When we were done, we cleaned up and he turned some music on.
His expression was playful as he held out his hand for me.
I shook my head, taking a step back. “I can’t dance.”
“What do you mean?” he asked and pulled me close, our hips meeting. “Anyone can dance.”
“I’m awkward,” I countered.
“Adorably so,” he murmured and guided my arms around his shoulders. “There isn’t any trick to it. Just feel the music and move with me.”
In the spirit of being adventurous and trying new things, I followed his instructions. The wine probably helped, too. Resting my head against his shoulder, I moved with him. It was more of a rock back and forth, his hands cupping my ass, his lips roaming my neck.
“See?” he murmured. “You’re a great dancer.”
I tried to fight my smile, but it was futile.
My heart thrummed hard, next to his, the caress of his hands all over my body reaching deep down to what remained of my soul.
This was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
He was my perfect match in every way. I prayed to whatever gods might exist: Please let him keep me.