Chapter 12 Gabe
GABE
The firepit is almost finished.
And I’m not excited about that fact at all. How can I be when it means I don’t get to see Dakota every day? And how the hell did I get here?
From thinking he was just a grumpy old man to realizing he was a young, beautiful, sensitive, sweet . . . Okay, I need to stop. I don’t know what’s going on with me, and if I’m honest, I’m a little afraid to explore it.
Not because of Dakota. Not really even because he’s a man—though I have to admit that was a curveball. But . . . I was married. I thought I was happy. And then that imploded, and it was over so fast, my head is still spinning from it.
I don’t know if I’m ready for that again. What if he gets bored with me too?
“Gabe?” I look over at Dakota, his eyes shining with concern as he sits in one of the wooden chairs he had ordered to go around the firepit, and I realize that he likely asked me something and I missed it during my freak-out.
One of many lately, by the way. I can’t stop imagining what it would be like to date Dakota.
Which is crazy. I’m getting way ahead of myself, considering I’ve never gotten him to hang out with me outside of working for him at his house.
“I’m sorry. What was that?” I ask, laying more of the brick he chose for the large pit.
“I was just wondering if you’re going to trivia tonight.”
“Oh . . .” Is he asking because he wants to go?
I can’t hide my surprise, and I see a slight blush on his cheeks.
Goddammit, I think he does. “I have Amber this week.” And I’m thrilled to have my baby girl at my house all week, but—and I feel really shitty for thinking it—but part of me mourns the fact that I can’t go out tonight. With Dakota.
“Oh, right. I forgot. Well, that’s good.
That’s fine, I mean. No.” His eyes widen.
“Not fine, like I’m upset about that or anything.
It’s great that you’re such an involved father and have your daughter at home with you and don’t want to leave her with a babysitter during your week.
” He looks absolutely horrified as he snaps his mouth shut and looks anywhere else but at me.
I really, really like fumbling, stumbling, flustered Dakota.
I’m finding that I like every version of Dakota.
I try to hold back my slight chuckle but fail horribly.
I hope he knows I’m not laughing at him, but I find him so fucking adorable that I can’t help but laugh around him. “But how about next week?”
He perks up, and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him look excited about something, but I think that’s what this is. “Next week?”
I grin and nod, going back to work so I don’t mess up and say something embarrassing—like please give me a chance.
Maybe we could call it a date. Honestly, I don’t know if he feels that way about me, though I get vibes.
And he has told me he’s gay. He knows I’ve only been with one woman, but hopefully, I’ve put it out there that maybe, just maybe I’m not totally straight.
He has to know I can’t stop staring at him.
That every time he’s looking away, I’m checking out his beautiful face.
Absolutely enamored by his sharp cheekbones and pretty eyes.
His firm, sharp jawline and the little bit of stubble on his cheeks he allows sometimes.
His trim body that’s slight but still masculine and toned.
Yeah, I think it’s safe to say, I’m not totally straight. And I do want it to be a date, but it also scares the everloving shit out of me.
So I take the scenic route on the date part. “How about I invite a couple of my friends to go with us, and then maybe we can come back here?”
“Here?” he squeaks, and I think it’s more about the friends coming here than me, but I can’t be too sure. He’s seems to have softened a bit on strangers being at his place, even offering to allow one other person to come and finish up the firepit.
Something I actually denied because selfishly, I wanted more time with him by myself. “You don’t have to,” I say quickly. “But I did say if you allowed me to build a firepit, I’d bring my friends to enjoy it with you. And it will be finished by next Thursday, for sure.”
He looks saddened by that, and . . . same. I want to call back the idea of bringing friends along. I want it to be a date. Staring at his face, his full lips slightly parted and his face pensive, deep in thought, I desperately want it to be a date.
I need to take it slow still, but inviting my loudass friends along? Yeah, that’s not the way to go.
Before I can pull it back though, he nods affirmatively and stands up from his seat. “Okay, yeah. Invite your friends to trivia, and then we can come back here and build a fire.”
His hands run over the brick where I’ve been working, and I stand up straight to face him head-on, my eyes searching his. He looks frightened, no doubt about it, but also determined. Like it’s something he needs to do. And who the hell am I to take that away from him?
“Okay. So how many friends should I invite?” I ask, my voice a little raspy. Maybe there’s a little tiny bit of hope that maybe he doesn’t want anyone else here. That maybe he wants it to be a date too. “I don’t want to push you into more than you can handle.”
He scoffs. “So, one friend?” he teases, taking a shot at himself.
“Right,” I say, playing into it.
“I don’t care. It’s okay. I’ve realized that maybe it won’t be so bad getting back out in the world.” He looks a little shy. “Occasionally.”
I smile at that, happy he wants to do that.
I meant it when I said it would be a shame if he just hid away here.
The fact that he’s willing to go to a crowded tavern and then bring friends back here is a huge step.
“You know I won’t let anything happen to you, right?
” I say suddenly, my chest going tight at the thought of him being nervous.
I know he’s had a tough past with bullies. I can’t imagine what that does to someone in their formative years. It made him want to hide away. I don’t want that for him. But I don’t want him to be afraid because I mean it. I won’t let a single soul touch him.
He looks surprised, his eyes examining me like I’m foreign to him. He nods slowly. “I know.”
“Good,” I say firmly. “Because I won’t.”
That makes him smile, half his mouth turning up. “Maybe we should exchange phone numbers?” he suggests, but it definitely sounds like a cautious question instead of a suggestion.
“Yeah. That would be good. I mean, I have your number through Oakley’s Crew, but I don’t want to be a creep.”
He lets out a small laugh and pulls his phone out of his pocket, handing it to me.
I add my number to his contacts and then send a quick text to my phone from his, so I’ll have it. “There. Officially friends.”
His smile morphs into a full smile that takes over his face, and it punches me hard in the chest, lighting me up and making me feel on fire. “Is that allowed? Since technically, you work for me?”
I grin and hand his phone back to him. My workday is ending, and I need to get back to the shop, so I start to clean up. “Believe me, sometimes working for someone can lead to a hell of a lot more than friendship.”
I look up when I hear a small gasp come from him and see his cheeks are bright pink now. “Oh, yeah?”
Oh, yeah. There’s definitely more here than just friendship. Or curiosity. So much more.
“Yeah,” I say as I look deep into his eyes and am fascinated by the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat with a heavy swallow.
I clean up the rest of my mess and say goodbye to Dakota after giving Mavis a few scratches behind her ears. Poor thing is super pregnant now, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she has her kittens in the next week or so.
I go back to the shop and check in with Oakley and Travis as the other guys filter in from their day of work. “So you almost finished with the firepit?” Travis asks me, business as usual.
“Yup,” I answer, my heart doing the same thing it always does when I think about finishing work at Dakota’s. It squeezes tight in my chest, hating the idea.
“Good. I’ll get the final bill ready for you to take to Mr. Serial-killer Hottie.” He winks at me, and I laugh, shaking my head.
“Really? I thought you were the serious one,” I deadpan, and Oakley cackles.
“We all know that’s me.”
Everyone in the shop laughs at that, and Oakley raises his middle finger, sweeping it around at all his employees and his husband, who’s laughing even more than the rest of us.
“Thought we were done with the Serial-killer Hottie shit too,” I say, washing my hands in the sink, trying to get some of the dirt off.
“Now who the hell said that?” Jackson teases, and I roll my eyes, giving up on getting any more dirt off my hands and drying them with a paper towel.
“That reminds me though . . .” I turn my attention to Oakley and Travis. “I’m going to meet him on Thursday to go to trivia night at the tavern, if you guys want to join.”
I hold my breath for a second, waiting for the teasing to start about mixing business with pleasure, and although they’ve both perked up at that, they look more confused than mischievous. “Wait. You’re going to trivia night with a client?”
“Yes . . .” I say cautiously. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No . . .” Travis is hesitant, which makes me squirm.
Jackson is the next one to speak though. “Wait a minute . . . Are you actually switching teams? I was just giving you shit before, but is this a date?”
I try to swallow the lump in my throat and fight fidgeting as I stand there with Oakley, Travis, Jackson, and now Archie and Walker’s eyes on me. “I uh . . .” Am I sweating? Shit. This shouldn’t be so hard. “I don’t know,” I say honestly, and surprisingly, none of them laugh at me.
Not one of them makes a joke.
They all have a look of wonder and maybe surprise . . . But they aren’t teasing me.
“Oh,” Travis says.
“That’s fucking awesome,” Oakley says, and he seems genuine. Though I don’t think Oakley can be anything else.
“Hell yeah!” Jackson slaps a hand over my shoulder and grips it gently. “You’re getting back out there. I’m so proud.”
“I don’t know about all that,” I say dismissively. “I just . . . He’s nice to talk to and . . .”
They all wait for what I’m going to say next, and I chicken out before I can say I’m totally and completely attracted to him. I want to know what it’s like to kiss him. It’s becoming this living thing under my skin.
Lying in my bed late at night, it’s his face I see. It’s his lips I crave. I’m dying to have a taste.
“And . . . ?” Archie asks, totally dialed into this conversation now.
I wave it off, feeling a little embarrassed. Not because Dakota is a man. These are my best friends in the world, and they’ve all been with men—it’s not unusual to them. But me being . . . shit.
Smitten.
Yeah, that’s unusual.
But that’s exactly what I am.
“Whatever. Whoever wants to go to trivia night next Thursday can come. Well, not too many people though. Dakota isn’t a huge fan of people, and I convinced him to let some of you assholes come over to his house after, to try out the new firepit.”
“Holy shit,” Jackson says, and I clench up tight because I already know what’s coming by the amused, overjoyous expression he’s wearing on his stupid face. “Gabe’s in looooove!”
The rest of the guys chuckle, and I sigh heavily before walking toward the exit, waving a middle finger at them all on the way out.
It’s just met with cackling and howling.
Damn hyenas.
It’s not that big of a deal.
But I know that’s a lie I tell myself because this is a huge, huge deal.