by Joya Ryan
“I’m so sorry, Chloe, I don’t have it. I even checked my recycling, but it was picked up yesterday. I would have saved it if I’d known.”
Chloe tried not to let the hollow feeling creep in. If it had run a few days ago, all the papers were gone by now. “Totally fine,” she said. “I appreciate you looking.”
“Looking for what?” Gage asked.
“There was an article about Chloe’s mom and her restaurant in the paper,” Michelle said.
At the same time, Chloe shot out, “Nothing.”
He glanced between them. Chloe wasn’t interested in standing around. Her eyes stung, and Gage, with his big shoulders and muscly arms, looked too huggable for her to stay. Especially since she needed a hug then. The exact kind of need she couldn’t allow herself to feel.
“Bye,” she said quickly and hustled off. The bar was the beacon at the end of the street, and she was almost there. She had to toughen up. Certain things couldn’t be changed: her mother was gone, her father had long ago disappeared, and she’d missed the paper she was dying to see.
This was why she tried not to care about things…because disappointment usually followed.
“You’re rocking one sour look.” Natalie sipped her milkshake at the bar as the night wound down. “This is delicious. Maybe you should make yourself one to cheer you up.”
“It’s an adult twist on a s’mores milkshake. Marshmallow vodka,” Chloe said. She couldn’t cook for shit, but she could make some awesome drinks.
“So, so good.” Natalie slurped up the last of it through her straw. “But seriously, what’s going on? You’ve been mopey all day.”
“Just a lot on my mind.” Like the article. Like Gage. The more she thought about him, the more she wished she didn’t, because it was consuming. She’d waited for him to show up tonight…and he hadn’t. Of course, she hadn’t invited him to come to the bar. And he hadn’t said he would. Yet here she was waiting for him.
She felt like she had rocks on her chest—God, she was worse than a teen waiting for her crush to call.
Why had she gone out with him? She should have stuck to sex, but no, he’d insisted and she’d given in to the date and romance. And now she was pining.
“I hate this feeling,” she whispered. Hope was a dangerous thing, and so was wanting too much. Chloe had learned early on that people always leave, so it was best not to get attached. Yet right now, the one guy pursuing her was doing what she wanted—staying away. And it hurt anyway.
Truth was, she didn’t want him to stay away—but she didn’t want him too close.
“You thinking about the hottie in camo?” Natalie said.
“Kind of.”
Natalie smiled. “Sometimes admitting what you want isn’t so bad.”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“Yeah, he wants to spend time with you out of the sack, only to get you back in the sack when you’re done. Isn’t that all…good?”
“You’d think so.” But it wasn’t. Not for Chloe. She wanted to maintain some level of indifference—it was safer, even if she had to fake it. Being the fantasy and a little unobtainable kept people interested longer. And she wanted Gage to stay interested. But if it became too real, all their stuff would come out—emotions. The kind that came with claws and wanted to attach to things.
“What would be so bad?” Natalie said. “You may like him.”
“I do like him,” Chloe countered. “That’s not the problem.”
“Oh, I see. You don’t want to like him too much.”
Chloe nodded. “Something like that.” It was the first time she’d admitted it out loud.
“Ladies.”
Chloe’s heart leaped out of her chest as she turned and saw the owner of the voice. Gage. He was here—he’d come after all. And the only thing that matched her happiness at him showing up was realizing how sad she would have felt if he hadn’t.
Gage walked up to the bar with a small box under his arm.
“You really are stalking me,” she said, trying for mock irritation.
“Hard to call it stalking when everyone knows you work here. Not exactly detective work, sweetheart.” He dropped the box on the counter.
Natalie hopped up and winked at Chloe as she scurried to the bathroom. Her friend wasn’t exactly subtle.
“What’s in the box?” she asked Gage.
He rested an arm over the top. “It’s for you.”
“If it’s a severed head I’m going to be pissed.”
He grinned. “Nah, nothing so dramatic. Why don’t you open it and see?”
She hesitated, lifted the lid, and—
“How…what…how?” Chloe glanced between him and the box. She reached in and grabbed the stack of inserts from the newspaper. At least twenty copies of the anniversary article.
“This has been out of print for at least a few days…” She couldn’t believe it—not only did she have more copies than she’d ever need, but the papers were brand new. A stack of starched, pressed, crisp inserts. How?
Gage shrugged. “Had a chat with the head of the paper.”
Her eyes widened. “What, you walked in and—”
“It took some persuading, but this is what you wanted, right?”
She looked at the stack. He hadn’t just found her a copy. He’d found her twenty.
“Yes,” she whispered. After everything, Gage had come in and saved the day.
And that reality hit a spot between her ribs that made her heart soften for him.
He ran a hand along the back of his neck. “I thought maybe some extras would be smart, so you could give them out or scrapbook them or something…”
Was Gage actually…nervous? Like he was worried about whether she would be happy with his gift. The need to hug him came flooding back double time. Not to mention—he thought she scrapbooked? Adorable.
“Thank you.” She ran her palm over the stack again. “This is really amazing.”
He shrugged but leveled his intense gaze on her. “It’s my job to find things, sweetheart. Making you happy is a bonus.” He patted the counter and turned to leave.
“Gage?”
He glanced back.
Chloe bit her lip. She could do this. Deep breaths. “Would you, um, want to have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
Gage’s eyes widened and his eyebrows arched. “Are you asking me on a date?”
“Yes…looks like I am.”
He smiled. “I’d love to.”
Chapter Seven
Chloe knocked on Gage’s door, her heart hammering in her chest. She ran her palms down her simple blue dress and waited. Usually, Gage had stayed in a hotel for the times he’d come to town previously, but that was a weekend at a time. This time he’d rented a studio apartment overlooking the water.
She was on a date. Again. And this time, it’d been her idea. But he’d been way too thoughtful—romantic even—for her to let him walk away with nothing. And now she had to figure out how to get through tonight with her panties intact.
Gage opened the door, and her breath caught. Even in a simple white button-up with rolled-up sleeves, dark jeans and barefoot, he was stunning.
She frowned at his feet. “Are you ready?”
He opened his door wide and spread an arm to invite her in. “I’m ready for our date, but I thought the location could be here tonight.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “So we’re going to be alone in your house for our date?”
A few days ago, she’d have killed to be alone with him in his house. But that had been when she thought alone in Gage’s house meant no clothes and lots of sex. Now it meant more. Now it meant acknowledging that she felt the things for him that she’d promised never to feel.
He nodded. “Yep. And you look beautiful.”
She stayed near the front door as he closed it behind her. “Well, per your conditions of romance before sex, I brought my chastity belt.”
“God, when you talk all sweet l
ike that, I can’t help my heart from fluttering,” he teased.
He stepped closer. Between the staying at his place thing and the raw intensity in his gaze, it almost seemed like maybe he was caving after all. Maybe she wouldn’t have to actually spill personal details and they could just get down to what they did best.
He leaned in and said right against her forehead, “I was hoping you’d wear something special for me tonight.”
Hell yeah she would. This was looking to be more her speed than she hoped. Chloe smiled and nodded, so he took her hand and led her into the open kitchen. The island in the middle was crowded with ingredients and supplies. Gage picked up a lump of fabric and handed it to her.
She held it out in front of her. “You’ve got to be kidding. You want me to wear an apron?”
She glanced around—was this some kind of prank? All she saw was the simple studio, hardwood floors, the bed in the corner, and not another soul in the room to explain whatever the hell Gage was thinking.
“So let me get this straight,” she said. “You wanted a date, I gave you one. Then I asked you on one. Now you lure me to your place and have me cook for you? You realize I’m horrible at cooking.”
He picked up a second apron, fastened it around his waist, and walked behind the island. “No, I think you’re impatient.” He winked. “And I want to help you cook.”
“I run my own restaurant. I can manage just fine.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
Damn. Busted. “What kind of help do you mean?”
“We’ll do it together. We can make a simple white sauce, pasta, and veggies.”
“Why?”
“Because cooking seems important to you.”
Those six words hit her chest hard and took root. He was doing it again. Paying attention to what she’d said, to her actions and desires. He was breaking through her walls—what was she supposed to do? The feelings he awakened in her were…complicated.
But she did want to learn something simple. Anything. Then maybe she wouldn’t feel like such a failure taking over her mother’s legacy. She also realized that Gage hadn’t said they’d make crab cakes. He’d picked something else they could make together. Which was thoughtful, because she wasn’t ready to fail in front of him or address some of the heartache that came with her mother’s memory.
But what she was ready for, and what her emotions were doing, were two different things. While part of her really didn’t want to go into anything painful about her mother, her past, or her mother’s past…the other part of her really did want to talk to Gage. Because she knew he’d be kind to her and listen.
Yeah…the forest was getting thick and Chloe was getting lost in the density of…emotions. Which was the exact opposite of the casual stance she was trying so hard to take.
What had Gage told her once? Assess the situation first? Yes, that was it exactly. Assess the situation. Keep her footing. Then…engage. Maybe she could take that step and give a little.
Chloe slipped the apron on and walked around the island beside him. “There’s not a lot of ingredients here. You’re going to make an entire sauce out of milk, butter, and flour?”
He nodded. “And parmesan and spices, but yeah, basically, that’s all it is.” He turned the stove on and set the butter in the pan. “Sometimes it’s about the process and heat, more than the ingredients.” He kissed her gently. So incredibly soft. She leaned in for a second—
And Gage pulled away. He threw her a sly smile as he picked up a mixing bowl, totally at ease with her. Was this how a couple behaved? Did they cook and spend time together?
She wasn’t sure, but she kind of liked it. The empty space in her chest didn’t hurt as bad tonight—but it’d hurt much more when Gage inevitably left that space gaping. No one stayed. Nothing was forever. Least of all a man with a higher calling.
“You ready to get your hands dirty, sweetheart?” he asked.
She looked at the counter full of ingredients in front of her, then the sexy man who was taking her world to a new level of uncomfortable.
If she had half a brain, she’d pull away now before she got in deeper. Instead, she edged a bit closer. “I think I am.”
He put the butter in the saucepan over low heat. Chloe looked in and saw the stick was barely melting. She went to turn up the burner, and Gage stopped her.
“Patience, sweetheart. It’ll get there, just give it a chance first.”
She folded her lips together and glanced at him. Slow and steady. Just like Gage. Melting butter and low heat that turned her into a puddle. Yep, the comparisons weren’t lost on her. Gage wanted them to simmer, she wanted them to ignite and burn up. Granted, simmering still got her hot. Only that level of hot lasted a lot longer than a flash in the pan. Pun totally intended.
“Concentrating awful hard there,” he said as he used a whisk to slowly move the butter stick around in the pan. “Want to tell me what’s on your mind?”
Actually, she kind of did. But instead of spilling all the thoughts, worries, and hopes she had, she just stared, letting her brain get the better of her.
“Maybe you’re thinking about how much you like my stunning personality?” Gage offered.
That made her smile. “I was thinking about your six pack, but sure…stunning personality,” she teased back.
“Well at least you like me for something.”
“I really do, you know?” she said seriously. “For a lot of reasons.”
All joking aside, she’d let that one fact come out. Gage hadn’t missed it, either. His intense eyes hit hers. She’d been honest, told him how she felt, and it was as freeing as it was terrifying.
“I really like you, too.”
She nodded and moved to start chopping vegetables. She had to slow this touchy-feely train down before the warm and fuzzy express derailed and left her as the world’s biggest train wreck.
“You said something the other day that I’m curious about,” Gage said, standing by her to take the second knife and cut a zucchini.
“Oh?” Chloe started on the carrots.
“You said you missed your mom before she died. What did you mean by that?”
She cut down hard on the thick carrot and the snap of the root echoed through the silence.
“I um…” She looked at her hands. Steady. Still. She wasn’t nervous like she should be. Because anytime this topic was broached, she shook with unease. But not this time. Not with Gage. He was interested in her. In her feelings. And talking about her mother, talking about her own fears, was something she never did. And right then, she wanted to.
“My dad left when I was younger,” she started. She could feel Gage’s eyes on her, watching every word fall from her lips as she began to spill out her secrets. “My mother was devastated. He broke her. Every day after he left was a struggle for her to live. I know that. But she tried. Put on a happy face for my sake. Was an amazing mother. But she was sad. Not a bummed out sad. This was…” She shook her head, remembering how every day she’d watched the light from her mother’s eyes fade more and more. As if every day she’d gotten further and further away from the hope that the man she’d loved would ever come back. He hadn’t.
And then her mother’s slow death had taken a literal turn. She’d discovered she had cancer. Which deteriorated her body while her father’s memory deteriorated her soul. On her last breath, she’d still wanted the son of a bitch that’d left them. All it did was make Chloe hate him more. Hate him for how he’d affected her mother until her last hour of life.
And she’d died knowing that.
“I can’t imagine how much it must have hurt her to lose him,” Gage said.
Chloe closed her eyes to fight back the emotions bubbling up in her. He didn’t know how close his words hit home for her. He couldn’t. He was just trying to be there for her now, but instead, he was emphasizing her point.
“This sadness ran through her like poison,” she said.
That made Chloe drop her knife to the counter and look at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged and pulled her closer. “It’s brave to hold on to something, even when it hurts. It’s brave to acknowledge your feelings. She was sad, but she owned it. And she was still a good mother to you. She lived a full life. In part because she let herself love someone, even if that meant letting herself lose them.”
Chloe’s lips parted. She’d never thought of it that way. But Gage didn’t understand. He didn’t get it. How could he? He had no ties. He came and went as he pleased.
Her mother had set ties in this town. Set ties in Chloe’s father, too. She’d felt all the things that Chloe had seen leech her final years of joy. She’d felt a few years of bliss. And in the end she’d been left with sadness for taking a chance on love. She had to have known the risk, but she’d chosen to do it anyway.
And that was what Chloe held on to. What terrified her.
She looked at Gage, felt his comforting touch against her back, and wondered if she could be brave, too.
Chloe’s laugh made Gage’s chest do a crazy flip.
“You really got stuck in a tree once?” she asked around a smile, looking at him over the rim of her wineglass.
“Yeah, worse, the rope caught around one of my legs and left me dangling upside down like a damn possum.”
She laughed again, and he smiled.
He hadn’t been lying when he intimated he knew how much trouble Chloe had in the kitchen, but he knew something she didn’t. A good meal was half skill, half heart. And she had enough heart to feed the world—but she was afraid to let anyone get a piece of it.
So he helped her with the half he could. He wasn’t the world’s best cook himself, but he walked her through the simple pasta recipe he’d perfected over his years as a bachelor. And the hell of it was with her cooking beside him, the dish tasted better than ever.
Now, sitting at the small table, they drank wine and chatted, and every curve of her lips and flash of those green eyes had him going hard and filled him with warmth. She was gorgeous and guarded, but when those walls came down and he caught a glimpse of the real her, he couldn’t turn away. He loved her brazen sass, and this sweeter side? This was something he could get used to.
