Chapter Three: Gaby

 

 

During a lull between customers, Gaby went into the kitchen to talk to Polly.

"Well, that's certainly a prime hunk of manflesh you were talking to over there," were the first words out of Polly's mouth.

"You only think that because you haven't had to talk to him," Gaby said, firmly stomping on the part of her that agreed a hundred percent.

He had to have been making fun of her with the crack about turning into a bear—hadn't he?

You saw that other guy turn into a bear—

Maybe she'd lost her mind completely. That would explain everything: why she was seeing people transform into animals, why she couldn't even sit at the same table with frustrating, annoyingly muscle-bound Derek Ruger without wanting to climb all over him—

"Well, if you don't want him ..." Polly grinned.

Gaby blushed all the way to her hairline. "Aren't you married?"

"Seventeen years and counting, but that doesn't mean I can't look. Who is he? Police?"

"No—well, yes, sort of. He's not a detective, but the police sent him to protect me. They're afraid the thieves might come back looking for me. I'm so, so sorry about all of this."

"Not your fault, hon. Hand me that measuring cup there, would you?"

Gaby passed the requested item across the countertop. "I was just about to get back to work, but Der—uh—Mr. Ruger is going to stick around today, if that's okay?"

"If there's any chance of those men you saw coming back to bother you, I'd much rather have him here. And ..." Polly waggled her eyebrows at Gaby. "It'll give us a nice view, won't it?"

Gaby's cheeks felt hot enough to toast bread on. Those shoulders, that chest—aargh. What was wrong with her? She'd never reacted to another man with anything approaching this intensity before, not even Sandy's dad. Especially not Sandy's dad.

"How about a closer view?" she asked hopefully, and then winced as the thought shot straight to her libido. "I mean! Behind the counter! I was wondering if Mr. Ruger could pretend to be a barista for a day, so he could stay closer to me. He's worried that he won't be close enough if there's trouble."

"Does he know how to do the job?"

"No," Gaby admitted. "But I can train him. I've trained new people before."

"You don't even really have to do that, I suppose, as long as he stays out of the way and we don't trip over him." Polly raised her brows again. "Though I wouldn't mind tripping over him, if you know what I mean."

Gaby covered her face with her hands. This was even more embarrassing than having her mother trying to micromanage her dating life. "So it's okay?" she asked, peeking out between her fingers.

"It's fine, honey. Just make sure he doesn't do anything to violate health codes or annoy the customers."

"I promise there won't be any problems. I'll keep a short leash on him." Gaby floundered. "I mean—"

"Settle down and get back out there. Looks like we've got a line at the counter."

They did have a line. Gaby hurried to attend to the customers, all the while very aware of Derek sitting at the table in the back, watching her with his dark, level gaze. He was so intense. She could feel his eyes on her even when she turned away to throw together a breakfast burrito for the next customer, as if there was a magnetic connection between the two of them, holding them together even when they were apart.

What is going on here? First men who turned into bears, then an enormous, tatted-out security guard who made her weak in the knees.

It's like my life has turned into one of those romance novels I used to read, back when I had time to read for fun ...

She handed the breakfast burrito across the counter and ran the customer's credit card. That was the last one, so she made a "come here" gesture at Derek, who got up and sauntered over as the customer left.

He even walked sexy, a casually confident leonine prowl that made something in her hindbrain perk up to attention. As Derek leaned on the counter, Gaby had the sudden realization that letting him back here with her meant that she was going to have to spend the whole day in close proximity to him. Very close proximity. There was just barely room behind the counter for two people to move around, as long as they didn't mind bumping into each other occasionally.

She could think of some parts of him she'd love to bump into ...

Gaby cleared her throat and tried to pretend she wasn't blushing like a sunrise. "My boss said it's all right, so congratulations, Derek Ruger. You get to be a barista for a day."

The look on Derek's face said that he was starting to rethink this plan. "I'm not sure if I like calling myself a barista—"

"Well, too bad, because it's your official job title now." She pointed to a rack on the wall containing khaki T-shirts with the coffee shop logo. "See if there's something in your size hanging there. You'll need to wear it while you're back here."

For a moment she thought he wasn't going to. Then he smiled (her knees wobbled again), and she got an amazing rear view of his tight ass and rippling shoulder muscles as he strolled with that casual, confident stride over to the T-shirt rack and picked one out.

"You can change in the storeroom," Gaby said, trying very hard not to think about all the manflesh—to use Polly's term—that would shortly be on display among their stored cases of paper towels and coffee beans.

The bell on the coffee shop's front door tinkled to announce the departure of the last customer who'd been seated at the tables. With the breakfast rush winding down and the lunch crowd not yet ramping up, the Daily Bean was now empty. Derek gave Gaby a sudden, quick, panty-melting grin.

"Long as I'm quick, it should be okay to change here, right?"

Her mouth dropped open. "Uh ..."

Derek didn't wait, just stripped quickly out of the white T-shirt he was wearing, and any attempt at rational thought went up, poof!, in a bombardment of muscles! and tattoos! and flexing! and ... wow ...

Then he turned and she saw the scars on his side. Her breath caught in her throat. Pale, parallel scars, wrapping all the way around his ribs and across his stomach. Like someone had tried to disembowel him with a parallel set of knives.

Claws, some part of her brain told her. Those are claw marks.

And the way he was looking at her as he pulled on the T-shirt was not just flirtatious, it was challenging. He wanted her to see this.

Did—did the Ghost do that?

He's trying to make me change my mind. He wants me to know what I'm up against.

Well, if this was the game he wanted to play, then she'd play it right back. Instead of looking at the scars, she flicked her gaze up to his face, and touched the tip of her tongue to her lips. Lasciviously, she let her gaze trail down his pecs and the flat muscles of his abdomen.

The hair on his head was buzzed off too short to be sure of the color, but his chest hair was a medium brown, curling gently across those incredible pecs. Gaby's covetous gaze followed his treasure trail down to the waistband of his jeans, where the belt for his gun holster was slung low across his narrow hips—

—and then it all vanished under a Daily Bean T-shirt. The chest of the shirt, like Gaby's, was printed with the cup-and-coffee-beans shop logo. Gaby couldn't help thinking that those were some very lucky coffee beans.

"Holy Mary Mother of God," Polly murmured behind Gaby.

Gaby's reaction astonished her: a sudden, intense surge of territoriality. Mine! she wanted to snarl, whirling around on the older woman.

She got control of herself almost immediately. Derek wasn't hers! He was just a security guard who was protecting her. Nothing more.

But she could feel right down to her bones (and other parts of her), as Derek sauntered back to the counter, that he wasn't "just" anything. This was the kind of man who slammed into your life like a freight train. Nothing would ever be the same again.

.... a man like Sandy's father?

No! cried one part of her, but it was overruled by the cautious part of her—the part that had learned to be cautious, after getting burned so badly by a charming asshole who'd waltzed off and never wanted a thing to do with the son he'd left her.

She was not getting close. She was not falling again.

Firmly she pushed down her feelings beneath a cool, professional veneer.

This got harder when Derek came around the end of the counter and suddenly it felt much, much too small back here. She wasn't even going to be able to turn around without bouncing off him.

Why did I suggest this?

Why did I ever think this was a good idea?

"What do I do first, ma'am?" he asked, smiling down at her. She hadn't realized he was so incredibly tall. The top of her head didn't even come up to his chin. She was on eyeball level with his chest, and the T-shirt straining across his pecs. It looked like she could've bounced a quarter off those coffee beans.

Sandy's father was tall too, she reminded herself. Be cool! Be professional!

She also tried to remember that Polly was standing right there, and the last thing she wanted to do was rub her face all over Derek's pecs in front of her boss.

"What do you want me to show him first?" she asked Polly, taking a step back so she wasn't standing quite so close to Derek and all his tantalizing ... everything.

"I don't suppose you have the first clue how to make a proper cup of coffee, do you?" Polly asked him.

"Sure I can. Just give me the coffeemaker and the can of roast."

Polly winced. "I'm going to say that's a 'no.' Why don't we put those muscles to some use, and have you start by taking the trash out."

Derek glanced at Gaby. "She'll have to come with me. I'm not leaving her unattended out here."

"Oh, for Pete's sake!" Gaby exclaimed, causing the couple who had just entered the coffee shop to jump back in a clash of tinkling bells. "Is this what it's going to be like all day? You don't have to be glued to my hip every waking minute!"

Derek leaned forward, into her space, so close his breath tickled her hair. "Yeah, I do," he said quietly. "If you won't do this my way and go to a safe place, then I'm gonna stick to you like glue. You don't know what this guy is like. I do. I'm not leaving you along for a minute."

Gaby gulped. He was so ... close ...

She could smell his spicy male scent, mingled with the scents of cinnamon and coffee.

If her control lapsed for an instant, she could lean forward and touch the five o'clock shadow already prickling his jaw—brush her lips across his too-near mouth—

Gaby took a hasty step away, reclaiming some space and also some self-control. "Okay, fine. Stick with me like glue, I don't care. I really couldn't care less what you do," she lied.

"If you're going back to the kitchen, you could bring out a fresh batch of donuts," Polly suggested. "And see if the calzones are cool enough to put out on the rack. I'll handle the customers."

Feeling a little better with some sense of purpose, Gaby went into the kitchen with Derek at her side. She obstinately did not look at him, which made her aware of how very silently he moved. How could such a big man be so silent? He was like a ghost himself.

Maybe he was serious about being able to turn into a bear ...

And it was true that she did feel much safer with him around. Being in the kitchen brought it all back: the sound of snuffling outside the door, the awareness that a giant predator was right on the other side—

"You okay?" Derek asked quietly, and she realized she'd stopped, staring at the door.

"I'm fine." She pointed to the trash bags beside the door. "Those go out in the bin in the alley. That's, uh, that's where the Ghost was, so I'll just be over here at the calzones, if you don't mind."

When she looked up from using a pair of tongs to take the calzones off the rack, she saw that Derek had drawn his gun from the holster at his waist. "Stay back there," he told her, and opened the door, looking out into the alley.

"Do you think he's still there?" Her voice rose in a squeak of nervousness.

"Just making sure he's not." Derek holstered the gun. "Come here."

"Why?" Gaby asked, but she put the tongs down and came over to the door. Even with Derek there, she had to nerve herself to step out into the alley. It was obvious at a glance that they were alone, though.

"I'm guessing this wasn't here before," Derek said. He pointed to the bricks beside the door.

Gaby looked, and swallowed. Fresh scrapes gleamed in the soot-stained brick, four parallel marks beside the door, as if a huge paw with claws like scimitars had scraped it.

She couldn't help noticing that the marks were just about the size of the scars on Derek's side.

"He tried to claw his way in," she said in a faint voice.

"If he'd really been trying to get in, he probably could have," Derek said. "He's just marking the door so he can come back later. Now do you believe me that you need to get somewhere safe?"

Gaby balled her hands into fists. "You still don't get it, do you? It's not that I'm not afraid. I know this guy is dangerous. But I need this paycheck. I'm a single mom trying to support my kid and my widowed, disabled mother. I can't just disappear. We've barely got enough people to run the coffee shop as it is. Polly would have to hire someone to replace me, and I get that, but—look, you're only going to be in my life as long as the Ghost is after me. But I'm still going to have to live my life after you're gone, including paying my rent and my tuition and my grocery bill, okay?"

Derek gazed at her for a moment before he murmured, "Stubborn woman."

He sounded admiring.

"So we'll stay here, right?" she said, folding her arms. "You'll protect me here?"

A smile quirked up the corner of his mouth. "Yes, I'll protect you here."