by Katie Ashley
“Ill will?”
“Like ‘cut my balls off’ kinda ill will.”
While Kennedy laughed at Gabe’s summation, I smacked his arm playfully. “You weren’t supposed to mention that.”
“I figured it was the best way to break the ice.”
Kennedy nodded. “You figured right. It is true that I wasn’t initially a big fan of yours, but I’m willing to get to know you better.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Would you like to fix a plate, Gabe? There’s plenty to eat.”
Glancing over Kennedy’s shoulder, Gabe eyed the goodies lining the counter. I usually didn’t see so much breakfast food except on the weekends or if we had company, but once again, I shouldn’t have been too surprised that Kennedy went all out to impress Gabe.
“It looks and smells delicious. While I brought breakfast for Rae and myself, I’d love to try some of yours as well.”
I grinned at Gabe. By offering to taste Kennedy’s food, he was knocking it out of the park when it came to getting on her good side.
Kennedy pulled her shoulders back. “If it’s from any of the restaurants here in town, I guarantee mine is better.”
Before Gabe could reply, I said, “Actually, he went to Rafferty’s.”
Both Kennedy and Ellie’s eyes widened to the size of the antique dinner plates on the counter. “You got her breakfast from Rafferty’s?” Ellie asked.
“Yes, I did.”
Kennedy swallowed hard. “Like her favorite French toast from Rafferty’s?”
When Gabe nodded, Kennedy swore under her breath. Glancing between Kennedy and Gabe, Ellie quickly said, “That was so sweet of you.”
Gabe turned to smile at me. “It was the least I could do considering Rae’s been kind enough to give up her time by allowing me to hang out with her.”
Shaking my head, I replied, “You really didn’t need to do anything else. After all, you bought Linc’s and my dinner last night. That was plenty.”
“But this was more about a gesture of my appreciation.”
Oh, it was a gesture all right—an epic one. Sure, the old adage said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, but I was certainly feeling it that morning as well.
After handing the Rafferty’s bag to me, Gabe piled a plate full of blueberry scones, croissants, and sweet rolls. “I have a feeling I’m not going to get any songwriting done today because I’m going to be in a food coma.”
With a triumphant grin, Kennedy said, “I hope it gives you the fuel you need to write.”
“Thank you. I’m really grateful to both you and Ellie for your hospitality.”
Gabe’s statement rendered all of us speechless, and I was sure Ellie and Kennedy were both thinking the same thing I was: how was it possible for this eloquent and gracious Gabe Renard to be the same asshat from the other day?
“You’re very welcome,” Ellie squeaked as Kennedy and I nodded.
When Gabe started over to the table, Kennedy reached out and stopped him. “Actually, why don’t you guys take your breakfast out on the veranda?”
“Is this because you don’t want to see my French toast?” I questioned under my breath.
With a roll of her eyes, Kennedy replied, “No. This is more about you and Gabe having time to yourselves—you know, to feed his muse.”
“I really appreciate that,” Gabe said.
When we started out the side door, Ellie said, “You guys take your time. Kennedy and I will drop Linc off with Dad.”
“Really?”
Ellie smiled. “Yes, really.”
“Okay, thanks.” Pointing at Linc, I said, “Make sure you have your homework and your lunch.”
He rolled his eyes but smiled in spite of himself. “I will, Mom.”
“I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you, too.” Linc waved at Gabe. “Bye, Gabe.”
“Bye,” Gabe replied.
When we walked out the side door onto the veranda, I gasped. Sometime during the morning, one or both of my sisters had set up the glass-top table for us. While I’d imagined eating out of the takeout containers, there were real china plates and crystal goblets, and a pitcher of orange juice sat on the white linen tablecloth, along with a carafe of coffee.
“This is impressive,” Gabe remarked.
“I wish I could take the credit, but my sisters must have done it.”
“You’ll have to thank them for me.”
“I will.”
As he gazed at the heaping plate in front of him, Gabe asked, “Do you guys eat like this every morning?”
I laughed as I poured a glass of orange juice. “While she does cook every morning, that”—I motioned to his plate—“is strictly for your benefit.”
“I’m going to have to stop by her store. These scones look amazing.”
“They are. Everything Kennedy makes is amazing. She has a natural talent for it, plus she spent a summer in Paris back in the day, taking classes at Le Cordon Bleu.”
“That’s impressive. She never wanted to leave here and try her hand in the big city?”
“She did. She lived in Chattanooga for a few years but really didn’t like it, so she came back home.”
Gabe smiled. “You Hart women are small-town girls through and through.”
I took the box of French toast out of the Rafferty’s bag. “Pretty much. I really want to travel more. We do a yearly beach trip to the gulf, but I want to see other places and other cultures.” I motioned to the French toast in front of me. “Taste French toast in Paris, or maybe crepes.”
“Paris is a gorgeous city. Great architecture.” He winked at me. “And lots of sinful diversions.”
“I’ll pass on those.” When I took my first bite, I pinched my eyes shut and moaned in ecstasy.
“That good, huh?” Gabe questioned, amusement vibrating in his voice.
“Practically orgasmic.”
“Now I’m regretting that I didn’t get any for myself.”
“Do you want to try a bite?”
“Sure.”
After spearing a piece on my fork, I started to hand it over to Gabe when he leaned in and opened his mouth. Ah, so we were going to play it that way. Fine. I could do that. I could totally feed him some of my French toast. It wasn’t like it screamed foreplay or anything.
When I brought the fork to his lips, Gabe took the tines between his teeth and slid off delicious morsel. As he chewed, I found myself unable to look away, still holding the fork frozen in mid-air. When his tongue darted out to swipe off the excess powdered sugar and syrup, heat burned between my legs.
“That is pretty fucking amazing French toast,” he replied.
“Yeah,” I so eloquently muttered.
Gabe grinned. “You better hurry up and eat it before it gets cold.”
“But I’m warm now.” At the realization of what I’d just said, I jerked my hand back. Oh, I was warm all right. My face felt like an inferno because I couldn’t believe what I had said. “I mean, it’s still so warm. The French toast is so warm.”
“I’m glad.”
“How did you manage that?”
“They gave me a heated sleeve.”
“Ah, I see.” Since it was past time for a conversation change, I quickly said, “Tell me something, do you always write songs in odd places?”
“Sometimes. It really just depends on where I’m at when the mood hits.” He grinned. “I will say that last night was the first time I ever wrote in a public restroom.”
“Any porta-johns?”
“No, smartass,” Gabe muttered through a mouthful of bacon.
“Do any of your siblings write songs?”
“My oldest brother, Micah, did, but that was back when we were doing more praise music.”
“Wait, you were in a Christian praise band?”
“If I said yes, would that be so shocking?”
“Duh. Of course it would. After all, you’re the guy who said he wanted to see mo
re of me while ogling my boobs.”
“Then you can just be shocked because that’s what Jacob’s Ladder originally was—a Christian band with crossover potential.”
“Ah, now the biblical reference in the band’s name sakes sense. Of course, it would have made even more sense if it was just you and your twin brother, like Jacob and Esau,” I remarked.
Gabe’s brows popped behind his coffee mug. After he took a sip, he said, “So you know the biblical story?”
“Contrary to the opinion of some people around here, I’m not a total heathen, and I do know my Bible.”
“I’m very impressed.”
I laughed. “Very few men are ever impressed by that.”
Staring intently at me, Gabe replied, “Well I’m not all men.”
No, you sure as hell aren’t. Most men couldn’t make me wet from eating a piece of French toast off my own fork. I cleared my throat. “Speaking of twins, tell me about your brother.” When his expression slightly darkened, I said, “Oh, is there some hidden sibling rivalry there? Who is the Jacob, AKA your father’s favorite?”
“Wow, you really aren’t letting up with the biblical ties, are you? Next you’ll be asking which one of us is the Esau, AKA the hairy one.”
I giggled. “I can’t help it. Aunt Sadie really went all out with the Bible study when we were kids.” Cocking my head at him, I couldn’t help asking, “I bet you’re both Esaus, but you get manscaped to look metrosexual.”
Gabe snorted. “There is no manscaping going on with me.”
“Bullshit. Your eyebrows are most definitely too symmetrical to not be plucked or waxed.”
“I don’t consider having my eyebrows done manscaping.”
Pointing my finger at him triumphantly, I cried, “Aha, I’m right.”
“No, you’re not, at least not about me.”
“And how is that so?”
“While I might have my eyebrows done, my chest, dick, and balls are completely untouched by grooming utensils.”
“Interesting.”
“Eli got used to waxing his chest when he was doing musical theater in high school and still does from time to time. He also has one of those electric clippers to trim back his dick and ball hair.”
“Um, ew, I didn’t need to know that.”
“You asked if we were Esaus.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect such an in-depth answer about your brother. I mean, you totally just violated his privacy.”
Gabe snorted. “Eli doesn’t have a sense of privacy. If he were sitting here, he would have told you himself—maybe even shown you.”
“He’s pretty extroverted, huh?”
“Oh yeah. Extremely extroverted.”
After hearing Gabe’s description of his brother, I thought about how different the two of them sounded personality-wise. “Is it hard for you having such an outgoing twin?” I questioned softly.
At first, I didn’t think Gabe was going to respond. When he finally did, I got the very curt reply of, “You could say that.”
I pondered his response while spearing my last piece of French toast. “Would you like to elaborate on that?”
Gabe shot me a look. “With all your questions, I’m starting to feel like I’m doing press for the band.”
“I’m sorry if I seem intrusive. I’m just trying to get to know you better.” After chewing thoughtfully, I asked, “Isn’t that what you do when you hang out with someone?”
“My version of hanging out is watching a movie or playing Xbox.”
“And you never talk to the person you’re with?”
“Talk during a movie? Oh hell no. That’s a deal-breaker for sure.”
“What if it’s a movie you’ve seen before?”
Gabe shook his head. “The only reason you should be talking in a movie is if you’re repeating a favorite line.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
We went back to eating in silence. Finally, Gabe sighed. “Okay, yes, at the risk of sounding like a jealous prick, it’s both a blessing and a curse to have a brother like Eli. I’ve always felt like I was a little bit in his shadow. I’m not the oldest or the youngest, so it’s always felt like I’m in some weird middle child limbo.”
“You’re the Jan Brady,” I mused.
Gabe grinned. “Yes, you could say that, except it’s Eli, Eli, Eli, instead of Marcia, Marcia, Marcia.”
“I get it. I’m the Jan Brady too, except I’m the second of three dark-haired girls, rather than blondes. In my case, Kennedy and I seemed to get our roles reversed. For some strange reason, I was always the mother hen to her and Ellie, and Kennedy was the one doing anything and everything to stand out.”
“That is interesting.” Gabe swiped his mouth with his napkin. “As for standing out, I think that’s why songwriting appealed to me so much. It was something Eli had no talent for. Sure, he can play more instruments than me, he can sing better than me, and he can entertain people better than me, but he can’t write songs.”
As I processed Gabe’s words, a thought came to my mind. “Is that one of the reasons your writer’s block hit you so hard? It wasn’t just about getting the songs for the album, it was about failing in front of your family—more specifically, in front of Eli.”
Shifting in his chair, Gabe widened his blue eyes at me. “Holy shit, you really get me, don’t you?”
With a shrug, I replied, “Aunt Sadie would tell you I’m a natural empath. Somehow I’m able to read people.”
Leaning forward across the table, Gabe asked, “If that’s true, why weren’t you able to see that I’m a decent person the first day we met?”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Maybe because you were scrambling my Spidey senses with your douchery.”
Gabe grinned. “I could buy that.”
“But usually I have to spend time with someone. I’m not a human whisperer where I can just walk past someone in a crowd and immediately know what their problems are.”
“If that were true, you would have known I was a nutcase out in the backwoods.”
“Now that I’ve gotten to know you a little better, I really hate to hear you run yourself down so much. In case you missed it, you really are somebody special.”
“I am?”
I waved my hand at him. “Oh come on, don’t go fishing for compliments.”
“No, I’d really like to hear something positive from the woman who, up until last night, hated my guts.”
Laughing, I said, “Okay, fine. For starters, you’re rich, and you’re famous.”
“I’d argue that I’m a B-list celebrity at best, maybe even pushing C, and although I do really well, I’m not that rich.”
“Oh boo-hoo, let me cry you a river.”
Gabe chuckled. “Okay, so maybe my last statement made me sound like a douchebag.”
“Pretty much.”
He frowned slightly. “I don’t know why, but sometimes things just come out wrong. Like, I see them the way I want to in my head, but then something happens between my mind and my mouth. Just now, I was trying to emphasize my normalcy, that I’m not really all that rich and famous.”
“It’s interesting that a songwriter seems to have trouble putting thoughts and emotions into words.”
“I guess it’s like musicians who are a mess in real life but can wow an audience when they’re onstage.”
“That’s one way to look at it.”
“I know I feel the most at peace with myself when I’m on stage, and when I’m writing a song.” He gave me a wry grin. “At least I did until I started going through hellish writer’s block.”
“But you’re finding the words again, aren’t you?”
“I am—thank God.” He jerked his chin at me. “And thank you.”
“Although I still don’t understand it, I will say you’re welcome.”
As Gabe poured another cup of coffee from the carafe, he quirked his brows at me.
“What about you? Do you ever feel threate
ned by your sisters?”
His question made me think about how I’d felt toward Kennedy and Ellie that morning, and I felt ashamed all over again. “Of course I have. You saw my sisters—they’re beautiful.”
The corners of Gabe’s lips quirked up in a smile. “So is their sister, if not even more beautiful.”
Although I didn’t exactly understand why, his compliment had me ducking my head and feeling somewhat shy. “Thank you.”
“You’ve only ever felt jealous of their looks?”
Glancing back up at him, I replied, “Of course not. They’re just as gorgeous on the inside. They managed to start and run a successful business before they were twenty-five.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re doing pretty well at Hart and Daughter.”
“But that business wasn’t mine. My father was the one who built it up for me to take over.”
“You also made a professional sports team.”
I laughed at Gabe’s reference to me being on the Atlanta Steam. “Since neither of my sisters enjoyed playing sports, I don’t think there was anything to envy there—not to mention how Kennedy thinks the uniforms are completely sexist.”
“But you were MVP three years running. I saw the plaques myself.”
“Once again, I don’t think they lost any sleep over it.”
“I certainly would have.” He waggled his brows. “At least over fantasizing about you in your uniform.”
“Spare me,” I replied with a grin.
Leaning back in his chair, Gabe took a long sip of coffee. “Sometimes I find myself envious of Micah and Abby, of the fact that they’ve found someone who loves and accepts them for who they are.”
“Wow,” I murmured.
Gabe winked at me. “Didn’t think Mr. Manwhore over here could be that deep, huh?”
I grinned. “You got me there. Now you’re the one who is able to see through me.” I leaned forward in my chair to pour another cup of coffee. “Since both Kennedy and Ellie are single, I can’t really envy that aspect of their life.”
“That’s like me and Eli, although he does seem to do better with the ladies.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Why’s that?”
“Um, because you two look exactly alike. If I saw the two of you together, I would be interested in both of you, not just him.”
