Chapter 8 #2
At the corner, a woman sat against a building with a sign propped at her knee. Tessa stopped, reached into her bag, and set a granola bar and a water bottle next to the sign.
“Thank you,” the woman said.
“You’re welcome.”
Gabriel watched her, his jaw tight and his eyes soft in a combination that shouldn’t have worked together. It did. He pulled her closer when she stepped back and slid his palm flat against her lower back.
“What?”
“Nothing. Everything.”
His palm stayed there as they walked. Possessive. Steady.
The Brooklyn Bridge stretched ahead of them, and they crossed it together. The city lights reflected in the water below like fallen stars.
“A real want,” he said. “Something small. Something you don’t tell people.”
“A want.”
“Yes, a want.”
She thought about it. “I want a porch. A real one. Not a fire escape with a chair on it. A porch big enough for a swing. With a railing. So when my mother visits, she can sit there and tell me everything I’m doing wrong with my hostas.”
“Do you have hostas?”
“I’d have hostas if I had a porch.”
He laughed. “That’s a good want.”
“What’s yours?”
“To stop being good at the things that don’t matter.”
“Like what.”
“Like working through Christmas. Like sitting through dinners with people I don’t like because the deal requires it. Like saying yes when I should be saying no.”
“That isn’t a small want, Gabriel.”
“No. It’s not.”
They walked past Brooklyn Heights. She knew the streets in her sleep. She had walked them with a dozen disappointing dates over the years, and none of them had been Gabriel.
When they reached her building, he stopped. She turned to face him, and he put his hands on her waist and backed her against the brick wall. He stepped close enough that she could feel every inch of him against her.
“I’ve been thinking about the farmer’s market all week,” he said.
“What about it?”
“The Cherokee Purple. Your fingers on mine. Henry winking at me. The way you decoded Devney’s whole dinner from one tomato.
” His voice was rough. “I’ve been replaying the last four days every night since Wednesday.
I haven’t slept much. Most of what I’ve replayed is Henry telling me you taught a kid how to hopscotch, and it was her favorite summer.
That’s what’s been keeping me up. Not the kiss. That. The hopscotch.”
Her throat closed. She opened her mouth to say something and nothing came out, and then he kissed her, and it didn’t matter.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t restrained.
It was hungry. His hand threaded into her hair.
His mouth was hot against hers, and she opened for him without hesitation.
He groaned into her mouth and pulled her closer.
She fisted her hands in his jacket and pulled him closer still. Closer wasn’t close enough.
He broke away long enough to breathe.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about how you taste.”
“Then don’t stop.”
He kissed her again. Deeper. His teeth caught her bottom lip, and she gasped into his mouth, and he pressed his hips into hers, and she felt every inch of how much he wanted her against the silk of her dress.
She rolled her hips against his, and he made a low broken sound and tightened his grip on her waist.
“Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m trying to be a gentleman, and you’re making that impossible.”
He rested his forehead against hers, breathing fast, his mouth an inch from hers.
“Next Thursday,” he said. “Dinner. I’ll pick you up.”
“That’s a week away.”
“I know.”
“That’s too long.”
“I know.”
His palm left her waist, slid up her ribs, stopped just below her breast. His thumb brushed the underside of her dress. Once. She gasped.
“You’re killing me in this dress.”
“Take it off me.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“I’m trying to.”
He laughed, low and dark.
“Why next Thursday?” she asked.
“Because I don’t want this rushed. I want it at my place where I can take my time. I’ve been waiting too long to do this right. I can wait a week.”
Her heart was beating in her throat. She nodded because speaking would have cracked her open.
Her phone buzzed in her bag. Then again. She pulled it out.
Jessica: Boss. Kosher lamb for the Berkowitz bar mitzvah. Whole batch. Walk-in failed. Need you NOW.
She looked up at Gabriel. “I have to go.”
“What happened?”
“Walk-in failure. Tomorrow’s bar mitzvah is short forty pounds of lamb.”
“I’ll take you.”
“Gabriel. You don’t—“
“I’ll take you.”
He pulled out his phone, tapped twice, and a few minutes later the same black car they’d ridden in earlier pulled up. He hadn’t sent the driver far.
In the car, he found her palm in the dark.
“Does this happen often?”
“Catering emergencies? All the time.”
“What will you do?”
“Find a new lamb and marinate it by morning.” She looked at him. “I told you I had backup plans.”
“You did.”
“Sorry. Not the romantic ending.”
“I get to watch you work. That’s better than romance.”
The car pulled up outside her warehouse. The lights were on, and David’s car was already there. Gabriel started to get out.
“No.” She put a hand on his chest. “You need to go.”
“I said I’d watch you work.”
“And if you’re in there, I won’t be able to think about anything except kissing you. You’re bad for business, Sterling.”
He laughed and then cupped her face. His thumb brushed her cheekbone. “Until Thursday.”
“Thursday.”
He kissed her once, soft, and let her go.
She watched the car pull away and stood in her parking lot, her hand pressed flat against her chest where her heart was still hammering.
Her phone buzzed.
Gabriel: That dress is a problem.
Tessa: Good.
Gabriel: Wear it Thursday.
Tessa: No.
Gabriel: No?
Tessa: I’ll wear something worse.
A pause. Three dots. Disappear. Three dots again.
Gabriel: You’re killing me.
She walked into her warehouse smiling. David and Jessica were already on their phones, calling suppliers and refrigeration specialists.
“You okay, boss?” David asked without looking up.
“I’m fine.”
“You look different,” Jessica said, taking in the emerald silk with a low whistle.
“I look the same.”
“You look like someone who got interrupted.”
Tessa pulled her apron on over the dress and tied it without commenting.
Her phone buzzed again.
Gabriel: I can’t stop thinking about taking that dress off you.
She stared at the screen for a beat too long, because Jessica saw.
“Oh,” Jessica said. “Oh, boss.”
“Get back to work.”
“Yes, boss.”
Tessa pocketed her phone and got to work. Thursday could wait. The Berkowitz bar mitzvah couldn’t. But if the emerald dress had driven him crazy, she’d need something on Thursday that would finish the job.