Chapter 18

It’s creeping up on midnight when I finally pull my scooter in the gate at home. I do a look-around to make sure Russell isn’t lurking around, but it seems clear. Until I get to my doorstep.

There’s a brown grocery bag propped against the door. My first thought is a bomb because I watch too much news on the evening shift at the diner. Then my more reasonable brain considers that a bomb is highly unlikely. I mean, aren’t those supposed to come in boxes or something?

Still, I kick it with my toe while holding my face as far away from any explosive contents the bag may hold.

It crinkles.

Curious, I look inside. And my heart stops. Literally, jerks to a stop at the overwhelming kindness.

I pick up the bag, unlocking the door and hurrying inside. After locking the door behind me, I spread out Gabe’s sweet gift on the kitchen table. There’s an industrial-size bag of lavender Epsom salts, two masks, one for my hair and one for my face, a candle, a bag of chocolates, and a chilled bottle of wine.

It’s late, and I should fall into bed. But with all this bounty, I can’t help but want to self-indulge. Just this once.

So I splurge, doing as Gabe asked and taking a pampering hot bath before bed. It’s luxurious, decadent, and just what I needed. And as I slide into my cotton sheets with moisturized skin, dreams of tomorrow pop into my head like bubbly possibilities.

I could get used to this.

I should countmy lucky stars that I actually do have some nice clothes. Once upon a time, I used to spend hours thrifting to find deals on clothes that were cute and affordable. After Reggie died and things became much more desperate, clothing had been the least of my concerns, but tonight, I’m glad to have kept some of the nicer things I got on clearance at the Roseboro Thrift.

“Vash, what do you think? Black?”

I hold up the black dress with a long, diagonally-cut skirt, but Vash lifts her chin, clearly unimpressed.

“Okay... green? I could add a scarf, maybe?”

Meow.

“Critic. Okay, what about the red one?”

She tosses her head, not amused and stalking off toward the kitchen in that way only Vash can. “Fine... I’ll do it my damn self!” I call after her swishing tail. “It’s my first official date in I don’t know how long. I’m not going to trust the opinion of a creature that hacks up hairballs anyway!”

I do end up deciding on the red piece, mainly because I’ve got the best heels to go with it. They were a gift from Mia, of all people, from way back in her crazy single college days when she wanted a wing girl to go out clubbing with, and as I pull on the black open-toed strappy heels, I twirl, sending her another round of thanks.

“God, they feel good,” I murmur as I turn this way and that, wishing I had a full-length mirror to see how my legs look. Yeah, I’m just in my best lingerie and heels, so I probably look more like a stripper than anything else... but I feel sexy as fuck doing it. “Been too long since I felt like this.”

Getting into the dress is a lot easier than it looks. There’s no zipper but instead a swath of stretchy fabric that I sort of wiggle and shimmy into until it hits my hips and then tumbles to my knees.

Pulling my hair back, I imagine myself, and finally can’t resist going to the bathroom and doing my best to see what I can in the tiny mirror above my sink. I can’t see much, but what I can see—

“Vash!”

Meow?

“Gonna need you on 9-1-1 duty when Gabe gets here, babe. Because he might just have a heart attack once I get my makeup done.”

I start on my eyes. I have dark eyes, so going too smoky on the eyeshadow and liner just makes me look like a raccoon, but I do want to look sultry and sexy. Thankfully, this red dress gives me just what I need, and a swipe of black eyeliner tilted up at the end brightens me up a little bit.

My lips I go deep red, lush and shiny, wanting to draw Gabe’s attention to everything I’m saying all night. If he’s thinking about what else my lips could be doing... well, that’s a bonus as well.

I know I’ve for damn sure been thinking about what his lips could do to me.

Finally, I’m done, and I do my best with my hair, pulling the chocolate curls over one shoulder to trail down over my breast.

God, I feel beautiful.

There’s a knock at my door, and I hurry out, doing my best to run in heels. “Who is it?” I ask. I assume it’s Gabe, but after Russell’s boot-meets-door performance, I’m not chancing it.

“It’s me, Princess,” a muffled voice says through the door, and I can’t help but giggle as I unlock it for him.

“Gabe, I’m hardly a—” I start before all the words in my head dry up.

He’s amazing, in a dark black suit that highlights his dark hair and bright brown eyes, his smile dazzling in the dim light of my porch. Forget the date. We’re already wearing too many clothes.

Gabe looks me up and down. “You look stunning.”

“Uhm, thanks,” I stammer, not so smoothly, my heart hammering in my chest as he looks at me with undisguised attraction and appreciation. I’ve never, in my entire life, felt more desired than I do right now. “You look... wow.”

“Thank you,” Gabe says, half bowing, but I saw his pleased smirk. “So... shall we?”

I step back, waving him in. “Do you want to come in? I need to grab my purse.”

Gabe doesn’t move though. Well, he doesn’t come inside. But he leans against the side of the door frame. “If I come in there, we’re not leaving. Not with you looking like that, and not with what I see in your eyes right now. And I really want to take you out, treat you right, and show you off in that red dress. Grab your purse, Princess.”

His voice is deep and rumbly, nearly a growl of restraint that turns me on, makes me think his coming inside to rip this dress off me is date enough.

But my heart overrules my pussy.

I want to be wined and dined, romanced and wooed. And as frivolous as that sounds, it’s the truth. So I leave Gabe at the door, picking up my purse. It doesn’t match, but it’s the smallest I have and mostly black.

The candy red of his SUV nearly matches my dress, a happy coincidence, but in some small way, it makes me feel like I belong here as Gabe opens the passenger door to help me in like a gentleman. He climbs into the driver seat and begins backing out, asking me, “Did you decide where we’re going?”

“I have,” I reply but keep some surprises to myself. “Just turn where I tell you to.”

It doesn’t take long to get to our destination, a slightly worn-down Chinese restaurant in an older part of town. Gabe says nothing as we pull up in front of Golden Dragon, but he escorts me inside, holding out an elbow for me to take and then pulling out my chair for me as we sit down at one of the tables. Coming around, he sits in his own chair, the old green vinyl looking out of place considering the glitz and glam of our clothing.

“I guess you’d like to know why here?”

“I’m curious,” Gabe admits, glancing around but quickly re-centering on me. “But I trust your instincts. One, you know Roseboro better than I do. And two, you work in the food service industry, so I’m sure you know where all the good spots in town are, both five-star and hole-in-the-wall.”

He’s right, but I can appreciate that he trusts me because I know Golden Dragon isn’t exactly impressive-looking. “Good point,” I reply, wondering just how good my chopstick skills are after so long. “Although it’s not just the food quality that brings us here.”

Gabe hums, guessing my meaning. “History?”

I sigh, the memories already rolling as I look around the restaurant. “This was one of the few places that I could go with my aunt. Great food that won’t break the bank.”

Gabe checks the menu, his eyes scanning quickly up and down the four columns. “I’m betting you had the spicy chicken combo platter?”

The eight-dollar special... my throat catches as I remember the nights we’d come here. “Good guess. We used to share it. It’s nothing fancy, but it was always special when we came. I’ve had at least a dozen holiday meals here.”

“Then let’s celebrate it in the way it’s meant to be,” Gabe says. “Your aunt did what she could, and she did it with love. Whether it’s a five-star spread or a single Hostess cupcake... it’s the company that makes it special.”

I blink, looking at Gabe in amazement. The tears are gone, and what’s replaced them is a new feeling, honest pride. “How... how do you do that? How do you always know what to say? To make me smile. To make me not ashamed.”

“Why should you be ashamed?” Gabe asks, looking confused. “From everything you’ve told me, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished and of what you are still trying to do.”

“I’ve spent so much time zombieing my way through life,” I reply, trying to explain. I take a deep breath and hold it before letting it out. “And there are still times when I think I’m never going to be free of it. I’ll always be ‘that poor girl’, either because of losing my parents or because of how Reggie and I struggled. But I don’t want to live that way forever. I want to live again, to be bright and free. To feel like I did when you and I were in that clearing on the mountain.”

“You can do just that,” Gabe replies.

I duck my head, not able to meet his eyes for this part despite his assertion that I shouldn’t be ashamed. “It’s safer, easier to stay asleep at the wheel, to drudge through and follow the plan I set ages ago, with hopes that it’ll all be better one far-off, distant day in the future. To live big, to be able to actually see the top of the mountain... to do that now, I need a reason,” I admit.

It’s a big request of him, even though I’m being fairly vague in order to hedge my bets. “If I’m going to wake up, take that risk, I need a reason.”

Gabe reaches across the table, taking my hand. “I hear you, and I will happily help you up every step of the mountain. But I want to be clear on something. You are reason enough. You deserve to wake up and own every second of your life, enjoy them now, not just later when you feel like you’ve earned it. You’ve already earned it, Bella. But I would be thrilled to enjoy it along with you.”

His answer is somehow even more perfect, though I definitely notice he’s not making any undying professions of love, but it’s far too soon for that. “I’d like that,” I say, his words filling gaps in my spirit I didn’t know were there because I’ve been too busy filling the hole in my belly with the bank account leaking money like a sieve. “It might take a while, though.”

“I know.”

With a start, I remember my manners. “Thank you for the goodies last night. They were unexpected and wonderful. I definitely enjoyed every second of that bath.”

His grin goes lascivious, and his eyes dart downward to where I know I’m giving him a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. “God, I’m picturing you naked in the tub, bubbles piled up over your nipples and curled tendrils escaping a bun to fall down to your neck, where I could nibble and taste the lavender. Tell me all about it.”

There’s a hint of cockiness to the order, not bossy but bold, and I’m more than happy to meet it with my own sassiness.

“Well, I got home and thought the bag was a bomb, or maybe a dog-shit surprise, but it was so much better, of course.” He laughs at my crazy ideas, urging me to continue with a squeeze of my hand. “It was wonderful. I filled the tub with water all the way to the top, as hot as I could get it, and soaked in the Epsom salts until I was a prune. And like some girl on tv, I ate chocolates and drank wine while I sat there, boiling like one of Henry’s potatoes.”

“I think my fantasy was of the sexier variety, but I’m so glad you enjoyed them.”

The waitress comes by, and I order two of the spicy chicken combo platters. “Ooh, big spender,” Gabe teases. “Can we get some of the almond cookies for dessert?”

“If you behave,” I tease. “Speaking of, I did the ‘tell me about yourself’ spiel, complete with tears and trotting out my trauma. You have yet to do yours, so tell me about yourself, Gabe.”

I know I sound a bit stiff, like this is a job interview, but if so, he’s already got the position. Any and all of them he wants.

“I’m not sure where to start,” he says, and I can read the tension around his eyes.

“Just start at the beginning, like ‘once upon a time, a beautiful baby boy was born.’ Or stick to the basics, like do you have parents? Siblings? Where are you from? What do you do?”

He nods, dropping his chin before answering, “Yes, I have parents, no springing forth, fully grown, from a plant pod. I had a brother, but he died.” He swallows. “Not a story I want to relive right now. Sorry.”

I bite my lip, sad to see his pain and feel his loss so sharply. “No worries. But I’m here if you change your mind and need someone to talk to.”

One side of his mouth lifts in that half-smile he has when he’s not sure. It makes him look like a sweet troublemaker.

“As for what I do, I guess you’d say I’m a consultant.”

“A consultant? Well, that just clears up everything,” I joke, his answer clear as mud. “What do you consult?”

“I’m a systems troubleshooter,” Gabe explains, though he again somehow clears nothing up. “Companies or people call me, and I come in and consult with them on solutions. Sometimes the problem’s easy, sometimes it’s hard. But it’s fun.”

“And you... I mean, where are you based out of?” I ask, and Gabe shrugs. “What’s that mean?”

“It means I have enough work that I usually live out of motel rooms. If I were hard-pressed, I’d say I’m a Red Roof guy. I mean, I did three months in Calgary once, nearly six months in New York, but then I’ve done jobs as quick as two or three days and I’m on the road again. When I don’t have work, I’ll sometimes use the gap time to relax, take a vacation or something, but other than a PO Box for the IRS, I don’t really have a place.”

“I can’t decide if that sounds lonely or adventurous,” I say honestly. “Having never been anywhere, the thought of constant travel is appealing, but not having a home base seems so nomadic. I’m literally fighting to keep the only roots I have, even when it’d be so much easier to let them go.”

His face falls, and he shakes his head. “You have the home you shared with your aunt to hold those memories, so you clutch to it, understandably. When my brother died, my family basically fell apart, and the memories I hold of home, history, family, they’re all in my mind, in my heart. So anywhere I go, they’re with me. He’s with me.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and I can tell he’s tortured by the ghosts haunting him right now. Curiosity has me wanting to ask a million more questions, but I can respect that he might not be in a place to share right now, so I redirect the conversation to lighter topics in the hope of lifting his spirits once again.

“So in your vast experience of traveling the world, can you use chopsticks? Because I’m seriously doubting my skills.”

His lips curl in slow-motion. “I can absolutely use chopsticks. I have all sorts of skills that’d surprise you.”

Something in his tone sounds like he truly believes that, which makes me all the more tingly to see him use each and every one of those skills.