Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
CHARLOTTE
By the time I made it to the baseball field, the familiar mix of sunscreen, damp grass, and cheap coffee clung to the morning air.
The usual crowd of parents were already gathered for the game, settling in on the bleachers or in the more comfortable option of lawn chairs down the first- and third-base lines.
Austin was in the outfield, tossing warm-up grounders and bonding with his teammates. Although he wasn’t pitching today, he was slated to play center field.
I found Michelle first, waving both arms like she was trying to guide in a plane. “Over here,” she called, as if I couldn’t see the giant beach umbrella she’d set up like we were tailgating.
And then I spotted him.
Gabriel.
Good grief. He dismounted a motorcycle, and not just any motorcycle—a Harley.
A man had no right showing up to a kids’ baseball game looking like a walking midlife-crisis fantasy.
The black helmet came off, and he ran a hand through his hair, the movement lazy, unhurried, like he hadn’t single-handedly ruined the masculinity bar for every other man in a hundred-meter radius.
The worn leather jacket, the dark jeans, and the easy confidence were all far removed from the tailored suits and COO energy I was used to.
This version of him was rough around the edges and made my pulse skyrocket.
But my reaction wasn’t only because of the way he looked; it was because of everything that had happened between us, from the night in San Fran to last night with his daughter.
His tenderness had lodged itself somewhere under my skin, and seeing him now, all swagger and danger in daylight, was…disarming.
Michelle let out a low whistle beside me. “Well, well, look who’s here.”
“Please don’t make it weird.”
Her grin was contagious. “Hello. He’s straddling a Harley, and every married woman here is already working her wedding ring off. The single ones are practically filling out step-daddy applications.”
Of course they were. Besides the dark jeans, he wore a Henley and sunglasses. The faintest hint of a smile played at his lips as he walked toward us with purpose.
“By the way. You didn’t mention he was coming.”
“I wasn’t sure he’d make it,” I casually offered. After last night, I hadn’t known if he’d be wrapped up with Samantha over the weekend. “Austin invited him, remember?”
“God, he just keeps getting hotter. Is there some sort of thing you’re feeding him in the office? Slipping into his coffee.”
“Please stop talking.”
Too late. She was already on the move, waving like they were long-lost friends. “Gabriel. How nice to see you again.”
I closed my eyes briefly. “Please be cool.”
“Is that a plea for me or for you?”
Fair question.
On the other side of the bleachers, I caught sight of Steve, who bounced his gaze between us and Gabriel. Nothing like your ex glaring at your…whatever Gabriel was…while your sister practically rolled out a welcome mat.
“Hey,” Gabriel greeted once he reached us. His voice was low enough to make me forget the proper form of reciprocation.
“Hey,” I finally managed, hoping my smile appeared normal and not like I’d been hit by a truckful of feelings. “How’s Samantha doing?”
His entire face softened at the mention of her. “She’s good. I dropped her off with her mom this morning. She’s threatening to take me to court again.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Ah. Been there. Hopefully it’s an empty threat?”
“Doubtful since I’m going to push for more time. But things went well last night between us. It’s difficult. Having the grown-up conversations with our kids.”
“Really hard. But important.”
“It was. Probably one of the best nights with her I can remember in recent months. Thank you again for being there for her. It really meant a lot to both of us.”
Before I could respond, Austin jogged up, glove still in hand. “So glad you made it, Gabe.” His grin was huge as he shook Gabriel’s extended hand. “I’m probably not pitching today unless they need a relief pitcher, but I’ll be playing center field.”
“I’m excited to watch you play in any position,” Gabe responded. “I’ve missed the smell and excitement of the game.”
Something about the sincerity hit me square in the chest. Steve, who’d decided to join the party, stopped a foot away, his smile tight.
“Hey, son, how are you feeling about today?” he asked.
“Really good.” Austin appeared unsure about the dynamic, which spurred me to make introductions. But Gabriel beat me to it.
“Hi, I’m Gabriel. Nice to meet you.” He held out a hand toward Steve.
Steve shook it, but I could practically hear the teeth grinding. “Steve, Austin’s dad.”
Michelle jumped in with, “Gabriel, my mom said to say hello, sorry she missed you today, but perhaps dinner next week.” She was a real diplomat, if diplomats had zero filter.
“Please tell her I look forward to eating more of her cooking.” There was the faintest flicker of amusement in Gabe’s voice.
Steve’s eyes narrowed.
Austin, thankfully oblivious to the tension, said his goodbyes. “Thank you all for coming today. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” we all answered in chorus.
I pressed a hand to my temple. “I’m grabbing coffee. Want one, Gabe?”
“I’d love one, thank you.” He easily lowered himself to the grass beside Michelle.
I escaped toward the concession stand, only to hear footsteps fall in beside me.
“Who’s the guy?” Steve’s manner was deceptively light, but I knew that tone, the one he used when he didn’t like something.
“You met him. His name’s Gabriel.”
“And who is he to you?”
I stopped abruptly and turned toward him, my irritation snapping into focus. “Does it matter?” One, it was none of his business, and two, the last thing I needed was for Steve to find out we worked together and say something to the wrong person.
He blinked, taken aback by my retort, flexing his jaw. “Just making conversation.”
“Right.”
Behind us, Michelle’s laugh rang out. I didn’t need to turn around to know exactly who she was laughing with.
“You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.” I’d always take the high road for the sake of our son but was relieved when he declined.
“Thanks, but I’ll watch from the bleachers.”
When I returned with three coffees, Gabriel stood up to take two of the cups and pass one to Michelle.
His fingers brushed mine as he did, just a glancing touch, but it sent a current straight up my arm. The contact lasted barely a second, yet it lingered, a low hum beneath my skin. And judging by the slight pause in his breath, he’d felt it too.
“Thanks.” His gaze stayed locked on mine as he asked quietly, “Did me being here cause any issues with your ex?”
I blew on my coffee, trying for casual when everything inside me was anything but. “No,” I replied, too brightly. “He’s super happy for me.”
Gabriel’s mouth curved up into a smile. “That right?”
“He especially liked how every woman stared at you getting off your Harley,” I added, unable to stop myself.
His grin deepened, lazy and infuriatingly confident. “There’s only one woman I was hoping to impress, though.”
The air between us thickened, and energy crackled through me, impossible to ignore. I forced a sip of coffee, though it tasted bitter. “Lucky girl,” I managed, aiming for flippant but landing somewhere closer to breathless.
He tilted his head slightly, his eyes flicking to my lips and back again. “I’d say I’m the luckier one.”
There was no doubt he meant it. There wasn’t a hint of teasing in his tone, only quiet certainty, the kind that made my chest tighten and my brain short-circuit.
Somewhere to our left, Michelle let out an exaggerated sigh. “If you two don’t stop making heart eyes, you’ll miss the first pitch.”
The spell broke. I blinked and stepped away at the news the game was about to start. “Guess we better behave,” I murmured.
Gabriel’s smile was slow and deliberate. “At least until later.”
Later that night, I was debating whether I wanted to cook when the Ring camera chirped.
Gabriel.
Standing on my porch with another box in hand. He’d left shortly after the baseball game had ended, taking only enough time to congratulate Austin on the win. He hadn’t mentioned any potential plans tonight.
“Hi,” he greeted when I opened the door.
“Hi. Another delivery?”
“It is. Michelle let it slip, totally on purpose, that she was taking Austin out to a movie tonight and he was then sleeping over. She might have also mentioned you love tacos.”
Sisters. They really were the best.
I stepped aside to let him in. “You made tacos?”
“Nope. Told you. I’m a one-dish wonder. This would be takeout.”
“Smells great.”
“It does. So, I have a radical subject change.”
“Like what?”
Without missing a beat, he lifted me up onto the counter, and his lips grazed the line of my throat.
“Like how much I’ve been looking forward to a redo of last night. Now where were we?”
“I believe,” I whispered breathlessly, “we were at the part where the food gets cold, and we christen this countertop.”
He kissed me with a quiet intensity stealing the air from my lungs.
It wasn’t rushed this time. It was deliberate, searching, like he wanted to savor it.
His hand came up to cradle my jaw, his thumb brushing my cheek in a touch so tender it undid me.
My pulse tripped, and every cautionary flag I’d put up quickly evaporated.
All I could think about was the way he tasted, the way his breath hitched when I leaned in, the way his body fit between my legs when I hooked them around his waist. Logic didn’t stand a chance.
For once, I stopped trying to protect myself. I just felt. And God, it felt good.
He lifted me up into his arms easily, the motion stealing my breath. It was familiar, but this time there was no desperation. His steps were unhurried, each one deliberate, his lips finding mine between whispers and quiet laughter as he carried me upstairs.
When he set me down in my room, the air seemed to still around us. He closed the doors, the click of the latch sounding louder than it should have. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve anticipated having all night with you?” His voice was rough with something beyond mere desire.
My heartbeat stuttered. “Given how our luck’s been, you’re a man gambling with time.”
His mouth curved, but there was a gravity in his eyes that held me still. “Maybe. But I’m done rushing what matters.”
He stepped closer, his fingertips drifting down my arm in a slow, deliberate line making it difficult to breathe.
And as he leaned in, I realized this wasn’t merely about want anymore. It was about trust.
Sinking to my knees in front of him, I reached for the fly of his jeans.
“What are you doing?”
I enjoyed having taken him off guard. “Something I have plenty of time to do and enjoy.”
“Fuck, Charlotte, you don’t have to.”
“I know. But I want to.”