by J. A. Coffey
She let a breath of relief when the laundry room light shown bright against the night sky. Either he was in there or he'd forgotten to turn the light off. She thanked her lucky stars that the light illuminated a path to the front door. She trudged through the deeper snow to the door and tried the knob. It didn't budge.
"Mik?" She tried opening it again. This time the door moved a centimeter but something blocked the wood from moving any farther. With one hand holding the gun against the weathered-wood and the other grasping the knob, she gave the door a strong kick.
The door flew open, sending Mik to his feet and the book he'd been reading skittering across the floor. "Jesus Christ, Gabi!"
She swung her gaze to the pile of clothes folded on the top of the dryer, moved to the book on the floor, and then back up at him. Her eyes narrowed into tiny slits as she glared at him. "I thought you were doing laundry."
"I did." He pointed to the folded clothes on the dryer. "What's wrong?"
"You were gone so long. I thought you had taken off." She gently shook the gun to prove her point. "So I came out to find you."
"Why are you carrying that thing around with you again?" He went over to the dryer and slipped his pants over his shorts. After putting his shoes back on, he turned toward her again.
"I didn't know you had decided to lounge out here alone." Without her. Had he planned on being in here all evening, leaving her in the cabin alone? The thought stung her heart. "You might've left me behind."
His laugh was rich but made her cringe with irritation. "You'd actually go out there?" Through the open door, he pointed in the direction of the woods. "In the dark?"
The very mention of the word dark made her stomach roll. She let out a feeble "Yes." Crossing her arms over her chest, she glanced back at the door and hoped he wanted to escort her back to the well-lit cabin.
"You'd really go out to look for me?" He grabbed the book off the floor and tucked in under his arm with the rest of the clothes from the dryer.
Relieved he wanted to go back with her, she mumbled, "Of course." She walked out in the snow.
"I wouldn't want to go out there either."
She tried to ignore the comment as she stepped back out into the night. Going back turned out to be even harder for her than going to the laundry room because she was no longer walking toward the light. Darkness loomed everywhere in front of her. She made it halfway across before stopping to look out at the forest. Expecting his footsteps pressing against the snow but only greeted by silence, she glanced back to check for Mik. Nothing but deep shadows followed her. "Mik?" her voice echoed in the night air and then called his name a second time.
*****
"I'm coming," he said as he walked out in the snow. She was several feet away from him. The distance provided him a bit of relief. He had been the one to suggest they start on a friendship even though the idea seemed out of reach. Hell, he wanted so much more, but he also had to sit her down in the cabin to find out her reasoning for this escapade. He'd jumped the gun a bit with the vacation and friendship suggestion. He needed to know why she had to get them out of Vegas. Depending on the severity of the reason for them being here, he might even have to throw her over his shoulder to force her to go home no matter what they'd agreed on.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
Her arms dropped down to her sides and she pulled her shoulders back as her face relaxed, she asked, "Why wouldn't I be? This is our vacation, right?"
She scooped up a handful of snow and formed a ball, then hit him in the middle of the chest. He stared in shock as the snow crumbled against him and fell to his feet. Before he could respond, she spun on her heel and clomped through the snow to the house. He let her hurry away, granting her the assumption she'd won this playful game, but he'd get her. And when he did, it was going to be so, so good.
As she neared the porch, he called out, "Be careful. The stairs might be slick." He knew he'd be there to catch her if she fell.
Her laugh rang out to him as she stomped up the stairs, yanked open the door, and disappeared inside. Before he had a chance to get to the steps, the bedroom light flicked on, illuminating the porch. He wanted to believe the light had been turned on for him.
Once inside he toed off his shoes and restarted the fire. Glancing at the opened bedroom door, he wondered if she'd meant the inviting entryway as a way to summon him to join her. Should he go in? She caused a turbulence in all of his senses. But yet, he was drawn to her. He glanced at the door again, stuck in an indecisive moment. Damn. He had to put the clothes away. "Nice excuse," he mumbled.
"What?" she asked as he walked into the bedroom.
"I asked if you were hungry." Not even close to the truth.
She had curled up on the bed, her dark hair resting against the white pillow case, looking so comfortable, so unbelievably beautiful. "Not yet, but I'll cook in a little while if that's all right with you."
After setting the clothes on the top of the dresser, he joined her on the bed while making sure he stayed close to the edge of the bed and far enough away from her to prevent himself from pulling her into his arms. Just friends for now!
"So tell me about what it was like going overseas for high school."
She twisted a strand of hair around her finger. "Going to school in Italy had some good points and a little bit of unpleasantness. The worst was being away from the people I cared about." She glanced away from him.
"Yeah?" Had she missed him? They hadn't been friends at that point in their lives but even so, her absence had nearly ripped his heart apart.
She nodded. "But the experience turned out to be wonderful. I stayed with distant relatives in the beginning. That provided some comfort in being so far from home and getting to know them offered a great distraction. I'd even became close to some of my cousins which I wouldn't have had been able to do any other way. While I was in Italy, I'd formed a group of friends I later traveled with. For the most part I'm glad my father had forced me to go."
"It had been a really hard decision for your father to make so I understand what you mean. You were missed just as much." Mikolas had been on top of the list.
The corners of her mouth turned down in frown. "How do you know? You were the same age as me so I can't imagine you were involved with the Family then."
He tore his gaze from hers as heat rushed through his face. "There's a lot about the Family you don't know. Most of it would surprise you."
"So tell me," she said, leaning forward, her face lighting up with interest.
Guilt turned him away and prevented him from looking at her again. How could he tell her that he'd shot a guy twice right before he'd gone over to her house yesterday? He ran his fingers through his hair, suspecting that if he told her, she'd view him in a whole new light. No matter how ridiculous the thought seemed, he would never be like that with her and would rather be the one dead instead of having her be scared of him. "There is so much about the Mafia lifestyle you're better off not knowing. Trust me, Gabi. If you knew, your life might be put at risk. Is it worth dying for?" He looked up at her again and let her eyes lock with his.
She nudged his leg with her foot. "Then leave out the other stuff and tell me about you. After all, we're supposed to be developing a friendship again, right?"
The contact she'd made with him sent shivers of excitement ripping through him. He slipped his hand over her foot, giving her a gentle squeeze. "I do want to be friends with you, but there are things about me you shouldn't know about."
"What you do for my father?"
He slowly nodded, feeling the truth rolling around on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out. His throat had gone dry and he tried to swallow as if the action would prevent him from revealing the skeleton hanging in his closet.
"Why can't you tell me?"
"If you knew what I do for your father, you might change your opinion of me totally. I can't have you think badly of me. I can't lose what we do have."
"If you can't share th
ose types of things with me, how do you expect us to have any sort of relationship?"
"I don't know."
She slipped her foot out of his grasp and stood up. "I guess you need to figure it out, huh? I'm going to start dinner." Instead of yelling at him or being angry, she left him sitting there wondering how the hell this had taken a turn for the worst before he'd even gotten a chance to find out why she'd brought them here.
Sighing, he snatched her pillow, shoved it under his head, and stared up at the ceiling, trying to clear his head of this entire mess. But the soft fabric smelled of her perfume, sending the vivid image of her into his thoughts. He thought about her lying there, staring at him while his hand was on her foot. His heart swelled in his chest at the memory and wished he could touch her some more. Could feel the closeness of her. To love her openly.
He grabbed his book, opened to the place he'd left off, and tried to read the sentence. His brain refused to decipher the words. Closing the book, he said, "Screw this." Avoiding her would only score their friendship four steps in the wrong direction. If they continued playing these child-like games with each other, not having her would drive him absolutely mad. "Need any help?"
He strolled into the kitchen, coming to a stop just inside the door where he rested a hip against the edge of the counter.
Clanging pots and pans mixed with her reply of, "Nope."
"Well, I need your help," he said, keeping his face serious in case she looked back at him while she moved around the kitchen, opening cupboards.
She tossed a glance over her shoulder. "With what?" she asked, returning her attention to moving some plastic containers aside, looked at the rear of the space before moving the dishes back. She moved to the next one.
"Entertaining me. Honestly, I'm bored. I'd like some conversation."
She stiffened her spine, saying, "But I don't feel like talking." She pulled the block of cheese, milk, and butter from the fridge, placing them on the counter.
"That's okay. I'll do the talking and you won't have to say a word." He'd already decided not to return to the Mafia lifestyle, with or without Gabi, so he might as well share with her. He failed at pulling his attention from the gentle curves of her hips, the roundness of her ass as she bent down to grab pasta from the pantry, and the two long, shapely legs she'd been blessed with.
Keeping her back to him, she filled a pot with water and put it on to boil? "What do you want to talk about?" She started on the task of preparing ham and placing the meat in the oven.
"About your dad and his business. I'd like you to have some answers. Maybe the information will help you make important decisions." He'd always fantasized about cooking with her, stealing kisses between tasks, and here he stood in the kitchen with her except he couldn't touch her. Prohibited from pulling her long hair behind her shoulders and kissing the curve of her neck. Focus, he thought as he shifted his eyes to the kitchen window.
"We don't need to talk about that."
"Yes we do. As you know, I work for your father."
She squared her shoulders. "Mm hm."
"I work for him, but I'm not part of the crime Family. What I do isn't good by any stretch of the imagination, but it could be worse."
She turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. "And what does that mean?"
"I can walk away from them any time I choose." He tried ignoring the smell of ham wafting through the kitchen, the way her dark green eyes drew him in, and the small hint of a smile peeking at the corners of Gabi's mouth.
"That doesn't make sense." She turned back to her cooking, dumping pasta into the colander, sending steam in a plume of smoke in front of her.
"Although it wouldn't be safe for me to stay in Vegas in case anyone has linked me to the Family, but your father will let me leave."
She took the ham out of the oven and replaced the meat with some dinner rolls. "You appeared to be part of that Family. I guess I was mistaken. What else am I wrong about?" She sighed, relaxing her shoulders as if the confession pushed the weighted situation from her muscles.
Should he lie to her? He couldn't. Not now. "Probably a lot."
Trying to reach around him to grab something on the
counter, she let the side of her rest against his chest. Finally having physical contact with her, he didn't want to move.
"Excuse me," she said softly, sending him sliding over an inch anyway. She stood on her toes to reach the dinnerware. Jumping to action, he said, "Here, let me." Sandwiching her between his body and the counter, he breathed in the scent of her hair.
"Uh, Mik?"
"Yes?" His hands were on the plates but didn't move them. Just stood against her, caught under her spell.
"You're squishing me."
Catching himself in a daze, he grabbed the plates, and said, "Oh sorry." After gathering the silverware, he set the dining room table. Each time she came into the dining room, he looked up from his task to meet her gaze.
"I wish we had a radio or TV. Something for sound," she said, slipping into her chair. "But we don't so I guess you get your wish fulfilled tonight."
He stopped dishing up the macaroni and cheese, his hand frozen in mid-air. "Uh, what?"
With flushed cheeks, she said, "To talk. We get to chat over dinner."
"Mm hm. We haven't done much of that, huh?" He offered a crooked smile and continued serving the dinner. Taking a moment to stare down at his plate, his chest tightening. She'd made dinner for him. A simple gesture that meant so much to him.
He hadn't had a relationship in quite a while, but this little stuff reminded him of when he did and made his chest feel tight with affection. His need for Gabrielle went beyond physical and wanted to experience all of relationship stuff with her.
"We haven't. What has been going on with you while I've been away?" She sliced a piece of ham and plopped the meat into her mouth without breaking the connection her eyes made with his.
He shrugged in response. "Just working mostly." No, damn it, he silently chastised himself. Bringing up his employment meant granting her the option to ask questions about his career. The one thing he did not want. "This is a really nice cabin."
She took another bite. "It really is. I wish I would've found out about this place some other way. The cabin would make a fantastic vacation destination."
He slid his free hand through his hair. A vacation. Here. With her. What could be better? He couldn't think of a single thing that he'd want more than the fantasy she'd just planted in his thoughts.
She scooped the last bit of pasta onto her fork, leaned forward, and asked, "What are you thinking? A dreamy look just came over you." Her words yanked him right back to reality.
He shook his head. "Nothing."
She let out a giggle. "Come on. Tell me."
He nodded, letting her gaze drink him in even more. How did Gabi have the power to pull him in a trance? Fine. She wanted to know? He'd tell her. "A vacation sounds really nice. I was just thinking about what we'd do if we were here for any other reason."
She glanced at the darkness that had just fallen beyond the window pane. "This time of year? Or would you prefer summer?"
Any time of year with her. "This is fine." He dropped his hand in his lap and then moved it to the table, tempted to touch hers resting on the table top only inches from him. "I'd like a campfire. Roast some marshmallows." And feed them to her.
Her beautiful smile emerged. "That sounds great. I've only had campfires at the beach, never in the mountains."
"They're great. Sitting under the stars with the glow of the fire." He slid his hand closer to hers. "Nobody out there but us."
"Yes?" The single word came out barely above a whisper, the sensuality of her voice took his breath away.
"You know, Gabi. We don't need to be on an official vacation to do that." He let his fingertips brush against hers. "Do you want to have a campfire before we leave here?"
She pulled her hand away. "I, uh..." Pushing away from the table, she st
ood. "I need to take a shower."
She rushed to the bedroom and shut the door behind her, leaving him alone. He didn't even want to try to figure out why she'd just run from him.
"I'm done for," he mumbled. When the water rattled the pipes along the cabin wall, he carried the dirty dishes into the kitchen. "They might as well lock me up in the mental ward after this. Or I can tell Enrico that I love his daughter so he'll shoot me."
He quickly washed the dishes before returning to the living room. He threw another log onto the fire. She needed to hurry in there to give him a chance to continue with the conversation, but the water ran in the bathroom, sending whooshing sounds underneath the length of the cabin. He glanced at the bedroom door, yearning to be the one washing her right now.
The lights flickered. Mik shifted his gaze up at the chandelier hanging over the table. A moment later an inky blackness drenched the room. Gabi screamed from the bathroom, sending him jumping up from the table. As he pushed the door open, she dove onto the bed, yanking the comforter over her head. The water in the shower continued to pound against the tile.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"No," came her muffled response.
"There's a generator in back. Hopefully it has enough fuel, so we'll be fine until the electric comes back on. Will you be okay in here for a few minutes while I check it out?"
"Yes," she answered, sending him out into the cold night. He checked the generator's fuel tank to get an idea of how long they could expect to have the large machine to power the cabin-guestimating by the level of gas that they'd have enough to get through the night. After pushing the power button, he waited long enough to listen for the motor to purr to life before returning to the cabin. Electricity greeted him.
"We have enough for a while. Tomorrow I'll have to figure something else out," he said to Gabi, who sat on the bed with a shy smile.
"At least we are taken care of for tonight."
The lights flickered twice and then everything went black again.
He grabbed some candles he had found while rummaging through the kitchen earlier. Two were lit and carried back into the bedroom. After placing one on the bedside table, he carried the other with him into the bathroom.