Chapter 19
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
REBEL
When we arrive at the restaurant, I stick close to Gunner’s side. However, I stop short of looping my arm around his elbow the way Carol is doing to her husband Sheriff Kinsey.
There is no way I can touch Gunner right now.
No way I can look at him.
Not with that kiss standing like a big white elephant between us.
That kiss .
Where on earth did Gunner Kinsey learn to kiss like that? Why oh why was it the best kiss of my entire life?
I’m pretty sure I hate him.
I’m a thousand percent sure he hates me too.
People who hate each other should not kiss like their lives depend on it. It’s science.
“Rebel,” Sheriff Kinsey speaks, glancing at me over his shoulder, “glad you could join us. I’ve been waiting for a chance to chat with you. It’s been so long.”
I flash a grin on cue. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Have you been to this restaurant before?” Sheriff Kinsey asks.
“Humph,” Carol cuts in. “Not just anyone can make an appointment here, you know.”
Gunner stiffens beside me.
Sheriff Kinsey’s smile falters for a second, but he boosts it back up. “I’m not much for fancy restaurants myself. But when my wife puts her mind to something, there’s no talking her out of it. I hope you understand.”
The older man places his hands on his wife’s shoulders. He slides his eyes down to her and back to me in a quick apology.
I’m used to the snide comments. Carol Kinsey doesn’t faze me one bit.
Her son on the other hand…
I look up at Gunner and instantly regret it. My eyes zoom to his lips, recalling the feel of them slanting over mine. Heat burns through my cheeks and I quickly avert my gaze, but it’s too late. I can feel the blush spreading through my entire body.
Thankfully, we’re still on the move, weaving through the restaurant. As I follow the Kinsey family and the waitress, I start to notice people staring in my direction.
But they’re not looking at me.
All eyes are on Gunner.
At first, I assume it’s because he’s so ridiculously tall and uselessly good-looking. He stands a head and shoulders over his dad, who’s close to six feet himself. Even wearing something as casual as a grey pullover and sweatpants, he looks like a model ripped out of a sports magazine.
“Good game, Kinsey!” A patron yells.
“Nice one, Kinsey!” Another table cheers.
My head swivels around in shock. We’re several miles outside of Lucky Falls and this restaurant seems catered to, well, people who watch stocks over sports.
Gunner offers little more than a nod of acknowledgement. The way he hurries ahead, as if he’s afraid to be pulled into conversation, hints at his shyness.
“This way,” the waitress says, pointing to a fancy glass table in the middle of a curved, velvet booth. A crystal chandelier hangs low above the table and the mantle just behind the booth is decorated with vases of fresh flowers and candles.
I hope those candles are battery powered. Something tells me Victoria is not above causing an ‘accident’ involving my hair and flames.
Gunner gestures for me to enter the booth first, his eyes cool and unaffected.
My frustration shoots up a notch. Why is he acting like nothing unusual happened?
On the highway, he casually told his mom about the kiss. Then he drove to the restaurant without saying a word to me.
Now, he’s as stoic and quiet as ever.
It’s driving me nuts.
Why am I the only one who’s flustered? Why am I the only one who’s freaking out?
Probably because it meant absolutely nothing to Gunner.
It meant nothing to me too. It’s not like I have feelings for Gunner. I’m human. Excuse me for being incapable of turning my feelings on and off like a certain hockey robot.
“Do you want to sit on the end?” Gunner asks.
Seriously. He’s barely looked at me since the kiss and that’s the first thing he wants to know.
“Yes,” I mumble.
Don’t think about anything else but the Society seat, Rebel. Do it for the Society seat.
Gunner scoots in first and I take the end. The booth is fairly large, but he’s such a giant that his massive shoulders brush mine.
I inch away, subtly putting space between us.
“Victoria, you go in first,” Carol says, grabbing the other woman by the arm and stuffing her into the booth.
Victoria moves to the middle of the table which is, coincidentally, right beside Gunner. Not that I care. Carol sits beside Gunner’s ex while Mr. Kinsey takes up the other end seat.
A new waitress approaches our table. Her eyes fall on Gunner and stay there. “Whoa, you’re from the Lucky Strikers.”
“Did you guys catch the game?” Sheriff Kinsey asks conversationally.
The waitress nods.
“I was surprised to hear people cheering for my son,” Carol says. “I didn’t know there were Lucky Strikers fans this far out.”
“We don’t have our own hockey team, so we’ve all kind of claimed the Lucky Strikers.” Leaning in, she lowers her voice, “Everyone says they like Chance McLanely because he went pro. But there are a lot of us who like you too, Gunner.” She blushes. “I mean, we like your playing.”
With her cheeks so red and her smile so bashful, it’s hard to believe that’s all she likes about him.
Poor thing.
She’s blinded by a handsome face. Can’t she tell that Gunner Kinsey is a rotten, pain-in-the-butt who kisses women without warning and leaves them totally confused? If that’s the kind of guy she likes, more power to her.
Silence falls on the table as everyone waits for Gunner to say something. We’d probably wait until we’re blue in the face because the man is a steel trap. In fact, his expression hints that he hadn’t heard a word of the waitress’s confession.
Carol jumps in, ever the socialite. “Thank you so much.” Her eyes drop to the server’s name tag. “Ann. Lucky Falls is a really small, humble town. We’re not famous for much.”
“That won’t be the case for long,” Ann says, looking relieved that Carol engaged her. “Whether the Lucky Strikers go pro or not, we’ll support them.”
“What a sweetheart,” Carol coos.
“That’s mighty kind of you, Ann,” Sheriff Kinsey adds.
Gunner nods at the trembling waitress. Though that’s all the thanks she’ll get from him, Ann still beams like he showered her in compliments.
Grinning so hard, her cheeks bunch against her eyes, she says, “Can I start you folks off with some drinks?”
Victoria decides to make herself known then. She leans toward Gunner. “Gun, do you remember that drink we used to like? The one you ordered for me when you drove out to visit me at school?”
I nearly roll my eyes. Who does she think she is trying to bring up the past?
Gunner swings his head to look at her. Since I’m sitting on the outside, I can’t see his expression or Victoria’s. Are they smiling sweetly at each other? Are they having fun reminiscing the past?
I mentally slam my palm on the table. Not on my watch.
“Why would Gunner remember that?” I pipe up, a sickly-sweet smile on my lips.
Gunner faces me, a crease between his eyebrows.
Victoria cranes her neck to watch me too.
I rub Gunner’s shoulder like I’m petting a giant cat. “He can’t even remember what he ate for breakfast yesterday. How’s he supposed to remember ancient history?”
I have no idea if Gunner is forgetful or not. That’s not the point anyway.
Victoria’s eyes cut into me. I practically hear the samurai sword sound effect ringing in the background.
She flips her short hair over her shoulder only for it to come swishing back to her cheek. In a coy voice, she argues, “You know what they say. History tends to repeat itself.”
My mouth trembles, but I keep smiling for all I’m worth. No way will I let Victoria win this battle. “Actually, the phrase is ‘we should learn from history so it doesn’t repeat itself’.”
Victoria’s jaw drops and her eyes burn with hatred for me. However, her voice is as light as a feather when she says, “I’m sorry. I must have forgotten. Did you study history in college, Rebel?”
That nasty, nasty woman.
I tilt my chin higher. “I never went to college, but there are plenty of ways to learn that don’t involve spending four years earning a degree that I won’t even use.”
“Right, right.” Victoria smiles smugly. “You’re a mechanic. So… you went to vocational school, didn’t you?”
Gunner frowns. “Victoria.”
My hackles rise. “Is something wrong with vocational schools?”
“I’ll have a beer!” Sheriff Kinsey blurts nervously.
“Got it.” Ann scribbles something down, her eyes lowered. “A-anyone else?”
Victoria retracts her claws.
I do the same, if only to spare the waitress. Ann is innocent. She doesn’t deserve to be a spectator in this bloodbath.
“I’ll have a glass of red wine,” Carol says, clearing her throat and slanting me a disapproving look.
“I’ll have the same,” Victoria says, flipping the book closed.
“I didn’t get a chance to look at the drinks menu,” I murmur.
Suddenly, Gunner leans over with the menu and speaks in that steady, quiet voice to me, “The Pink Moscato looks promising. So does the Strawberry Daiquiri. If you don’t want alcohol,” he slides his fingers down the book and it feels like he’s dragging that hand over my very skin when he adds, “this Pink Lady Mocktail sounds… suitable.”
I hold my breath as his cologne threatens to stall my heartbeat. It carries a hint of spice, leather and cedar. A fragrance as masculine and restrained as he is.
Am I overthinking this or was Gunner quietly perusing the menu and looking up pink drinks for me?
“You have a really nice voice,” Ann gushes, looking two seconds away from melting into a puddle. “If hockey doesn’t work out, you could host a late night podcast.”
She has a point. Gunner could read drink names to a microphone all night long and he’d probably gain a following.
“What drink do you want? The waitress is waiting,” Carol scolds.
I’m so frazzled, I don’t have the presence of mind to be upset at her tone.
Gunner glances at Ann. “You don’t mind giving her a minute, do you, Ann?”
Ann blasts another excited smile at him. “N-no. Take your time. I’m here to serve you.”
“Then can you come back in a second?” Gunner adds.
“It’s okay. I-I’ll go with the mocktail,” I tell Ann. The dinner’s barely begun and I already feel hot and breathless. I definitely don’t need to add alcohol into the mix.
Ann nods and darts off to get the order.
I lift the menu and fan my face, struggling to gain control of myself. There’s too much at stake. Later tonight, when the mood is right, I intend to steer the conversation toward the Lady Luck Society and wangle an invitation to the next meeting.
Before I can find a neat way to bring it up, Gunner unfolds himself from the table and rises to his full height. I crane my neck to look at him, but what I see makes me shudder. His pale blue eyes are narrowed slightly and his usually aloof expression is marred by a dark frown.
“Son, what’s wrong?” Sheriff Kinsey asks.
Carol’s eyes dart all over Gunner’s face. It’s clear as day that she’d run into incoming traffic to protect her son.
“Mom, I forgot something in the car. Can you come with me and get it?”
“I’ll come with you,” Victoria blurts, reaching eagerly for her bag.
“Mom.” Gunner speaks firmly.
Carol’s mouth curves down in an even bigger frown, but she gestures for Sheriff Kinsey to rise. Once her husband gets up, Gunner’s mom scoots out from the table and waits for Gunner to join her in the aisle.
“Rebel,” Gunner says gently to me, “can you scoot out for a second?”
The unease in the air feeds my burning curiosity. I can sense that something big is happening, but I’m not sure why.
I scramble to my feet. Gunner scoots out and towers over me.
I grab his arm and mumble just low enough that he can hear, “What are you doing?”
He looks at me determinedly, and I finally get it.
He’s going to talk to his mom about me.
I worry my bottom lip between my teeth and try to stop him. “I told you to follow my lead.”
There’s a stiffness to his shoulders and a tension to his jaw, but when he turns to me, he plants the softest kiss on my forehead.
I blink in surprise.
Without a word, Gunner spins away and escorts his mother out of the restaurant.