see a plate of steaming veal Marsala in my life.
“This is really good,” I tell him as I take another bite. “I’m impressed.”
He grins. “Good. That was my goal. I really can’t make anything else.”
I burst out laughing. “Really?”
He shakes his head. “No. I can. I just wanted you to laugh. You’re too serious, Mad. You might look like her, but you’re not the girl I remember from school.”
I feel my cheeks flush with color as I reach for my wineglass. How many times have I heard that very thing since my parents died? What the hell do people expect? Mila and I were orphaned, for God’s sake. We had to grow up in a hurry and that meant getting serious. I had to watch out for my sister, take over the restaurant, assume the business loan… none of those things were easy.
I don’t say any of that, though, because none of it is Ethan’s fault… or his business.
“Well, things changed after my parents died,” I simply say.
He nods thoughtfully. “I figured that was it. My mom said that you pretty much shouldered everything yourself. You let Mila do her own thing while you came home and took over the restaurant. That was nice of you.”
I shake my head. “It wasn’t that big of a deal,” I protest. “I majored in business so that when I got too old to model, I’d have a fallback plan. So it made sense that I should take over the Hill. Neither of us wanted to sell it and Mila would have taken it over if I’d asked her to.”
“But you didn’t ask her,” Ethan pointed out. “You came home to run it.”
“Yes,” I answer. “I did. Mila never wanted anything to do with business. She’s always been artsy. That was always her dream. And her dreams shouldn’t die just because our parents did.”
Ethan stares at me and then pours me another glass of wine. “I was at school when I heard about your parents, Maddy. I didn’t really know what to do. But I am really sorry about what happened to them. And about what’s happened to you because of it. I understand that you don’t want Mila to give up her dreams… and I respect that. But what about your own? Running the Hill wasn’t your dream. It was theirs.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I admit grudgingly. “What’s the deal, Ethan? Are you trying to make me think I should be unsatisfied?” I smile, to try to lighten the tone, but I still ask the question. Because seriously—what the hell?
Ethan immediately shakes his head.
“Of course not. You just don’t seem as happy as you used to be. And I’m just trying to figure out why. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Well, things change and I’m not the girl you remember,” I point out. “And you didn’t offend me.”
But he kind of did.
I sip at the rest of my wine and we chat for a bit more over dessert, about old times. About high school and college, and old friends that we have in common. And then out of the blue, Ethan looks at me seriously.
“I know this is probably a stupid question since you’re here tonight, but are you dating anyone? I mean, seriously seeing someone?”
I’m taken aback by his question and stare at him stupidly for a second.
“Of course not,” I finally manage to say. “If I was, I’m sure he wouldn’t be too happy about the fact that I’m here on a date with you.”
Ethan grins and seems relieved. “OK. Good. I just wasn’t sure if you were considering this a date or not, or if you just thought we were catching up. I just wanted to check.”
I have to laugh. “I actually thought we were just catching up, but Mila insisted it was a date. So I’m glad that’s cleared up.”
“Well, you look beautiful and I’m not ready to say good night,” Ethan announces. “Want to go for a walk on the beach? It’s not raining for the first time in days. We should take advantage of it. I can drive us there and you can leave your heels in the car.”
“Good plan,” I tell him. “Because there’s no way in hell these heels are getting anywhere near the sand. I had to eat frozen burritos for a month for these.”
He chuckles, not knowing that I eat frozen burritos anyway. As he helps me shrug into my sweater, he dips his head and inhales. “You smell fantastic.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. The compliment was nice, but I’m rethinking my decision to extend our date.
I can’t help but wonder if there’s something wrong with me because I’m still not attracted to him, even though he’s Mr. Perfect now.
I climb into his BMW and he closes my door, a perfect gentleman. We’re at the beach in just a couple of minutes.
As Ethan pulls into a space, I gaze out across the water.
“It seems so majestic, doesn’t it?” I ask Ethan softly. “So big. It makes me feel so small.”
“I don’t know about that,” he replies as he opens my door. “But it’s definitely windy.”
I roll my eyes at his lack of appreciation for the beauty around us and follow him down the narrow path to the shore. Wild grass blows on either side of the hard-packed trail. To our left the water crashes into the shore. To our right the sand dunes roll, rugged and beautiful.
“I love it here,” I sigh and I grasp Ethan’s arm.
I mean, it’s supposed to be a date. I can touch the guy, right? The wind is chilly and his arm is warm. It’s not a crime to absorb some of his heat.
I don’t even let my mind wander to the guy I’d really like to be touching. And I wouldn’t just be touching him to stay warm, either. The mere thought of how I’d like to touch him makes my cheeks flush yet again as in my head, Gabriel winks at me.
Why the hell is he stuck in my head?
“I like it here too,” Ethan answers, bringing me back to my present company. “I thought about staying in the city to do my residency but I really just wanted to come home. It was a nice surprise to find you still here. You always seemed destined for something bigger than here, you know?”
He smiles down at me with white teeth a supermodel would be envious of. I really, really, really wish that my heart would flutter or my hormones would react. But they don’t. Nothing. Nada.
Hell. I’m such a dating failure.
“Well, it was definitely hard getting used to being back here. It’s so small.”
Ethan laughs at that, but thankfully lets the conversation thread go. I’m grateful because his small talk is annoyingly bland.
We continue walking and chatting and I continue holding on to his arm.
He appears to be genuinely interested in all the things I tell him about the Hill, although I can’t say the same for myself about his tales from the clinic. How can someone so gorgeous be so freaking boring?
“So, yeah, I was freaked out when I first gave someone a catheter. I mean, seriously. Who really wants to pick up another man’s penis and insert a hose into it? Thank God that’s usually the nurses’ job.” Ethan continues to tell me his medical tales and I continue to tune them out. Because seriously. I don’t want to hear about him playing with another man’s junk.
As I concentrate on not listening, a figure takes shape in the near distance, jogging toward us. Out of idle curiosity, I keep an eye on the jogger as he draws closer and closer, and then almost gasp when I finally realize who it is.
Gabriel.
No freaking way. It’s like the universe is determined to keep bringing me into his path.
My mouth instantly goes dry as his stormy eyes lock on my face.
We need to finish what we started.
I feel my cheeks flush and as they do, he smirks… like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
He’s shirtless and the muscles in his chest and abdomen flex with every movement. His dark hair is mussed and damp, so it’s obvious he’s been running for a while.
Sweet Mary. Why is it that an entire evening with Ethan leaves me cold but one freaking glance from this guy sets my blood on fire?
The man is built. His arms are cut, his abs are a rock-hard washboard and he’s got that perfect V running down into the wa
istband of his shorts. I try to pretend that I don’t notice, but I can tell from his smirk that he knows that I did.
I ignore it. Instead I ponder the way he seems so lean and efficient. Every movement is smooth and deliberate. And powerful. I’ve always heard that Special Forces turn their soldiers into trained killers. I don’t know about that, but holy crap, he looks lethal.
I can’t seem to look away and as he jogs past, he glances at me sideways.
He also splashes through a tiny pool of water, which splatters Ethan’s pants in muddy droplets.
“Hey, dude,” Ethan protests, turning to glare after Gabriel. “Watch what you’re doing.”
I’m surprised that Ethan would say anything at all because it was clearly an accident, but I’m equally surprised when Gabriel stops, turns and walks back to us, sweat glistening on his brow. Hell.
“What did you say?” he asks incredulously. Apparently he’s surprised too.
Ethan seems hesitant now that he’s face-to-face with Gabe.
“I said watch it,” he says, quieter now. “You got mud on my pants.”
“Did I now?” Gabe rolls his eyes. “I apologize. I apologize that you’re a candy-ass who doesn’t like to get dirty.”
Ethan practically sputters as he steps toward Gabriel and I have no clue what to do.
“Whatcha gonna do, candy-ass?” Gabriel taunts him, leaning forward mockingly. “Anything?”
Gabriel raises an eyebrow, waiting, and I shake my head, disappointed that he would react like this. Disappointed, but not surprised. He did punch a hole in his wall, for God’s sake, then turned around and slammed Jared into a wall. It’s clear what kind of guy he is… someone who has a temper problem. Before I can stop myself, I speak up for Ethan.
“What the hell, Gabriel? You splashed mud on him. This is your fault, not his. Why are you being such a dick about it?”
The way he looks at me, with almost an offended expression, makes me wonder… is this overreaction about me? Is he annoyed that Ethan is here with me? His face closes up, though, and I decide that that can’t be right
“Come find me if you get tired of having a girl fight your battles,” Gabriel tells Ethan. “And I’ll be happy to buy you another pair of candy-ass pants.”
He starts to walk away, then turns back around, his eyes locking on mine. His dark gaze is intense as he stares into my eyes, then at my mouth.
What’s he thinking? Why the hell is he acting like what happened the other night was normal? Like any of this is normal?
It’s not normal.
Doesn’t he care that I helped him? I took a chance, a risk, by walking a strange man home because I just couldn’t leave him there alone. And now he just wants to pretend that none of it happened.
He just keeps staring at my lips with a gaze that says, It doesn’t matter. None of that matters, Maddy.
And for a minute it really doesn’t because he’s staring at my mouth like he wants to devour it and that’s all I can think about.
Self-consciously, I drag my teeth across my bottom lip. In reaction, the corner of his tilts up and I get a glimpse of his white teeth, his pink tongue.
The same tongue that has licked and sucked my nipples.
My heart slams in my chest and he smiles, just slightly.
He knows what I’m thinking.
I take a breath. He takes a step.
He takes another one, dipping his head toward my ear, close enough that Ethan can’t hear, close enough that his lips graze my cheek.
“Think about me, Maddy.”
My heart stops. Before I can respond, he grins cockily and spins around, jogging past us without looking back.
“What a dick,” Ethan mutters. “Who is that guy? What did he say to you?”
“Jacey’s brother,” I answer, fighting an incredible urge to look over my shoulder, to watch him jog away. “I don’t know why he’s still here. I think he lives in Chicago.”
I know he lives in Chicago. But obviously I don’t mention that or how I know that. And I definitely don’t tell him what Gabriel said.
“Well, we can hope that he goes home soon,” Ethan grumbles. “We don’t need assholes like that here. This town is too small for that. It’s bad enough that we have Pax Tate.”
His head snaps up as he remembers that Pax is my brother-in-law, as he realizes that he just stuck his foot in his mouth.
“God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that ever since he moved here a few years ago, we all knew to steer clear of him. We knew that if we bumped into him on a bad day, he would be a total asshole.”
“What do you care?” I demand. “You were hardly ever home to bump into him. And he’s not an asshole anymore.”
“That’s what they say,” Ethan says, seemingly unconvinced. His tone, his words… everything about him right now is annoying me. He has no right to judge Pax. Not by a long shot.
And yes, Gabriel overreacted. He could’ve kept on jogging and pretended that he didn’t hear Ethan. But Ethan didn’t need to say anything in the first place. So what if he got some water splashed on his pants?
He really is a candy-ass.
And Gabe so clearly is not.
My mood toward Ethan has definitely been dampened even more than it already was and I remain quiet as he and I walk back to his car.
After he drives me back to his place, I tell him that I’m tired and that I should really head home rather than come inside for a drink. I can tell he’s disappointed, but he handles it smoothly.
“That’s all right, Maddy. I’ve been up since four a.m., so I’m wiped too. But this was fun. We should do it again soon.”
There is an awkward pause as I stand next to my car.
I can tell he’s contemplating kissing me and I dread the thought.
Don’t, I silently instruct him. But instead of expecting him to read my mind, I solve the problem by raising myself up on my tiptoes and kissing his cheek.
“Sure,” I murmur.
Ethan stares down at me as the top of my car lowers.
“I’ll call you this week, OK?”
I nod and get into my car, and as I drive away, I mentally examine myself.
I hate candy-ass guys but I also hate bullies. My father was a bully. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now.
Even bullies who are sexy as hell. Especially bullies who are sexy as hell, because they just draw me in toward something that I need to stay far away from. Because Mila was right the other night—I do tend to pick the wrong guys. I tend to be attracted to the wrong guys.
Honestly, I’m starting to think that there is no one out there for me. I don’t like the guys I should, and the guys I like are bad for me. Maybe I’m destined to be alone.
When I walk into my empty house, it only emphasizes that fact.
I’m alone.
I kick off my shoes, drop my purse on a table in the foyer and collapse into a chair in the living room with a bottle of wine.
Just the bottle, no glass.
I dangle my legs over the side of the chair as I think about the evening.
Thoughts of Ethan make me cringe. Besides annoying me with his judgment of Pax, Ethan just lacks something. A spark, a passion. I can’t put my finger on it, but whatever it is, I doubt he’s ever going to make me feel the way I want someone to make me feel.
But Gabriel does.
One smoldering look from him sends my pulse racing, bully or not.
We need to finish what we started.
Fuck. What is wrong with me? Why am I so stuck on someone I shouldn’t want… but do?
All I know is Gabriel has that certain kind of confidence. The kind that turns my stomach inside out. And there’s something else about him, too… something intriguing. I don’t even know him, but there’s something in his eyes, something dark and haunted that draws me to him.
I ponder that for a minute; ponder what he might have seen in Afghanistan that was so terrible that it scarred him insid
e. What turned him into a panicky mess the night of the taxi accident?
Because he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who panics.
In my head I see him jogging on the beach again, all huge and strong and disciplined. Judging by how sweaty he was, I bet he’d been jogging for miles and yet he was still going, just like a machine. He’s clearly a force to be reckoned with.
Yet something has the power to bring him to his knees. It’s a puzzle.
My eyes flutter closed as I picture Gabriel’s rippling muscles, glistening with a light sheen of sweat. I picture him crawling up and over me, rubbing against me, his fingers stroking me.
Oh my God. My eyes snap open and my cheeks flush as I realize I just drifted into a fantasy about Gabriel. He’s a guy that is made of everything that scares me.