CHAPTER TWO GABRIELLE
CHAPTER TWO
G AbrIELLE
I t takes a whole two seconds to remember the prickliest piece of this situation: him.
He saw me. There’s no chance in the world the hunky neighbor didn’t just witness that ungraceful splash into the flowers. And if he has any manners at all, he’s on his way to ensure I’m not hurt.
I glance down at the askew towel.
The only thing hurt is my ego.
I tug the fabric to cover my essential bits. Funnily enough, I imagined removing layers of clothes in front of him just a few moments ago. Oh, the irony.
My breathing is hard and loud. I wiggle against the leaves in a futile attempt to be modest—to hide everything hidable, but all it does is make it difficult to listen for footsteps.
I have to get out of here. How can I get through the foliage without ... “Eek!”
A set of warm hazel eyes peers at me from above.
My hand flattens against my chest, as if the pressure will stop my heart from rattling against my rib cage. The other squeezes the towel at my hip in a death grip.
He’s even more handsome up close.
Sunlight hits the side of his cheek, casting shadows across his high cheekbones. His eyes twinkle. His full lips are pressed together as he takes me in, as if he can’t decide whether to laugh or to be concerned.
“Um ... hi ,” I say, although it sounds more like a question than a greeting. I flash him a weak smile. “Guess you saw that, huh?”
“It was a little hard to miss.”
“In my head, I had all of my personal parts covered and landed with the grace of a ballerina. That’s what you saw, too, right?”
I hold my breath while he runs a large hand over his jaw.
“Yeah,” he says, dropping his hand to his side. “You were practically an Olympian.”
“Ugh. Couldn’t you just have lied to me?”
He balks. “What do you mean?”
“You could’ve just said, ‘Absolutely . ’ Or, ‘It happened so fast I don’t remember what you looked like.’ ” I sigh, nestling my head against the leaves. “But you had to take it too far. Now I know you’re lying.”
“But didn’t you just ask me why I couldn’t have just lied to you?”
“Never mind,” I say, groaning. “Guess I might as well introduce myself. I’m Gabrielle Solomon. It’s nice to meet you ... sort of.”
He nods, wearing a confused, maybe even startled, look. A lock of tobacco-colored hair falls across his forehead.
The air is filled with the scent of his cologne. It’s spicy and woody with notes of oud, something I can pick out thanks to my job at a department store fragrance counter in college. A hint of citrus comes from nowhere, finishing the scent with a sweet kiss.
I pause, giving him space to introduce himself. But it becomes apparent rather quickly that I can wait all day. He’s not saying anything more.
My brows pull together. “A nod? That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“What do you mean?”
“Again, what do you want me to say ?”
“I don’t know. Hello? Introduce yourself. Ask if I’m hurt?” I frown. “You know, you’re really botching an opportunity to be a hero.”
He smirks. “That would imply that I wanted to be one.”
It’s not just the smirk that liquefies my insides. It’s the smirk, combined with his confident and slightly detached tone, that obliterates my ability to respond.
I’ve had a penchant for the cocky, broody type since elementary school. Levi Kellan sat beside me in class. He rarely looked my way and always had his face stuck in a book. He was casually cool, even as a fifth grader. I was in love.
Levi broke my heart in eighth grade by telling my best friend he was unavailable when she asked if he liked me. He didn’t say he wasn’t interested, nor did he have a girlfriend. He was just mysteriously unavailable .
That should’ve been it for me. The confusion— What does ‘unavailable’ even mean? —should’ve been a turnoff. Instead, I still dream about self-assured men who are just out of reach. I’m drawn to the ones who keep a part of themselves locked away. They’re a treasure chest of surprises.
I gaze up at my neighbor and blush. I bet he’s full of surprises.
He reaches toward me. I brace for his hand to contact my skin. The anticipation alone nearly lifts me off the flowers to brush against his body quicker. But instead of offering me his palm or checking me for injuries, he grabs the edge of the broken railing and pulls.
Oof.
The piece of wood falls into his grasp with little effort.
“It looks like this whole thing needs to be replaced,” he says, inspecting the plank and pointedly ignoring my barely covered body beneath him. “This is rotted.”
I release the air in my lungs, annoyed. “It’s on my list.”
“List of what?”
“Things to fix.” I move my hip off a sharp stalk. “I need to paint and to fix the kitchen drain. Stop the toilet upstairs from running. The doorbell sounds like a wounded animal. And now the railing is trash.”
“Didn’t your home inspection point all of this out?”
“I’m sure it would’ve.”
His brows shoot to the sky. “‘Would’ve’?”
“I didn’t have one.”
“You bought a house without having it inspected?” He shifts his weight. “Tell me you’re kidding.”
“Careful. This is starting to sound an awful lot like hero language. Just saying.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Look, I’m starting to itch,” I say, scratching my shoulder. “So either lend a hand like the gentleman you haven’t proven yourself to be or return to your truck and don’t watch my Olympic-worthy routine getting out of here.”
He tosses the wood onto the porch. “You have a plan, then?”
“My plan to get out of here?”
“No, your plan to fix the railing.” He huffs a breath, exasperation thick in his tone. “ Yes , your plan to get out of the bush.”
I narrow my eyes at him before glancing at my surroundings.
The lilacs must be as old as the house because flowers don’t grow this thick overnight. I’m tucked so deeply into the center of the plants that I don’t think he— whatever his name is —would’ve seen me if he hadn’t watched me fall.
Except he did see me, and now I need to get out of here with my dignity intact.
What’s left of it, anyway.
“I’m going to”— I have no clue— “just climb out next to the house.”
I bring my gaze back to his. His eyes steal my breath.
Gold rings hug the irises, blending into a mossy-green hue. The green deepens until it shifts into a chocolate-brown color that lines the outer edge. They’re beautiful.
“I need to get back to my truck,” he says. “But I also need to know you got out of there without breaking your damn neck.”
His voice is gruff, and the edges of the words are sharp. But as he looks down at me, there’s a warmth in his eyes and a hint of disingenuousness in his tone that he can’t entirely hide.
I lift a brow in a silent challenge.
The corner of his mouth slightly, only barely tugs toward the sky. And I melt.
“There it is again,” I say.
He hums.
“Hero talk.” I grin. “You can’t help it, can you?”
I want to mess with him more, but my skin is starting to itch again. The scratches from the fall burn, and I know the scrapes down my legs exist by the warmth on my calves. I need to get to my feet and into a bath. But I need him to leave so he doesn’t see anything he hasn’t already.
“Can I ask you a question?” I ask.
“What?”
“Did you ...” I reconsider my words. “What all did you see when I fell?”
He braces himself, rolling his tongue around his mouth. Then he grins. “It was a blur.”
I study him, carefully surveying his reaction for any sign of mendacity. Lucky for him, I can’t tell.
“Good boy.” I press my towel to my chest. “Go back to your truck. I’ll be fine.”
His head tilts to the side, and he holds his palms to the sky as if to say, “What the hell?”
“I mean it,” I say. “Go. I can’t get up with you watching.”
He starts to speak but catches himself just before the words leave his tongue. Instead, he shrugs. “Good luck.”
I wait until he turns away and the lilacs are taller than his departing head before beginning my careful extraction.
Getting upright is harder than I anticipated, and keeping the towel covering my crotch and boobs is even more challenging. I find two thick pieces of vegetation on which to place my feet and then try to move forward.
Branches and light-purple flowers smack my face, and I sputter against the taste of them on my lips.
I move again, ensuring one foot is stable before picking up the next. Just as I’m about to grab a stem to help propel me forward, the sound of my nightmares—the only thing in the world I’m afraid of—whispers and rattles from the left.
My heart skips a beat as I yank my hand back. I’m not sure whether to run or to freeze. Do I move slowly or in one fast motion?
Sweat dots my skin. My breaths are ragged. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I think I might faint.
I’m too scared to look where the sound is coming from, and I don’t really need to. There’s only one thing that hisses.
My scream comes softly at first. Then every ounce of air in my lungs increases the volume of my audible fear. Chills race one after another down my spine as I imagine the proximity of a snake—of the scaly, beady-eyed, legless creature from the depths of hell—to my naked body.
I’m going to be sick.
“Gabrielle.” The neighbor’s voice finds me just before I spot him. “Gabrielle, what is the matter now?”
He jogs toward me. This time, he’s easy to read. Concern—plain and simple.
“Snake,” I say, the one syllable stretched into three.
“Where?”
“I don’t know. I can only hear it. It’s hissing.”
He reaches me in record time, and the relief that washes through me is unmatched.
“Is it on your left, or right?” he asks calmly.
“Left. I think.” I start to look but swing my eyes back to him instead. “What do I do? I’m afraid to move.”
“You’re going to be okay. I got you. Just stay still.”
He parts the vegetation and inspects the area. I squeeze my thighs so I don’t pee.
“There it is,” he says, as the hissing grows louder. “It’s just a big bull snake. It wants less to do with you than you do him.”
“I beg to differ.” Tears cloud my vision. “Please, help me. I’m gonna puke.”
He stands inches in front of me. The soft, yet strong smile he displays for my benefit causes a tear to trickle down my face.
His smile softens further. “Hey, I said I got you.”
“Then get me.”
“Okay. Your buddy over there is pissed. I will get between the two of you and lift you up in case he wants to strike.”
I whine, my legs wobbling. “Okay.”
He wraps his hands around my waist. The towel is crooked and barely covers my chest and thighs. His fingers dip into the fabric in the front and my bare skin in the back.
All non-life-supporting functions come to a screeching halt.
He positions himself between me and the snake— please don’t get bitten —and all I can concentrate on is how rough the pads of his fingers are against my hips. They’re fire—little bolts of heat that permeate the barriers between us and ignite a storm inside me.
He lifts me up and half over and half through the bush in one swift move.
“Oh, my gosh,” I say, sucking in a lungful of air. The thought of the snake lingering close by brings on a full-body shiver. “I’m going to have to sell my house now.”
He chuckles, pulling me against him.
His body is long and hard as I slide down his torso to the ground. As soon as my feet touch the earth, he digs his fingers deeper in my skin.
“Don’t move,” he says, holding my gaze.
“Why?”
He shrugs out of his flannel, exposing his wide, tanned shoulders.
My God.
He reaches behind me, and the soft fabric of his shirt touches my ... bare ass.
Oh. Oh!
My eyes go wide as I remember that there are undoubtedly parts of me exposed to the world.
“Hold the towel against your front,” he says. Once I’m covered, he steps back and ties his shirt around my waist. He cinches it tightly at my belly button. “There you go. That’ll keep you covered until you get inside.”
I skim his solid chest, chiseled abdomen, and the hint of a happy trail leading into his jeans as discreetly as I can. But when I raise my attention to his face, his shit-eating grin tells me it wasn’t discreet at all.
“Thank you,” I say, patting the top of my head with one hand. I pluck a flower out of my hair and toss it on the ground. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“As soon as you stopped screaming, you would’ve walked out of there.”
“I didn’t scream.”
“You screamed.”
“I don’t scream.”
His lips twist to hide a smile. “Good to know.”
Oof. I walked right into that one without realizing it. Change the subject.
“Can I at least get your name since you just saved my life?” I ask.
“Jay.”
“Okay, Jay.” I smile. “Thank you for being nothing short of amazing.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see if I can catch the snake once you’re inside.”
I glance over my shoulder. “Please find it.”
“I’ll try.”
We face one another as if there’s more to say. But the fact is, there’s not. I’ve humiliated myself twice in front of him. I’ve said enough. And God knows I’ve done too much.
He runs a hand over his chin. “You better go.”
“Yeah.” I take a deep breath, not wanting to walk away from him ... but knowing I must. “I’ll bring your shirt over after I wash it.”
“Whatever.”
The browns in his irises overtake the green, then the gold. The color changes right before my eyes. And with the progression comes a shift in Jay back to the standoffish stranger he was when he arrived.
“Thanks again,” I say, giving him a half smile.
He nods and then turns away.
I clutch the towel to my chest and take myself—and my failed dignity—back inside.
Maybe I’ll have two glasses of wine with my bath.