by Tawna Fenske
“Sounds like the quintessential snow day meal.”
As Gabe busies himself in the kitchen, I settle at the table and boot up my laptop. Out of habit, I try to check my email, but there’s clearly no signal. It’s a weird feeling, but freeing. I’ve never been this cut off from the outside world.
It doesn’t take long to locate the file filled with career questionnaires. As Gabe sets a bowl of stew next to me, I read off the first question.
“Gender—male or female?” I bite my lip and tick the correct box. “Um, male. Definitely. Very.”
Gabe laughs and pushes a plate of apple slices between us. “You sure about that?”
“Pretty positive.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” He bites off a piece of apple. “I’m already nailing this quiz.”
And would likely be nailing me if the power hadn’t gone out. I scroll down, intent on keeping us on neutral turf.
“This next set of questions requires you to pick between strongly agree, agree, disagree, or strongly disagree,” I say. “Ready?”
“Lay it on me.” He blows on a spoonful of stew, and I get distracted looking at his mouth.
“Question two.” I take a bite of apple slice. “Being around people gives me energy.”
“Hell, no.”
I laugh and tick the box on the far right. “That wasn’t one of the choices, but we’ll go with ‘strongly disagree.’”
“Fair enough.” He scoops up more stew as I stir mine around and read the next question. “I spend my spare time socializing, attending parties, and interacting with others.”
I glance up to see frown lines etching the space between his brows. “In my current life, or what I wish my life could be like?”
“Let’s say your ideal world.”
“Disagree,” he says. “Maybe strongly.”
I keep going, though I’m curious how much of his social interaction involves other women. Wait—
“You’re not married, are you?” I stare into his eyes, willing him to be honest.
“What?” Gabe drops the apple slice he’s holding. “Of course not. I’d never do that to you. Or to any woman.”
“Right. Sorry.”
He slides a hand over mine and squeezes. “Don’t apologize. I understand why you’re asking, and the answer’s no. I’m not married or dating anyone. I promise.”
Light sparks off the amber flecks in his eyes, and I remind myself not to fall for him. Or launch myself into his lap.
“I believe you,” I tell him. “I do. I trust you to be honest with me.”
Something twitches in his jaw. A muscle tick, or did he just clench? He stops before I can figure it out.
“What’s next?” he asks.
There’s a split second where I think he means us. Will we date after all this is over? Will we resume what got started in the blanket fort?
“The quiz,” I say, forcing my eyes back to the questionnaire. “Okay, the next set of questions are behavioral. They’re meant to test creativity and aptitude for outside-the-box thinking.”
Gabe looks dubious. “Here’s hoping the half-tablespoon of schnapps hasn’t dulled my senses.”
I know he’s kidding, but I am kind of curious. I already know Gabe’s smart, but I’m eager to see his brain in action. “Okay, you can either ride an elephant or a giraffe. Which would you choose, and describe the challenges and advantages of your commute.”
Gabe doesn’t miss a beat. “The giraffe’s going to be more nimble in LA traffic, since it features superior height and sighting capability and a narrower turning radius,” he says. “The elephant would perform better in snow and could easily maneuver the tree out of the path of the car.”
“I see.” I’m impressed he’s given it this much thought. If he were in the career counseling center, I’d give him high marks for creative thinking. “So you choose the elephant?”
“Giraffe,” he says, smiling. “I’m not in any hurry to leave here at the moment.”
Something in my center goes melty, but I order myself to stay focused. I take a bite of stew and scroll down the page. “Let’s move on to analytical questions.” I scroll down the page, trying to find a good one. “Okay, you encounter two guards, each blocking a door. One door leads to eternal doom, the other leads to endless ice cream.”
I might have improvised that last part, but Gabe grins. “Are we talking chocolate chip mint, or plain old vanilla?”
“This has bearing on your answer?”
“Absolutely. I’d risk eternal damnation to bring you mint chocolate chip.”
“You are ridiculously sweet.” I ignore the melting of my heart and gesture to the screen. “May I continue with the question?”
“By all means.”
I scan to find my place again. “Two guards, two doors. One leads to the ice cream, one to eternal damnation. One of the guards only tells the truth, and the other is only capable of lying. You with me so far?”
“Yep,” he says. “Ice cream, damnation, a lying guard, and one who tells the truth.”
“Right. You can ask one guard a single question. Who do you pick and what do you ask in order to get to the ice cream?”
I look up again and see he’s puzzling away. He stares out the window, watching flakes fall as he considers the question.
While he’s doing that, I consider Gabe. I love the play of light in his eyes. I love that he keeps nudging the apples closer to me, trying to make sure I get my fair share. I love that he’s giving this question such careful thought.
“I’d choose one guard and ask, ‘if I asked the other guard which door leads to ice cream, what would he tell me?’ If I’ve picked the truth-telling guard, he’s going to be honest when he tells me the other guy’s going to point to the door with the damnation.”
“Uh-huh,” I say, impressed he figured it out this quickly. “And if you’ve asked the liar guard?”
“Obviously I won’t know at the time he’s the liar,” he reasons. “But I give him the same question—‘what would the other guard tell me if I ask which door has the ice cream?’—he has to lie and point to the door that leads to damnation. Either way, I know where the ice cream is.”
“Damn.” I look up from the laptop. “Most people don’t figure it out that fast.”
Gabe grins, and my insides go gooey. “Is this helping you figure out my future career?”
It’s helping me figure out that Gabe Judson is clever, in addition to sexy and funny. God help me.
“Yes,” I say honestly. “You’d be good at a career that requires spontaneous, creative thinking.”
“Which would be what, exactly?”
I scroll down to find a partial list. “Architect. Floral designer. Art director. Glass blower. Web developer. There are at least a hundred options here. I can send it to you when I’m back to an internet connection.”
Back to real life. Away from this sweet little utopia we’re creating here. The thought makes me sad.
“What about shepherd?” he asks. “Or astronaut. I always thought I had a future as an astronaut.”
I laugh and scrape up the last of the stew from my bowl. “That’s just a preliminary list. Want to keep going?”
Gabe grabs another apple slice and nods. “I could go all night.”
My panties melt on the spot. I tear my eyes off him, fighting to keep my brain out of the gutter as I scroll to one of the quizzes I haven’t used before. Might as well learn something new.
“Let’s do another question.”
Gabe grins like he knows I just pictured him naked. “Let’s.”
“Okay, you have eight penises,” I read. “Seven of the penises weigh the same, and one weighs less.”
It occurs to me something’s off about this question, but I forge ahead, determined to stay focused. “You also have a judge’s scale to weigh all the penises. Find the one that weighs less in three steps.”
I look up to see Gabe staring at me. “Is this a trick questio
n?”
“Um.” I glance back at the monitor, trying to find my place in the questionnaire. “I’ve actually never asked this one before. Hang on—”
“Because if I did have eight penises, I wouldn’t care what any of them weighed,” he says. “I’d be focused on finding underwear that fits. And figuring out how not to make a scene at public urinals. And being sure the woman I’m crazy about is comfortable with my genital deformity. That’s you, by the way. Oh, and also, I’d be worried about riding a bike or—”
“Pennies!” I shout, jabbing a finger at the screen. “Pennies, not penises. I read the question wrong.” Heat rushes to my cheeks as I do my best not to look at Gabe. And definitely not at Gabe’s crotch.
Probably how you read the word wrong in the first place.
He squeezes my hand, still laughing. “Don’t feel bad. Want me to tell you about the time I mispronounced the word ‘pianist’ in front of ten thousand people?”
“Ten thousand p—” I stop mid-question as my brain backs up and stalls on his earlier words. The romantic bit between between “public urinals” and “genital deformity.”
I blink at him. “You’re crazy about me?”
Gabe grins. “Very much so.”
“I see.” My cheeks are still hot, but for a different reason now. “Did you want to address the question with pennies instead of penises?”
He shrugs and releases my hand. “Might as well stick with penises, if that’s what you have on your mind.”
Oh, God. He’s right; he’s totally right. Blame it on our blanket fort groping. “Um, I don’t—"
“Let’s see,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “To figure out which of the penises is lightest, I’d start by creating two groups of three penises each. Then I’d also have one group of two penises.”
“You’re creating quite the mental picture.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Can’t stop thinking about it, huh?”
You have no idea.
“Continue,” I prompt, waving a hand. “Two groups of three penises and one group of two.”
“Right, so I start by putting the groups of three penises on the scale—one on each side. This is one of those old-fashioned hanging scales, right?”
“Correct.” It’s all I can do to keep a straight face right now. “It’ll have to be a big scale to fit that many penises.”
Gabe laughs and leans back, folding his hands behind his head. “Oh, I’m very adept at penis management.”
My mouth goes dry, but I force myself to nod. “So what next?”
“Well, with a set of three penises on each side of the scale, I’ll know right away whether the lightest penis is in one of those two groups. If they’re equal, the light one is in the group of two.”
“Very clever.” Have I mentioned I love smart guys? And guys with broad chests and warm brown eyes and— “Okay, so let’s say the two sets of three weigh the same.” I’m struggling like hell to stay on topic. “What do you do with the two penises?”
“One on each side of the scale, of course,” he says. “I’ve got my answer in two steps.”
“And what if the first round goes differently?” I ask. “If one of those stacks of three is lighter. How do you know which penis is the light one?”
“Easy.” The flash in his eyes tells me he’s enjoying this way too much. “Pick two out of the three penises and put one on each side of the scale. If they’re equal, the third penis is the light one. If they’re not—bingo! There’s my light penis.”
“Light penis.” I grin. “Is that like a light saber?”
Gabe clasps his hands over his chest and gasps. “Be still my heart. You know Star Wars?”
I laugh and shove my empty bowl aside. “I haven’t been living in a cave. Everyone knows Star Wars.”
He performs an elaborate sort of swoon, hands still clutching his chest. “Promise me when we get out of here, you’ll let me take you on a movie date. It doesn’t have to be Star Wars; it can be anything.”
I bite my lip, considering the offer. “I did want to see Finding Nemo. I tried to watch it with Libby, but when Nemo’s mom dies in the first five minutes—” I shrug, already feeling silly.
“You never watched the end of it?”
I shake my head. “It was too sad.”
He studies my face, slow smile spreading over his. “You’re fucking adorable, you know that?”
I laugh and tuck some loose hair behind my ear. “Anyway, I agree.”
“To what?”
“A movie date. If the offer still stands?”
“Oh, it stands.” He grins. “I’m already planning it. You. Me. A bucket of popcorn. An excuse to steal a kiss in the dark.”
I glance around the cabin. There’s still sunlight streaming through the windows, but it won’t be long before the cabin’s plunged into darkness. We’ve already gathered all the candles in the house, but the thought of being trapped in the dark with Gabe isn’t as scary as it should be.
When I meet his eyes again, my stomach swirls like a chocolate/vanilla cone. “It’s not stealing if I offer the kiss freely,” I point out. “And it might be a while until we have access to movies.”
His eyes don’t leave my face, but they do flash with intrigue. “What are you suggesting?”
I lick my lips, knowing how much hinges on what I say next. How much things can change by falling casually into bed with someone I don’t know.
But I know Gabe. There’s something about forced togetherness, about having this much dedicated time together. I swear I feel closer to him than I do with colleagues I’ve known for months. It’s like we’ve peeked inside each other’s souls and discovered we both like what we see.
I push my laptop closed and stand up.
“Come on.” My hand trembles only a little as I point to the blanket fort. “I know where there’s a dark spot.”
He looks at me with a question in his eyes. Is this what I think it is?
I nod at the same time he asks, “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Yes, I am.” I haven’t been this sure of anything for a long time.
The smile that spreads over his face is warm and golden as honey. “A dress rehearsal?”
My heart pounds in my ears, but it’s the good kind of pounding. The second best. “How about an undressed rehearsal?”
Before he can respond, I grab the hem of my T-shirt and pull it over my head. Then I hand it to him, heart thudding in my throat as Gabe gapes at me in wonder.
“Meet you in the fort,” I tell him.
Then I turn and cross the room on shaky legs.
Chapter 7
Gable
Oh my God.
My mouth goes dry as I watch Gretchen’s bare back retreat across the room. Her skin is flawless, and the smile she throws over her shoulder turns my chest cavity into a simmering bowl of want. I look down and see I’m clutching her T-shirt so hard my knuckles are white.
Tell her.
The voice in my head is screaming it. Reminding me that before this goes further, she needs to know who I am and what I’ve done. I’ve had plenty of chances. She deserves the story.
But as I fold her shirt and lay it on the table, I can’t seem to find my voice. I still can’t find it as I follow her across the room, anticipation swelling like a lava-filled balloon in my chest. I’m three feet away, and I can already feel her.
She turns in the doorway of the blanket fort and smiles. My breath catches in my throat as I let my gaze sweep her shoulders, her breasts, her belly. A deep flush spreads over her cheeks, and I know self-consciousness is setting in.
“Gretchen.” I reach for her, sliding my palms into the warm, bare curve of her waist. “You’re so beautiful.”
She laughs, but there’s a note of uncertainty in it. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” I kiss the spot just below her ear, breathing her in. “Thank you for inviting me to dinner.” I kiss her again, lower this time along the curve of her neck. “An
d for kissing me goodbye this morning instead of charging off into the blizzard.”
If she hadn’t, who knows where she’d have been when that tree fell?
And who knows where we’d be now?
I move lower, skimming my lips over her throat. “And thank you for taking off your shirt.” She shivers as I plant one more kiss on the tender spot where her neck meets her shoulder. “And for whatever’s about to happen between us.”
She shivers again and draws back to meet my eyes. Her smile is warm as she squares her shoulders. “Look, I know we’re both at weird places in our lives. And I know this can’t mean anything. So why don’t we just enjoy it for what it is?”
I shake my head, determined to be honest in this at least. “No.” I skim my hands up her ribs, watching her shiver. “It means something to me. It means everything. That’s the only way I’m doing this.”
She holds my gaze with hers, studying me like she’s trying to see into my soul. I want her to know she can believe me. Even if I haven’t told her everything, this much is true. This isn’t a fling for me.
“Yeah,” she says softly. “It’s more to me, too. I didn’t mean it to be, but—”
“I know.” I kiss her shoulder again, needing to memorize the sprinkle of freckles on pale skin. “Same.”
So there it is. We’re on the same page, at least as far as what comes next.
Same page? You haven’t even given her the book, asshole.
I push aside the self-doubt and pull her into my arms, kissing her long and deep as her fingers twine in my hair. Her soft sigh of pleasure blows the dark thoughts into a far corner of my brain. There’s time for truth-telling later. Right now, this is the only truth that matters.
It’s Gretchen who kisses first this time, pulling me down so my mouth meets hers. We’re slow at first, tentative, like we’re both coming to terms with this new understanding.
That doesn’t last long. Hunger takes over, and soon we’re clawing at each other’s clothes. Her bra goes first as she works the fly of my jeans. Neither of us breaks the kiss, not even to come up for air. We’re fused together, each of us needing this as much as the other.
