I definitely don’t mind looking at the result of all those sweaty sessions. I doubt many women would.
His gaze is on me, both of his eyebrows raised. He’s probably wondering why I’m staring at him, even though he’s used to my kind of crazy, barely questioning any of my weird antics anymore.
Except when I put ketchup on my pasta or refuse to drink distilled water, then he pretends like he doesn’t know me. But what can I say? Ketchup is really just a different kind of tomato sauce, and I need my bubbles in water. Now that I think about it, there are probably a lot of things that drive him crazy, but he’s been a good sport about them.
Anyway, it’s not my fault he’s so nice to look at. And I’m pretty sure he secretly likes it too.
“So, you guys are heading out in the morning?” Charlie asks, looking back and forth between Gabe and me, probably wondering what this little stare-off is all about.
He nods and his intense gaze leaves mine, focusing on Charlie instead. “I want to avoid as much traffic as possible. Plus, Monica has a yoga class to get to the next morning, so I’d rather not get there too late.”
She turns to me. “That’s awesome. You’re going to continue with your workout routine up there?”
“Yeah. You know it drives me crazy if I can’t do it.” I’ve always loved all forms of physical exercise, the more challenging, the better. I was extremely relieved when the doctors and physical therapists repeatedly told me the best and fastest way to healing, and to not have any long-term damage, is to make my legs stronger. All in a safe manner, of course.
It’s been about half a year now since my femur has completely healed and the doctors cleared me for all exercises. It feels good to not have to hold back anymore and to test my limits if I feel like it, which is often. At least exercise is the one thing I was capable of getting back to. Without that, I’d be even more lost.
“Yup. Apparently, Gabe thinks I should stay busy on our little trip, so he was gracious enough to sign me up for some yoga classes. And then there’s also the little gym at the house, so I’m all set. It’s going to be fun.”
Charlie and Hudson share a look before gazing back at me and Gabe, who’s leaning on the chair next to me, our bare arms touching the slightest. Once I’m aware of it, I’m momentarily distracted by his warm skin and his forearms.
I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about male forearms. For some reason, they’re...sexy?
My best friend clears her throat, and my gaze snaps up to meet hers. There’s a look in her eyes I can’t quite decipher. A moment later, my thoughts of grilling her about her thoughts are gone when she pushes a plate with two more pastries my way.
That woman knows how to distract me, no doubt about that.
Feeling Gabe’s eyes on me too, I bite into the delicious little cake, licking my lips when the vanilla cream squeezes out some. Noticing him squirm beside me before he coughs, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. Sometimes, it’s so easy to tease him.
Playing with Gabe has always been one of my favorite things, no matter how much he pretends to not like it. I know he secretly loves it, and so do I. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve really done it. Any of it. All the smiles, the flirting, the just enjoying my day, I guess?
I can already feel the positive effects of Gabe’s little lecture and this upcoming trip, and we haven’t even left yet.
It’s going to be interesting, to say the least.
Three
Monica
This trip is going to be the end of me, and we’re not even halfway there.
I pull my tight seat belt back from my chest a little, so I can turn around in my seat to face Gabe. “You know you’re my friend, right?”
He nods, his eyebrows drawn together, probably no idea where I’m going with this.
“I know we said we’re gonna take turns, but I’m afraid I might strangle you if I have to listen to one more country song on this trip. And believe me, I mean that in the nicest way possible.”
He has the nerve to chuckle—actually chuckle.
I’m not sure he knows I’m serious. Dead serious.
Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, he keeps his eyes on the road, allowing me to stare at his profile without feeling weird. “It’s really not that bad, and don’t even pretend I didn’t see your foot swinging to the beat before. More than once, I might add.”
Of course he saw that. Dang it.
It’s not my fault though. There’s really nothing I can do about it. Music’s in my blood, and my body can’t help reacting to it in some way, even if I don’t like the music itself.
And just to clarify, I really don’t like it.
Apparently, Gabe wasn’t done with his little music speech. “Plus, it’s a ton better than the Broadway stuff you like to listen to. My ears are still hurting from earlier.”
The smirk on his face reaches his eyes, making the skin at the corners crinkle.
Smiling suits him so well.
Despite that little fact, I want to wave my fists in the air to defend my favorite music, but since we both agreed to take turns picking music, I know he’s only pushing my buttons, just as I did his.
Apparently, that’s our thing.
Since I don’t need to make a fool out of myself, and give him more ammunition he can use on me later, I draw on every last ounce of patience I can find in me and remain calm. “I’ll let you know that musical theatre music is awesome. Magical even.”
“If you say so. Just sounds like a bunch of noise to me.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, but I’m still convinced he’s playing with me.
Even though I’ve known him for so long now, living with him most of it too, I still can’t always read him. It was easier when we first met when he didn’t seem to be playing games. After a while, I must have rubbed off on him though, now constantly getting a taste of my own medicine. Or so it appears.
I have to admit, it’s equally exciting and annoying.
Okay, definitely more exciting.
Most days, it’s actually the highlight of my day.
Not sure that’s good or bad.
Being stuck in the truck with him for several hours might be the main cause for my irritation right now though, with the emphasis on the “being stuck in the truck” part. I’ve never been good at sharing tight enclosures with other people, or being on the road for very long.
When I’m on tour with my dance team, everyone knows to leave me alone when we’re traveling. That allows me to put on my headphones and zone out, so I’m good to go for a while. For some reason, traveling this way makes me itchy and nervous, maybe even the tiniest bit claustrophobic, but I’ve learned to handle it over the years.
Since this is my first real trip with Gabe, I’m too nervous to relax. Instead, I’ve been either watching the scenery or talking about random stuff.
He finally turns down the volume, at least giving me some relief. “Have you ever thought about working on Broadway if you like that stuff so much?”
I can only see his expression from the side, but I think he might actually be serious.
“I wish. That would’ve been the ultimate dream, but I know you’ve heard me sing in the shower before, so sadly, there’s that.” After picking my nails for a moment, I peek back up at him, at his quiet demeanor and the inability to keep his shoulders from shaking ever so slightly, and therefore revealing his true thoughts.
“Jerk,” I mumble under my breath and lean back on the pillow I propped up against the hard door, putting my arm over my eyes in an effort to forget everything around me for a moment.
Gabe’s fingers tap to the rhythm of the music again, and he takes his sweet time to respond. Probably trying to compose himself, figuring out what exactly he’s supposed to say about my singing now. He walked straight into that one though, so I let him stew. We both know I’m an awful singer, utterly terrible.
I lift my arm enough to see him, watching his Adam’s apple b
ob up and down several times as he swallows repeatedly. He looks my way for a second and presses his lips together. “It’s not that bad.”
He barely gets the words through his teeth, and I can’t help myself and have to laugh.
More so at his behavior than anything else.
“You’re such a bad liar.”
Since his gaze doesn’t waver from the road, it’s allowing me to unabashedly watch his ears turn a little pink under my gaze.
Like I said, he walked straight into that one.
For some reason, I feel a little bad, so I lean forward and give his shoulder a soft nudge before looking away. “Trust me, I really wish I could sing. Growing up in New York, as a lover of dance and musical theatre, I dragged my mom to as many shows as I could possibly get her to agree to. I was enthralled, absolutely mesmerized, and I loved every single minute of it.”
“I can see that.”
This time, I feel his eyes on me, even though my gaze has been focused at the road ahead of us while I’m reliving some of my favorite moments of my childhood—me and my mom at the dozens of shows we’ve seen over the years. Ever since my kindergarten teacher did a rendition of Cats with us, I was sold on musicals, begging my parents to give me whatever scrap they’d allow, in forms of CDs, later DVDs, and, of course, actual Broadway shows.
Growing up, there was nothing that could ever compare to the feeling of watching those people perform than being on stage myself, dancing my heart out.
“Why didn’t you ever try though? They have dancers in the shows who only dance, don’t they?”
I nod. “Some do, yeah.”
“But?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I gaze at him for a moment before staring out the window again, at the low rolling hills we’ve been passing for so long now. Gabe stays silent, giving me time to answer him. He always does that.
Being there for me without being pushy.
Giving me space when I feel like I can’t breathe, the inability to dance after my accident ripping a hole in my soul I haven’t been able to patch up just yet, making me more quiet than I used to be.
Staying silent when everything in my head becomes too loud.
It’s like he knows exactly how I work when I have no clue myself, feeling lost more often than not.
Clearing my throat, I push away the unexpected bout of emotion. I’ve been feeling a little better the last few days, ever since Gabe brought up the trip, and I don’t want to ruin that by giving in to my sadness again. It likes to unexpectedly drag me under, tying me to the bottom of the darkness, until I can’t find my way out anymore.
Instead, I’m hanging on to this newfound light like it’s my new lifeline, because in a way, it is.
After a deep inhale through my nose and a loud exhale through my mouth, I feel composed enough to give him the answer he’s been waiting for. “I guess I just needed to know if there was more out there than being a background dancer. And as much as I love New York, I’ve always had the urge to see more, to travel the world.”
“That does sound exciting.” His words are quiet, and I wonder if he sometimes feels like he might have been missing out by living in Brooksville most of his life. Even though he gets to travel for his book signings.
“It is. I mean, it was. It gets tiring over time, something your brother knows too well. Even though he’s experienced it on a much bigger scale, of course. I’m just a tiny sparkle in the sky.”
When I face him again, there isn’t the smirk pulling up the corners of his mouth that I expected. Instead, his face is smoothed out into an almost emotionless mask.
He turns my way for a moment before focusing back on the road. “Are you serious right now? I’d pay a lot of money to see you in any show. Like, a lot. You’re an incredible dancer, Monica, and you know that. Don’t undersell yourself.”
Whoa. What on earth was that?
My thoughts pull me under for a moment, telling me dancing is a thing of the past, but I try my best to shake them off. Maybe it’s not over yet. Maybe. I focus on the words he said because they’re safe—a lot safer than my dark thoughts. “How do you know anything about my dancing?”
He swallows loudly and looks like he just got caught doing something naughty. “I might have looked you up online and watched a few videos.”
To say I’m surprised is an understatement.
Usually, most people aren’t interested enough to look me up.
Dancing is one of those things that only seems to be of interest to people who are actually into it. It’s not like football or baseball, where people still watch together and get excited over a game, even though they don’t always watch it. Or like music, where you often check out new musicians to see if they appeal to you.
So, this is interesting, especially since he hasn’t mentioned it yet either. Not once in all this time.
“Gabe Mitchell, have you been YouTube stalking me?” I bite my cheek to keep from laughing when I see the tips of his ears turn pink for the second time in less than thirty minutes.
“Not exactly. I mean, I did watch your videos, but…” He rubs the skin at his shirt collar, and I decide to cut the poor guy some slack.
“Seriously though. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I know you don’t really like talking about it.” This time, he shrugs, but this is a big deal to me.
The fact that he knows me so well, including things we don’t even talk about but he rather knows from observing me, is still overwhelming sometimes. Charlie has always been my best friend, and she knows me better than most other people, but she isn’t as intuitive as Gabe. Sometimes it’s almost as if he’s in tune with my thoughts and feelings, knowing exactly what’s going on with me, occasionally even before I know it myself.
“Thank you.” I don’t know what else to say, so I stay quiet.
Several minutes pass as we both remain silent, the rock station Gabe changed the radio to at some point serenading us with an old power ballad.
“Monica, you will dance again. You know that, right?” His voice is strong and steady, so full of confidence that my heart skips a beat.
I shrug my shoulders but don’t respond.
I want to believe it.
I want to believe him.
But I’m afraid it’s too late.
So dang afraid the accident left me damaged in a way that’s irreversible.
“You’ve made such great progress since last year. What did your doctor tell you?”
We’ve been over this before, a million times it feels like, but I know what he’s trying to do.
So, I repeat what we both already know by heart. “He said the bones are all healed, that I did everything right in my rehabilitation phase. He always praised Alex for doing a good job with my physical therapy, that he kept me going when I didn’t want to. But he’s a slave driver and gets a kick out of torturing others, so that’s no surprise. Anyway, he’s helped a ton, even after I was done with his regular sessions.”
“Yeah, I know.” Gabe’s mood has done a one-eighty, but I should have known. That’s his usual reaction whenever I bring up Alex. Gabe’s hands clench a little tighter around the steering wheel, and he looks like someone just rained on his parade.
In this case, that someone would be me.
All I know is that they used to be best friends until they suddenly weren’t anymore, but no one seems to know what happened all those years ago in college, and Alex never wanted to talk about it either.
Stubborn men.
“You know I’m happy he helped you get better, but I don’t want to talk about him.” His voice has softened a little, and I nod.
Even though I’m burning with curiosity, I respect his decision. I have people and past events in my life I don’t want to talk about, let alone think about either.
So, I nod again.
His jaw is clenched, just like his hands around the steering wheel, and I sigh. Even though I enjoy pushing his buttons every now and then—okay, a lot—I al
so don’t want to really bug him, which is why I know when to stop. He’s become a very important person in my life, and I don’t need him mad at me over something stupid that only ends up causing a rift between us.
Not worth it.
Since we both seem to be done with our respective topics we don’t want to talk about, we’re in desperate need for a subject change, and I ask the first thing that pops in my head. “Want to tell me more about the area we’re headed to?”
His hands relax, the color slowly rushing back into his pale knuckles. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything. I don’t have a clue what to expect. You practically kidnapped me. How very caveman-like of you.” I try to lighten the mood and am relieved to see I’ve succeeded when Gabe can’t hold back a small grin.
There.
That was easy, but that’s our relationship—our friendship—in a nutshell. Easy.
I like to push his buttons and get him all flustered, but I still know he’s the nice guy, the awesome friend and protector I so desperately needed this last year—even though I might not ever admit that out loud. He’s my knight in shining armor, when I haven’t been the best company for quite some time now.
That’s more on me being a baby, and a little scaredy-cat, than on him though.
He ignores my last statement with a little shake of his head and starts answering my question instead. “The house is in a quiet neighborhood but only a few blocks away from Main Street. It has a nice little small-town feeling to it, kind of like Brooksville. Everyone knows everyone and seems to be in each other’s business, whether you want them to or not. I guess it just feels like a home away from home. It’s all very family-oriented and friendly. Quiet. Calm. Happy.”
“That sounds nice.” I think about his words for another moment. “How often do you go there?”
“At least once a year, but more often if I can make it work with my schedule.”
The Mitchell Brothers Collection: A Feel-Good Romance Box Set Page 36