Chapter Eighteen
As Gabe ate, he watched Elle. He couldn’t get the image out of his head of taking her on this table, right in the middle of the restaurant. He knew exactly how he’d do it, too—bend her over, push that goddamn tease of a dress up over her hips, and drive into her until she screamed his name.
“What are you thinking?”
From the breathy tone of her voice, she had a decent idea. Which was both a blessing and a curse, since what he really needed right now was to be reeled back in. Instead, she blushed and bit her lip and, damn it, he could still see her nipples through the dress’s thin fabric.
Gabe took a long drink of his beer before answering, searching for a way to tone down the sexual tension they had going ever since they’d spent the day in bed together. In the days since, he kept catching himself daydreaming about being inside her, about making love. It was a term he’d spent years laughing at. How was he supposed to know how apt—how goddamn addicting—it was? But he couldn’t afford to let it distract him. Tonight was going to be perfect, even if he had to walk around with blue balls for the entirety of it.
“Just thinking about this tattoo I’m putting together for a friend.”
Interest lit her features. “What’s it of?”
“Well, that’s the difficult part. He wants to bring in a few different elements, and I haven’t figured out a way to make it work.” When she leaned forward, propping her chin in her hands, Gabe decided he might as well keep going. It wasn’t often he had a captive audience to bounce ideas off of. “You see, it’s like this—he has this thing for Norse mythology and wants to bring in a couple different aspects of Odin.”
“Why Norse?”
“Paul teaches a whole series of mythology and religion courses over at one of the local colleges. He based his entire thesis on Norse myths—though don’t ask me to explain the details.”
“A college professor with a thing for tattoos.” Elle shook her head, her lips pulling up into a smile. “The world keeps getting stranger.”
“I guess.” He took a bite and chewed slowly. “There are a lot of people out there who come in for tats just because they can. Because it’s the trendy thing to do. But then you have the people who are true…I don’t even know what word to use. For some people, they’re almost like a religious experience. For others, like Paul, they’re a visual marking of one of life’s milestones. He gets tattoos because he loves them, and because each one has a story and a history.” Shit, he hadn’t meant to preach at her.
But Elle wasn’t searching for the nearest exit. She watched him raptly, her meal apparently forgotten. “My mother thinks they’re all trashy. Obviously, our opinions differ on that score.”
He had a feeling their opinions differed on a lot of things. Thank God. “Tats aren’t for everyone. But they also aren’t as cut-and-dried as a lot of people think.”
“What about yours? Do they each have a story?”
“Most of them.” He shrugged when her eyebrows rose. “I’m not going to pretend this was a deep and meaningful choice.” Gabe pointed to his shoulder.
Elle closed her eyes for a brief moment. “The…odd skull?”
Of course she wouldn’t recognize the Misfits emblem. They really were from different worlds. “Yeah. It was my first. My favorite band at the time.”
“Doesn’t that, by definition, mean something to you?”
She had a point. “Yeah, but I literally went into a shop, sat down, and told the guy this is what I wanted. There wasn’t a whole lot of thought that went into it.”
“What about the other ones?” She motioned to his chest and arm.
“The bio-mech stuff?” Gabe rubbed his shoulder. “Ever since I restored my Camaro, I’ve been fascinated by how things are put together. I build little things, and I’ve been toying with plans for a true mech suit. You saw Avatar?”
Elle smiled. “I liked it a lot.”
“Me too. You know those suits the soldiers fought in?” He waited for her to nod. “Something like that. It’s a geeky hobby, and not something I talk about to most people. I haven’t had time to play with it lately.”
“So that relates to your tattoo…”
“Well, while doing research for these machines, I got distracted with how the human body is put together, and how it would look if it were part machine. From there it was only natural to translate my hobby into a tattoo.”
“It’s gorgeous.” She fiddled with her wineglass. “Will you tell me about your arm now? The real meaning behind it?”
So she’d seen through his shield the first time he talked about it. Good. He didn’t make a habit of sharing the meaning behind that particular tat, though. Only Nathan and his mentor knew the full story. Still, Elle already knew about his mother. It wasn’t much of a leap to tell her this and he found he wanted to. She obviously appreciated the significance, and he wanted to share this with her. “The verses are a compilation of my mother’s favorites.”
He pointed to each, having memorized the words long ago because of how often his mother repeated them. “Hosea 11:9. She used that one a lot to remind us of what we’re supposed to aspire to be. The context was off, but Mom never seemed to care.
“Micah 7:7.” Gabe had to stop for a second and clear his throat. “She prayed every day for our lives to get better, spent a good hour on her knees before she tucked us into bed, and she never once lost hope.”
He glanced at Elle and found her watching him closely. “Joshua 1:5. ’I will never leave you nor forsake you.’ Mom looked at that the same way she looked on the rest, but this one was as much a promise to me and Nathan as it was to her. She could have taken off, left us with my dad and gotten out. She didn’t.
“Revelations 21:4. That…that one is pretty self explanatory.”
Gabe tensed, half expecting pity, but she only smiled and traced the edge of the tattoo with her fingertips. “It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.” He found himself smiling back, the ache he normally felt regarding his past lessening, just a little.
Elle sat back and sipped her wine. “You’re very passionate about tattoos.”
“They’re my thing. Nathan’s got his art, I have my shop.”
She leaned back and sipped her wine. “I thought your thing was the nightclubs. You have, what, five now?”
“Someone’s been checking up on me.”
A blush stained her cheeks a really cute pink. “I was curious.”
“No, they aren’t my thing. I enjoy running the business and the rush of opening a new club. There’s nothing like it in the world, but my tattoo shop is my home.”
It was something he’d never said out loud because it sounded so lame, but Elle didn’t laugh at him. Instead, understanding lit her blue eyes. “That’s how Nathan is with his main gallery.”
“We each have our own things.” He really didn’t want to talk about Nathan right now. “So, what about you? What’s your passion? Your pipe dream?”
She fidgeted. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit. Excuse my French.” Someone as grounded as Elle knew exactly what her pipe dream was, even if she obviously didn’t want to admit it. Curiosity pricked him. What was it? It had to be something good if she didn’t want to admit it out loud.
“That’s not really French.”
“You’re avoiding. Tell me.” As her face turned even redder, he realized what it must be. “Your painting.”
“It’s stupid.” Elle ran a finger around the tip of her wineglass.
“Doesn’t sound stupid.” He took a drink of his beer. “So do it.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Again, I say bullshit.” When she slanted a sharp glance his way, he shrugged. “I’m not saying you’re going to reach Nathan status overnight, but why not pursue it?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Because it’s a foolish career with no dependable income? The starving artist thing is highly overrated.”
Her bouts of bitchiness were really starting to grow on him, which just proved how in over his head he was. “That’s your mother speaking. Besides, what’s stopping you from doing it in your spare time?”
Elle frowned. “You’re being annoyingly logical right now.”
“I do that sometimes. One of my many charms.” Gabe finished his beer. As much as he didn’t want to steer the conversation in this direction, it had to be done. “Have you told Nathan?”
“God, no.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” She made some obscure hand motion that meant exactly nothing. “I can’t.”
“Yeah, that wasn’t even close to a decent reason.”
“You don’t understand. He’s like a god within the artist circles—the man can do no wrong. And his sculptures are beyond description. Compared to him, I might as well be finger-painting.”
“There’s your first problem, babe. You shouldn’t be comparing yourself to anyone but you.”
“That’s not even a little realistic.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just that the idea of going to Nathan and telling him my dream is to own a gallery filled with my paintings… No way. He’ll laugh at me.”
“You obviously don’t know my brother as well as you think you do.” Nathan would never laugh at an aspiring artist, let alone one he actually cared about as a friend. And even if he was asshole enough to laugh at her, Gabe would punch his pretty face in.
Either way, it was a moot point.
“I guess.”
Okay, definitely time to change the subject. Again. Apparently the waiter thought so too, because he showed up, check in hand. “I hope you enjoyed your meal.”
“It was fantastic.” He waited for the man to leave before he dropped the appropriate amount of cash on the table and scooted out of the booth. Elle beat him to her feet, giving him an eyeful of her back. The dress crisscrossed a couple times, its black startling against her barely tanned skin. Gabe wanted to run his fingers under those straps until she was shaking.
It would have to wait, though. He had other plans for the rest of the night.
As they walked through the front door, he slipped an arm around her waist. Instantly, she melted against him. He could really get used to this, to these casual touches, the comfort of being able to hold her without it being solely about sex. The sex was great, but the years had left him starved for these small things that so many people took for granted. They strolled down the sidewalk, some of the tension evaporating.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“You up for a walk?”
She laughed. “You’re really running with this whole secret thing. Sure, I’m up for a walk.”
“Good.” He turned them at the corner, heading for the bridge. “So tell me about your brother. Are you close?”
“We used to be close.” She shrugged. “But after…well, something happened in college, and now there’s this distance between us that was never there before. It doesn’t help that he’s in Japan right now and it’s hard to line up the time differences.”
“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t imagine anything that could drive him and Nathan apart. Then again, if his little brother had tried for Elle, it might have been enough to bring them to blows. It wasn’t a comfortable thought.
“So am I. I mean, I understand he’s overprotective of me. I’m his little sister. But there have to be boundaries.”
There was only one thing proven to drive overprotective brothers off their rocker—their sister dating someone they didn’t approve of. Someone like Gabe. “Who was he?”
Elle jumped. “Who was who?”
Oh yeah, like that innocent tone would work on him. “Who was the guy your brother hated?”
She tried to pull away, but he kept her easily at his side. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Babe…”
“Oh lord, fine. It’s not a big deal. We dated a while. I thought I was in love. He wasn’t. He cheated on me and then dumped me in front of all our friends. Ian went ballistic. The end.” There was only the slightest quiver in the words to let him know how much it still hurt her.
Gabe decided he and Elle’s older brother might just get along. “What’s this guy’s name?” He knew people who knew people—and that was if he didn’t take care of the little shit himself.
“No. Absolutely not. It’s ancient history.”
“There’s no such thing, babe.”
Elle stopped and turned to face him. “I don’t need you or my big brother to fight my battles for me. And I certainly don’t need you to go around bashing in the heads of people who hurt me. It’s barbaric.”
“Maybe you need some barbarian in your life.”