by Lori Wilde
Gabi went up on her knees in the bed, leaned over to press her ear against the wall of the yurt, anxious to hear more.
“I dunno,” Joe said, and from his tone of voice—which contained part defeat, part curiosity, part surprise—Gabi could almost see him plowing his hand through his hair and looking baffled.
Move over, Joe, because she was plenty baffled too.
Baffled. Confused. Befuddled. Flummoxed. Bewildered.
Scared.
In just a few short days, he’d upended her world. What was going on? She was good at putting her wants and needs on the back burner. Good at ignoring her intuition. Good at convincing herself it was better to toe the line than rock the boat.
And falling for Joe was as smart as sailing in a hurricane.
“Do you like her?” Sam asked.
Gabi froze, her heart in her throat, waiting for Joe’s answer.
“How’s Lauren,” Joe asked, pointedly ignoring Sam’s question.
“She’s fine. Her fever broke this morning.”
Joe didn’t want to talk about her and she had to wonder if it was because he didn’t want to get teased or he was embarrassed about their one-night stand and regretting their impulsive hookup.
Although it had felt like a lot longer than one night.
Of course that was because they’d done it three times. Her heart skipped a beat at the sultry memory. How he’d taken his time getting to know her body—relishing, reveling, ravishing her with the wickedly sweet tongue of his. He touched her, caressed her, kissed her … everywhere—his tongue languid and daring and persistent.
And how she’d responded!
Opening up. Softening up. Allowing him in. Not holding back. Letting go. She’d surrendered. Waved the white flag. Fully. Completely. One hundred percent gone. That was what startled her the most. How her body had been so receptive to him. How she’d melted into hot wax all because of him.
How he’d coaxed an orgasm from her.
A fresh blush burned her skin.
Yes, the sex had been fabulous, but that was no excuse for a repeat performance. No need to get greedy. Their quickie affair was what it was and she was cool with that. Not only cool, but happy. Yes. She was happy that there was no entanglement. No expectations. No high hopes. Perfect. This was absolutely perfect.
“So the thing with Gabi,” the other man said. “You’re thinking it was a mistake?”
Gabi’s heart jumped into her throat. What had Joe told them about her? She wished she could see his face.
“Butt out, Mac,” Joe snapped.
Did Joe regret their night together? Gabi’s stomach sickened. Was that why he’d rushed out of her bed this morning without so much as good-bye?
She closed her eyes, swallowed back the hurt. She could just leave. Go back home.
Except Katie Cheek was living in her condo. And Gabi still hadn’t figured out how to break the news to her parents that she was dropping out of law school.
Plus she really, really wanted to spend Christmas in Twilight.
And not just in memory of Derrick.
Then something else occurred to her. What if Joe was regretting their night together because it had been as special as she thought? What if he was terrified by what he was feeling for her?
Was she not enough for him?
Or too much?
Gabi hitched in a heavy breath. Okay. She could deal with it. So what if he didn’t want to have sex with her again. She understood. Absolutely. Completely logical that he didn’t want to hang around with her.
No harm. No foul. No regrets.
She got dressed, crept to the front window, and peeked out. Joe’s pickup truck was still parked in her driveway but there was no one around. Where had they gone?
Padding to the kitchen, she put a pot of coffee on and a minute later, there was a sharp knock on the door and she went to answer it.
Joe was on the deck, legs spread in a masculine stance, arms folded loosely over his chest. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she said quietly. One look in his eyes and all the doubts she’d been having about him vanished. “You’re back.”
“Sorry I bailed on you this morning. Remember that call I got last night when I turned my phone off?”
“Uh-huh.”
“When I got up, I switched my phone back on and found a message from my folks. Gramps had a spill at the rehab center last night and they had to take him over to the hospital. My brothers swung by this morning to pick me up so we could go visit him. You were sleeping so good I didn’t want to wake you.”
“How is your grandfather?”
Joe’s eyes looked troubled. “He’s okay. Got some cuts and bruises and they’re keeping him in the hospital for twenty-four-hour observation, but after that they’ll send him back to rehab.”
“I’m sorry to hear of it.”
His shoulders twitched. “Thanks. When you’ve got a big family, there’s always some kind of drama.”
“I think it’s nice that you’re all so close.”
“How are you doing?” he asked, his gaze stuck on hers, tenderness in his voice.
Unable to find the words to describe the roller coaster of emotions she’d been on, she bobbed her head.
“Did you overhear us talking?”
Should she deny it? “Not much.”
“I don’t know how much you heard, but I don’t think last night was a mistake and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to wake you up with a kiss.”
“You want to come in for coffee?” she invited, knowing she sounded formal but still trying to balance her swirling emotions. Her mind urged her to be cautious, but her body was saying, Screw caution, trust what you feel.
He stepped closer.
She stepped back, and accidentally bumped into the door, knocking the wreath off its hook. The wreath hit her shoulders, bounced.
Lightning-quick, Joe caught the wreath before it hit the ground. The man had reflexes like a panther. It was her opportunity to distance herself, but she was welded to the spot, unable to yank her gaze away from his muscled body. She was in deep and there was so much potential to get hurt. Self-preservation instincts warred with her desire for him.
He rehung the wreath, turned back to her at the same time his cell phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket, snorted when he saw the name on the caller ID.
“What?” he spoke sharply.
Gabi shifted her weight, folded her arms over her chest. She would have gone into another room and left him to his private conversation if there had been another room to go into.
He scowled and listened for a minute to the caller. “You gotta be kidding me. I’ll deal with it. Thanks for letting me know.”
“Your grandfather?” she asked as he ended the call.
“No. Different drama.”
“Do you need a rain check on the coffee?”
“It can wait,” he said, stuffing his phone into his back pocket. “I was hoping you’d let me make breakfast for you.”
The look in those sexy brown eyes made her dizzy with certain knowledge that something very special was going on here.
“Do you like omelets?”
“Sure.”
Gabi moved to the refrigerator with a pounding heart and opened it up to pull out a carton of brown eggs. Joe slipped around behind her, reaching for a copper-bottom skillet hanging from a rack over the stove. She was intensely aware of his shoulder so close to hers, his hip only inches away in the small space. His scent permeated every cell in her body and her fingers itched to touch him.
Knees wobbling, she blindly grabbed butter and cheese, slapped everything on the counter, and stepped back fast.
“Gabi,” he said, just her name and nothing more.
Breathless, she closed her eyes, felt the tips of his fingers graze her cheek, a whisper touch. When his palm slid to the back of her head, his fingers spearing through her hair, she tilted her face up, inhaling his fragrance, commanding, piquant, and sweetly satisfying. It spun he
r head and loosened her muscles and she had to lean against him in order to stay on her feet.
He lowered his head and Gabi went up on tiptoes to meet him, her body humming with the memory of the night just past. Tasting of coffee, his hungry mouth devoured her with a savagery that matched her own.
“We’re not going to eat breakfast, are we?” she gasped.
“Depends on how you define breakfast.” He growled against her neck, scooped her into his arms, and carried her to the bed.
Afterward, they lay in a heap, arms and legs tangled, Gabi’s cheek pressed against Joe’s bare chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and kissed the top of her head.
“Best breakfast ever,” she whispered, smiling as the sun beamed down through the skylight of the domed roof.
“Dazzled you with my culinary skills, huh?”
“Superb control of your heat source,” she teased, and slipped her hand down his abdomen.
He groaned and manacled her wrist with his hand. “Hold that thought, sweetheart. I’ve got to get to work. Those trees won’t chop themselves. Now’s the time for that rain check.”
“Tonight?” she asked hopefully.
“Can’t.” He reached up to stroke a lock of hair from her face. “Promised my brother Mac I’d come help install the cabinets that arrived today for the house he’s building. He’s trying to get everything finished before his first baby arrives next month.”
“That’s nice,” she said, kissing his bare chest. “How your family helps each other out.”
“Isn’t that what families are for?” He stroked her hair.
“Not all families are like yours.”
“I’m lucky,” he said. “I know.” He tilted her chin up so that his eyes met hers. He peered deeply into her and the pressure of his fingers on her skin told her he was talking about more than just his family. “Damn lucky.”
“You make me feel lucky.” She sighed happily and nuzzled his neck.
“My family is having their annual Christmas party this Saturday,” he said. “I’d love for you to come.”
A lick of fear dampened the back of her neck. Meet his entire family? And during a holiday? Too much, too soon. “Joe …”
“Yes, Gabrielle?”
“I need you to understand something.”
“What’s that?” His voice was soft, comforting, inviting as a warm hug.
She propped herself on one elbow, gazed down into his handsome face, felt her heart hop dangerously. “I’m still finding my footing. Still deciding which direction I want my life to take. It wouldn’t be a smart idea for me to jump into something serious.”
“It’s just a party,” he said, his voice deepening with a note of perplexity. “Not a commitment. I thought it might be a lot of fun, but if you’d rather skip the family stuff, I understand.”
Great. Now she felt like an egotistical idiot for suggesting he was getting serious about her. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“It’s okay, Trouble. Believe me, I get it. This thing between us is hitting hard and fast and that’s scary.”
“You’re scared too?”
“Damn scared of blowing things with you.” His voice was husky, raw, his eyes dark as cocoa beans.
A tickle of heartfelt emotion burned the back of her nose. She wished she could seal this moment in a snow globe so she could hold on to it forever. Instead, she inhaled deeply, washed away her feelings with a smile. “The Christmas party sounds nice. I’d love to go.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
He stroked her face with the knuckle of his index finger. “No pressure. None whatsoever.”
“What kind of party is it?”
He shrugged stiff shoulders. Oh, he wanted her to think he wasn’t invested in her saying yes, but that tin-soldier shrug said otherwise. “A Christmas party.”
“I know that. Duh, it’s Christmas. But what kind of Christmas party? Casual? Semiformal? Formal?”
“Who throws a formal Christmas party?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“I thought people were pretty casual in LA?”
“They are. Unless it’s a celebrity black-tie event. Is this a black-tie event?”
“You’re overthinking things. This is a family get-together that sort of sprawls all over town.”
“Explain.”
“Nope. You’ll just have to be there to see it.”
“Sooo, everyone will be wearing …” She wrapped her arms around his neck, peered into his face.
He rolled his eyes. “Jeans and boots and crazy Christmas sweaters.”
“I don’t mean to be annoying,” she said.
“You’re not annoying. I’m just not good at this fashion stuff. I’m the guy who owns twenty blue shirts so I don’t have to think about stuff like this.”
“I just want to fit in.”
“Last night we saw a guy in a shark suit squiring Scarlett O’Hara around the town square, how could you not fit in?”
“I’m not wacky enough.”
“You’re plenty wacky.” He planted a kiss on her forehead.
“In what way?”
“Those adorable hiccups for one thing.”
“That’s not wacky. That’s a quirk.”
“Relax. You’ll be fine.”
“I just want your family to like me.”
“They’ll like you.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“They like everyone.”
“What if I make a faux pas?”
“My family is both easygoing and forgiving.”
He looked like he was going to say something entirely different from what he ended up saying. “You’re really nervous about this party.”
“So jeans, boots, and a dorky Christmas sweater?”
“That’ll do it.”
“You know if I’m dressed inappropriately, I’m holding you completely responsible.”
“I’ll accept that.” He kissed her on the lips, long and slow, then reluctantly pulled back. “I have to go.
“I know.”
He got up and she sat up in the middle of the bed, pulled her knees to her chest, draped the sheet over her naked body, and watched him get dressed—boxer briefs, T-shirt, jeans next. Slipping his fingers through the belt loops to tug them on. Her gaze tracked his fingers to the zipper as he yanked it up.
“Joe,” she said. “I want you to know that last night meant something to me. You weren’t just—”
“The guy who finally gave you an orgasm?” He stepped into his boots, looked cocky and rightly so. He had a lot to be proud of.
She felt her cheeks redden, nodded.
He bent over the bed, his fists digging into the mattress, and he leaned forward to kiss the tip of her nose. “I know,” he said softly. “I know because I feel the same way. Last night meant something to me too.”
And then he was out the door, leaving Gabi to fall back on the bed, hugging herself tightly, grinning and whispering to the skylight, “What in the hell is going on?”
CHAPTER 15
Christmas is the day that holds all time together.
—Alexander Smith
Feeling too energized and too distracted by the handsome man cutting down trees across the road to hang around the yurt, Gabi went to Perks for a late breakfast.
The barista named Brittany took one look at her, wrinkled her freckled nose, and declared, “Something’s different.”
Gabi laughed and shook her head. She had figured out how small towns worked. Anything she told the barista would be all over Twilight in an hour. “Nothing’s different.”
“Your hair,” the barista said. “You’ve changed your hair.”
“Hair’s the same.”
Brittany cocked her head, pressed an index finger to her cheek, and surveyed Gabi pensively. “You sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Well, if you don’t know, who would?”
“Exactly.”
“Nope. Same old, same old.”
Brittany narrowed her eyes to skeptical slits. “You know, Joe Cheek came in here bright and early when we opened and he looked different too, the same kind of different as you. He was all glowy and happy and satisfied and …” Brittany’s eyes widened and she let out a squeak, plastered a palm over her mouth. “OMG, did you have sex with Joe Cheek?”
“What? No. No.” Gabi shook her head from one shoulder all the way to the other several times.
Every patron in the coffee shop turned to look at her.
If there had been a rock nearby, Gabi would have dove under it. “Can I have my order to go, please?”
“I’ll throw an extra egg on your breakfast sandwich. If you’re sleeping with Joe, you’ll need the extra protein to keep your strength up.” Brittany winked like she knew what it was like to sleep with Joe.
“Did you and Joe …” Gabi couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
A dreamy look stole over Brittany’s face. “Mmm. We dated for a month, a long time ago. Best sex of my life.”
She did not want to hear this. Gabi wished there was a lightning storm so she could go outside carrying a metal rod.
“Enjoy the ride while it lasts,” Brittany advised. “A fling with Joe is amazing, but short.”
A couple of other women in the coffee shop were nodding in amen-sister agreement.
Seriously? How many women in this town had Joe slept with? How many of them thought they’d had something special? And where in the hell was that thunderstorm and lightning rod when you needed them?
“Here you go.” Over the counter, Brittany passed her a white paper bag with her double-egged breakfast sandwich in it.
Gabi snatched the sack and scooted out the door.
She walked through Sweetheart Park along the cobblestone pathway that followed the shallow, meandering tributary of the Brazos River and perched on a park bench to eat her sandwich. But as she thought about her time with Joe and how she’d foolishly thought they’d been something special, her appetite vanished.
Who was she kidding? Joe had been with a lot of women. How could she be any more special than the rest? Dusting her palms, she tossed her sandwich into the trash.
“Morning!” a bubbly voice called out.