by Lily Danes
“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say to that.
He slid his eyes toward her. “I never had a problem with it, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just don’t want to lose control. And I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I didn’t realize how late it was. I was walking around.”
“Where?” Lost Coast wasn’t that big. He could have explored every street twice in the time since she’d last seen him.
“Nowhere, really.” He headed into her living room. Everything in it was second hand, picked up at garage sales and from friends who were redecorating their homes. There was one of everything—a couch, coffee table, rug, all the comforts of home—but none of it went together.
Gabe wasn’t looking at her furniture, though. He walked straight to the corner and ran his fingers across the leaves of a ficus, his eyes almost soft.
He moved around the room, studying each plant, touching a few others with gentle fingers. “It’s like a jungle in here.” Gabe’s hand hovered near the orchids she kept on the mantel, but he resisted the urge to stroke the temperamental plant. “They’re all real, too.”
“Of course they are,” Maddie said, indignant. She might not be able to keep a relationship alive, but plants were another matter. They thrived under her care.
She wasn’t prepared for his expression when he turned to her. He looked…grateful?
“You don’t realize all the things you miss.” It didn’t seem like he was talking to her.
“Not a lot of plants in prison, huh?” She fought a shudder at the thought. Life without a bit of dirt and a few seeds sounded so sterile, though her rational mind knew it was nothing compared to the other things prison took from him.
“Not a lot of all sorts of things.” He shook off the melancholy, and she could practically see his inner devil return. Gabe’s eyes raked her, a smile tugging at his lips. “This isn’t the home I expected from a straight-laced professional woman.”
Maddie winced. “New furniture isn’t cheap.”
His laugh was unexpected. “I don’t think I’ve sat in a new piece of furniture in my life. No, I mean this.” His gesture took in everything, from her plants to her clothes to the afghan spread across her sofa. “Are you secretly a softie, Maddie?”
She glowered, and he laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep your secret,” Gabe assured her.
This had gone far enough. “Can I get you anything?” she asked, dropping back into the straight-laced professional he’d accused her of being. One wearing duckie pajamas.
Gabe let her change the subject. He ran a hand along his scalp. It looked like he’d shorn his hair close to his skull and was still getting used to it growing out. “I hate to put you out any more, but any chance I could wash up? There’s no shower in the town square.”
“That’s fine. Bathroom is upstairs on the right. Towels are in the linen closet. Be sure to lock the door or someone might walk right in.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Bree. My roommate,” she clarified.
Gabe went upstairs, but not before she saw the amused smile pulling at his lips.
Maddie spent the next ten minutes being extremely busy and accomplishing nothing. She moved mail from one spot to another without opening it, then checked all her plants for dryness, though she’d already done so this morning.
This wasn’t her. She always had purpose, a reason for each action. The break between semesters at the community college was too long, she decided. She needed structure. A tight schedule that left her with no time to do anything but work and dream of future successes.
“That’s better.”
She hadn’t heard him returning, but when she turned around, there he was. All of him.
Well not all of him. A few parts were still covered by the towel.
But the rest…oh dear Lord.
She’d known Gabe was strong, both by the way his clothes fit and the controlled way he moved. She hadn’t imagined that each muscle was so defined he looked like he’d been sculpted with knives.
Tattoos covered his right arm. It wasn’t the full-color sleeve she often saw. Instead, his brown skin peeked out between sharp lines and powerful curves drawn in black ink. The tattoos looked both primitive and like an artist’s sketch, and she longed to study them.
Droplets of water clung to his skin. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, fighting the almost overwhelming desire to lick those drops and learn what he tasted like.
There he stood, looking like a filthy god draped in a towel, and she wore flannel pajamas covered in ducks. They really weren’t on even footing at that moment.
She knew her pale skin revealed every blush, but it wasn’t embarrassment fueling the color this time. Heat threaded through her entire body, its weight settling between her legs.
Gabe gestured to the worn canvas backpack he’d dropped when he entered the room. “I forgot to bring my bag. I have clean clothes in there.”
“I’ll get the sheets.” She damn near sprinted to the laundry room. Bracing her hands on the washing machine, she counted to five, and then to ten. She was nearing fifty before she found her control.
It had been too long, she finally admitted to herself. She’d gone years without so much as a kiss, let alone all those things Gabe seemed to promise. Maybe Bree was right, and it was past time she got laid.
By someone else. Someone she could trust. She was meeting Declan tomorrow for coffee. She only needed to hold on another day.
Her hands disagreed. They undid the first button of her top. She was just evening the playing field a little, she told herself.
Maddie straightened and returned to the living room with even steps.
Gabe was already stretched across her couch. He’d pulled on a new pair of jeans that rested low on his hips, but nothing else. His chest and feet were still bare.
He smiled at the sheets in her hand. “You think I’m gonna get the couch dirty?”
“You’ll need a blanket, at least.” She threw it on top of him, a suggestion that he cover up.
He set it to the side, then pulled himself up until he rested on his elbows. His abs flexed with the movement, every single part of that six-pack doing its job.
“Why do I bother you, Maddie?” His voice was low, his eyes melting.
Maddie’s butterflies returned.
“Why am I bothered that an ex-con I met this morning is sleeping on my couch?” She could almost feel the angel on her shoulder, reminding her that it would be a lot easier to keep her libido in check if she went to bed now.
But for the first time in years, the angel had company, and the devil had a different suggestion.
Like a child stretching a shaking hand toward a flame to see how close they could get without burning themselves, she perched on the sofa arm, her feet on either side of Gabe’s ankles. Only an inch of space separated their bare skin.
Her voice was steady. “Tell me why I shouldn’t be bothered.”
It was the first time Maddie had moved toward him voluntarily.
“Well, I’m rehabilitated.” He winked. The movement felt awkward, an imitation of flirting rather than the real thing.
She looked unimpressed.
He wracked his brain, trying to find another reason she should trust him when she really shouldn’t. He enjoyed being near her. He definitely enjoyed looking at her.
And he would still lie to her every day until he got what he needed.
“I don’t suppose you’ll believe I’m innocent?”
She crossed her arms under her chest and glared.
Maddie obviously had no idea what that movement did to her breasts. He watched, mesmerized, as she squeezed them together, the soft curves peeking out of the neckline of those ridiculous pajamas. One of the buttons had come undone, for which he thanked whatever higher being watched over such things.
An unexpected desire to tease her about the silly duck print rose in him, the impulse so foreign Gabe lost his train of thought.
“Is
that all you got?” Maddie leaned forward, improving his view.
He needed a distraction, so he settled on the most dangerous course of action. He’d tell her the truth. A highly edited version of it.
“I got caught with guns. I made some stupid choices when I was younger, but they’re not ones I’ll ever make again.” No lie there. He’d spent enough time putting others ahead of himself, and he’d more than paid the price. Prison taught him the value of selfishness.
Maddie leaned forward another inch.
“I’ve never hurt a woman, child, or animal, and I only hit men if they come at me first. I don’t steal. And if you’ve got a few eggs and tortillas, I’ll wake you with a huevos rancheros so good you’ll think you’re still dreaming. Every word of that’s true, but if you didn’t believe I was innocent, no reason you’ll believe the rest of it. So tell me, Maddie. Why did you let an ex-con you met this morning into your house?”
Her thumb and index finger tapped together five times. “You needed a place to stay,” she said at last. “It was the right thing to do.”
“You always do the right thing?” It came out like a challenge.
To his chagrin, Maddie sat up straight, erasing the progress she’d made toward him. “It’s better than the alternative, right?” she asked.
“Is a little bit of wrong really that bad?”
She stood so abruptly he felt the air shift by his foot.
“If you get cold, there are more blankets in the laundry room.”
Whatever he’d said, she couldn’t run away from him fast enough.
Gabe couldn’t let her go, not like this. He levered himself up and clasped her wrist just before she slipped out of reach. The hold was light, but she stilled the moment he touched her.
He stroked one thumb against the underside of her wrist. He’d meant it to be a single touch, but as soon as his skin touched hers he didn’t want to release her. Gabe didn’t remember the last time he’d felt anything so soft. So delicate.
Swallowing, he looked up. He knew this was the time to flash the big smile women had always loved, to let her see a hint of promise in his eyes, but those flirtatious impulses remained absent. When he looked into her sea-colored eyes, he could muster only sincerity.
“Whatever the reason, thank you. This beats the hell out of a park bench.”
She managed a single nod, then slipped her wrist free and walked upstairs as fast as she could without actually running.
Gabe lay flat on the couch, leaving the table lamp on. After last night’s rough sleep, he should have dozed off right away. Instead, he tossed and turned for an hour, trying to find the right position, but there was none. At last, defeated, he lay on the floor. Even the coarse rug under his cheek felt too soft.
He wasn’t ready for this. Not for warm rooms and comfortable beds, and definitely not for skin that felt like silk under his rough thumb. He needed hard, unforgiving floors. He needed to feel the bite of cold against his neck. These days, hard was all he knew.
Chapter Five
Gabe left before the sun even thought to make its first appearance of the day.
Part of him wanted to wait till Maddie woke up. He’d made progress last night. He’d seen it in the way her breath caught when he touched her, the way her eyelids grew heavy. A smart man would press that advantage.
Fuck, a smart man wouldn’t leave for any reason.
But he’d already been inside too long. When he woke, the walls of her living room felt like a cage. He needed the sky above his head and the road beneath his feet, a road that went as far as he was willing to travel.
There was no rush, Gabe reminded himself. Oliver wasn’t going anywhere. If he pushed too hard, Maddie would trust him even less than she already did.
Gabe picked up his steps, needing to feel his muscles stretch and blood flow faster in his veins. He skirted around the town center, wanting to avoid other people.
The outside world was a stranger to him. At least in the joint, everyone understood. They knew what it was to give up hope, to count off one identical day at a time. He wasn’t surrounded by metal bars anymore. Now he was surrounded by people who knew nothing of his world, and sometimes that hurt almost as much.
It never even crossed their minds that it could happen to them. They worried about bills and spouses and whether the alternator would last another month, but they never worried that they’d end up in prison. Their whole lives, they’d only known freedom. The freedom to go where they wanted, to work how they wanted. To love how they wanted.
The law said he could go anywhere now, but that wasn’t true. Until his name was cleared, this was the only place he could be. It said he could work any job that would hire him—but no place wanted a thug ex-con. He was still shocked he’d been hired at the docks—and he suspected he’d only been given that opportunity so Oliver Hastings could keep an eye on him.
And Gabe sure as hell couldn’t love the way he wanted. Love had started all this. Love for his mother and Mateo, who’d needed him to confess that he’d stolen the diamond ring found in his twenty-year-old brother’s jacket.
The ring planted there by the woman Mateo loved.
He had to. Mateo would have been tried as an adult, and he couldn’t let that happen. His family didn’t even know he’d done it until he was too late. By then, he had a juvenile record and a two-year sentence.
Love made you do stupid shit. It kept Gabe away from his brother for years, too angry about the sacrifice he’d chosen to make. It kept him away from his mother, because he was afraid of what she’d see in him after two years with the fine folk of the California Youth Authority. And then, after all that wasted time, love made him so desperate to return in time to say good-bye to his mother that he took a sketchy job driving for Hastings Shipping.
He never said good-bye. His mother died of cancer while he waited for his trial.
He would never stop loving Mateo—that love was hard-wired into him. He only wished he’d figured that out sooner. But that love was enough.
Love broke people, and he was plenty broken enough. His soul had grown dark over the last six years, and he wouldn’t cover Maddie in that darkness. As tightly wound and controlled as she was, softness lurked just under the surface. He saw it in her goofy pajamas, her comfortable house, the walls of plants that filled her home with life. He couldn’t ruin that.
Gabe drew to a sudden stop. What the hell was he thinking? Maddie might make his balls ache, but that had nothing to do with love. After so much time away from any woman, he’d probably declare his undying devotion to the first one who offered him a blow job. That didn’t make it real.
But Maddie hadn’t offered him a damn thing, whispered an annoying voice he tried to ignore, and he still wanted to be with her.
Gabe started moving again, twice as fast as before. He tried to outrun the one thought he couldn’t seem to escape. If he went through with his plan to get to the Hastings through Maddie, he might break her. Her heart wasn’t on the line, but he was risking her job. Her standing in town. The peace of mind that came from not being used by a shameless criminal.
Maybe his plan wouldn’t work. Maddie was just the office assistant. Sure, she had access to the files, but he doubted the man kept incriminating evidence in a room any dockworker could access.
Gabe let himself consider options, ones that didn’t involve being an absolute bastard to a woman who’d done nothing to deserve it. A lot of other people in this town worked with Hastings. He needed to buy his co-workers a drink—or lots of drinks—and learn what they had to say about Hastings Shipping. There was a wealth of information on that dock, and a few shots of whiskey was a good place to start.
If he did that, maybe he could seduce Maddie for the fun of it.
For the first time since he woke up, he felt his mind begin to clear.
Maddie was great at her job. Nothing was misfiled, no order was unrecorded, and no invoice went unpaid.
But that day, she couldn’t seem to
do anything right. Twice, she forgot to put water in the coffee maker before turning it on, and she hung up on three suppliers when she pushed the wrong button. Even Oliver noticed something was wrong, and Oliver wasn’t known for his keen eye for detail, at least where people were concerned.
“You’ve been looking out the window a lot today,” he said. “Expecting someone?”
“No, nothing like that.” It wasn’t a lie. She wasn’t expecting anyone, because the person was already on the docks. All day, she’d tried not to watch him lift one piece of cargo after another. Despite the chill of the day, the exertion had warmed him until he stood in only his Henley, his biceps bulging with every movement. More than once, he lifted his arms high enough that his shirt rode up, revealing his perfectly flat stomach and the thin line of hair that disappeared into the waistband of his jeans.
She’d tried not to watch him. She hadn’t been very successful.
“I’m nervous after yesterday.” Maddie indicated the cargo stacked high and the men milling about it. The crane was out of commission until the mechanic checked it out.
Oliver considered the crates. “It looks stable. Someone got sloppy yesterday, but everyone’s on high alert now. It won’t happen again.”
“We should still know who was responsible. I keep telling you to get those security cameras working.”
“Uh-huh,” he said absently. Oliver tended to hear what he wanted to hear and little else. “I’ve got something to cheer you up.”
Maddie stilled. This was it. He’d decided to let her work on the real estate acquisition.
“My father’s having his annual Winter Blues Ball this weekend, and for the first time he’s inviting all of his employees. Last minute decision, I guess.”
Maddie’s stomach dropped, but she managed to paste on a smile. It wasn’t what she wanted, but it was still a big deal. Peter Hastings’ Winter Blues party was famous in town. Held every January, it was a way to extend the festive holiday season into the dreariest month of the year. He hired all the best caterers and florists and lit the mansion from top to bottom until it looked like a fairyland. She’d only gone once before, the year before she’d married Charlie and was still being asked out by respectable boys. She didn’t remember what her date looked like, but she still remembered the mushroom tarts served that night.