13. Gabe
13
GABE
There’s a perverse satisfaction in watching Katherine’s brows lift and her jaw drop as she does the mental math. One bed. Three people.
She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. Surely, this is the moment she proves me right. That she’s truly her grandfather’s granddaughter. Spoiled. Entitled. Everything I hate in a woman.
So why did you bring her? a voice in my mind asks.
This is a terrible idea. Worse than the year I bought my parents an electric car for Christmas.
They sent it back.
“Well, that’s. . .” She doesn’t finish the sentence. Instead, she purses her lips and glances around the room as if another bed might pop out of nowhere.
I wanted to know what it’d take to make Manhattan’s Ice Princess melt. I have my answer. A bachelorette auction, a panic attack, and a trip to the Hamptons. And I guess I’m an asshole because I’ve enjoyed every second.
She’s not keeping me at arm’s length now. She should be, and if I was smart, I’d figure out the fastest way back to Manhattan and stay far, far away from her, date or not.
But from the moment we met, I haven’t been able to say no to her. I mean, technically, I say no to her often in the boardroom of Winter-Farmington. But I can’t say no to her allure. Or my relentless curiosity.
Her jaw drops comically. What’s going on in that pretty head of hers? Why haven’t I insisted Alex call his pilot back?
She snaps those shut-up-and-kiss-me lips and tilts her chin up. But her shoulders droop, and I can practically see the wave of exhaustion come over her.
I haven’t felt guilt in a long time, but right now, I feel like she’s dangling at the end of her rope, and I just pulled out a knife.
High heels clacking against the worn wood floorboards, she wanders out into the house, and I follow. I should apologize for my blunt delivery, for the whole fucking debacle, but I stay silent.
She ducks into the other three bedrooms and finds the same thing I did. Odds and ends and no beds.
I bet she’s never seen a house in this condition before .
She hums and backtracks. In the living room, there’s an armchair that looks like it’s never been sat in and for good reason. I’m reasonably sure it’d crumble under a man’s weight.
“My massage therapist would murder me if I slept in that,” she muses.
Unbidden, my lips twitch, and I follow her to the kitchen. Did she develop a sense of humor on the flight out, or has she kept it hidden? And why is that sudden sparkle so appealing?
“I love this house. I can see why you bought it.” She trails a finger over the worn table in the breakfast alcove overlooking the water.
“Don’t—” I shake my head, a sigh hissing between my lips. Right now, I’m having a hell of a time remembering the vision, much less why I bought the place. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it.”
She nods at her reflection in the glass. The moon glints off the water, sending shards of light dancing around the room. And I’d thought she was dazzling on that stage beneath the dripping chandeliers.
Katherine glances over her shoulder at me, and something kicks in my chest. I suddenly see her standing in that exact spot, a fluffy robe wrapped around her, those blue-green eyes twinkling at me. There’s a mug in her hand and a serene smile on her lips.
What the actual fuck ?
“Are you okay?” She’s in front of me now, a hand pressed against my chest.
It’s the first time she’s ever willingly touched me. Her small hand in the center of my chest feels extraordinarily intimate, and somehow, it’s like an out-of-body experience. Forbidden and desirable all at once. My heart pounds a heavy thump-thump-thump against her palm, and my cock stirs. I force in a deep, steadying breath.
“Fine.”
She watches me for a moment, eyes flicking back and forth. I have no doubt that she sees through my lie. That’s the first thing I noticed about her all those years ago. She’s watchful, often not saying a word until absolutely necessary. And by then, the people around her have told her everything she needs to know.
I hate that. I hate being under a magnifying glass like a dying bug.
Whatever she sees, she nods, then glances around what should be a homey kitchen. The place is a dump. I’m aware. That’s why I spent a small fortune to have it renovated in three months. Except?—
“No sugarcoating, Gabe. I really love it. It’s cozy, and I bet the view is amazing.” Her earnestness seeps through my anxiety, finding all the cracks in my veneer. She steps around me and heads back to the primary suite .
The waves crest a foamy white beneath the moon. The tension from the week dissolves as if it’d never been. I hear Alex’s deep rumble, and suddenly, it matters less that the house is a disaster. Oh, I’ll still be on the phone first thing in the morning to find out what’s going on. But for now, the itch to wake my lawyer has subsided.
How does she do that?
Katherine laughs. The warm sound tinkles through the cold walls, and I’m helpless to follow it back to her. She holds a pillow between her hands, a small smile on her lips.
“Ford and I never had a pillow fight.” She tosses it to the top of the mattress.
“Really?” The word slips from my lips before I can pull it back. It’s such a core memory from my childhood. At least until I learned physics and used that against my siblings.
“Really.” She saunters into the adjoining bathroom and flips on the light.
I glance at Alex and find him equally enthralled by the woman in the next room. After hanging his tuxedo jacket on the doorknob, she steps up to the vanity and leans against it, head dropped. A vanity that hasn’t been cleaned in who knows how long and is probably older than she is.
We see everything through the doorway, and I can’t move. My feet are glued to the floor, and heaven help me, but I can’t tear my eyes away to give her the privacy she deserves.
She could’ve closed the door.
But she didn’t.
Does she like being watched?
Does she want our eyes on her?
Is this a trick? A sordid game? Or is she simply so tired that she doesn’t care anymore?
Whatever it is, she’s fucking gorgeous like this, with her hair mostly up and her guard down. My fingertips tingle to trace down her spine. Along the edges of that killer dress. Massage the arches of her feet.
I rake a hand down my face but still can’t convince myself to turn away. Her shoulders sag again, and she looks up into the mirror.
Fuck. I’m older than she is.
A lot older.
What the hell was I thinking?
What were we thinking? Going head to head in the middle of a ballroom of Manhattan’s elite?
A quick look at my best friend shows him to be equally enthralled with her. Katie Bird, he’d called her.
A nickname and an endearment, and she’d eaten it up.
Her chin dips more to her chest. She closes her eyes and, for a moment, looks defeated. Like the weight of the world is crushing her, slowly, one heavy pound at a time.
I was wrong before. This is painfully intimate. Raw.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Alex turn away. His hand yanks at his bow tie as he crosses the room.
“So what’s the plan?” I ask, wishing I had my computer to distract me. We should get out of here. Out of this room. Hell, out of this house.
The mattress is made up with sheets, and the room smells of cedar.
“We’re sleeping on the floor,” Alex declares in that soft, take-no-shit voice he reserves for new hires and pesky clients.
A soft ping draws my attention back to the bathroom. Katherine’s nimble fingers work the pins from her hair, dropping them one by one to the counter. Finally, all her glorious red tresses tumble down her back, just begging to be wrapped around my fist.
My cock throbs, awakening for a woman he shouldn’t want.
That knowledge doesn’t stop the urgency flooding my veins. With every pin that hits the countertop, my muscles tighten, imagining her on her knees, those gorgeous eyes staring up at me with a breathtaking combination of innocence and devilish challenge.
Fucking hell.
“I’m going for a walk.”