Chapter 21 #3
“You have no idea. I’ll tell you a little-known fact about me . . .” he started.
“I’m waiting.”
He pressed the Play arrow on the iPad. “I hesitate to reveal this because I don’t want it to get out.”
Giggling, I said, “I promise I won’t tell a soul.”
“I’m a sucker for a gadget. I buy everything. All the little As Seen on TV stuff. I have to fight the pull.”
I laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
He shrugged. “You’re looking at the evidence.”
“I would say so. I’ve never seen a car popcorn warmer.”
He chuckled. “For the record, it’s not just for popcorn. It’s a trucker’s lunch box.”
“Because popcorn would be too specific,” I teased.
Our eyes caught again, and this time they held for longer than I could stand. I turned back to the screen. “You have to watch
the beginning. Something big happens.”
“A sure sign that the writers knew what they were doing.”
We slipped into cozy companionship while watching. Gabe paused the video a few times to comment or analyze parts. There was
a benefit to your own drive-in setup.
When the final credit rolled, Gabe applauded. “Bravo.”
I smirked at him, feeling teased. “Did you like it?”
“I did. Diana Ross and Billy Dee Williams. Their chemistry can’t be denied. Did it feel the same for you?”
“It always does.”
“How often do you watch it?”
I held my truth for a moment. “Every year on New Year’s Day.”
Gabe said, “It’s romantic.” He said it like it was a surprise to him.
I chuckled. “That’s why I watch it.”
Gabe reached for his seat belt. “It’s time to give up our slot.” He put the car in reverse and pulled out. He returned the
projector, and we got back on the road.
Gabe had a classic R&B playlist that included music from Luther Vandross, Al Green, and every other artist who outshined the artists of this day.
It extended the mood the movie had ushered in.
I found myself thinking these were the moments in life, the sweet warm memories, that reminded us that perfect peace and harmony of souls were possible.
We were back at the cabin faster than I wanted to be. Gabe parked, and we sat there for a few minutes with his and my thoughts
filling up the space. Then Gabe twisted in his seat in my direction. “When I said, ‘It’s romantic,’ about the movie, what
I was saying was that I see you, Alex.” His words came out like they escaped without a plan.
“I’m romantic,” I said, letting my obvious truth sit there, bare and unblinking. My gaze held his for a long, steady moment.
“That movie is everything I am and want to be in a relationship between myself and a man.”
“I can see that,” he said, gripping the steering wheel. Now he was avoiding my eyes. He seemed to be wrestling, and I wondered
with what.
“Gabe.” I had nothing to say. I only called him so he’d meet my eyes, and he did.
He whispered, “You are in debt to me, Miss Chambers.” He leaned in my direction, placed a finger under my chin, and moved
closer still. He was inching toward me, and there was no reason for that other than he was going to kiss me.
For a beat, neither of us breathed. He reached for my hand, lovingly inspected it before bringing it to his lips. He kissed
my knuckles and then turned my palm inward and pressed his lips into the center. I couldn’t move. I only breathed because
that was what the body did.
Gabe ran his hand up my arm to my shoulder.
Again, our eyes were locked, locked so that I didn’t see that he had closed more space between us until his lips grazed my cheek.
I held a tiny gasp but turned an inch, maybe two, in his direction, just in time for our lips to meet.
Gabe had more than two hands. The press of him was all over me, and when he deepened the kiss, I couldn’t feel anything but intensity and hunger and passion and me slipping away.
When we finally eased apart, he stayed close enough for me to feel his heat. He murmured, “You’ve owed me that since you walked
into my bookstore ten years ago.”
“Ten years ago?” I was breathless and embarrassed that I couldn’t find my voice. “You should have asked me. I would have paid.”
Gabe laughed and then groaned like he was inexplicably bothered about having to open the door. After gathering the shopping
bags from the restaurant, we walked to the door, slowly, like two teenagers who didn’t want to separate.
He pressed the keypad and pushed the door open. “You have an event tomorrow, and I’m a gentleman. I will leave you for the night.” I accepted my bag of goodies. Our fingers touched, and unregulated electric
power passed between us. I pretended I didn’t feel what we’d just exchanged—heat, chemistry, passion—but I saw my future.
If it was with this man, it would be brighter than the moon that hung over the great oak behind him.
Not sure where to look, I focused on the bag before I forced myself to meet Gabe’s eyes again. “Thank you for everything.”
Those dimples I worshiped stretched down his cheeks. “Good night, Alex.”
Once inside the door, I fell against it. Finally, I’d lived one of the scenes I wrote about, and I realized the real thing
was more beautiful than anything I could create.