Chapter 7
SEVEN
TEST TRACK
Adrienne
Iwould be lying if I said I had it all together. Although, at this point, no one would believe me if I tried to pass off my life as influencer worthy.
After my dad dropped the whole your-life-is-possibly-in-danger bomb on me yesterday, I was a little stressed out.
When Gabe declared he was the boss and did it with his sex-on-a-stick body really freaking close to mine, I was unhappy…
and turned on. My panties were wet, and it wasn’t due to sweat in my FR suit.
I knew immediately that this would not do.
But when he informed me that we’re now domestic life partners, I lost my shit.
“Excuse me?” I shout when he tries to nudge me over to the passenger side of my car. No one drives my baby, my Hellcat, but me. Out of the two of us, I’m the professional driver and no man is going to mansplain away my job to me.
I already have one man who seems to think he’s got a right to what’s mine by blood and by sweat equity.
“I drive,” Gabe says by way of explanation. “Always.”
Of course he does.
“I’m a professional driver.”
“I don’t care,” he grumbles. “I drive.”
Okay. So no mansplaining. He’s not going to give me anything.
“No,” I blurt. I know I sound like an idiot, but after having Gabe stare at me all day while I worked with Rowan and Erin, I’m not exactly capable of clear thought and speech.
“Manny, drive the Tahoe to her place,” he commands as he tosses the keys to the second in command. “Eli will pick you up in the other SUV.”
“But I’m just going home,” I reply, crossing my fingers over my chest before holding them up in front of me like I’m about to recite the girl scout pledge. “Straight home. Scout’s honor.”
“Were you ever a Girl Scout?” he asks with a stern look.
“No, but that’s not the point,” I shrug my shoulders.
“Adrienne,” he prompts after a moment.
“Yes?”
“Get your ass in the car.” And he says it in such a way that my body responds before my brain does. Like I’m meant to get in the car just because he says so. I’ve never done what I was told—as a rule.
“Okay.”
This is confusing.
I sit my ass in the passenger seat of my car, and Gabe drives me home. Why? I have no idea.
There’s just something about the low timbre of his voice when he told me to get in the car. I was helpless to stop it. I just… submitted.
That’s not like me at all.
I think about it through the entire ride home, hoping against hope that it was a fluke, a one-time thing, but I have my doubts.
I think about it as a trail of security bad asses follow behind us so they can carpool. I had no idea my entire world was about to flip on its head.
“Code,” he barks when he pulles up to my gate.
I sit in stunned silence.
Like a cartoon character once again, I slow-blink, totally unsure of what he’s asking me when I’m usually anything but unsure. “What?”
“The code.” He stares at me like I’m the idiot here.
Maybe I am, because I’m not sure what he’s asking for. My bank code? The nuclear codes the president carries? What code, man?
“For the gate.”
“Oh!” I do know the answer to that. I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean over the center console so I can reach the button on the visor over his head.
I freeze, realizing I’m practically in his lap, and the way his hazel eyes bore into mine is positively indecent.
My nipples are hard, and the air in my lungs begins to burn.
“Fresa, what the fuck are you doing?” he grinds out.
“This,” I whisper awkwardly as I hit the button to open the gate. As I twist to plop back down into my seat, I see Manny behind us laughing his ass off. I try to smile and wave, but I’m pretty sure all I manage to pull off is an uncomfortable grimace.
“This,” he practically growls, “is not fucking secure.”
I don’t say anything, just nod once as he pulls through the gate. The growl of my engine matches his suddenly black mood. In the side mirror, I watch the two black SUVs follow us through.
Gabe parks in the garage, while Manny and Eli pull their respective vehicles into the driveway and climb out. Eli tosses keys to Gabe as they stalk toward where we are in the garage.
“Need to get the lay of the land,” Gabe says to me, I guess.
“Okay.”
“Anything me and my boys should know about?”
Again, I’m rendered mute. What the hell is wrong with me? Also, what the hell am I supposed to know? I didn’t even know I had threats against me until an hour ago.
“Uh…” I try to formulate words but I’m off my game. Anyone else would understand, but not this jackass.
“Babe, you got any guns, dogs, or booby traps?” he clarifies.
Eli smiles widely, and Manny chuckles while looking pointedly at his shoes.
“Oh,” I whisper. Only crazy people have anything other than a dog, and I don’t currently have time for one of those so the answer is easier than I thought. “No?”
“Is that a yes, you do, or a no, you don’t know?”
“It’s a no. I don’t have any of those things.” Before thinking better of it, I ask, “Do I need those things?”
“Honey,” Eli calls quietly, drawing my attention to him.
He’s younger than Manny and Gabe by several years. His sandy hair is closely cropped to his head like he’s in the military, and he has the most beautiful blue eyes that would be girly on anyone but him.
“Yes?” I answer automatically.
“You live out here all alone and don’t even have a dog?” he asks.
“I’m not home much.” I shrug before explaining, “I did think about a cat once… or a goldfish, but even that didn’t feel right. I would be a terrible goldfish mom.”
“Yeah,” Manny agrees, picking up their torch. “But when you are here, you’re all alone.”
“Behind a big gate,” I blurt. “It looks like a castle gate.”
“With entry access in your car,” Gabe adds.
“Whoops,” I whisper.
He mutters, “Yeah, babe, whoops.”
Eli and Manny just smile at their boots.
“I think maybe we should go tour the property,” Manny suggests.
“I’m just going to go fix some dinner,” I say, not meeting anyone’s eyes. I’m embarrassed.
It’s silly really, but in this moment, I feel young and stupid and… small. I don’t want to feel like that for another minute, so I strategize my exit plan. “Are you guys… umm… staying?”
“Yeah,” Manny replies, and I can almost hear the smile in his voice.
“Are you a good cook?” Eli asks.
“Uh… maybe?”
“No, maybe about it”—Manny nods to Eli—“with an ass like that, she’s a good cook.”
“Uh…”
“Don’t worry. It’s a good ass,” he explains.
“Manny,” Gabe bites out. “She’s a client.”
“As you say, hermano.”
“I’m just… I’m just gonna go,” I stammer, and then bolt into the house to make dinner before any of them can tell me otherwise.
I run upstairs and change into a pair of jogging shorts and a tank top.
I put off showering until after dinner when they’re all out of my house and I can relax.
I pad back downstairs on bare feet and pull open the refrigerator door.
I have chicken and broccoli and there’s probably a carb in the pantry, although I don’t indulge in them too often.
I pull out both and set them down on the island countertop.
Keeping the door open with my hip, I reach back in for a bottle of wine and set that on the countertop too.
I season the chicken with my usual go-tos—salt, pepper, garlic, and paprika—and put it in a pan to roast with a little avocado oil while I wash and chop the broccoli, filling the bottom of the double boiler to steam the vegetables.
When both are set for a minute, I rifle through the pantry and find a couple of packages of instant cheesy rice. I don’t know how they got there because I sure didn’t buy them, but Bobby or Dad could have brought them over sometime. I follow the directions and set them to cook.
The guys still aren’t back from “getting the lay of the land” as they called it, and I’m growing more and more nervous by the second. I’ve been eyeing the bottle of wine like it’s Fluffy, the three-headed dog from Harry Potter.
Finally, I sigh and give in, grabbing the corkscrew from the drawer. Only the bottle isn’t ready to give up the goods. I twist the screw into the cork, but when I push the little arms down, they’re stuck. They won’t budge at all. What the hell?
Obviously, it’s time to buy one of those automatic push button wine openers. I’m rich enough. Why am I still using the piece of shit I bought for $2.99 approximately eighty-seven years ago?
I wedge the bottle between my thighs for leverage and try to force the little arms down, but still… nothing.
And then it happens, I lose my grip on the bottle. It slips from between my legs and flies up over my head. It’s going to break a window, which will really impress the stick in the mud security experts, but it happened so fast I couldn’t do anything to stop it.
When I don’t hear a crash, I turn around.
Gabe’s standing just inside the door from the garage, holding my bottle of wine. Manny and Eli stand behind him, smiling outright at this point with their eyes wide.
The best way to save face is to turn back to my dinner prep and flip the chicken.
“Adrienne?” Gabe’s smooth voice calls out from behind me.
“Yes?” I answer with my voice shaky, not bothering to turn around again.
“We’re working, not drinking,” he chastises me for the eighty-seventh time.
“I didn’t say I was sharing,” I mutter. “The cork is stuck.”
Eli reaches out to where Gabe still holds it over his shoulder and pushes the little arms down with no problem. Fantastic.
“Well, I loosened it for you,” I say like a petulant child as I walk around the island and snatch the bottle from his hand. “Dinner will be ready in about five minutes.”
And then I drink straight from the bottle. No glass.
“Not sure it’s a good idea to get hammered when someone wants you dead either,” Gabe points out.
“I think if there ever was a time to get hammered, it’s when you learn someone wants you dead and you find your house swarming with G.I. Joes.”
“Fair enough,” Manny says as the guys move about my kitchen, taking over the dinner prep, pulling plates from the cupboards. Someone even hands me a glass to go with my wine.