Jacob’s Ladder: Gabe

by Ashley, Katie

  “Hey. Listen, I was thinking instead of coming over here, you should just come to the shop to pick me and Linc up. Dad lives closer to the shop than here.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you at the shop.”

  She smiled. “Okay.” Jerking her chin, she added, “Now get the hell out of here so I can go to work.”

  “I’m on it.”

  After she waved and headed back to her car, I leaned over and picked up my phone. I knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that Eli had hung up. The minute he heard a female voice, he would be hanging on to every word he possibly could. “Hey. I’m back.”

  “Was that Earlene?” he asked teasingly as I cranked the Jeep up.

  “No, smartass. Her name is Rae.”

  “Sounds like you guys are having dinner tonight.”

  “We are, at her father’s house,” I replied as I backed out of Rae’s driveway.

  “Mmhmm.”

  I laughed. “Like that’s all you have to say. I mean, don’t hurt yourself holding back.”

  “It’s just that you said it would be impossible to have fallen in love with a hillbilly girl in two days, yet here you are having dinner with a woman. Not only that, you’re having dinner with her family. Do we need Selma to prepare a press release on your impending nuptials?”

  “Har fucking har.”

  “Hey, you told me not to hold back. I mean, you’re already eating dinner with her parents—what am I supposed to think?”

  “It’s not like that with Rae.”

  “Then enlighten me.”

  I sucked in a deep breath before unloading the soap opera of what had transpired.

  “Holy shit,” Eli remarked when I finished.

  “Yeah. Pretty much.”

  “I can’t believe you found your muse in the backwoods.”

  “It surprised the hell out of me as well, but I’m not going to question it.”

  “I wouldn’t either.” After pausing for a moment, Eli asked, “So she’s beautiful, huh?”

  “Gorgeous, but not like the fake women I usually go after. She’s real.”

  “She’s real or her tits are real?”

  Groaning, I replied, “Once again, it’s not like that with her.”

  “It’s not like that because she won’t let it be like that,” Eli countered, amusement vibrating in his voice. It was times like these I lamented having a twin brother who knew exactly how my brain worked.

  “Yeah, it’s true that she shot me down, but I’m glad she did.”

  “Seriously?”

  “If we had fucked, who knows what would have happened to my songwriting mojo? I might still be blocked.”

  “That’s one way to look at it, and a very mature way, I might add.”

  I snickered. “I’m not sure I would trust your judgment on what’s mature.”

  Eli laughed. “Whatever. So you really think you have another song brewing?”

  “Yep. I’m pulling into the hotel now. Just as soon as I can get to my pen and journal, I’m at it again. Once I get to a stopping point, I’ll text you about doing a Google Hangout with Abby.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll call her and let her know what’s going on.”

  “Thanks, man. I probably need to text Jake and tell him I’ll be commandeering his Jeep for a little while longer.”

  “I don’t think he’ll mind, especially if you’re finally getting the words you need. When do you think you’ll be back?”

  “I’m not leaving here until I have enough to fill the album—or until my mojo runs out.”

  “I’ll be interested to see what you come up with, but more than the songs, I’m interested to see how things pan out with Rae.”

  “You mean you’ll be interested to see if we finally bang.”

  “Actually, I was thinking more long-term than that.” Really, Eli?

  “Like a relationship?”

  “Bingo.”

  “Get real, bro.”

  “You’re the one who needs to get real, not me.”

  “It’s not happening.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Scowling at the phone, I replied, “If you don’t have anything else to do but give me shit about Rae, I’ll let you go. Unlike someone else I know, I have work to do.”

  Eli chuckled. “Whatever, man. Call me when you’re done penning our next CMA winner.”

  “I don’t know about that, but I’ll let you know when the next song is done.

  “You do that—oh, and tell Rae hello for me.”

  “I will.”

  “And thanks for putting up with my knuckleheaded brother.”

  I laughed. “Goodbye, Eli.”

  “Bye, Gabe.”

  I’d just set down the last bag of groceries when the doorbell rang. Instantly, a giddy yet anxious feeling swept over me because I knew it was Gabe. After breakfast the previous morning, he’d come with us to Dad and Stella’s. When I’d first asked him, I hadn’t thought he would really do it. I mean, it was one thing to hang out with me and Linc, but my dad and sisters as well?

  He seemed to have a great time, though, and I don’t even know how long we spent talking around Dad’s dining room table. After Gabe brought Linc and me home, we sat on the couch in front of the fire talking until Linc passed out around nine, and then Gabe ended up leaving sometime after eleven.

  It had never felt so easy talking to a man, which surprised me given his life was so completely different than mine. There was no awkwardness between us. I never felt like I had to be something I wasn’t because Gabe appeared to appreciate me exactly as I was. He was also one of the few men I’d ever been around who was as actively interested in hearing about my life as he was about telling me about his. In fact, he seemed to shy away from talking a lot about life on the road and in the band, focusing more on talking about his family and his friends.

  After the late night, Gabe had texted me in the morning to say he was sleeping in after spending most of the night working on songs. I had no clue about the how and why. We hadn’t spent time talking about anything particularly deep and meaningful, and it still felt so surreal that I could have any impact on his writer’s block—especially for a songwriter as prolific as Gabe Renard. Candy had told me how many albums Jacob’s Ladder had out, so I knew if he was their main songwriter, he must’ve written over a hundred songs.

  Then he’d met me for lunch at The Hitching Post, and this time I beat him to the punch by telling May I would be covering the bill. Although he initially protested me buying his lunch, he appeared very grateful in the end. When he’d texted me in the afternoon to ask if he could spend a few hours with me, I told him he could but said he’d have to come to the house. The one bright spot was that for the first time I could remember, I had the place all to myself. Aunt Sadie was at bingo over at the American Legion, Kennedy and Ellie had gone to Chattanooga to pick up supplies for their businesses, and Linc had gone over to my dad’s.

  Before Gabe had called, my plans for my evening at home had entailed baking. Once again, it was a prime example of how compared to him, my life was so simple. As I hurried out of the kitchen to get the door, I skidded to a stop in front of the gilded mirror in the hallway. I quickly checked my appearance before heading on into the foyer.

  “Who is it?” I called.

  “It’s Gabe.”

  “Gabe who?” I teasingly asked.

  “You know who,” he retorted.

  I laughed as I opened the door. “I thought you would be proud that I asked this time.”

  “Yeah, I’m thrilled.”

  “Come on in.”

  “Thanks.”

  After we walked into the kitchen, Gabe eyed the counters covered in groceries. “What’s all this? Are you making me dinner?”

  I laughed. “You wish.”

  He cocked his brows at me. “What’s with all the bags?”

  “Tomorrow is the PTA bake sale at Linc’s school, and somehow he wrangled me into making his favorite turtle brownies.”

/>   “I thought your sister was the baker.”

  “She is.”

  “So why not delegate it off to her?”

  “Because it’s important for them to be made by my hands.” When Gabe continued staring blankly at me, I sighed. “You’re not a parent, so you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Let me guess: to show Linc that you truly care for him and his education, you are prepared to spend countless hours in the kitchen toiling away on baked goods after a long day at work.”

  I widened my eyes in surprise. “Exactly.”

  “See? I’m not a total parenting dumbass.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “Trust me, you implied it.”

  I held up my hands. “If I did, I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted.” He then proceeded to start emptying one of the grocery bags.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded.

  “Uh, what does it look like I’m doing?”

  “It looks like you’re trying to help.”

  “Ding, ding, ding. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

  “You’re going to help me make brownies?” It was one thing for him to hang out with me, but for a famous musician to actually participate in baking? It was way too crazy.

  Gabe shrugged. “Yeah. Why not?”

  “Excuse me for stereotyping, but you don’t seem like the baking type.”

  “Once again, I would ask that you not make assumptions about me. Some people would stereotype my mother as being a typical passive pastor’s wife, but trust me, she isn’t. She made sure her boys participated in cooking just as her daughter did.”

  “I like your mother’s style.”

  A genuine smile lit up Gabe’s face. “She really is an amazing woman.”

  A storm of emotions rolled through me at his words and expression. “That’s nice. You’re really lucky to have a supportive and loving mom.”

  “Do you ever hear from yours?” Gabe asked.

  “Nope. She’s never even met Lincoln.”

  Gabe’s brows popped up in surprise. “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish. There have been a few phone calls here and there, but it’s probably been at least five years now.” I sighed. “She is the epitome of the old saying that you can’t make a whore into a housewife.”

  “Damn,” Gabe muttered under his breath as he opened a box of brownie mix.

  I giggled at his reaction to my honesty. “Sorry, but I can’t help calling it what it is. Sometimes I try to see things from her perspective. She wanted to get the hell out of her abusive home, and as a seventeen-year-old high school dropout, the only way to do that was through a man. She bounced from one to another trying to make one stay.” I shook my head. “She struck gold the day she got her mitts onto my dad. He wanted to be the white knight who saved her, the one who changed her. After trapping him into marriage by getting pregnant with Kennedy, she then popped out me and Ellie in quick succession before realizing motherhood was not for her.”

  “That had to be hard on him,” Gabe remarked.

  “I’m sure it was. I mean, I can only imagine considering what I’ve been through myself, but when we were growing up, he never made it seem hard. It was just like everything flowed so effortlessly with him—well, almost everything.” I grinned at Gabe. “He did sort of stumble with female hormones and our periods.”

  Gabe laughed. “I don’t know many men who are comfortable with those things, least of all a father. It meant you guys were growing up, and I’m sure he hated that.”

  Once again, Gabe surprised me with the depth of his response. As I was getting to know him better, I could see he wasn’t just a self-obsessed sex fiend. Although we’d only been hanging for a few days, I already felt a deep connection with him.

  I cleared my throat. “Okay, let’s get down to business. We need to start working on the brownie mix.”

  He jerked his chin at the cabinets. “Where do you keep your mixing bowls and baking pans?”

  “Mixing bowls are in the top right cabinet. Baking pans are in the cabinet by the stove.” As Gabe reached up for the mixing bowls, his t-shirt rode up, affording me an excellent side view of what I imagined was his very defined six-pack. Besides his perfect abs, I couldn’t help noticing the tattoos. While he had one on his bicep and a few on his arms, I’d obviously never seen any under his clothes.

  Before I could stop myself, I reached out and touched the ink. Gabe froze for a few seconds at my touch then slowly brought the mixing bowls down onto the counter.

  After jerking my finger away, I said, “Sorry. I was just admiring the ink on your side.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s in another language, isn’t it?”

  Gabe nodded. “Hebrew.”

  “What does it say?”

  “It’s the word for family. I got it done a few years back when I took a trip to Israel with Eli and my older brother, Micah. Since everything in my life personally and professionally is tied to my family, I thought it was a cool idea.”

  I smiled. “I really like it. My family means the world to me too. Maybe I should get a tattoo like yours.”

  Gabe eyed me curiously. “Do you have any tattoos?”

  Groaning, I opened the carton of eggs. “Yes, I have two meaningful ones, and one I would like to forget.”

  “Don’t tell me you got Linc’s father’s name tattooed on you somewhere.”

  With a laugh, I replied, “No, thank God, but I do regret being sixteen and sneaking off to get a tramp stamp.”

  “Hmm, let me see.”

  “Fine.” Turning around, I untucked my shirt and held it up a few inches. “There it is.”

  “It’s not bad.”

  I threw a glance at Gabe over my shoulder. “You’re just saying that.”

  “I’m serious. I was expecting something like a tribal band or Chinese symbols.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I thought I was being so badass with those roses. I really want to get it lasered off when I get enough—”

  My breath hitched when I felt Gabe’s fingers on my skin. “I wouldn’t get it removed.”

  “But, uh, it’s…uh, a tramp stamp,” I protested breathlessly.

  “It’s kinda sexy.”

  Oh God. Was Gabe Renard running his fingers lightly above the top of my ass while he called my tramp stamp sexy? I licked my lips as I couldn’t help letting my mind wander to what it would feel like to have his whole hand on my ass…or maybe having that hand other places.

  Dropping my shirt back down, I ended that train of thought. “Enough tattoo gawking. These brownies aren’t going to make themselves.”

  After adding in the milk and eggs, Gabe began stirring the mix. When he got a little too overzealous in his ministrations, a cloud of mix flipped out onto his shirt. “Shit,” he muttered.

  “Do you need an apron?”

  He shot me a look as he grabbed a rag off the counter and rubbed his shirt. “Let me guess, it would be something white and frilly to make me look ridiculous?”

  I grinned at him. “Of course. Can you imagine how much money I could make on one of those gossip sites with a picture of you in an apron cooking brownies?”

  Gabe returned my smile. “Does this mean I need to be watching my back to make sure you don’t snap an incriminating picture of me?”

  “While I might enjoy seeing you somewhat publically humiliated, I would never do that.”

  “You would want me humiliated?” Gabe questioned.

  Stilling my spoon, I said, “That’s a harsher word than I’m looking for.” I tilted my head in thought. “It’s probably more lik the saying in my family of bringing you down a notch.” When Gabe stared at me blankly, I added, “You know, your ego.”

  “I get it.” Once he’d gotten the chocolate powder off his shirt as best he could, Gabe tossed the rag back on the counter. “Man, I must’ve come off as just one more asshole to you.”

  “I’m sorry, but yeah, you were.”


  “Why are you apologizing? I’m the one who was the asshole.”

  “I know, but now that I know you better—”

  Gabe shook his head. “Just because you know now, that doesn’t excuse my behavior.”

  Ah, this was something I hadn’t seen in him before: true repentance. I really appreciated that he was annoyed with how he first treated me. Was all of his cockiness just a façade?

  “That’s true. I guess you’re right.” I began stirring the caramels again. “I just wondered how much of your behavior was really bad and how much my view of you is skewed because you’re a musician.” Were you real then, or am I seeing the real you now?

  Gabe leaned back against the counter. “I’d have to say after what you’ve experienced, you’re very justified to feel the way you do.”

  “Well, because of those feelings, I might have been a little harsher on you than I had to be, at least that morning at the shop.” I grinned at him. “I’m fairly certain you deserved everything I gave you that day in the woods.”

  Gabe smiled. “I probably did.”

  I moved around him to grease the baking pans. When I finished, Gabe held out his hand. At what must’ve been my questioning look, he said, “I’ll pour.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Taking the large bowl of gooey chocolate in one of his hands, Gabe then poured mix into the two baking pans. After I smoothed it out with the spatula, I took them over to the oven.

  “There. In just twenty to twenty-five minutes, I’ll have baked my way into Linc’s heart.”

  With a laugh, Gabe said, “You mothers are all the same, appealing to us through our love of food.”

  “Can you think of a better way?”

  Tilting his head, Gabe replied, “Probably not.”

  “I rest my case.” After eyeing the pile of dirty dishes, I groaned. “Now for the worst part of baking: cleanup.”

  “I’ll help, and it’ll go fast.”

  I shook my head. “Very impressive, Mr. Renard. Not only did you do most of the baking, now you’re offering to clean, too.”

  Gabe grinned. “I just enjoy disproving your opinion of me.”