Chapter Twelve
The drive to Felicity’s house didn’t take long, but Gabe wished it did. He wanted as much time with her as possible, even if it was spent glancing over at her and seeing the sun streaking warm gold through each strand of her hair like it wanted to light her from the inside out.
She was quiet, but not the anxious quiet he picked up from her other times. This was anticipation simmering under the surface, and it heated him too.
Her little house came into view, as charming as its owner. He walked her to the door, and she unlocked it. When they entered, the air smelled stale after being shut up for the past few days.
She stepped out of her shoes and turned to him. “Give me ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. Or twenty if I melt down trying to zip the dress.”
His lips quirked at one corner. “I can help with that.”
Pink roses bloomed in her cheeks at the insinuation.
“Let me check out your room first. Then I’ll have a look around the rest of the place while you get ready.”
He made a hasty rotation through the bedroom, checking the closet and the bathroom. When he returned, he nodded.
She disappeared down the hallway, leaving him alone in her living room. He went to the kitchen, checked the back door and window locks. Then he had a look at the garage. Finding all secure, he continued through the house, making sure nothing was out of order.
He inhaled once, slow.
Her scent was everywhere—shampoo and sunshine even on the grayest of spring days. It hung in the air and threaded into everything that belonged to her—the furniture and even the piles of books stacked on the coffee table.
She lived a simple, quiet life. Kinder than any world he lived in, but damn if he didn’t ache to step into hers on a more permanent basis.
Maybe forever.
The realization struck him in the chest, punching the air from his lungs. He stared at the stack of books, imagining picking up life here in Willowbrook, with her.
And raising a family together.
God. When had he ever pictured himself having kids? Not before joining the Marines, and certainly not after.
He enjoyed his sister’s kids. He loved spending time with Navy. And the way Felicity looked at little CJ back at the ranch had made his chest tight, even if he couldn’t put words to why at the time.
He moved through the room, careful not to disturb anything.
“Where’s the best place in town?” He raised his voice enough for it to carry to Felicity.
Her voice floated from behind a half-closed door. “For what?”
“Dinner.”
A beat passed. Then her head popped around the doorframe, hair clipped up messily, one earring already sparkling in her lobe. “You don’t have a place in mind?”
He shrugged, trying to ignore the way her robe gapped at the chest, revealing a line of pale flesh he knew was freckled. His body took notice, though, his cock started to swell behind his fly.
“Prairie Ember,” she said. “I haven’t been yet. I’ve always wanted to go.” She bit her lip, uncertain. “But…I hear it’s expensive.”
“Money’s not a concern,” he said instantly. She had financial concerns, and he’d spent years packing away every dime he earned in the military and investing any bonuses he got for reenlisting. The least he could do was treat the woman he cared for.
“We can split the bill.”
He shook his head. “I know you’re independent as hell, bookshop. But I invited you out. Tonight’s on me.”
Eyes softening, she nodded. “Okay.” She slipped back into her room, leaving the door cracked as though she couldn’t bear to have any barriers between them.
He returned to studying her personal space. Her home felt as curated as her bookstore. Plants stretched their leaves toward the fading sunlight in every window. Cozy blankets were draped over the back of the couch and chair, and it was easy to picture her curled up in those spots with a good book.
Mismatched pillows marched down the length of the sofa like a row of little soldiers, and a lemon candle was burned down to its final inch.
Then there were the books. Shelves lined the wall beside the window, packed full and double-stacked like she’d run out of space years ago but refused to keep fewer books as a solution. Two more bookcases flanked the big-screen TV, in similar charming disarray.
He drifted toward them, fingers brushing the spines. Several were well-worn, the cracked spines showing how many times she’d read those copies. A few books were about rare printing techniques, as well as a section devoted to the history of libraries.
And then he saw them. Yes, them.
Not one or two or three but four copies of Wollstonecraft’s work, the same book she’d received in the box from Henry.
Gabe shook his head in disbelief, stepping closer to examine the same title in different editions.
Carefully, he drew one out of the space.
The spine cracked gently as he opened it, revealing neat underlines and notes in the margins in the looping handwriting he recognized from the note she gave him.
Words about strength, reason and independence.
The kind of lines a woman chose because they had meaning to her, because she wasn’t built to crumble.
“That’s Felicity,” he said under his breath. “Built from words and grit.”
It hit him harder than he expected—this glimpse into who she was when nobody was looking. The kind of thing a person didn’t tell anyone, traits you could only see when you knew the person deeply.
He set the book back gently.
“Okay,” she called, voice small and nervous. “Moment of truth.”
He turned.
And forgot everything.
She stood in the hallway wearing a little black dress that hugged every soft curve like it’d been designed just for her. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, brushing the tops of her breasts. The berry tint on her lips was enough to make his pulse trip.
She shifted her feet, directing his attention to the high heels with delicate straps buckled around each sexy ankle. “Too much?”
He shook his head. “No.”
Her brow lifted. “Too fancy?”
“No.”
Her lips bowed upward in a smile that threaded all the way to the core of his heart. “You don’t even know the restaurant.”
He closed the space between them, dragging his gaze over the body he intended to worship again before the night was over and then up to her eyes. Trusting, hazy blue, rimmed with thick lashes.
“You look incredible. You walk into Prairie Ember like that, and I’m going to spend the whole night wondering how the hell a woman like you ended up on a date with me.”
Her breath hitched, the delicate sound tightening every muscle in his body.
“You’re not giving yourself enough credit. You’re pretty damn hot yourself.” She reached up, settling a palm on his chest.
Their gazes clung for a long beat, that electric current zapping to life.
He backed away half a step. “If I don’t put some distance between us, dinner is not happening.”
She issued that raspy laugh he adored.
He offered his hand. “Ready?”
She took it, her fingers wrapped around his palm like they’d been doing it for years. And suddenly, that family born in his mind was grown up, and he saw his hand locked around Felicity’s, wrinkled with age and life and years of love.
Hell. His eyes were misting over.
He led her out of the house and opened the door of the truck for her. He glanced over at her, capturing the moment in his mind the same way he had when they drove here. Her bare shoulders catching the fading gold of the sunset and her eyes backlit by…more.
He didn’t want to break the spell.
She blinked up at him with that soft smile. They drove back to the ranch in an easy silence that seeped into his bones and made everything feel possible. She kept smoothing her dress over her knees and glancing out the window as if the whole world looked different to her too.
At the ranch, he pulled in beside the row of Black Heart Security trucks. She slipped out of the vehicle.
“I’m going to pop in and say hi to Honor. You get changed…and then we’ll go.”
He nodded. “I’ll be quick.”
She stepped toward the porch in those sexy shoes he wanted thrown over his shoulders as he pounded her to the edge of bliss and back.
She tossed him a look over her shoulder. Just a small one, but full of new heat.
Gabe watched the door swing shut behind her before turning toward the security office. The evening breeze rolled off the mountains, cool against his overheated skin, the fresh pine just enough to keep his head straight.
He entered Carson’s office to find his boss standing by the desk, papers spread out. He glanced up at Gabe’s approach.
“You look like a man on a mission.” Carson smirked.
Gabe rubbed the back of his neck. “I need a jacket.”
Amusement deepened the brackets around Carson’s mouth. “A jacket?”
He exhaled. No way around it. “Felicity is wearing a little black dress, and I’m not taking her to Prairie Ember looking like a drifter who wandered off the mountain.”
His grin sharpened. “So this is a date date.”
Gabe shot him a look. “Can I borrow a jacket or not?”
He didn’t bother hiding his amusement. “Give me a minute.” He walked out of the room, leaving Gabe to listen to his boots on the hardwood. He drifted over to the papers spread out on the desk.
The intel about Henry Alder. Simple things anyone could find in a directory—address, business, net worth. That figure had Gabe’s eyes popping and a motive blossoming in his mind.
If Henry had a fortune, and someone was after it…maybe even searching for ways to get it…
The thumps of Carson’s boots announced his return. He carried a charcoal suit. A lighter gray dress shirt with a lightly patterned tie dangled on a hanger from his finger.
“You’re lucky this was just dry-cleaned.”
Gabe reached for it, but Carson held it just out of reach.
“So you’re taking Felicity to the nicest place within a hundred-mile radius. In a suit. And she’s in a little black dress.”
He huffed a laugh. “Who would ever guess, right?”
Carson snorted. “All the women in this house, that’s who.”