Chapter 11 #2
If Gage had it his way, he’d hang onto both keys, but he knew that might not be possible. And what if holding onto Carly was out of his control? What if she suddenly panicked over the idea of losing her job or appearing in the tabloids or getting put on hold because of his career?
The warmth stirring in his chest turned frigid at the thought.
It wasn’t often Gage found himself on his knees, but the idea of losing Carly nearly dropped him there in a blink. He stopped walking, heart clanking, and lifted his gaze to the spot of light behind the clouds. Don’t let me lose her, please. I’ll do right by her, I promise.
A recollection of what he’d said to his father crept into his mind. I don’t have feelings for her. Sure, he wanted to protect Carly, but he couldn’t deny that a large part of that denial stemmed from the grip he had on that well-earned key in his hand.
Gage nodded at the acknowledgement, anxious to set things right somehow.
To make sure Carly knew that—unlike the guy from her past—Gage wanted a commitment.
He was close to Carly’s bungalow now. In fact, the tangy, savory aroma he’d picked up on a few steps back seemed to be coming from her place.
His mouth watered as he climbed the steps to her door and knocked.
He gulped as he saw her approaching through the glass.
Dang, she looked good. A pair of denim shorts and a white, silky tank top.
Simple, but stunning all at once. Maybe it was the way her blonde hair had gone kind of wavy, like it did when the sun had its way with it.
Or maybe it was that half-grin that broke over her face every time their eyes met, the vision promising that her full, glorious smile was on its way.
Carly pressed open the door and grinned at him.
The eyes. It was definitely those hypnotic blue eyes. And the dimples. Heaven help him. Gage cleared his throat. “Hi there, gorgeous.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
Those dimples sank even deeper as she bit her lip. “Hello to you, handsome.”
The impression came to him as he stepped inside that he was missing something. “Oh,” he mumbled. “I picked up a flower for you, but I left it back at my place.” Thanks to an annoying phone call from his father.
She tipped her head to one side and gave him a coy grin. “Are you going to say we should go there tomorrow so I can get it?”
“Good idea.” He smiled, reached his arm out as she walked by, and grabbed hold of her hand.
She spun around. “What?”
Gage leaned against the wall and pulled her closer. “Come here.” He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him, only knew he’d been gripped by a sudden urgency to have her near. To have her lips on his. To have the assurance that her affections wouldn’t waver so easily.
Carly shuffled in closer, one small step after the next until his legs sandwiched hers. She leaned in, resting her hands on his chest, and looked into his eyes.
Yes. When she was near, he felt whole, regardless of movie roles in his future or failures from his past. He leaned in, trailed the tip of his nose down the side of her face, then brought his lips very close to her ear.
“I really wanted to kiss you on the beach again today,” he mumbled against her skin.
He cupped her wrists, pleased to feel goosebumps forming beneath his touch.
Carly gulped, nodded in return, and let out a shaky breath.
A new determination set in: he wouldn’t let his father bully him into letting her go. If it came down to admitting their relationship, he’d do it. He’d do anything before he lost this.
Slowly then, Gage pressed a series of kisses over her cheek—the face he loved—and paused as he came to the corner of her lips. “Carly,” he crooned, and then pressed his mouth to hers.
Fire roared low in his belly as she returned his kiss, her silky lips luring him into a deeper connection. He tilted his head, pulled her impossibly closer, and reveled in the small sigh of pleasure that sounded in her throat.
Slow down, Gage.
He slid his hands down her arms and cupped her elbows while giving into one last, lingering kiss. “It, um, smells good in here,” he mumbled. “Did I already say that?”
Carly giggled and pulled back enough to look him in the eye. “Not yet.” She smacked a peck against his cheek and took hold of his hand. “C’mon,” she said, tugging him as she walked. “Let’s eat.”
She motioned to a covered pan. “Grab that, will you?” She led him to the dining area where she rested a basket of bread on the table. “So, you were going to bring me a flower today, huh? No peanut butter protein bar?”
He groaned. “Yeah, stupid Christian told me they were your favorite. So I’ve been buying them everyday like an idiot.”
Carly was back in the kitchen now, heaping pasta onto a plate.
The spaghetti dangled as she froze in place.
She shot him a look over her shoulder then.
“Actually, he told me that last night. And you know what, he’s the one who likes those!
I’ve been giving them to him this whole time.
” She said it with such shocked excitement that it made Gage grin.
“Jerk. He said that I must not know you that well if I didn’t even know you hate peanut butter.”
She gasped. “That’s how he told you?”
Gage took the plate from Carly and sat down. “Yep.”
She surprised him by sitting in one of the side chairs, rather than across from him. She lifted the lid, dunked the ladle, and spooned the best-smelling sauce onto his pasta, then hers. “I can’t believe he said that. After lying to you about the bars in the first place.”
“I know. He’s lucky I still like him after that.”
Carly plunked onto her chair and squared a look at him. “Let’s not let him do that with us again, about anything.” The look in her eye was playful.
“Okay.”
“So we’ve got to learn everything there is to learn about one another.”
A dose of new warmth sprouted in his chest. Different from the heat she put in his belly. This went straight to his heart.
“I’m game.” Gage twisted his fork in the heap of pasta and looked up at her. “Let’s start with biggest fear. No,” he amended, “how about child fears.”
Carly tore a chunk of bread off the loaf. “Frogs. You?”
“Puppets.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re afraid of puppets?” She broke into a giggle.
“Uh, was afraid of them.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at her obvious amusement. “With your whole frog phobia—were you scared of Kermit?”
Those dimples stayed in place. “No way.”
“Me neither,” he admitted. “I liked him.”
She held his gaze. “So… selective puppet phobia.”
Gage shrugged. “Guess so.”
Carly dabbed her mouth with a napkin and piped up with another one. “What kind of music do you like best?”
Gage grinned, loving how she’d risen to the occasion. “I like anything with an electric guitar, pretty much.” He chuckled. “Plus I love rap music.”
She lifted a brow. “I would not have guessed that. See if you can guess what I like.”
He stared at her, trying to imagine her singing along with tunes on the radio. A challenging spark lit her eyes as she returned his gaze.
Finally, he spit out an answer. “Maybe pop music?”
She pulled a cringe face.
“No, folk. You like folk, don’t you? Or grunge?”
Carly chuckled. “I like classical music. Beethoven, Mozart, Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantasique. I love the ending of that one.”
Dang, she was revealing new layers of herself every day. Multiple times a day. “I wouldn’t have guessed that either.”
“Obviously,” she razzed. “You guessed like five other genres.” She grinned. “But I do like folk music too. It’s just not my go-to.”
“What’s your very favorite symphonies out of all of them?” Not that he’d recognize the name of any.
She grinned. “Moonlight Sonata, the First Movement.”
Gage made a mental note to listen to it after they said goodnight.
The conversation continued with a round of questions so rapid they had to reheat their food and remind themselves to take bites between answers. He’d been happy to find that Carly really did know how to cook. Spaghetti, anyway.
“So are you good at cooking in general, or is spaghetti like your one thing?”
They’d finished cleaning up now and Carly was fetching something for dessert from her pantry.
“My one thing? It’s one of my favorite things, but I can cook anything, pretty much.
” She shuffled out of the pantry with a box of graham crackers, a bag of marshmallows, and a king sized chocolate bar. “Do you cook?”
Gage hurried over to help her carry the goods. “I live off a lot of frozen stuff to be honest. But I do have my go-to if I want to impress a lady. And that’s polish dogs.”
“Polish dogs?” She tightened her lips, but a bout of laughter burst from them just the same.
“That can’t be your thing.” She motioned for Gage to follow her up to the loft.
He’d been so consumed by Carly that he’d hardly paid any attention to the design of the bungalow.
Funny, since he’d been wanting to see them from the inside since he’d arrived.
“Why can’t that be my thing?” he griped.
Carly tipped her head back as she laughed some more. “Because that doesn’t require any cooking.”
“Sure it does. I grill them.”
The twist of her full, kissable lips said she was considering that. “Huh. Still…”
“No, really. I steam the buns too so they’re soft and warm.”
The laughter stilled. Her brows lifted.
“And I serve them up with these sautéed onions. It’s amazing.”
There came that mischievous twinkle in her eye. “This is the part where you tell me I have to come over and try them myself. And while I’m there I can get the flower you bought for me.”
He held her gaze, loving the light in her eyes. The addictive thrill of having her near. “Right.” He grinned. Dang, he liked this woman. Was falling in love with her, really. “You can come to my place next. How’s tomorrow?”