21. Gabe
CHAPTER 21
GABE
I f I’d stopped for two seconds to think about it, I wouldn’t have agreed to make benches for the wedding on top of all the sculptures they’ve roped me into. I blame the mountain of tiny cheeses Ruth put together. She knew exactly what she was doing when she put cheese in front of me.
She knew I wouldn’t be able to say no.
But it is something to do, and it’s getting me out of the house.
Not that being in the house is a particular problem. It’s where Carly is. And lately, whenever Carly and I are alone in the same room, it has ended in unity. Which is all well and good, but I’ve got just over two weeks to do all of this woodwork as well as a job to go to. Something is going to have to give.
I decided to just go for it first with the horse. Benches are easy. Benches are three slabs of wood stuck together. But sculpture…
I’m a mechanic. I’m not an artist. As soon as I sat down to get to work, I regretted suggesting a horse. Do you know how hard horses are to draw, let alone cut out of wood? I’ve decided to go for something a little bit abstract to give myself room to make things imperfect. It’s blocky and goofy-looking, but honestly, it’s not turning out as badly as I might have expected.
They still would have been better off asking a professional, but they asked me, and I’ve spent enough time ignoring them over the last couple of years. The least I can do is help them out with their wedding.
We all used to be so close. What happened to that? I don’t need an answer because I know it’s me, but the more I dwell on it, the more I regret being so distant for these past few years. I don’t exactly think I would have relied on them, but it might have been nice to not be completely isolated from the world.
But if I hadn’t done that, my life wouldn’t have put me on a path that let me meet Carly. Sometimes things happen because they’re meant to be. I’m not a great believer in fate. God knows I’m not a believer in true love. But Carly puts me at ease in a way that no one has for a really long time. I should mind having someone in my house, in my space, in my time, but she makes it easy.
I admire that she’s self-made and has gritty determination, not to mention that she’s beautiful.
And she’s really good in bed. Like, amazing.
It’s obviously not the most important thing about her, but I can’t say it doesn’t help.
Honestly, if I was looking for a relationship, she would be it. She clicks with me in a way I would never have anticipated. But neither of us is looking for a relationship, so this is just going to be fun while it lasts.
I’m trying to make peace with that.
“Damn,” I curse as sandpaper runs over my knuckles. It doesn’t hurt, exactly, but I let myself be distracted by my own thoughts.
I stop and sit back, and that’s when I feel a pair of eyes on my back. I glance over my shoulder to see Carly leaning in the doorway.
“Coffee?” she asks, holding out a mug.
“How did you know?”
“Intuition?” She grins and walks into the workshop. I say workshop. It’s a shed in my backyard that doesn’t get used as much as I would like.
I never seem to have the time to work on anything. Something I keep telling myself I’m going to fix. I spend so much time in the shop that by the time I get home, I have no energy to be thinking of something creative.
“It’s looking great,” says Carly. “I love watching you work.”
“How long have you been standing there?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
She blinks a couple of times and bites her lip. “A few minutes. Four or five. Maybe six.”
“You don’t think it looks too stupid, do you?”
“Not even a bit. I’m sure they’re going to love it. It doesn’t have to be perfect. What matters is that you made it with love.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes at that.
“You’re such a grump.” She grins, wandering over to hand me the coffee and kiss my forehead.
Reflexively, I flinch away from the action, but if I’m being entirely honest, it feels nice.
It feels nice to have someone who cares enough to think to bring me a coffee when I’m working hard or compliment me on a crappy-looking piece of wood.
“Don’t worry,” she says again. “I’ve worked with hundreds of people in my career. I know for a fact that they’re going to like this. They’ll like it because it came from you.”
“If you say so.”
“Why are you so reluctant to believe me?”
“Why are you so desperate to get me to?” I stare firmly back at her stern expression, but as she leans in, I catch a whiff of that sweet, sweet perfume she wears, and for a second I’m knocked down by the thought of her. It’s like she was designed to wind me up, to lure me in and trap me.
“I just don’t think it would do you any harm to admit that you do good work,” she answers.
“I don’t do good work,” I say with a sniff. “I do great work.”
She grins, and I realize I fell straight into her trap.
“Yes, you do.”
Before she can move away, I reach up to grab her, pulling her in for a kiss. She yelps with a giggle as I catch her, and she melts into my kiss like she’s made of butter or honey, something delicious and sweet.
I would have thought I would reach a point with her where the desire would fade or at least lessen. Weeks have gone by now, and it hasn’t. I still ache for her, just the same as I did before. She still makes the fire in my belly burn hot, desperate.
She still makes me hungry.
She wraps her arms around my shoulders and slides onto my lap, moving her hips in such a way that I feel my manhood strain. Even if she isn’t doing it on purpose, I can’t help but react. She must know what she’s doing to me. I groan, deciding she is doing it on purpose. She must notice the look on my face when I look at her, how hungry I am for her touch, for her taste.
I want to sink my fingers into her, my teeth.
“What are you thinking about?” She grins, looking down at me.
“You,” I growl and kiss her hard, running my hands through her hair.
She giggles at my touch and presses her hips down into me again.
“What are you thinking about?” I shoot back.
She leans in close to whisper in my ear. “Just how many health and safety rules we’d be breaking if you bent me over one of your worktables here and now.”
Hearing her say the words is enough to make my mind short-circuit.
“You dirty thing,” I say, my voice low and lusty. “I should punish you for that filthy mouth of yours.”
Licking her lips, she presses herself closer to me. “Maybe you should.”
It’s taking all my strength not to do exactly what she’s suggesting and make sweet, sweet love to her here and now. But much as I want to, she is right. This is no place for intimacy.
I let my hands slide down to her butt and squeeze hard. She takes a sharp breath, leaning in towards me so I can see all the way down her shirt, and I wrap my arms tight around her and lift her into the air. She squeals in surprise, wrapping her legs tightly around me, trusting me not to let her fall.
She gives that trust so easily, without hesitation. If I was in any right state of mind, I might stop to think, to wonder if I really deserve that.
But I’m not in my right state of mind because I’m carrying a beautiful young woman into my house.
A beautiful young woman who seems to want me just as much as I want her.
We’re half undressed before we even make it to the bedroom, nipping at each other’s bodies with our mouths, reaching out with our fingers, our tongues. I want to mark every part of her, taste every single inch.
I want to commit it to memory, to keep it as a little treasure, knowing that she’s all mine. All mine.
I stumble into my room, and she pushes me backwards onto my bed. I land with a huff, and she wastes no time clambering on top of me.
“Carly…” I groan, mesmerized by the way she moves her hips and sinks slowly down to me. She’s wet and wanting, and it’s an effort not to just explode there and then.
But there’s still that thought at the back of my mind that I only have a limited amount of time with her. I want to make the most of it.
If I can only have her for now, I’m going to use every single second.
I’m not going to leave an inch of her skin unkissed. I’m going to commit her to memory so that even when she’s gone, a part of her will be mine forever.