Chapter Four
Opening her eyes, Rachel assessed her situation. She was currently in Gabe Torres’s hotel room at… she didn’t even know what time it was, so she stretched gingerly to reach her phone on the bedside table. Shit. Almost ten-thirty in the morning. She hadn’t meant to stay that long, or at all, but now here she was, still naked with Gabe’s arm draped over her chest as he slept beside her.
Her first thought was that if Gabe’s snoring hadn’t woken her, she must have been really tired last night. Or drunk. Maybe mostly drunk. Her next thought was how the hell she was going to get out from under him without waking him. The only piece of clothing she could see from her current position was her bra, which made her think that the rest must be in the living room. Why did he have to get a suite? It would definitely make her game of Escape the Hotel Room easier if she knew where all her stuff was.
She stayed still a few more minutes before she realized that every second she spent in bed meant it was a second closer to whenever Gabe would be waking up. Wiggling slowly under the weight of his arm, she eventually freed herself and slid out of bed. Sure, it resulted in her practically falling to the floor, but she decided to look at that as a positive since she could crawl around to look for her clothes. The sound of Gabe snorting suddenly and flipping over had her freezing in place, as if the lack of movement might make her invisible.
She couldn’t explain why she was so intent on leaving undetected. It was Gabe, for God’s sake. She’d known him since college. Or maybe she’d known him in college was more accurate. They hadn’t exactly kept in touch over the years, but he was still familiar. It wasn’t like this was some sort of one-night-stand with a stranger. No, it was more like a one-night-stand with a… non-stranger, and somehow that made her feel a little better.
Then she remembered the real reason for her visit to Texas, and she felt like shit all over again. She’d been there to scour the after-party for any sports dirt she could dig up for her job—a fact she’d kept to herself when they’d run into each other at the party.
It wasn’t typically something she kept hidden from people, but she’d realized almost immediately upon running into Gabe that she didn’t want him to know why she was there. He’d been so excited for Jace’s win, and it seemed he hadn’t lost his carefree attitude she remembered. She’d been sure that telling him she was there to look for drama wouldn’t have sat well with him. She remembered from college how loyal and protective he and his friends were of each other, and she wondered if that protectiveness transferred to other athletes, or the game in general as well. For that reason, she’d only told Gabe about her freelance work and hadn’t gotten into any details, and she was glad for it.
Last night had been fun. And looking at how perfectly-sculpted Gabe’s body was put her at ease a little too. She definitely wouldn’t call last night a mistake. It was hard to believe that the man had retired from professional baseball. He hadn’t let himself go in the past five months. She took a moment to admire his chest and abs, which looked like they’d been chiseled from stone. She’d gotten to feel them last night, but hadn’t been able to see them well in the dark.
Somehow she was able to pull herself away from the beautiful image in front of her long enough to snatch up what she could find of her belongings. Then she slid her phone in her bag and dressed quickly before heading out the door. Once she was in the elevator, she breathed a sigh of relief. Though she didn’t regret sleeping with Gabe, she also wasn’t prepared to talk to him about it. She didn’t want to admit that she’d lied by omission because the night would be tarnished when he found out she was an investigative reporter. Which reminded her how pissed her boss would be if he found out she came out of last night without a story. Especially after Rick’s little talk.
She didn’t exactly think Gabe would have any reason to want to talk about last night anyway. He was a professional athlete, for Christ’s sake. Or he used to be. His bed was probably a merry-go-round of gorgeous women, and she was just one of many he’d taken for a ride. She knew the chance of a superstar playboy wanting to have any sort of conversation about the previous night was highly unlikely.
The fact that he was a playboy had been the main reason she hadn’t agreed to go out with him in college, despite the fact that she’d been incredibly attracted to him. She hadn’t wanted to date someone who, at the time, she’d been certain was only interested in her body. Plus she’d wanted to concentrate on building her career, not tarnish it by banging one of the up-and-coming athletes she’d met at an interview. But now that she’d established her career and was confident in herself both as a reporter and as a woman, she didn’t have any logical reason not to act on her desires. Yet somehow, she still found herself questioning her decision.
She couldn’t even explain why she was so neurotic right now. She told herself to stop overthinking her decision. It happened, and she had to admit she’d loved it. That settled it; it definitely wasn’t something she regretted.
That is, until her phone dinged with a text from a number she didn’t recognize. Forget something? She didn’t even know who it was from until a picture followed a few seconds later. And there it was: her black thong she’d been searching for this morning.
Dammit.
***
Even days later, thinking back on their conversation made her laugh. Please throw those away, she’d written back. And then, How did you get my number?
I have my ways.
You know that makes you sound like a stalker, right? And the picture of my underwear didn’t help. Btw, did you throw it away? You never answered.
Then he’d sent her one of those emojis crying with laughter before writing, You gave me your number, remember? How drunk were you? And then, In the trash, don’t worry.
As Rachel unplugged her phone from the charging station on her bedside table and put it in her purse before work, she almost laughed at how ridiculous the conversation had been. At least until Gabe had told her how happy he’d been to run into her and to have a safe flight back to New York. That had taken it from ridiculous to ridiculously awkward. So, in typical Rachel style, she’d written back something totally unrelated immediately in the hopes that Gabe would assume she hadn’t even noticed his last text. Thankfully, he’d never questioned her about why she’d snuck away.
The memory of her time with Gabe had her adjusting her black pencil skirt and double-checking that all the buttons on her mustard yellow silk blouse were buttoned, almost as if the thought of sleeping with Gabriel Torres might make her clothes undress themselves. She was happy to get back to work this morning so she could take her mind off of Gabe and… Jesus, stop thinking about him.
“How was Houston?” The question had come from her usually grumpy roommate, Kellan, who was sitting at their small kitchen counter sipping black coffee. When she eyed it longingly, he said, “The pot’s fresh.”
“Thanks,” she replied, filling her favorite mug she’d gotten at Disney World a few years ago. “It was fun, I guess.”
Kellan nodded as he scrolled through the news on his phone. “You get any good stories while you were down there?”
Just one I could tell some of my girlfriends about. “Nah, nothing really. Just the typical celebratory Super Bowl stuff. Why are you dressed?” she asked.
Kellan looked down at his pale blue dress shirt and gray slacks. “Would you rather me be naked?”
Rachel rolled her eyes as she hopped up onto the barstool next to him. Kellan was as gay as he was unemployed, but he’d insisted, since they’d met years ago at a mutual friend’s wedding, that Rachel had a thing for him. She didn’t. She really didn’t. “Please keep your clothes on,” she said. “I meant why are you dressed like that? You have a funeral or something?”
Kellan elbowed her playfully. “What? I’m in a suit, and you think someone died?”
“Well, yeah. That, and you seem especially chipper this morning,” she joked.
He laughed before replying, “I’m an asshole, but I’m not that big of an asshole. It doesn’t make me happy when people die.” She stared at him until he spoke again. “Okay, so there are certain people whose demise I might find joy in, but that’s not why I’m dressed up and in a good mood. I got a job.”
Rachel’s eyes widened. “Really? Where? Doing what? Is it full-time? When were you going to tell me?”
“Do I get to answer any of the questions, or are you just gonna keep asking them?”
“Sorry,” she said. “It’s the reporter in me. Tell me all about it.”
“I will tonight. I gotta get going though.” He grabbed his suit jacket off the back of the couch and put his keys in his pocket.
“I’m meeting Lina for drinks later, but when I get back I want to hear all about your first day on the job.”
“I’m not a cop,” Kellan said. “By the way, change your shirt. The yellow and black makes you look like a bumblebee.”