Chapter 18
Gallant stared at his computer monitors and sighed. Why had he ever thought this was a good idea?
He knocked back half his bourbon and reread Nick Thacker’s latest letter, hoping the alcohol might unveil some brilliant strategy
within. But no. The words were pure sap.
Then again, the first two letters had undoubtedly gotten him somewhere, and Aubrey did operate in a way Gallant wasn’t used to. Wasn’t that why she equaled the other half of his ideal power couple, anyway? She
was different. She had class. Style. Not to mention a tight body he wanted to explore by the handful.
He just wasn’t about to write freaking poetry about it. But apparently, that was what she liked, so Gallant sighed again and
dutifully whisked a sheet of paper from his drawer.
A good salesman adopted his strategy to suit.
He set to copying Nick’s words, making sure to substitute “Dear Aubrey” for “Dear Jane.” A few days ago, Nick had emailed
asking about “John’s” most recent date, so Gallant had written back about drinking wine with “Jane” on the couch. Now that
impromptu evening had made it onto the page—only injected with a whole hell of a lot more meaning than Gallant had thought
to give it.
That confused him, too. Nick Thacker had always seemed like such a brick wall of a person—stone-faced, cold, not much going on behind the eyes.
Turned out, the guy had more feelings than a teenage girl crying into a pint of ice cream.
And clearly, at some point in his life, he’d fallen in love up to his eyeballs, because there was no way he’d pulled all this from thin air.
Gallant almost felt sorry for the guy, then paused on a particularly saccharine sentence. Or not.
Whatever. He’d close this deal with Aubrey, then back off with the letters, train her not to expect this mushy fluff all the
time.
Soon, she’d realize he had so much more going for him than sugary words. Once they spent more time together, she’d fall for
his long list of positive attributes, and the letters would cease to matter.
With any luck, it would all start tonight.
Aubrey had insisted on walking to Gallant’s. He’d sounded dubious on the phone, fretting over her safety in a way that charmed
her, but she’d insisted, saying it was only half a mile and that the fresh air would do her good.
In actuality, she’d needed a buffer between her house and his. At home, when she cozied by the fire and meandered through
rooms that gleamed with the patina of memories, she couldn’t help thinking of Nick. What he’d said in his truck kept doubling
back on her, often without warning.
If I could’ve sawed myself in two and given each of you half, I would have.
Aubrey’s stomach wobbled as she pulled her collar up against the cold. Clearly, a single sentence from that man could still
bring her to her knees, no matter what she’d told herself.
She just wished she hadn’t responded by telling him about Gallant, but in that moment, it had simply bristled out of her, a bizarre form of self-defense.
Nick’s earnestness had invoked a bone-deep, what-if yearning, and she’d stabbed at it with the first weapon available.
Mostly because the alternative would have involved flinging
herself into his arms.
Aubrey shuddered. God, she’d come perilously close to doing exactly that. For a moment, when he’d spoken to her that way—so
sincere, so familiar—her resolve had turned to vapor. But she had to keep her distance. Nick would never leave his daughter, and rightfully so. Meanwhile, she had a job to regain. Kidney
donations to arrange, lives to save. Once Osos reinstated her, she wouldn’t see this town again. Even if she’d wanted to stay
in Henderson, the company had a strict on-site-only policy, no remote work allowed. Not to mention she was dating someone
else.
No, she and Nick had already followed their road to its terminus. Nothing lay at the end but the smoking ruins of heartbreak.
Thankfully, the fresh, cold air cleared Aubrey’s head. By the time she reached Gallant’s doorstep, her heart thumped out an
eager rhythm—partly because of the aroma wafting on the chilly air, and partly because she suspected a third letter waited
inside.
She needed to read it. If for no other reason, because each new page recalibrated another fragment of her, reaffixing her
inner workings to a new compass point.
When she knocked, Gallant swung open the door, two glasses of white wine already in hand.
Aubrey anchored herself to the moment. To him. “Hi.”
“Hey, beautiful.” He welcomed her into the polished-concrete entryway and kissed her cheek before handing off a glass. “You
look stunning.”
She flushed and hung up her coat. She’d taken extra care in selecting clingy black pants and a peplum blouse with a plunging neckline. Funny how, back when Gallant had complimented her on nothing but her looks, she’d found the comments so disingenuous.
Now she relished the spark in his cobalt eyes. Now she knew how much more lay behind it.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she said.
“Good to know.” He winked. “Now come see what I’ve been working on all evening.”
He led her to the dining room, where he’d set the table with spotless linen and softly glowing taper candles. The rich scent
of roasting poultry warmed the air. And there, propped against her porcelain plate, was a white envelope.
Aubrey’s heart catapulted into her throat. She set her wine aside as Gallant pulled out her chair for her. “Can I read this?”
she asked, all in one breath.
He hesitated. “Now?”
“Yes.”
“Um. Sure. Just . . . while I get the food, maybe? It might be kinda strange if I was standing right here.”
She gave a smile that hopefully broadcast her encouragement. Gallant hadn’t shared his softer side in person, yet. “Of course.
Whatever you need.”
“Great. I’ll be right back.” He squeezed her shoulder and headed for the kitchen.
The moment dishes clanked in the other room, she tore into the envelope, her pulse roaring like a redlined engine.
Dear Aubrey,
Once every few years, life conspires to create a moment. You know, the unforgettable kind, one that sinks into you and makes
a home for itself. The kind you slip into your pocket, to be taken out and examined later, like a bright, found penny, or
a uniquely flawless stone.
Life gifted me with one of those moments just the other day.
You looked so breathtaking, sitting across from me, your hair falling so perfectly, as if it knew how best to frame your face.
For a heartbeat, I lost myself in the shape of your mouth, in the way your bottom lip chased each inhale. And yet you tempted
me with so much more than beauty, just then. You looked like tranquility to me. Like peace.
The truth is, I sometimes feel like a storm found its way into me years ago and never found its way out again. I hide it well,
I think, but it’s noisy in here. Lightning flashes. Thunder booms. Half the time, I’m stumbling, and the other half, I can’t
tell up from down. Then, just when I glimpse a path through the darkness, the wind snatches me back and crushes the breath
from my chest.
But the other night, all of that faded. There was you. Your face, your hair, the slope of your mouth, your laugh, the way
your eyes crinkled when I said something that amused you. Then came that singular instant in which your gaze locked onto mine
and neither of us needed anything else, only to be there with each other, content, connected, cocooned from the world. Immersed,
however briefly, in what sharing space together added up to.
And, for an incomparable moment, I could breathe again.
Gallant
Aubrey set down the paper, her lungs spasming. Her composure had melted somewhere in the second paragraph.
She could scarcely believe he felt this way about her so soon, but it was everything she needed and feared she’d never find
again. She wanted passion. Ardor. Someone who could love her with abandon, the way she loved mathematics. Someone she could
love back the same way.
And a letter like this . . . it couldn’t be faked.
She tucked the envelope under her plate. Her hands felt empty without it. She had just touched shaking fingers to her wineglass
when Gallant appeared carrying a roasted chicken.
Aubrey’s breath caught. She hadn’t looked at him yet, not truly. Now she did.
He wore an earth-colored cashmere sweater and jeans, no shoes. His chestnut hair was uncharacteristically mussed, but it suited
the occasion, proof that his guard was coming down. That, coupled with the Technicolor eyes and the letter that had just shaken
her world on its foundation, made her throat go dry.
“How did I never know you could write like this?” she said.
Gallant blinked, then set down the food and reached to reposition his perfectly positioned silverware. “I don’t know. Probably
because I don’t let a lot of people in.”
She swallowed. It was just like he’d said in the letter. “So all that posturing in high school . . . The fights you got in?
The girls you chased? All those times you said, ‘Hey, MacLean, looking good’? That was . . . what, a cover-up?”
His lips ticked downward. “A cover-up?”
“Yeah. All that . . . bravado.”
He squared his shoulders, considering. “I was trying to get your attention, I think. Everyone’s attention. Because I didn’t know any better. I was just a kid. But . . . I don’t have to do that now. At least, I don’t want
to. Especially not with you.”
Heat cascaded through her. God, he looked beautiful, lit by candleglow. How had she missed it before?
He crooked a half-smile. “Any other questions?”
“No.” Her voice quavered. “Except . . . Will you sit down with me?”
His smile spread. “Let me get the Brussels sprouts. Then I’m all yours.”
They ate dinner leisurely, Gallant refilling her wineglass at every opportunity, Aubrey making rapturous sounds with each
bite. Given the intensity of the letter, she was happy to keep the conversation light, and didn’t have to feign her enthusiasm