Chapter Fourteen
Gabe pressed the home button on his phone, making the screen light up. Still no return call from Rachel. He’d called her yesterday, and texted two more times when he hadn’t heard back. He hadn’t wanted to seem desperate, but it wasn’t normal for her not to respond and it made him concerned. After he texted that she was making him worry, and could she please let him know she hadn’t been abducted by a religious cult or something, she’d replied that she was fine, just busy, and she’d call the next day.
Well it was the next day, and she still hadn’t called.
It wasn’t like Gabe to care about shit like this. Women came and went out of his life constantly, and it had always suited him just fine. Until now.
Until Rachel.
Gabe rolled his eyes at himself. He was being ridiculous. It was only two PM and he had things he needed to get done. Rachel was working; he should be too.
It had been an easy couple weeks at the club because it hadn’t been open much since the Super Bowl. He tried to open most Saturday nights, and had a couple special events, but now that March Madness was only a week away, he had to gear up for being open almost every night for three weeks straight.
Which made Gabe wonder how he was going to manage to spend time with Rachel and spend time at the club. It’s not that he had to be at the club whenever it was open, but it made him feel better if he was. Mike had seemingly always been there, and Gabe wanted to make sure he gave the place the attention its original owner had. He didn’t want to fail Mike’s legacy. He wasn’t sure what kind of excuse he could come up with so that Rachel wouldn’t wonder what he was up to. Not that she really had any reason to be suspicious, but she was a journalist. Being suspicious probably came naturally to her.
And then there had been the bank statement he’d left sitting out. He wasn’t sure if she’d seen it, or that she would think anything of it if she had. But it made him feel reckless and stupid. That statement was one of the only tangible links to the Players’ Club, and if someone made that connection, that would be very bad news for its future. He owed it to all the athletes involved to be more careful.
Which only added to his stress over not hearing from Rachel. Because the longer her article dragged on, the longer he had to keep up a charade that he wasn’t at all equipped to pull off. Despite his easy-going, jokester demeanor, Gabe was a horrible liar. And it wasn’t only that Rachel was a journalist. It was that it was Rachel—a person he legitimately cared about and wanted to get close to. But how would that even work?
What if their friendship did turn into more? How would he ever keep this from her in the long-term? He was starting to realize why Mike had been single. The club was already akin to having a spouse. How could Gabe have a girlfriend on top of it?
Not that she’d ever even hinted at wanting to be his girlfriend. Gabe took some deep breaths and brought himself back from the ledge. Because while there was definite sexual chemistry between them, that didn’t necessarily mean she felt any more for him than that. It was no use worrying about something before there was even a hint of it being a possibility. Rachel may finish up her work, head back to New York, and forget all about him.
That thought didn’t necessarily make him feel any better, but its finality at least allowed him to focus on the work in front of him.
Then his cell phone rang.
He looked down at it quickly, his heart giving a little leap of hope. When he saw Ben’s name on the screen, he tried to ignore the pang of disappointment that caused his shoulders to droop. He answered with a tone he hoped sounded upbeat even though it was forced. “This is weird. My phone says it’s Ben calling, but I’m not even sure I know anyone by that name anymore.”
“Shut up,” came the reply. “Some of us are still in the pros and don’t have a lot of free time.”
Even though Ben’s tone was clearly teasing, the words stung a little. The truth was, Gabe missed baseball and often found himself wondering if retiring had been too hasty of a decision. He may have been able to get a few more solid years in. Instead, he was dealing with purchase orders and vague threats from irate former members. “Please. Your team barely qualifies as professional. Don’t you guys have close to the worst record in the league?”
“Because the Premieres were such standouts the past couple seasons,” Ben retorted, sarcasm dripping from his words.
“Did you call just to flirt with me, or did you want something?”
Laughter rang out over the phone. “Like I’d flirt with you. I’m way out of your league.”
Gabe felt the corners of his mouth turn down. “No, you’re not.”
“I totally am.”
Gabe thought for a moment, pondering what would make Ben out of his league. “Why?”
Ben was silent for a second. “Is this a real conversation we’re having?”
“You started it,” Gabe replied, even though he knew that wasn't true.
Another laugh huffed through the line. “As mature as ever.”
Gabe remained quiet. It was suddenly important to him to hear Ben’s explanation, and the only way to get it was to wait him out.
It didn’t take long for Ben to break. “Dude, it was a joke.”
Gabe knew that. He’d swear up and down that he did. But something still niggled at him. “Maybe.”
“What do you mean ‘maybe’? If I said it was a joke, it was a joke. I'm not giving any serious thought to dating you.”
“A lot of truth is said in jest,” Gabe replied.
“Gabriel. Seriously. I know we talked about this before, but I’m really not gay. You do know that, right?”
“That doesn’t mean you’re not out of my league.”
Ben sighed. “What’s going on?”
Gabe wasn’t sure how to explain it. It was like his entire brain had shifted with one comment, giving light to a truth he’d hidden even from himself. “You and Jace are both settling down. You found people who want to spend the rest of their lives with you. And those people aren’t legally insane.” Gabe hesitated. Trying to let his mouth say what his brain wasn’t totally sure of was difficult. “You guys found good women who love you for who you are. Not because of the money you make or how famous you are, but, like, despite those things. And I haven’t.”
“That doesn’t mean we’re better than you, though. It just means we got lucky.”
“I don’t think you’re better people than me, asshole. I volunteer at animal shelters for Christ’s sake.”
“I heard it was a shelter. Singular,” Ben said. “And I'm pretty sure that your sudden altruistic mentality has more to do covering your own ass than it does with a desire to better the world.”
“Shut up. And stop using words I can't understand. Anyway, I think that maybe you guys are better boyfriend material. Chicks dig me for the short term, but none of them want to put a ring on it.”
Gabe was hoping Ben would laugh, but his voice was serious when he spoke. “But you never wanted that. A lot of those girls would’ve sold their souls if it would’ve made you interested in them. The ball’s always been in your court. Not theirs.”
Pursing his lips, Gabe thought that through. “That’s not necessarily true. It’s more that the girls I always attract aren’t lifers. They’re barely one-nighters.”
“Is this about Rachel?” Ben asked.
Due to Ben’s busy traveling and training sessions, Gabe hadn’t been able to do much more than give Ben a very vague rundown of Rachel being back and doing an article on him. He hadn’t even gotten to tell Ben about his epic fuck-up of saying he was rehoming strays, which had resulted in his getting two small skittish gray balls of fur. Jace must’ve beaten him to it. But Ben knew Gabe in a way only he and Jace did. “I wanna keep her,” Gabe admitted.
“Does she want to be kept?”
Gabe forced out a breath. “No idea.”
“Ya thinking ya might wanna ask her?” Ben asked.
“How do I do that? It’s awkward as fuck to ask that when you have no idea what the answer’s gonna be.”
“But that’s why you have to ask. How else will you know?”
“Maybe I’ll pass her a note in study hall.”
“Come on, Gabe. You’re a great guy with the best heart of anyone I’ve ever known. I’m sure she’s into you. And if not, that’s her loss.”
Gabe dropped his head into his hand. “Oh my god.”
“What?” Ben asked.
“Did you just give me the token ‘high school girl with a crush’ speech?”
“Since I don’t know what the fuck that is, I’m not sure how to answer your question.”
“It’s what every high school girl tells her best friend who has a crush. She blows a bunch of candy-coated words up her ass, and then puts the disclaimer on the end to make her feel better when the crush slams her heart into a locker.”
“Wow. I wasn’t aware you spent so much time around high school girls. Do we need to have a talk, Gabe?”
Gabe ignored that remark because… gross. “You’re the worst at this.”
Ben scoffed. “Whatever, man. I’m doing my best to help your sorry ass, but eff it. Yes, I’m out of your league, and you’re destined to be a single loser for the rest of your life. How’s that?”
“I’m taking you off my Favorites list in my contacts. Keep it up and I’ll be forced to unfriend you on Facebook.”
A startled laugh escaped Ben before he sobered. “Listen, I admit my advice was probably very after-school special, but the message behind it is valid. Yes, you’ve attracted a lot of girls in the past who weren’t necessarily wife material. But that doesn’t mean you’re not husband material. You’re whatever you decide to be. You think I was prepared to fall in love with the girl I was paying to date me? Not a chance. But it happened. And it’ll happen for you too, as long as you’re open to it. Maybe it’ll be with Rachel, maybe it’ll be with someone else. But it will happen.”
“You can’t know that. What if I end up getting seventeen more cats and never leave the house because I’m too busy watching reruns of The Price is Right?”
“It’ll happen, Gabe. You’re just going to have to trust me on this one.”
And he wanted to. But the reality was, how did someone just trust in something like that? And even if it did happen, how would he manage it? But he didn’t want to keep going around in circles with Ben, so he said a simple, “Okay.”
“Okay? Are you for real right now? After all of that building up of your confidence, all I get is an ‘okay’?
“Yup. Take it or leave it.”
Ben laughed. “I’ll take it.”
They chatted for a few more minutes about less stressful things before Ben had to go so he could get to practice on time.
After he hung up, Gabe sat back, surveying the sea of paperwork in front of him and knowing there was no way he’d be able to focus on any of it. Instead, he stood, grabbed his keys, and headed toward the one thing he could focus on.
***
Rachel had been absorbed by the information Jared had sent her for almost twenty-four hours. The bank didn’t have very many customers with accounts there, but there were many who routed money from their own bank into The Bank of American Fidelity, specifically the account for Helping Hands. And the people doing so were all professional athletes.
Rachel had then done searches on those athletes to see if they lived locally, or if they commuted to the city with any kind of regularity. And she found that those who did live far enough away to have to fly in, all did so around the same times. Those times seemed to correspond to major sporting events—events a club designed for athletes might celebrate with a fervor only sports-minded people would be capable of.
She’d found her smoking gun.
The only thing that was tripping her up was where Gabe fit into it all. Jared’s information didn’t dig into what Helping Hands was, nor what Gabe’s role in it could be. And while Rachel knew Jared could easily find out, she still couldn’t bring herself to go down that road. She was a journalist. She could put the pieces together without someone else doing all the work for her.
But there were so many ways the pieces in front of her could fit together, she was struggling to figure out where to start. It felt as though she’d been staring at the array of pictures and jotted notes spread across her bedroom floor for over an hour when she heard an insistent knock at her door.
Her head bolted up as she looked into the hallway. Standing slowly, she tried to imagine who it could be. She took care to make sure her bedroom door was closed before heading out toward the noise. One look through the peephole had her sighing and leaning her head against the door. What the hell was Gabe doing there? And more importantly, how could she avoid letting him in without coming across like an ass?
Rachel took a deep breath in, undid the safety chain and lock, and opened the door.
Gabe stood there looking… pensive. His green Henley looked good on his solid frame, as did the jeans that seemed barely able to contain his thickly sculpted thighs.
Momentarily forgetting that she was supposed to be getting rid of him, Rachel’s brain filled with images of Gabe naked and on top of her.
“Am I boyfriend material?”
Gabe’s sudden question threw her for a second, mostly because she’d been so lost in looking at him, she hadn’t been focused on the fact that he may actually want to hold a conversation. “I’m sorry. What?” she asked.
Gabe pushed his hands into his pockets. “We get along well. I like you. You seem to like me. So I was wondering if this,” he waved between them, “could be… more.”
“More?” Rachel needed to hurry up and get with it because she was starting to sound like a moron.
“Yeah. More than friends. More than interviewer and interviewee. Just more.”
She was completely unprepared for this conversation. Not because she didn’t think of Gabe as potentially being ‘more,’ but because she couldn’t believe Gabriel Torres would ever want more, let alone say it. Plus, she had a mountain of paperwork that supported an article he may hate her for writing. It was a serious conflict of interest, and she had no idea how to get herself out of it.
But Gabe evidently took her silence for unwillingness because he visibly deflated in front of her. “I guess I should’ve thought this through better.” He looked down at the carpet for a moment before focusing back on her.
The sight of a vulnerable Gabe hit Rachel square in the chest. For a second, thoughts of her article were pushed behind the need to take the sad look of off his face. “I could be open to more.”
The smile that lit up his face in response was one of the most magnificent things Rachel had seen in a long time. And she’d seen Gabe’s six-pack.
“Maybe I could come in, and we could talk about it?” Gabe said.
Rachel felt her eyes widen in alarm as she unconsciously gripped the door harder.
Gabe noticed. “Holy shit, you don’t have a guy in there do you? Because…fuck. That’s going to suck.”
Despite herself, Rachel laughed. “No. No guy.” She opened the door wider. “See? I have a ton of work I’ve been sorting through for that other freelance article. I guess I’m just… protective of my work. I don’t like people seeing any of my notes or source material until I’m finished.” Rachel was proud of herself for coming up with something that also happened to be true. She’d never thought about it, but she didn’t like people to see any parts of her stories before she wrote them. Probably because she was worried an offhand comment would make her doubt herself or steer her away from where she wanted the story to go. So there was at least some solace to be found in the fact that she hadn’t actually lied.
Gabe, bless his heart, nodded his head like that made all the sense in the world. “Oh. Okay. Well, maybe we can go somewhere else then. Even later. I can wait.”
But he shouldn’t have to wait. Because even if her words were often straddling the line between fact and fiction, her feelings were one-hundred percent real. “You’re absolutely boyfriend material, Gabe. The bigger question is if I’m girlfriend material. Especially since I’m only going to be in town for a finite amount of time.”
There was an instant look of disbelief on Gabe’s face. “Are you crazy? You’ve been girlfriend material for me since college. And as far as the distance,” Gabe shrugged. “Let’s just see how it goes. I don’t want it to be an automatic deal breaker.”
Rachel knew she should think about it more, but she’d had enough of thinking. One of the reasons she’d turned Gabe down in college because she knew they were starting down very different paths. But now that those paths had crossed again, maybe she should just accept it as some sort of kismet and go with it. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Gabe parroted.
“Okay,” Rachel confirmed with a smile.
“We should go on a real date then. Off the record.”
“I’d like that.”
Gabe scratched his chin. “I know you said you were working today. Maybe tomorrow night? I’ll pick you up here at six?”
“I’ll be here.”
“Great.”
They stared at each other for a moment. A loss for what to say next turned into getting lost in one another’s eyes, and before Rachel could process who had been the first to move, Gabe’s lips were on hers. The soft yet firm press of his mouth set fire through her veins. The now familiar urge to do anything to get Gabe inside of her returned, and Rachel moaned into the kiss and tried to pull Gabe closer.
But instead, Gabe pulled away. “I’m… I… Let’s… Jesus, you kissed me stupid.” They both laughed before Gabe continued. “I want to make sure you know that what we have is more than just sex. I want to do it right. So let’s go on our date tomorrow, and then see where the night leads from there.”
Rachel wanted to tell him that was the dumbest idea she’d ever heard, especially since they’d been together a few times by that point, but she also didn’t want to dissuade Gabe’s chivalrous side so she forced herself to breathe evenly before replying. “Sounds good.”
Nodding, Gabe took a couple steps back. “All right then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Gabe smiled before turning and walking down the hall toward the stairs.
“Hey, Gabe,” Rachel yelled after him.
He turned and raised his eyebrows.
What she wanted to say sounded stupid now, but nothing more eloquent came to mind so she was forced to blurt out her thoughts. “I’m excited to be your girlfriend.”
“I’m excited, too,” Gabe said barely loudly enough for her to hear her. He lifted a hand as a goodbye, and made his way down the stairs and out of sight.
Rachel closed the door to her apartment and slumped against the door, wondering how she was going to navigate being Gabe’s girlfriend and the reporter investigating him—especially now that she no longer knew which was more important.