Chapter 27
On Monday, five days after originally planned, Gallant finally had a letter.
He parked in Aubrey’s cul-de-sac, then glanced at the envelope on the passenger seat. Delivering it would change things. Alter
his trajectory with Aubrey in a way he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for. And yet, when he’d copied down the lines last
night, he’d glimpsed, for the first time, something more than just gooey declarations. He’d sensed something deeper within
the words, some tangible force he’d ultimately decided, almost against his will, was bravery.
Nick Thacker had balls. Not just the run-of-the mill kind, but a kamikaze sort of courage that made Gallant wonder whether
the guy was one egg short of a dozen, or the type who would keep everyone around him alive in the zombie apocalypse.
Whatever the case, Gallant plucked up the letter and turned it over, wondering whether this whole thing had gone too far.
Not that he didn’t want Aubrey. He did. Badly. She embodied everything he craved in a woman, at least when she wasn’t playing
small-town-country-mouse at that volunteer gig he now regretted suggesting.
Yes, he wanted her sleek elegance on his arm once he moved to New York. Her trim body warming his bed at night. He wanted to cook for her and find out what she tasted like and post so many pictures on social media that everyone in a hundred-mile radius would envy them both.
But he also understood that the letter in his hand had come to him from the far side of a divide. The gulf between the man
he knew himself to be and the man who had written these words stretched so wide as to be uncrossable. Not that he wasn’t courageous.
He was. He would just never be so unrestrained about it. And if Aubrey wanted that, truly wanted that, maybe . . . Maybe . . .
He slapped the envelope against the steering wheel, then shut down his half-baked line of thinking and tossed it into a mental
trash compactor. Stupid. He’d put in too much effort to turn back now, especially since he’d gotten within spitting distance
of closing the deal.
With that sorted, he climbed out and made his way to Aubrey’s door. She answered before he even got to the second knock, like
she’d been waiting.
“Hi,” she said. She’d traced her eyes with some kind of catlike liner. Between that, the purple dress, and the sleek shock
of red hair, she looked like a sex goddess. One he wanted to keep up all night.
“Hi.” He bit back the instinctive compliment filling his mouth. What would Nick have said? “I . . . missed you. My week was
entirely boring without you in it.”
Her expression melted into one of delight. “I missed you, too. I’m so glad we’re finally getting to do Chicago.”
She leaned in for a kiss, surprising him with a bit of tongue. When she pulled back, Gallant smiled. Yes, he could absolutely
do this. He could practically taste her eagerness for the next step. With or without the letter.
“Let me just get my coat.” She bustled away, her heels clacking on the parquet.
He took the opportunity to step inside and set the envelope on the front hall table. Aubrey returned wearing that elegant,
knee-length designer thing he loved so much, then arched an eyebrow at his offering.
“For later.” He still had no desire to watch her read Nick’s words right in front of him. Especially not these words. Let that emotional intensity happen in private.
He offered his arm, then opened the car door for her once outside. The whole time, she watched him with a new focus, one he
recognized.
It was the look of a buyer before making an offer.
His blood warmed a degree. He hadn’t seen her in over a week, but clearly, something had happened. Some new connection had
come together in her mind, and she’d decided—whether consciously or subconsciously—to give him a chance. A real one.
He slid into the driver’s seat and gave her his best rakish grin. Already, he couldn’t believe he’d ever wavered. Those wide,
green cat eyes, that seductive pout, that dress—this woman was perfect for him. “Ready? It’s a long drive.”
She slipped her hand into his and squeezed. “I’m ready.”
Aubrey gazed out the window as the Tesla slid between the regal towers of downtown Chicago. Neon reflections streamed across
the hood.
The drive had passed pleasantly, and she glanced over to find Gallant smiling, in a way that bore no resemblance to Nick’s
secret way. It was . . . pleasant. Genial.
She smiled back. He still seemed different in person than in his letters, but she’d decided to simply accept that.
What mattered was that those words were in there, simmering.
She focused on them now, tying herself to the secrets behind the smile.
After all, she’d traded away something that had no future for something that did, and she needed to remember the
bargain had been worth it.
Gallant raised her hand and kissed it. “What’s that look for?”
“Nothing. I’m just glad to be here. With you.”
He grinned, administering a dose of sparkling white teeth and vivid eyes. “I’m glad to be here with you.”
She blushed. Yes, this was good. Normal. Whatever she had with Nick—no, what she’d had with Nick—whatever insanity inflamed her whenever he came close, would never leave Henderson. But she would.
At the restaurant, Aubrey gorged on oysters and drank more than she had intended. Probably because Gallant looked more luscious
with every additional infusion of chardonnay into her bloodstream—and he’d started off the evening as a solid nine. By the
time they canoodled over a shared slice of tiramisu, she could almost believe blue eyes trumped black ones, and that she preferred
expensive cologne to the raw burn of a smoking fire.
Gallant leaned in to lick a dollop of custard from her lips. The heat of his mouth zinged into her and pulled her belly tight.
“Don’t make me wait so long to see you again,” she said. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me.”
He smiled and played with her fingers over the linen-draped table. “Impossible. I thought of you the whole time. I just barely
had a breath away from work.”
“Well, I can’t blame you for that.”
“Which is something I appreciate. All the other women I’ve dated have hated how much I work. Not you, though.”
“No, not me.” She gave him a demure smile.
After the meal, they sashayed out of the restaurant with their arms linked. Aubrey leaned into him, though she hadn’t drunk so much as to need the support. She just wanted to fill herself with his steady warmth.
They headed for the Magnificent Mile, where they strolled beneath the holiday lights, cocooned in their own laughing, wine-bright
bubble. A few sparkling snowflakes drifted from an infinite sky.
“So.” Gallant wrapped an arm around her shoulders and anchored her to his side. “Tell me about your week. What did you do,
besides miss me?”
She giggled. “Let’s see . . . I did a boatload of Pilates. Worked on that project. Oh, and I went and spoke to the high school
math club. Nick’s daughter invited me. That was nice.” No need to mention the weirdness that had followed.
Gallant stiffened. “Nick Thacker’s daughter?”
“Yeah. Paige. Have you met her?”
A crinkle formed between his brows. “I’ve passed her on the street a couple times, I think. How do you even know her?”
The alarm in his tone slowed her steps. “From Hinkley Farm. Megan paired us up. It’s been surprisingly nice, getting to know
her. She’s a sweet kid. Smart, too.”
“Huh.” He peered down, as if waiting for more.
A frown pulled at her brows, but she had nothing else to tell. Over the weekend, she and Paige had finished up the floats
as if the previous day’s conversation had never happened. Paige had been cheery, if a few degrees subdued, and had babbled
on about math and college admissions and something about newly discovered marshmallow planets.
Which Aubrey had thoroughly enjoyed. Even if Nick’s absence had throbbed in her consciousness like a splinter left to fester.
“You haven’t talked to Nick, though, have you?”
Aubrey disengaged from Gallant’s embrace. He’d stopped walking, now. Something in him had gone tense.
“I have,” she said slowly. What was he getting at? He certainly wasn’t asking whether she’d let Nick push her up against a
wall and bite her throat. Which, for some reason, she harbored only mild guilt over. She and Gallant hadn’t had the exclusivity
conversation yet, and at least she’d tried, with Nick. At least she knew. “A few times.”
Gallant exhaled through his nose. “And? What’d he say?”
She searched his face. “About?”
“I don’t know. How’s he doing? What’s he, ah, doing for work these days?”
She shook her head. His questions seemed to be driving at something, but she couldn’t for the life of her discern what. “He
works at the mill. Which you already know.”
He gazed at her for a few tense beats. “That’s all?”
“Yeah. What’re you asking me, exactly?”
He expelled another breath and wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head against his shoulder. “Nothing. Sorry. I just
know you two have history. And I don’t want this thing between us to end before it’s begun.”
Ah. That made sense. She steadied herself with the cool musk of his cologne. “You have nothing to worry about.”
As Nick had made so abundantly clear the other night.
Nope, not going there. Aubrey shoved the memory into a mental vault and slammed the door. She wanted nothing more than for
this pleasant wine-buzz to propel her as far from that evening as she could get.
So she reached up, threaded her arms around Gallant’s neck, and kissed him.
He responded with alacrity, his hands finding the small of her back and pulling her in.
She sank into the sensation and, even if part of her busied itself keeping that rattling door shut, it was a good kiss.
By the time she eased back, her stomach fluttered and Gallant’s eyes had darkened to sapphires.
“Let’s not talk about Nick anymore,” she said.
“Good idea.”
They ambled along again, hand in hand. Eventually, they made their way back to the car, and Aubrey’s heart lifted when Gallant
opened her door. He was, without fail, a gentleman.
As he drove, she memorized the way the dash lights illuminated his features. Outside, pinpricks of white glitter fell, whizzing
from the darkness and disappearing again. Inside, the climate control blew hot air, the seat heater glowing against her legs.
Aubrey emptied her mind. Nothing existed beyond this sultry bubble but chips of diamond snow and endless black night.
Gallant looked over and met her eyes. Yes, she could get used to looking at that face.
She made a contented sound in her throat.
His lips parted, as if he’d read something in her expression. He reached over to lay a hand on her thigh. Her dress had ridden
up over her crossed legs, and his fingers grazed bare skin. The tips edged back and forth, the lightest brush of flesh on
flesh, but she recognized the question in it.
Her pulse launched into overdrive. She uncrossed her legs.
Gallant’s breathing hitched. He inched his fingers upward, tracing a blazing path along her inner thigh. He slipped beneath
her dress, up, up, up, until he brushed against the silk of her panties.
When she held his eyes, his finger ventured beneath the fabric. He quickly found her favorite spot, where he drew slow, exquisite
circles.
Her stomach exploded into a flurry of sensation. A broken exhale staggered past her lips. “While you’re driving?”
“I can multitask.” His tone was low, full of promise. He chased the comment with another swirl of his finger, one that made her clamp down on her bottom lip and lift her gaze toward the sunroof.
He increased his efforts. Aubrey whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut. Which soon proved to be a mistake. His fingers teased
a riotous heat to life, but the sensation made its way to her mind in disjointed flashes. There were dark eyes framed by dark
lashes. Teeth pressed against her neck. Fire, rushing into her nose, down her throat, incinerating her from the inside out.
Well, fuck.
“Wait,” she bit out, and reached down to still Gallant’s hand.
He raised an eyebrow and stopped.
The heat he’d kindled floated upward to settle in her cheeks. “That feels amazing, but . . . can we save this for next time,
maybe? I’m sorry, I just . . . I don’t know. My mind is all over the place tonight.”
“Of course. Whatever you want.” He cleared his throat, as if trying to strip the coarseness from his voice, and withdrew his
hand. He didn’t seem angry or disappointed. If anything, he looked heartened, which heartened her, in return.
She smiled. “Thanks.”
He chuckled. “Don’t thank me. Not until I get the chance to finish.”
“I just mean for understanding. And for not being a dick about it.”
“I told you I could be patient, and I can.”
Something in her chest loosened. Yes, she could definitely get used to this.
They lapsed into soft, casual conversation.
When they reached her house, he walked her to the door, where she kissed him with all the unquenched thirst still sloshing around inside her.
And if the contact conjured visions of shorn black hair and steel muscle encased in smooth skin, she tried not to dwell on it too much.
Gallant finally broke the kiss. “I’d better go. Before I get carried away.”
She ran a hand down the front of his jacket. “When will I see you again?”
He caught her fingers and kissed the tips. “Thursday evening? We could watch the parade? Drink mulled wine, then go back to
my place?”
Her lungs fluttered. His place. For date number five. Which would give her three whole days to exorcise her ghosts and get
her head on straight. “I can’t wait.”
He smiled and bade her good-night.
When he’d gone, she went inside and leaned against the door for long minutes, gathering her composure. Gallant’s letter gleamed
in the shadows of the hallway, and she plucked it off the table on her way to the living room. It had become tradition to
read by firelight, so she kindled a blaze and sat on the chesterfield, the envelope heavy in her hand. This letter weighed
more than the others.
She opened it.
As the flames leapt, her blood and breath stilled. She read the pages three times, first in incredulity, then with a relief
so profound her lungs ached.
Gallant . . . loved her. Not that he’d said so outright, at least not in so many words. No, somehow, he’d found better ones.
Each sentence arrowed into her, a cascade of keys slotting into a series of locks. The last of her hesitation cracked and
fell away. She wondered whether people could fall in love in a single moment.
Maybe. Probably. Because if so, she just had.