Chapter Four #2
He faced her, meeting her gaze directly. “I thought we already covered that.”
“Well. Okay. If you’re sure. I’ll drive you back to the ranch whenever you’re ready.”
“I can stay and help clean up,” he offered.
As if he’d reminded her of what was inside waiting for her, she swung toward the open door and stared at the mess. Books overturned. Paper everywhere. A store that once had a homey charm now looked like a bomb went off.
“I appreciate the help.” Her voice wavered then caught. She pushed on. “Really. But I can handle it.”
He caught her eyes again. “I’d like you to let me help you.”
She didn’t say yes. But she didn’t send him away either.
Together, they walked into the middle of the shop. He picked up the nearest book, a romance. Then he picked up another. Judging by the title, it was a mystery. He continued sorting them into stacks, creating new groups as he guessed by the covers and titles what genre they belonged in.
After he stacked ten books, Felicity fell into the rhythm next to him with her own small piles. Neither spoke—it didn’t feel necessary.
A few minutes later, he had several spots of the floor cleared. He took comfort in simple things—tuning an engine or taking messages for Black Heart Security…
Sorting books with a lovely and interesting woman.
“You can’t really be enjoying this.” Her voice had a throaty rasp that made him think of old movie actresses. It made him want to get her talking more just to listen. “If you need a ride back to the ranch—”
“It’s kind of like those pimple-popping videos.”
She froze, book halfway to the stack of historical fiction. “What? You watch those?”
He shrugged. “Not regularly. But I’ve seen them.”
She stared at him as if trying to decide if he was fooling with her.
“People watch them because they’re a quick, easy fix. Do this, and boom—clean skin.”
Her wispy brows rose in what appeared to be part disbelief, part amusement.
“Sorting books is like popping pimples?” A twinkle came into her eye but extinguished almost as fast as it appeared.
“Sorting books into genres is a quick, easy fix. With just a little time, we can put your shop back in order.”
She didn’t speak, but when she reached for another book, he noted that the set of her shoulders had relaxed.
She stacked another, then another. They fell into the rhythm again. Soon, they cleared a larger square of wood floor.
“Looks like we’re making progress.” She sped up—too fast—barely glancing at the covers before dropping them into whatever pile was closest. She grabbed a heavy volume and dropped it on top of a stack. It toppled in a slow slide.
“Damn!”
Gabe bent to pick it up, but she flinched—just a small twitch he almost missed.
That hit him harder than anything in the ruined shop.
Hell. Was she nervous…because of him?
He slowly set the book down. “Hey. Just so you know…I’m not violent. You don’t have to worry about me.”
* * * * *
Felicity’s brain shorted out at his words.
I’m not violent. You don’t have to worry about me.
She sputtered, heat rushing up her neck. “What? No. God. That’s not—” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head hard. “I didn’t mean to make you think I was worried about you.”
Gabe didn’t look offended. If anything, he watched her with that same patience he’d possessed since they walked in here.
But the fact that he’d said it at all stabbed guilt into her chest. It reminded her of what he’d been through.
“I’m sorry, Gabe.” She pitched her voice low. “I’m just…frazzled.”
Understatement of the year, but it was the only word in her arsenal.
Gabe nodded once like it made perfect sense to him, then went right back to sorting. He didn’t say more or continue the awkward moment, just reached for another book.
They set to work again. Books scraping lightly across the floor, piles taking shape. Soon, she could look at the mess without her stomach dropping.
He didn’t pepper her with questions or fill the silence with meaningless chatter. As much as she adored Mina and Rina, they couldn’t have calmed her nerves as much as Gabe at this moment.
She caught herself glancing at him—more than once. Her gaze wanted to linger on the rugged lines of his profile and the way the collar of his flannel lay open to reveal his tanned neck, shadowed with beard stubble.
He’d been in the therapy program, and he left. She didn’t attend his going away party, but she recalled Honor telling her about it. He’d left the Black Heart, left the area…then came back.
He didn’t seem uneasy in the way she’d seen many of the vets in the program. On the surface, he didn’t appear to be struggling, and Carson clearly didn’t think so either. So what made him return?
She noticed that the stacks he made were neat and organized with the genres sorted perfectly. A closer look showed her that he’d placed the authors in alphabetical order like he’d worked here for months instead of twenty minutes.
She looked closer. “Wow—you even put the books in alphabetical order.”
He shrugged. “Not hard if you’ve spent any time in a bookstore before.” He eyed the mystery in her hand.
“You can borrow that if you want.”
His gaze flicked to hers, his deep brown eyes piercing with their intensity. “I already read it. Decker loaned it to me.”
“Of course he did. Decker’s read more than anyone I’ve ever met.”
He flipped the book over to skim the back.
“My favorite part was when they put the folded notes in the sugar jar,” she said, lightly testing him.
His stare snapped to hers again, and one dark brow lifted. “That’s book three.”
Her jaw dropped. “Okay…you caught me.”
His hard lips twitched at one corner, carving a perfect bracket in his stubbled cheek. “So I passed the test?”
She exhaled a breath that bordered on a laugh. “You passed the test.”
He shook his head, but that bracket settled deeper in his cheek around his lips with an enticing ruggedness.
They worked a little more, the silence warm instead of strained. She found herself almost able to forget the wreckage they were kneeling in. Almost.
At some point, Rina messaged the group chat with Mina and Felicity, stating that she was curled up watching her favorite movie.
Mina replied that she was going to visit her neighbor.
Felicity glanced at her messy shop and pocketed her phone, not ready to share what happened.
Texting it made it even more real—and more awful.
Her brain sifted through the jumble of thoughts inside it and picked out one detail—it was Thursday. She always read to the veterans on Thursday after dinner.
She placed a final book on a stack and glanced at the clock. Too much of the day was gone…and it wasn’t even over yet. She could cancel the reading, but she hated to do that.
“You’ve got somewhere to be.” Gabe’s warm rumble made her focus on him again. “You keep checking the clock,” he clarified.
She huffed out a breath and sat back on her heels. “I read to the vets on Thursday nights.” She set the book she was holding on the stack and flattened a hand over it. “I have dinner in the hall with them, then I read from a few different books to give them a variety.”
He stilled, staring at her for a long moment, not blinking, not looking away. When he looked at her, it felt like he tuned out the entire world just to listen to her.
Suddenly self-conscious, she dropped her gaze. “It’s no big deal.”
“It sounds like a big deal.”
Heat bloomed in her chest, and she busied herself with straightening the pile that was already neat.
“I’m sure it helps the guys a lot. Keeps their minds off their troubles for a spell.”
For a beat, she lost herself in his eyes, noting the flecks of amber brown and a few gold highlights. Beyond that, she saw a gleam of respect for her, and a warmth that curled tight in her chest.
Breaking the connection, he pushed to his feet. “Let’s get you out to the vets.”
She rose too, taking in the stacks they’d built. It was far from perfect, but it wasn’t nearly as overwhelming. Or maybe she wasn’t as overwhelmed.
That open patch of floor did more to restore her faith than she ever would have guessed.
“Thank you.” The words came out soft.
He dipped his jaw in recognition. “We made good progress.”
But the progress wasn’t what she felt as she followed him out. It was the strange pull low in her belly—the one that had nothing to do with the cleared floor and everything to do with the quiet, unshakable man holding the door for her.
She wasn’t just relieved he’d helped.
She was relieved he wasn’t leaving her alone.