“I know.”
Another measuring glance speared her where she stood, and she fought to stay still under the onslaught. Finally, just as the urge to squirm became unbearable, Regina softened.
“But if not for you, I don’t think he’d have ever realized he had even one friend here, and he’d have moved to California months ago. I guess I owe you that, anyway.”
A hesitant smile touched her mouth. “You’ll…give me directions?”
“Hell, Gabe, I’ll draw you a map.”
Not surprisingly, the park was empty. He lost track of what lap he was on and just ran. He didn’t have to think, didn’t have to feel. He just had to put one foot in front of the other and dodge the few branches weighted down enough with rain to hang in his path.
He did pause once to catch his breath and reflect that he ought to jog in a thunderstorm more often. It was exhilarating. The air was charged with electricity, the rain kept him cool and washed away the sweat, and even the booming thunder only urged him on. He would definitely have to make thunder-jogging his newest hobby.
A bench came into view, and he decided to sit and rest a moment. It was hard to judge time passage in a storm, but he guessed he’d been running for almost an hour. His body felt pleasantly lax from the exertion—not fatigued, but definitely pushed. He could probably do another two laps without straining himself.
But for now, he was content to sit and let everything he’d tried to forget slip back in. The situation didn’t seem so bad, once he saw it from a different angle. After all, what was the big hurry? He could wait, could give Gabe some time to get used to the idea of being loved. He had to finish his degree, anyway. That would take at least two semesters, maybe three. And he liked his help desk job. In all, the only thing pushing him for a quick resolution was his own desire for everything to turn out all right.
For a moment, he frowned. What if he waited a year or more and Gabe still wanted nothing to do with him? What would he do if she was really gone for good?
After all, he honestly didn’t know why she’d kicked him out. What if she was disgusted that he was an escort? She hadn’t seemed to be when it was just sex, but what if she couldn’t love him because of his past, no matter his plans for the future?
Scowling now, he shoved off of the bench and took off jogging again. He didn’t think that was it. She’d defended him to her friends. Her own sister—and a more over-protective sibling had never existed, he was sure—was in his corner, to an extent.
No. She was just surprised. Stunned. Shocked, really. She hadn’t booted him because he used to be a gigolo. If she had, he couldn’t do anything about it, and he refused to believe he couldn’t salvage the situation somehow.
His step lengthened until he was running full out. He left rational thought behind and raced the rain. And if he couldn’t outrun the image of chocolate brown eyes staring up at him with shock and sick hurt, well…he gave it the old college try.
She pounded on the door until her hand hurt, then hammered again, just to be sure. He wasn’t home. She tried to tell herself it didn’t mean anything, but she stared at the number on the door for a good ten minutes before giving up on him showing up out of the blue. He was probably just out. Getting supper, maybe. Although it was a bit early for dinner. And storming.
Her head drooped, and she shoved her hands into her soaked jeans pockets. Her hair dripped and clung to her cheeks. Jack wasn’t home. Maybe he never would be again.
Forcing herself to stand up straight, she walked back out into the rain, though she didn’t really want to get back into her car. She didn’t want to drive back to Joplin without any answers. She didn’t even particularly want to take refuge at Mike’s house. It would hurt too much to see such a happy little family. Now that she thought about it, it always hurt.
Staring aimlessly across the street and squinting against the rain, she realized that the trimmed greens and orderly trees were a park. She shaded her eyes, though it didn’t help much, and just made out a swing set. Definitely a park.
She debated a long minute, then shrugged and dropped her hands to her sides. What the hell. She was already soaked anyway. She didn’t even notice the cold anymore.
Her steps dragging, she ambled across the street and trudged along a muddy, graveled path until she stumbled over a park bench. As weary as if she’d walked across the country instead of just across the street, she slumped down onto the bench and splayed her feet out before her. What was she doing here? What was she doing at all? Why had she let herself come to this point?
Mike’s words echoed back at her. No one’s burden. Jack loves you. You are the only thing keeping him from being happy.
That last one hurt the most. She’d held back to avoid hurting him, and she’d somehow hurt him anyway. How had her best intentions turned like a knife in her hand? How had she managed to cut both herself and him so badly? And how could she make it right again?
“That’s what I’m doing here.” She sighed. “And a damn good job I’m doing, too.”
She dropped her head back and closed her eyes, letting the rain fall unimpeded on her face. Despite the occasional rumble of thunder, she actually felt soothed. The patter of the rain, she guessed. Or maybe she finally knew her own heart.
Rapid footsteps crunched the gravel, and she sat up, swiping the rain out of her eyes with dripping hands. She didn’t see anyone, but she definitely heard footsteps coming closer by the second. She squinted and just made out a murky outline. Human. Probably male. Big.
Maybe she should've sat in the rain somewhere else.
As he neared, his form became more distinct. Soaked sweats and an equally soaked T-shirt. The fabric clung to tight, flexing muscle. The man’s hair hung in his face, plastered there by the downpour, and she couldn’t make out any distinguishing features. Just the same, something about the scene struck a chord in her memory, and she stared at the approaching figure, trying to will him into focus.
A flash of Lily and Ivy intruded. On a jungle gym. She glanced off to the left, and sure enough, the skeletal outline of a jungle gym was just visible. Her eyes widened. It was the same park. Another flash of memory, and she saw tanned, sweat-glistened legs and the briefest glimpse of an equally tanned and sweat-glistened face. A flash of white teeth in a quick and breathless smile. For a moment, the rain was gone, and she stared at a passing figure that glowed in sunlight instead of looming in the rain.
A passing figure she knew.
“It was you!”
The man stumbled to a stop, trying to turn even as his legs tried to carry him farther, and she jumped off the bench and threw herself against his chest, nearly completing the job of knocking him ass over teakettle.
“Jack! I thought…California…I…it was you all along!”
Her words tumbled over each other and got caught on the painful lump in her throat, and to her utmost mortification, she burst into tears.
Gabe. He was so exhausted that his brain refused to believe the evidence his body fed it. Gabe had magically appeared out of the rain, and she was laughing and hugging him. No, crying and hugging him. No, all three at the same time.
His arms knew what to do, though, and they wrapped around her, holding her close. He lowered his face to her hair, and her scent hit him like a slap in the face. Vanilla.
Gabe.
His arms tightened. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Please don’t move to California.”
He pulled back and blinked down at her. She was soaked to the skin and shivering, but she was very much there. Her eyes pleaded up at him even as her lips trembled with cold.
“What?”
“I don’t want you to move. Neither does Regina. Neither does Mike. Please don’t leave me.”
“Move? I…what?” She opened her mouth to try again, but he shook his head. “You’re freezing. Let’s get you inside and dried off—”
“Not until you promise you won’t move.”
Indeed, she stood
firm when he tried to guide her toward his apartment. He stared at her, her lips blue and her skin pale and her hair molded to her scalp and her nipples poking at the thin, soaked fabric of her shirt and her jeans muddied at the hem, and he knew that she’d never be more beautiful to him than she was right now.
“I promise I won’t move.”
She threw herself at him again, and he caught her with a little more dignity this time, stroking her back and grinning broadly. She did love him at least a little. She had to.
“I was so worried. Mike told me you might have already moved to California and I called and called and couldn’t get you, and you wouldn’t answer your door…”
She trailed off, but she really didn’t have to go any further. He’d have to thank Mike later for her ingenuity, but he could wish that she’d picked more fortuitous timing—like when he was actually home.
“It’s all right.” He stroked her hair. “I’m not going anywhere. Unless you want to go inside, of course.”
“I am so sorry, Jack.” She must not have heard a word. “I didn’t mean to screw everything up. I just didn’t want to mess up your life. I tried to stay out of it as best I could. I didn’t want it to end up like Eric and that stupid ring and—”
“Wait, who? And what? And why would you mess up my life? Hell, you’ve been the making of me, if my dad’s opinion means anything.”
She pulled back and swiped at her eyes, sniffling and scowling. “God, I feel like such an idiot. Any improvements have been solely your own, because I’ve been too busy being stupid to even notice.”
He bit back a laugh. She looked so miserable.
“Gabe?”
Huffing a sigh, she again swiped at her eyes. “What?”
“I love you.”
She flinched, and his breath caught. His grip on her tightened. She looked up at him, her eyes red from crying, and the naked vulnerability there nearly undid him.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Not exactly what he’d hoped for, but at least she wasn’t shoving him away.
“Will you give me another chance?”
He blinked. “Another chance?”
“To be good enough for you. To do it right.”
A laugh escaped him, and her pleading expression crumbled into irritation.
“Hey, I’m baring my soul here, buddy. You could at least keep a straight face. I know I have a lot to make up for, but I’m trying to fix it. So help me God, but if I didn’t love you, I’d slap you for laughing at a time like—”
He cut her off with a kiss, forgetting her shivers and tears as a relief so clear it was painful washed through him. It wasn’t the most flattering declaration he’d ever heard, but it was good enough for him. Luckily, if her tongue thrusting at his throat was any indication, it was good enough for her, too.
But her shivers finally got the better of him, and he pulled away with a grin. She looked like a drowned rat in her soaked and clinging Chiefs shirt, but she still looked adorable.
Wait a minute. Chiefs shirt? His grin turned into a chuckle, which turned into a laugh at her returned scowl.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He led her toward the street, determined to finally get her dried off before she caught pneumonia. She tugged against his grip but followed along willingly enough.
“Seriously, what?”
Straightening his expression, he tried his best to look serious. “I just figured out why you came here.”
“Um…because I love you and don’t want you to move to California?”
“Nope.”
They waited for a lone car to go by before crossing the street. She kept shooting little glances at him, her forehead creased in a frown. He let her stew all the way across the parking lot until they reached the relative safety of the covered steps.
“So?”
Sighing, he tried to look mournful. “I finally realized my only attraction for a girl like you. It all makes sense. I guess I can live with the shame.”
Her teeth were chattering by now, and she hugged her arms across her chest for warmth, but he wouldn’t be rushed. Much.
“Damn it, what?”
He traced a finger over the painted logo on her shirt, then made his accusation with a grin. “You only love me for my Chiefs tickets.”
Chapter Thirteen
You and Your Gigolo
September, Again
The heat had returned with a vengeance, but such an occasion couldn’t possibly be celebrated indoors. Mike sent her poor husband outside to fire up the grill in preparation for T-bones and foil-wrapped ears of corn. He grumbled, but not too loudly. He knew how important the event was to her. Plus, she bribed him with a huge glass of iced tea and suffered the heat with him, though she left the girls inside in the living room to watch the pre-game show.
“So this is the big day, huh?”
“Yup.”
“When’s he doing it?”
“Start of the fourth quarter.”
“Nervous?”
“Not really. I think she’ll say yes.”
“I’ll say one thing: Jack is a very brave man.”
She snorted. “He has to be. This is Gabe we’re talking about.” Her cell rang, and she dug it out of her pocket. “Speak of the devil.” Sighing, she flipped open the phone and put it to her ear. “Hey, Gabe. Are you there yet?”
“Just found our seats. Can’t you hear all the noise? God, I love Arrowhead!”
She smiled fondly, loving hearing her sister sound so happy. She hoped Jack was doing the right thing. She couldn’t think of a better place to propose to Gabe than at a Chiefs game, but still…
“The next time you get tickets, make sure they’re box seats. I’m sitting here with free beer and nachos, and it’s damn near air conditioned under the third tier.”
“Hey, see if you can get yourself on the JumboTron.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?”
“I dunno, flash the camera man?”
“Sis!” But Gabe was laughing as she relayed the comment to Jack, who laughed and hollered a hello. “Anyway, I just wanted to call and gloat because I’m here and you’re not.”
“Pssh. I’m having T-bones tonight, kiddo. You’ve got nothing on me.”
“Box seats at Arrowhead. No competition.”
“Love you, Gabe. Have a good time.”
She wanted to add another suggestion, but she bit her tongue and hung up instead. It wouldn’t do any good anyway. Gabe always made up her own mind.
“When do they get here?”
Checking her watch, she pushed away from the railing and headed for the door. “Any minute, actually. I’d better not let the girls greet them or they’ll turn tail and run.”
Sure enough, she’d just settled Ivy in the armchair when the doorbell chimed. She felt her lips twitch on a wry smile. The first time she met Gabe’s friends, and Gabe couldn’t even know about it until later. What a life.
“Mike?” A tall black man stood on her porch, strangely well-dressed in his jeans and button-up shirt. “I certainly hope I’m in the right place. I’m Phil.”
Extending her hand, she grinned. “I don’t know if my house could ever be considered the ‘right’ place, but you’re extremely welcome. Will that do?”
He laughed—a rich, deep chuckle that brought a bigger grin to her face—and allowed her to pull him inside with the handshake. “I guess it’ll have to. And who are these lovely young ladies?”
“Don’t let them fool you. They’re monsters to the bone. This is Lily, and that little minx kicked back in the chair over there is Ivy. Be careful, or she’ll talk you into braiding her hair, and those curls make it nearly impossible.”
The doorbell chimed again, so she left him to get acquainted with the girls and put on her hostess face again. This time, two guests stood on her porch—a handsome blonde and a strikingly pretty redhead.
“Well, Phil’s inside, so you two must be Doug and Cheryl. Won�
�t you come in and join the chaos that is Casa Parker?”
Laughing, they entered. Gabe hadn’t told Mike that her friends were an item, but if Doug’s casual arm around Cheryl’s tiny waist was any indication, the pair was more than a little chummy. She grinned and wondered if Gabe had even noticed, what with her own über-happiness these days.
Her good cheer faltered, though, when Phil looked up from thumb wrestling with Ivy and stared. At first, she wondered if she had spilled something on her shirt. Then she realized he was staring at the happy couple. The look wasn’t entirely friendly.
“Phil! How’d you beat us here?” Cheryl smiled a little nervously. “Doug barely missed a speeding ticket to get here early.”
Still crouched by the chair, Phil remained silent a long, tense moment before forcing a smile. “I know every shortcut between here and Arkansas.”
Doug snorted, apparently oblivious to the mini-drama. “There is no shortcut to KC. It’s 71 or bust.”
The forced smile softened, became more real, and Mike let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. There was a story there, she knew, and she’d have to pull it out of Gabe somehow, even if it required pliers.
“By shortcut, Doug, I meant driving really, really fast.”
Now assured that a fight wouldn’t break out over the pretty redhead who still looked a bit ill-at-ease, she rejoined her husband on the back porch and relayed the new information. He rolled his eyes.
“This is why I agreed to T-bone duty, hon. If Gabe’s friends are even half the emotional trouble she is, my fragile little heart just couldn’t take it.”
Despite his grumbling, Darren—master chef extraordinaire—had the steaks done just in time for the kickoff, but he’d forgotten the extra time it took to cut one up into little bites for the girls and had underestimated the quantity of side dishes Mike threw together and the bustle engendered by three extra people in the house. By the time everyone actually sat down to dinner, they’d missed half of the first quarter.
“I’m so excited I almost can’t eat.” She shoved in a bite of steak and abruptly changed her tune. “What is it about a T-bone?”
My Gigolo: The Care and Feeding of a Male Prostitute Page 25