Neither thought gave me the warm-fuzzies, and as I reflected on that, another wrinkle came to light. My boyfriend walking on the wrong side of the law was going to put a definite strain on my friendship with Laycee. Especially now that her relationship with Jake was no longer a secret. Suddenly I was very thankful I had kept my silence about being back with Gabriel.
As for myself, I was a lost cause. No matter what truth lay buried in Alaska, nothing was going to take me away from him. Nothing could. I didn’t care if he was a half step away from an arrest warrant, I would not leave him. Some unfathomable, irresistible force told me, as sure as the sun was going to rise in the morning, my future was linked with his. And that odd feeling of déjà vu was getting stronger.
Part of me said I should ask Gabriel what it meant, especially as the voice in my head was becoming a royal pain. It wouldn’t be so bad if it threw me something different to chew on every now and then, but apparently its entire vocabulary was limited to five words. And I still had no idea what they meant. How could I possibly know who Gabriel was?
Still, there was something . . . if I could only put my finger on it. Perhaps it was all in the wording. Just because you hadn’t met someone before didn’t necessarily equate to not knowing them.
The weeks that followed were like a honeymoon, with very few nights that Gabriel and I were not together. I did suffer some anxiety wondering how I was going to pull off spending Thanksgiving with Laycee and her family. Canceling due to a sudden, unexpected illness was not an option. If I was too sick to come to them, they would simply load up the car and bring Turkey Day to me.
I’d come to the conclusion that perhaps my best bet was to simply show up with Gabriel in tow. Laycee’s mom would welcome him with open arms, tickled pink that I finally had a man of my own. And I knew an extra mouth to feed at Thanksgiving was never a problem. But Laycee would be hurt, and trying to come up with a believable excuse for my silence was going to be difficult. And then there was Jake to consider. Would experience give him some sort of cop ESP that would just tell him Gabriel and he were on opposite sides of the law? I was saved when Gabriel informed me he had to go out of town for most of the day. A long-standing appointment that couldn’t be changed. It was quite shameful how relieved I felt being able to keep “us” a secret for a little longer.
Thanksgiving Day with Laycee and her family went off without a hitch, but it became even better when I rolled over in the middle of the night into Gabriel’s arms. Of course, the argument could be made that our relationship was based on sex, but it wasn’t. Not entirely. While it was true we did spend a lot of time exchanging bodily fluids in the most imaginative ways, we still did other things.
We went to the late-night Saturday movies, stopping for coffee afterward at the diner where the waitress still flirted shamelessly with Gabriel, only now I didn’t mind so much. We also went to dinner at least once a week at the Hungarian restaurant, where the lovely Anasztaizia was forever gracious. And sometimes we just went on long midnight drives or sat in the living room or outside on the porch swing and talked.
A world traveler, Gabriel had either visited almost every country in the world or known someone who had. He could tell stories about places I’d only read about or seen on the National Geographic channel, and his attention to detail was phenomenal. He observed using all of his senses. When he described a marketplace he had visited somewhere in the Middle East, I could almost smell the aromatic spices and fragrant, heady perfumes, while listening to merchants barter in a language I didn’t understand. In my mind’s eye I could see the bright plumage of caged songbirds competing to be heard over the panicked bleating of goats and the disdainful braying that only camels produce. And don’t even get me started on the different foods he had tasted.
All I had to share was my childhood and the devastating effect of my mother’s leaving. I was certain there wasn’t a day that went by that my father didn’t hold himself responsible for her desertion, and I had no doubt she was the last thing on his mind as he lay dying in the twisted wreckage of his car.
But I also made sure Gabriel knew how much my father had loved me, never failing to tell me so every day of my life, even when I made it difficult for him. Like most teenagers I struggled with adolescence, trying to find my place in the world even if it meant rebelling against the things he stood for. I was glad he’d been able to see me come through that period of my life none the worse for wear. I’d always be grateful for the values he had instilled in me before a random spin on the Life Lottery took him away.
Hearing the catch in my voice as I talked about my father, Gabriel took my hands and kissed the inside of each wrist. I remembered him doing the same thing the night he left me, and, both then and now, it felt very intimate.
“Why do you do that?” I asked.
“You don’t like it?”
“No—I mean yes, I like it just fine.” He looked up at me, his eyes so dark I thought for a moment his pupils had expanded, swallowing up the irises. “It’s just no one has ever kissed me on my wrists before. Is it something you do in Norway?”
He smiled, a brilliant, dazzling effect that lightened his eyes and left me breathless. Still holding my hands, Gabriel rubbed his thumbs across the pale blue veins below the skin.
“I don’t know if it’s Norwegian in origin,” he said, “but it’s a custom I learned long ago. Pressing my lips to your pulse point is a sign of affection.”
“I see.”
My throat felt dry, and as with most answers Gabriel gave me, I felt there was a whole lot more I wasn’t being told. I don’t think he was being deliberately evasive; he was waiting to see if I would ask for further clarification, but I didn’t. Instead I turned the conversation toward his own childhood. I was disappointed when he became reticent, and he asked my forgiveness.
“It was a long time ago, and something I’d rather forget,” he said, as he twisted his mouth into an uncharacteristically severe line.
I didn’t want to poke my nose in where it wasn’t wanted, but I was concerned. “It can’t all have been bad,” I told him. “You must have a least one happy memory from your childhood.”
He shook his head, the blond mane catching the light, reflecting it back into his face and casting shadows in the hollows of his cheeks. “No, unlike you, the few memories I do have of my past are not pleasant ones.”
I pulled my hands out of his grasp and used them to sweep the hair out of his eyes and back over his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I won’t ask again,” I promised.
His smile was not so dazzling, but it was heartfelt. “As I said, it was a very long time ago.”
I laughed. “I doubt it—you’re not that old!”
“You’d be surprised,” he murmured, and something in his voice told me the subject was no longer open for discussion.
My thoughts about Gabriel’s involvement in a gang suddenly did not seem quite so farfetched. A common thread that drew many to such a way of life was the need to belong somewhere. If Gabriel had suffered a traumatic childhood, I could see how the allure of a gang would be appealing. The offer of a new “family” to replace one that had been lost or abandoned would be comforting. Humans in general are not solitary creatures. I wanted to explore this further, to see if my theory was anywhere near correct, but intuition told me we had a long way to go before either of us would be comfortable handling such a revelation.
It was definitely time to lighten the mood. At the risk of my own humiliation, I brought out my baby book. Gabriel was, by turns, enchanted and fascinated. He pored over every memory in the form of snapshots tucked behind the cellophane-covered pages: a newborn cocooned inside a blanket, taking my first steps while wearing a most determined expression, the Christmas when my fascination with wrapping paper was all-consuming. And then—it was almost embarrassing—kindergarten through graduation, my life arranged and kept in chronological order for the world to see.
Sitting with my baby shoes balanced on one knee and brushing
a finger over my senior class picture, Gabriel listened as I told him how trashed Laycee and I had gotten at the prom party we went to.
“It was the only time I saw my dad lose his temper,” I recalled solemnly. “I mean really lose it.”
He could barely keep the grin off his face. “Now that does surprise me.”
I slapped him lightly on the arm. “Yeah, the cops had to bring us home . . .” My voice trailed off as the memory surfaced with a clarity that was picture perfect.
I could remember holding on to the porch handrail for dear life and trying not to fall over as I waved sympathetically at Laycee, who peered at me through the back window of Jake’s cruiser. He was only a deputy at the time, but I suddenly wondered just when the attraction between the two of them had first sparked. Could it possibly have begun that night, slowly simmering all these years? It was certainly worth the asking, and I slotted the question away until I’d see her again.
“You never wanted to go to college?” Gabriel asked, bringing me back to the present.
I shook my head. “Not really, although I’m sure I would have if my dad hadn’t died. I lost interest in a lot of things after that.”
“It’s not too late. You have a good brain.”
I thanked him for the compliment. “But Gabriel, just think, if I had gone to college, I might be shacked up right now with some guy who has a PhD.”
Closing the photo album, he put it, along with my baby shoes, on the end table before pulling me into his arms.
“But, Rowan, you already are.” He pressed my palm against the front of his jeans. “Feels like a PHD to me.”
CHAPTER 25
It was two weeks before Christmas, a Friday, and the last day off I was going to be able to get from the bookstore until after the holidays. Laycee and I were in the bigger of the two malls Greenley Heights boasted, and I was helping her choose a suitable Christmas gift for Jake. It was also an opportunity to surreptitiously look for something for Gabriel.
Buying him a gift was daunting. The last man I’d gone Christmas shopping for was my dad, and he would have been happy with a gift certificate to Pro Bass Outfitters. Actually, he would have preferred that because he could have bought something for himself that he really wanted. Sometimes I wonder just how many useless gifts he held on to because he didn’t want to hurt my feelings by exchanging them.
But Gabriel was definitely not a Pro Bass type of guy.
I toyed with the idea of getting him a shirt in something other than the basic black he always wore. Not that he didn’t always look fabulous, but I wanted to indulge myself and see if he looked just as gorgeous in, say, cerulean or crimson or caramel. Or hot pink, the new power color. Checking the inside label one night while he was taking a shower, I’d found out his shirts came from somewhere called Turnbull and Asser. I’d never heard of the company and had to look it up online. I was dismayed to discover Gabriel had his shirts made for him in London, England. Getting a Van Heusen from JC Penney wasn’t going to cut it.
I thought about cologne, but he didn’t use it. The amazing way he smelled was natural. He had pretty much every CD I’d ever mentioned, and judging from what he had brought to the house for us to watch, his movie collection was just as extensive. That left books, but giving him a book as a gift struck me as being somewhat impersonal and not very imaginative, considering where I worked. My choices were diminishing minute by frustrating minute.
Laycee’s idea of a gift for Jake consisted of buying lingerie to wear for him. She knew exactly what her man wanted Santa to bring this year, and I dutifully gave her my honest opinion as to what was tastefully erotic and what was downright trashy. Naturally, trashy won hands down every time. I considered stealing her idea, but that would require some sort of explanation on my part, because she would never believe I was buying lingerie for the hope chest I didn’t have or “just in case.”
I could have easily used the shopping moment to tell her that Gabriel and I were an item, but I didn’t. I rationalized my silence by telling myself that when I could fill in at least half of the Alaskan wasteland, I would be in a better position to know exactly what I could and couldn’t tell her. Because she was going to have questions—was she ever!—and no matter how noble my intentions, if Laycee sensed I was holding back info, she would ask Jake to do a background check. And I definitely didn’t want her finding out things that would be better coming from me.
We left Victoria’s Secret (I bought an overpriced lip gloss) and headed for the toy store. As I watched her peruse Jake’s kids’ wish lists, I realized toy shopping at Christmas was not for the faint of heart. It was an undertaking you carried out because of necessity or love. Both applied to Laycee; neither applied to me. I bailed, but promised a Starbucks stop before heading home. She began to fuss—until I mentioned that I needed to check on her Christmas gift. It was amazing how quickly she did an about-face, wearing an expression that was only mildly avaricious, as she left me.
For Laycee’s Christmas gift I had chosen a double-link bracelet along with a letter L charm. It was a good choice because it would mean Christmas and birthdays were covered for at least the next decade. I would just have to make certain I coordinated my choices with Jake. Waiting in the jewelry store for my purchase to be gift-wrapped, I perused the men’s section.
The only jewelry I had ever seen Gabriel wear was a watch. I thought I had a gift option when he told me he didn’t always wear a Rolex. But it turned out that was his everyday watch. For special occasions, he wore a Patek Philippe. It took me a couple of tries on the Internet to find this one, but that’s because I didn’t know what kind of a word “Patek” was or how to spell it. I don’t know why I bothered.
I looked over the display cases, not really expecting to find anything, when I saw exactly what I wanted. It was a ring. A circle of polished mahogany sandwiched between two matching bands of roped platinum. Discreet and unassuming, it was perfect for Gabriel. I asked the salesgirl for a closer look, and she got it out of the case for me. It slipped over my thumb with plenty of room to spare, so I figured it should fit at least one of Gabriel’s fingers. It was expensive but what the heck—it was Christmas! If I didn’t use my credit card every now and then, the damn thing would be canceled. I was very pleased with myself as I headed for Starbucks.
I had just found a vacant table when Laycee arrived, and from the frazzled look on her face, the toy shopping experience had not gone so well. She made an uncomplimentary comment about idiot parents and bratty offspring as she sat down.
“Jake is definitely coming with me next time!” she declared grumpily.
I smiled indulgently and pushed one of the foamy coffees across the table to her. She took a sip, wiped the froth from the tip of her nose, and gave me a piercing stare.
“What are you looking so pleased about?” she asked.
I felt my grin getting wider as I shook my head. “I’ve never seen you so happy,” I told her. “I think being with Jake is very good for you.”
She smiled, melting like a marshmallow in hot chocolate at the mention of his name. “Yeah, I think so, too.”
“And I think he’s really going to enjoy that little black and red number you got for him.”
“He’d better,” she giggled, her face lighting up. “Considering how much it cost, and the fact that I only expect to have it on for thirty seconds, tops.”
“Why is it,” I pondered, “the skimpier the fabric, the higher the price tag?”
She shook her head, her ponytail swinging. “You got me there, Ro.”
We sipped our coffees and indulged in a favorite pastime, people watching. We agreed that in general there were a lot more Scrooges out and about than Tiny Tims.
I was in the middle of an observation about a fortysomething woman dressed like a seventeen-year-old—“Mutton dressed as lamb,” Laycee informed me—when her attention was grabbed by something behind me.
“There’s a blonde heading your way,” she said in a low voice,
her eyes impossibly wide.
I felt my stomach lurch and hoped it wasn’t Gabriel. Not that I wouldn’t be thrilled to see him, but I wasn’t prepared for him and Laycee to be in the same hemisphere, let alone the same coffee shop.
“Another admirer?” I said, attempting to play it off.
I could see she didn’t remember what I was talking about, and then her carefully penciled eyebrows pulled together as the memory came back. She shook her head.
“Nuh-uh, this is a woman,” she murmured, “and she’s headed right for you.”
Relieved, but also puzzled, I turned my head and saw Anasztaizia making her way toward us. Looking as beautiful as ever, she paid no attention to the heads she was turning. I was certain she took away the breath of every man in the place, even wearing jeans and a turtleneck.
“Rowan, dahlink!” She held out her arms as she approached, leaving me no alternative but to get to my feet for a hug. “I thought that was you!”
She kissed me on both cheeks, and I returned the compliment, asking her to join us. It would have been very rude not to, and I wouldn’t have hurt her feelings for anything. The guy at the next table looked like he’d just won the lottery when Anasztaizia asked if she might use the empty chair.
“Anasztaizia, please let me introduce you to my friend, Laycee,” I said once she was settled and we were both sitting down.
Laycee looked a little doubtful, as if she thought the beautiful Magyar was going to kiss her as well, but Anasztaizia held out her hand instead. Obviously you had to work your way up to get a peck on the cheek.
“How are you and what are you doing here?” I asked.
“Checking out the competition.” Lifting her cardboard cup, she laughed. It sounded like the chime of tiny bells.
Laycee looked nonplussed.
“Anasztaizia’s family owns a restaurant, and they make the best coffee I’ve ever tasted,” I explained.
“Is that so?”
I wasn’t fooled by Laycee’s sweet smile. It told me I was in trouble and so going to get it on the ride home.
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