I’d just set down the last bag of groceries when the doorbell rang. Instantly, a giddy yet anxious feeling swept over me because I knew it was Gabe. After breakfast the previous morning, he’d come with us to Dad and Stella’s. When I’d first asked him, I hadn’t thought he would really do it. I mean, it was one thing to hang out with me and Linc, but my dad and sisters as well?
He seemed to have a great time, though, and I don’t even know how long we spent talking around Dad’s dining room table. After Gabe brought Linc and me home, we sat on the couch in front of the fire talking until Linc passed out around nine, and then Gabe ended up leaving sometime after eleven.
It had never felt so easy talking to a man, which surprised me given his life was so completely different than mine. There was no awkwardness between us. I never felt like I had to be something I wasn’t because Gabe appeared to appreciate me exactly as I was. He was also one of the few men I’d ever been around who was as actively interested in hearing about my life as he was about telling me about his. In fact, he seemed to shy away from talking a lot about life on the road and in the band, focusing more on talking about his family and his friends.
After the late night, Gabe had texted me in the morning to say he was sleeping in after spending most of the night working on songs. I had no clue about the how and why. We hadn’t spent time talking about anything particularly deep and meaningful, and it still felt so surreal that I could have any impact on his writer’s block—especially for a songwriter as prolific as Gabe Renard. Candy had told me how many albums Jacob’s Ladder had out, so I knew if he was their main songwriter, he must’ve written over a hundred songs.
Then he’d met me for lunch at The Hitching Post, and this time I beat him to the punch by telling May I would be covering the bill. Although he initially protested me buying his lunch, he appeared very grateful in the end. When he’d texted me in the afternoon to ask if he could spend a few hours with me, I told him he could but said he’d have to come to the house. The one bright spot was that for the first time I could remember, I had the place all to myself. Aunt Sadie was at bingo over at the American Legion, Kennedy and Ellie had gone to Chattanooga to pick up supplies for their businesses, and Linc had gone over to my dad’s.
Before Gabe had called, my plans for my evening at home had entailed baking. Once again, it was a prime example of how compared to him, my life was so simple. As I hurried out of the kitchen to get the door, I skidded to a stop in front of the gilded mirror in the hallway. I quickly checked my appearance before heading on into the foyer.
“Who is it?” I called.
“It’s Gabe.”
“Gabe who?” I teasingly asked.
“You know who,” he retorted.
I laughed as I opened the door. “I thought you would be proud that I asked this time.”
“Yeah, I’m thrilled.”
“Come on in.”
“Thanks.”
After we walked into the kitchen, Gabe eyed the counters covered in groceries. “What’s all this? Are you making me dinner?”
I laughed. “You wish.”
He cocked his brows at me. “What’s with all the bags?”
“Tomorrow is the PTA bake sale at Linc’s school, and somehow he wrangled me into making his favorite turtle brownies.”
“I thought your sister was the baker.”
“She is.”
“So why not delegate it off to her?”
“Because it’s important for them to be made by my hands.” When Gabe continued staring blankly at me, I sighed. “You’re not a parent, so you wouldn’t understand.”
“Let me guess: to show Linc that you truly care for him and his education, you are prepared to spend countless hours in the kitchen toiling away on baked goods after a long day at work.”
I widened my eyes in surprise. “Exactly.”
“See? I’m not a total parenting dumbass.”
“I never said you were.”
“Trust me, you implied it.”
I held up my hands. “If I did, I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” He then proceeded to start emptying one of the grocery bags.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“Uh, what does it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks like you’re trying to help.”
“Ding, ding, ding. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“You’re going to help me make brownies?” It was one thing for him to hang out with me, but for a famous musician to actually participate in baking? It was way too crazy.
Gabe shrugged. “Yeah. Why not?”
“Excuse me for stereotyping, but you don’t seem like the baking type.”
“Once again, I would ask that you not make assumptions about me. Some people would stereotype my mother as being a typical passive pastor’s wife, but trust me, she isn’t. She made sure her boys participated in cooking just as her daughter did.”
“I like your mother’s style.”
A genuine smile lit up Gabe’s face. “She really is an amazing woman.”
A storm of emotions rolled through me at his words and expression. “That’s nice. You’re really lucky to have a supportive and loving mom.”
“Do you ever hear from yours?” Gabe asked.
“Nope. She’s never even met Lincoln.”
Gabe’s brows popped up in surprise. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish. There have been a few phone calls here and there, but it’s probably been at least five years now.” I sighed. “She is the epitome of the old saying that you can’t make a whore into a housewife.”
“Damn,” Gabe muttered under his breath as he opened a box of brownie mix.
I giggled at his reaction to my honesty. “Sorry, but I can’t help calling it what it is. Sometimes I try to see things from her perspective. She wanted to get the hell out of her abusive home, and as a seventeen-year-old high school dropout, the only way to do that was through a man. She bounced from one to another trying to make one stay.” I shook my head. “She struck gold the day she got her mitts onto my dad. He wanted to be the white knight who saved her, the one who changed her. After trapping him into marriage by getting pregnant with Kennedy, she then popped out me and Ellie in quick succession before realizing motherhood was not for her.”
“That had to be hard on him,” Gabe remarked.
“I’m sure it was. I mean, I can only imagine considering what I’ve been through myself, but when we were growing up, he never made it seem hard. It was just like everything flowed so effortlessly with him—well, almost everything.” I grinned at Gabe. “He did sort of stumble with female hormones and our periods.”
Gabe laughed. “I don’t know many men who are comfortable with those things, least of all a father. It meant you guys were growing up, and I’m sure he hated that.”
Once again, Gabe surprised me with the depth of his response. As I was getting to know him better, I could see he wasn’t just a self-obsessed sex fiend. Although we’d only been hanging for a few days, I already felt a deep connection with him.
I cleared my throat. “Okay, let’s get down to business. We need to start working on the brownie mix.”
He jerked his chin at the cabinets. “Where do you keep your mixing bowls and baking pans?”
“Mixing bowls are in the top right cabinet. Baking pans are in the cabinet by the stove.” As Gabe reached up for the mixing bowls, his t-shirt rode up, affording me an excellent side view of what I imagined was his very defined six-pack. Besides his perfect abs, I couldn’t help noticing the tattoos. While he had one on his bicep and a few on his arms, I’d obviously never seen any under his clothes.
Before I could stop myself, I reached out and touched the ink. Gabe froze for a few seconds at my touch then slowly brought the mixing bowls down onto the counter.
After jerking my finger away, I said, “Sorry. I was just admiring the ink on your side.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s in another language, isn’t it?”
Gabe nodded. “Hebrew.”
“What does it say?”
“It’s the word for family. I got it done a few years back when I took a trip to Israel with Eli and my older brother, Micah. Since everything in my life personally and professionally is tied to my family, I thought it was a cool idea.”
I smiled. “I really like it. My family means the world to me too. Maybe I should get a tattoo like yours.”
Gabe eyed me curiously. “Do you have any tattoos?”
Groaning, I opened the carton of eggs. “Yes, I have two meaningful ones, and one I would like to forget.”
“Don’t tell me you got Linc’s father’s name tattooed on you somewhere.”
With a laugh, I replied, “No, thank God, but I do regret being sixteen and sneaking off to get a tramp stamp.”
“Hmm, let me see.”
“Fine.” Turning around, I untucked my shirt and held it up a few inches. “There it is.”
“It’s not bad.”
I threw a glance at Gabe over my shoulder. “You’re just saying that.”
“I’m serious. I was expecting something like a tribal band or Chinese symbols.”
I rolled my eyes. “I thought I was being so badass with those roses. I really want to get it lasered off when I get enough—”
My breath hitched when I felt Gabe’s fingers on my skin. “I wouldn’t get it removed.”
“But, uh, it’s…uh, a tramp stamp,” I protested breathlessly.
“It’s kinda sexy.”
Oh God. Was Gabe Renard running his fingers lightly above the top of my ass while he called my tramp stamp sexy? I licked my lips as I couldn’t help letting my mind wander to what it would feel like to have his whole hand on my ass…or maybe having that hand other places.
Dropping my shirt back down, I ended that train of thought. “Enough tattoo gawking. These brownies aren’t going to make themselves.”
After adding in the milk and eggs, Gabe began stirring the mix. When he got a little too overzealous in his ministrations, a cloud of mix flipped out onto his shirt. “Shit,” he muttered.
“Do you need an apron?”
He shot me a look as he grabbed a rag off the counter and rubbed his shirt. “Let me guess, it would be something white and frilly to make me look ridiculous?”
I grinned at him. “Of course. Can you imagine how much money I could make on one of those gossip sites with a picture of you in an apron cooking brownies?”
Gabe returned my smile. “Does this mean I need to be watching my back to make sure you don’t snap an incriminating picture of me?”
“While I might enjoy seeing you somewhat publically humiliated, I would never do that.”
“You would want me humiliated?” Gabe questioned.
Stilling my spoon, I said, “That’s a harsher word than I’m looking for.” I tilted my head in thought. “It’s probably more lik the saying in my family of bringing you down a notch.” When Gabe stared at me blankly, I added, “You know, your ego.”
“I get it.” Once he’d gotten the chocolate powder off his shirt as best he could, Gabe tossed the rag back on the counter. “Man, I must’ve come off as just one more asshole to you.”
“I’m sorry, but yeah, you were.”
“Why are you apologizing? I’m the one who was the asshole.”
“I know, but now that I know you better—”
Gabe shook his head. “Just because you know now, that doesn’t excuse my behavior.”
Ah, this was something I hadn’t seen in him before: true repentance. I really appreciated that he was annoyed with how he first treated me. Was all of his cockiness just a façade?
“That’s true. I guess you’re right.” I began stirring the caramels again. “I just wondered how much of your behavior was really bad and how much my view of you is skewed because you’re a musician.” Were you real then, or am I seeing the real you now?
Gabe leaned back against the counter. “I’d have to say after what you’ve experienced, you’re very justified to feel the way you do.”
“Well, because of those feelings, I might have been a little harsher on you than I had to be, at least that morning at the shop.” I grinned at him. “I’m fairly certain you deserved everything I gave you that day in the woods.”
Gabe smiled. “I probably did.”
I moved around him to grease the baking pans. When I finished, Gabe held out his hand. At what must’ve been my questioning look, he said, “I’ll pour.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Taking the large bowl of gooey chocolate in one of his hands, Gabe then poured mix into the two baking pans. After I smoothed it out with the spatula, I took them over to the oven.
“There. In just twenty to twenty-five minutes, I’ll have baked my way into Linc’s heart.”
With a laugh, Gabe said, “You mothers are all the same, appealing to us through our love of food.”
“Can you think of a better way?”
Tilting his head, Gabe replied, “Probably not.”
“I rest my case.” After eyeing the pile of dirty dishes, I groaned. “Now for the worst part of baking: cleanup.”
“I’ll help, and it’ll go fast.”
I shook my head. “Very impressive, Mr. Renard. Not only did you do most of the baking, now you’re offering to clean, too.”
Gabe grinned. “I just enjoy disproving your opinion of me.”
“My opinion of you is certainly a work in progress.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
We began working in perfect sync with Gabe washing the dishes and me doing the drying. When he picked up the mixing bowl, he paused. “Do you want to lick the spoon?” he asked.
“Yes, please.”
As my tongue darted out, Gabe’s eyes flared. Electricity crackled through my body, causing the hairs on my arms to rise. Time crawled by as we stood there staring at each other.
Gabe broke the silence by saying, “Fuck it.” Tossing the spoon to the counter, he then reached out and jerked me to him.
“What are you—”
Gabe crushed his lips against mine, causing me to moan. His kiss was a combination of tenderness and insistence. His mouth moved against mine almost with desperation. Sweet Jesus, the man could kiss. He was even better at it in real life than he was in my dream. It didn’t seem fair that he should be so good at so many things.
As Gabe plunged his tongue into my mouth, his hand slid around my ribcage to cup my breast and my nipple immediately hardened under his touch. He continued kneading my breast while his thumb brushed back and forth over my nipple, which drove me absolutely wild.
Then, as suddenly as it had all started, it stopped. Gabe jerked away from me, his wild gaze meeting mine as he jerked a hand through his hair. The kitchen was filled with the sounds of our heavy breathing. Before he could say anything, I leapt back at him, fusing my lips to his.
After knocking the leftover ingredients to the ground, Gabe grabbed me by the waist and hoisted me up onto the counter. “Too many clothes,” he muttered as he eyed my chest.
Since I completely agreed with him, I grasped the hem of my t-shirt and quickly ripped it over my head then tossed it to the ground. Gabe’s greedy hands jerked my bra straps down, freeing my breasts. He licked his lips before his mouth closed over one of my rock-hard nipples. “Mm, yes,” I muttered as I pinched my eyes shut.
As Gabe’s teeth grazed my nipple, his other hand came between my legs. Through my jeans, he rubbed the heel of his hand against my pussy. With a moan, I threw my head back. God, it felt so good have his hands on me. I began arching my hips to get more friction. When it wasn’t enough, I murmured, “Please.”
Gabe replied by unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans. He pulled them down from under my butt…so easily. His hand dove into my panties and worked its way down to my pussy. When his fingers touched my clit, I once again cried out. As Gabe sucked my nipple into his mouth, he thrust one finger deep inside me. “Hmm, yes, more,” I pleaded.
He obliged by sticking another finger into my pussy. Biting down on my lip, I rocked against his hand. His mouth and his fingers felt just as good as they had in my sex dream. When Gabe pulled his fingers out of me, I groaned in frustration. “I want to fuck you with my tongue,” he said. Um, okay. He certainly wasn’t going to get an argument out of me with that one.
But in the heat of the moment, as Gabe started to pull down my panties, I remembered how unprepared I was for this moment—like not lady-scaped at all kind of unprepared. It was one thing for his hand to feel it, but it was a completely different thing for him to see it. “Wait, no.”
His dark brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Um, it’s, well…” Embarrassed heat rushed to my face.
“What?”
“I’m not ready.”
A sexy smirk curved Gabe’s lips. “Babe, you’ve soaked my fingers—you’re more than ready.”
I ducked my head. “Not like that. I mean, it’s been a while, so I haven’t taken care of things…down there.”
He shocked the hell out of me by closing his eyes in bliss. “Are you telling me you have a full bush going on?”
I gasped. “Um, well, not a total bush, but it’s certainly not how I’d prefer you to see it.”
His eyes popped open. Before I could protest any more, Gabe jerked my panties down, and I shrieked when he widened my legs. Desire filled his gaze at the sight of what I felt was my overgrown jungle. “That is so fucking sexy.”
“You’re joking?”
He answered my question by burying his face in my pussy. I sucked in a breath before wheezing it out. “I guess you’re serious,” I said as I panted.
After his tongue traced in and out of my folds, he thrust it inside me. I moaned so loud it echoed through the kitchen. It had been so long since a man had gone down on me, and it had been even longer since it had been a man who knew what he was doing, one who swept his powerful tongue deep inside me. “Oh God, Gabe!”
“That’s it, say my name, baby,” he murmured, his voice vibrating against my sex.
I began lifting my hips to work against his tongue. Sweat broke out along my forehead. I was close—oh, so close—but it felt so damn good, I didn’t want it to stop.
Just as I started to go over the edge, the acrid smell of smoke entered my nostrils. Wait, were Gabe’s oral skills so good they’d set my vagina on fire? My eyes fluttered open to see smoke filling the kitchen.
“Oh shit! The brownies!!” I shrieked. I pushed Gabe’s head away before I jumped down off the counter. On wobbly legs, I hobbled over to the stove. When I threw open the door, smoke billowed back at me.
“Got a fire extinguisher?” Gabe questioned.
“Pantry!” I shouted over my shoulder.
While Gabe rushed to retrieve it, I turned off the oven. After arming my hand with an oven mitt, I reached inside to take out the charred remains of the baked goods. When Gabe appeared at my side with the extinguisher, I shook my head. “Fire’s out. Just open up the windows and doors to get the smoke out.”
“Got it.” After setting the extinguisher on the floor, he made quick work of opening the window over the sink and then the three over by the kitchen table. All I could do was stare at the mess on the stove. I didn’t even care that I was standing almost buck-naked in my kitchen.
Fighting the frustrated tears that threatened to overtake me, I yanked my hand through my hair. “Shit!”
Gabe placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Take it easy. We can make another batch.”
I glanced at the clock on the stove. “By the time I could get to Blair’s, it would be closed.
“But it’s only nine o’clock.”
“You’re in the boonies, city boy. Everything here closes early.”
“What about a Walmart or another store open all night?”
I wiggled my bra back down over my breasts. “It’s an hour away. I have to pick up Linc at Dad’s before ten.”
“Okay, while you go pick up Linc, I’ll go to Walmart for the ingredients.”
Gabe’s offer sent warmth spreading through my chest; I couldn’t believe he was so willing to do whatever it took to help me. But, the feeling of warmth was fleeting, and all too soon it was replaced by a sense of unease. Not only was what we had just done on the counter too fast, so was the whiplash of feelings I was experiencing about him.
“No, no, that’s okay. You’ve done plenty,” I replied as I hopped back into my panties and jeans.
“But I want to help,” he protested.
Shaking my head, I replied, “Just go. I need to sort this out myself.”
Gabe’s expression darkened. “Why are you pushing me away?”
Because I’m mortified that I was so easy, not to mention I’m scared to death we’ve just screwed up what we had by almost screwing in my kitchen.
“I’m not. I just need to clean up this mess and go get Linc.” When he started to protest again, I pinched my eyes shut. “Please. Just leave.”
After huffing out a frustrated breath, he brushed past me. Closing my eyes, I listened to his heavy footsteps as they pounded against the hallway floor. At the sound of the front door slamming, I jumped. Now that I was alone, I allowed the tears to flow. This time they weren’t about the burnt brownies. There was nothing I could do to rectify the mess I had made of those. Now I was thinking there was no way I could rectify the mess I’d just made with Gabe. So, my tears? They were all about Gabe.