29. Chapter 29
Chapter 29
Abby
“There’s no way this stuff is free.” I crossed my arms, resisting the urge to bite my nails.
We were in a self-serve storage lot only a few blocks from my new apartment. It wasn’t the worst neighborhood in Seattle—I hoped—but it wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where people bought furniture like this, much less gave it away for free.
And it was just sitting there, stacked neatly outside the first unit. How long was it here?
I was staring at a powder blue couch. Beautiful, clean, plump, and wrapped in plastic. Beside it there was a queen size mattress, still in the packaging, an ornate wooden bed frame, and a coffee table with roses carved into the edges.
The afternoon was already gone, giving way to a gloomy, grey sunset. Soon it would be dark, and worse, raining. After using my free time to help Mister Kim, I was resigned to sleep on the floor tonight. It wasn’t worth chasing down more free furniture leads and though I felt for his struggle, I couldn’t afford to be swindled by another seller like him.
That was when Gage pulled in through the gate of a nearby storage place and claimed he found something I missed.
I was highly suspicious.
“It’s free,” he assured me.
“And where did you say you found this? I’ve checked six different social media sites all week and haven’t found couches that look even remotely new. This is new. Like new new.”
“Do you like it?”
I carefully caressed the couch. It was like a big, fluffy piece of cotton candy. “I love it,” I whispered. Even when I was married, most of the furniture we owned was used. I couldn’t justify buying new things.
Gage smiled, brief and subtle, like he was trying to downplay the reaction. “Then lets load up before it starts to rain.”
“But—but—Gage, are we stealing? ” I hissed, glancing nervously around the empty concrete lot.
“It’s free ,” he punctuated the words with a growl. “Let’s start with the couch. I might have to make two trips.”
He was avoiding my question, as he usually did when he didn’t want to give me the real answer. I crossed my arms, blocking the bed of his truck as he tried to open the gate.
“This is weird.”
“That you’re standing in my way instead of helping? Yeah, it is. I thought you wanted furniture.” He took me by the shoulders and moved me aside.
“Why won’t you tell me where this stuff came from? Did someone else steal it? Am I going to get arrested for sleeping on a stolen mattress?”
Gage actually chuckled, the sound sending a little jolt of glee to my anomalous heart problem. Ping. “My buddy is moving and doesn’t need it anymore.”
I scrunched my nose up. There was no way his imaginary buddy bought a couch in that shade of blue.
My favorite shade of blue.
Gage was lying. I wasn’t good at reading people when they lied—as evidenced by my cheating, thieving ex-husband—but I was good at reading Gage when he lied.
It was no secret that Gage had money. Several thousand dollars for new furniture was pocket change to him.
The cost wasn’t what was getting to me. Why would he do this? After giving me the money for the apartment, he was paying to furnish it. And pretending that he wasn’t.
I swiped under my eyes, rubbing absently at my chest where my psycho heart palpitations were dancing around again. They were worse when I was with him. Now that I thought about it, they only happened when Gage was nearby.
I guess working with him would give anyone a slight case of tachycardia.
“You ready?” He jerked his head toward the truck, gesturing for me to get in.
Another ping in my chest. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
“That should do it,” Gage said, flipping the panel shut on my shiny new security system.
I was stretched out on my couch—also shiny and new—in my new apartment—not at all shiny or new but at least they painted the walls—and I was content. There were empty takeout containers on my new kitchen counter, and everything was falling perfectly into place.
Plus, it would now take a SWAT team to break in here, and even then Gage would probably intercept them the moment the alarm went off.
“Let’s see your phone.”
He dropped onto the cushion beside me and held the phone up. “Here’s the app for the security system. You can activate the system from your phone or the panel. This,” he pointed to a big red bell icon, “is the panic button. You press that and it’ll alert the whole team.
“You can also use the app to check the door camera. Someone comes to your door, this will send you live footage.”
“Do I need that much security?”
“Yes,” he said gruffly. “I also did this.” He clicked over to my Lock Screen, pulling up the keypad. “Swipe your fingers across the bottom three numbers.”
I did as he said. Gage’s name and number popped up onto the screen. He lifted his phone out of his pocket to show me it was ringing.
“You have an emergency, just swipe the screen. You don’t even need to unlock it.”
“I’ll have to be careful.” I laughed nervously. “I might accidentally call you while I’m mindlessly scrolling.”
“Call me whenever you want.”
I couldn’t get myself to look him in the eye. “So, is this another perk of the job?”
“Perk of being pack.” But it wasn’t what he meant and somehow I knew that.
I tapped my fingers on the back of my phone. “You put this whole system together for me?”
“Of course.”
My thumb found a seam on the couch. “And you found this furniture for me, too?”
“I did.”
“Gage?” I leaned toward him, the pillowy cushion shifting me until our thighs touched. “Why can’t we be friends?”
His gaze met mine, soft but intense. “You know why.”
My hand came to rest on his chest. He didn’t force it off or move away. I let it climb higher, coming around the side of his neck and resting it there.
“I feel it too,” I whispered.
My head tilted up, chin lifting, and I knew I was insane for doing this. This was already so good, and I had everything to lose but I couldn’t deny it any longer. I couldn’t keep pretending that this wasn’t more.
I wasn’t crazy because he met me halfway, his lips sealing to mine. I was like a marionette whose strings were suddenly cut. My entire body collapsed into him, the tension I’d been carrying for months melting away.
Before today, a kiss was just a kiss. A simple way to show affection. A necessary step to all the other, better things that came after kissing.
It occurred to me that this was my first real, proper kiss.
Because how did you go back to your regular life after a kiss like that? That incessant pinging in my chest was moving so fast it was like a vibration, hummingbird wings beating frantically with every soft swipe of Gage’s tongue.
Then the careful, testing nature of the kiss faded, and in its place was an urgency like I’d never known. His hands were on my face, then my shoulders, then digging into my hips. The weight of his body came over me, a little awkwardly because of our angle on the couch. I squirmed down, trying to get beneath him without breaking contact with his lips.
With a little maneuvering his hips found mine and I didn’t even try to hold in my moan. Sweat beaded on my skin, my entire body washed with feverish warmth. It was almost uncomfortable, the heat frying all coherent parts of my mind that weren’t Gage.
Gage, Gage, Gage.
I craved him with every fiber of my being. Gage above me, his lips crushing mine, his body too heavy, pinning me in place. I could feel the dominance pouring off him, the need to take control, to own me.
I wanted him to own me.
But before I could comprehend what was happening, Gage disappeared. He was suddenly across the room, chest heaving, eyes wide with an expression that was far too close to horror for my self-esteem.
“I can’t—can’t—” He ran a hand through his hair so roughly that strands came loose and floated down around his head.
The color of his irises was like a neon sign, a beacon beckoning me to him. Pride kept me from going, from reaching out to him and begging him to come back to me. I felt so cold with him over there, the little pinging murmur in my heart drooping with disappointment.
I wouldn’t chase him. I wouldn’t pursue him when he was clearly regretting the impulsive choice to let me kiss him.
Let me kiss him? No . He kissed me back.
He kissed me .
It didn’t matter because the door to my apartment slammed, and Gage was gone.
My phone buzzed a moment later, the screen lighting with a text message.
Arm the security system.
I hurried to the front window, pulling back the blinds to peer into the parking lot. There was Gage, sitting tense in the front seat of his truck, watching my apartment and waiting.
I punched the code into the security system until it beeped. Gage glanced at his phone, nodded, and peeled out of the parking lot.
I clutched at the hollow of my sternum, where desire and pain were having an uncomfortable disagreement. My body still burned with the afterglow of our kiss, aching for more. At the same time the stupid little palpitation was fluttering pitifully, making the rejection that much worse.
He didn’t want to kiss me. So, what? I was a good kisser. Someone would want to, if not Gage.
But he kissed me back.
Yeah, and then literally ran away from me.
He left me.
Those two thoughts ran circles in my head on repeat, leaving no room for anything else.
He kissed me.
He left me.