She was heading across the parking lot to her car when Jabal called her name and raced to catch up with her. “Have you seen my Twitter?” she asked with a breathless laugh, pulling out her phone from her apron.
“Um. No.”
“Check this out,” she said tapping on her phone. “I’ve never gotten so many likes or retweets in my life and I owe it all to you. I gained like three hundred followers.”
“What are you—” she started to say and then stopped dead as her eyes clapped on the video that Jabal was showing her. It was of Cruz and Gabriella making out in the parking lot yesterday. They were leaning against a car and she had her legs wrapped around him. They were going at it like it was the last minute of their lives. The camera zoomed in to get a clear shot of their profiles.
“Jabal!” She snatched the phone so she could watch the horrifying video up close. The caption read: Girl, get it . . . followed by several hashtags. One hashtag was actually #CruzWalsh.
“What the fuck?” she exploded. “How did you think this was okay?” She looked closer at the tweet. “And you tagged me?” Her gaze landed on another of the dozen or so hashtags. “#hottiefelon?”
Jabal’s smile slipped. “What? What’s wrong?”
Gabriella shook the phone at her. “Why would you post this? How could you think this was okay?”
“Um. ’Cuz he’s hella hot and like a celebrity.”
She closed her eyes in a miserable blink and then shook the phone at her friend again. “Take it down. Delete it now. Now!”
For all the good that did. She was a journalist. She knew better than anyone that once something was out there it was out there forever.
“Fine.” Pouting, Jabal took her phone back and deleted the tweet. “I think you’re overreacting. It’s not like you were naked or something or actually fucking.”
Gabriella fanned her suddenly hot face with her hand and immediately began telling herself that Jabal was right. It wasn’t that big of a deal. She didn’t need to freak out. A video of her kissing Cruz Walsh wasn’t that interesting to people. So yeah, it had been retweeted a couple hundred times in the last twenty-four hours. It’s not like it had gone viral or anything. That hardly qualified.
Additionally, it wasn’t as though it were a secret she was keeping from her family anymore. Her sister had seen them so that cat was out of the bag. Both her mother and her brother had shot her several texts—all of which she had yet to answer—but she would have to face them eventually whether they saw this video or not. She grimaced. Sure video evidence wasn’t great, but they already knew.
She shook her head. That was just family drama. Everything was going to be fine. Like Jabal said, it wasn’t a sex video.
“It will probably be okay,” she agreed, willing the queasiness in her stomach to quell. She stopped fanning her face and pressed a hand to her rolling stomach.
Jabal continued to watch her like she was being totally ridiculous. “It’s fine,” she assured. “What are you worried about? You know how many videos and photos are floating around of me? Even if this blew up you should totally pat yourself on the back. I mean, he’s gorgeous.”
She exhaled and didn’t bother explaining that it wasn’t as simple as that. She didn’t want videos of herself making out all over the Internet. She didn’t want that kind of attention, and she knew Cruz didn’t either. The guy was media shy. He didn’t do interviews. He wasn’t on social media, period. For God’s sake, he didn’t even own a phone. He was a very private person. Or at least he was trying to be.
Suddenly she knew she had to tell him about this. She had to let him know so he wasn’t blindsided. Turning, she made her way to her car.
Once in her car, she pulled out of the parking lot onto the main road in the direction of his gym. Hopefully, he wouldn’t care and they could just move on to more fun things . . . like the real reason she wanted to see him tonight.
Twenty
Gabriella actually drove around aimlessly in her car for a while, gathering up the courage for what she was about to do. Approaching a man for the sole purpose of sex was bold, and bold wasn’t exactly her MO. Additionally, she had to tell him about the video and he probably wouldn’t love that.
At one point, her phone went off and she glanced down in the cup holder where it sat. It was a FaceTime call from Cody. Deciding to answer, she pulled over into a Whataburger parking lot.
She accepted the call and Cody’s face appeared on the screen with his large office window behind him that overlooked downtown Austin. It was a familiar and yet oddly unfamiliar sight. Like something from a long time ago. Another life. Something . . . she didn’t even miss. Before she could examine that and all its implications too closely, Cody was talking.
“Hey there, wasn’t sure I was going to catch you or whether you were going to be out busy with your new boyfriend.” He leaned back in his reclining desk chair, tapping a pencil against his palm.
“Uh, what do you mean? I’m not—” She was about to say she wasn’t seeing anyone but those words stuck in her throat. “I don’t have a new boyfriend.” That much was true. Cruz was something to her—she couldn’t deny that—but a boyfriend he was not.
“Huh. So what are you doing with Cruz Walsh? Just having a fling then? I never thought you were a fling kind of girl. Could have saved us the trouble of a relationship.”
The heaviness in the pit of her stomach turned into a full-fledged boulder.
His face zoomed closer as he dropped forward in his chair. “Hey, you looked pretty hot against that car. How come you weren’t that adventurous with me? Never knew you were into public displays.”
Her face burned and she glanced away beneath his scrutiny, searching for her composure. She resisted the impulse to slam her phone shut. He was still her boss. Well, technically he was her team leader. He led four other journalists. The first year she had been on his team their relationship had been strictly professional. They had started to evolve into something more about a year and a half later once she started working with him.
It had seemed like a good idea to date him. He had been sweet. Complimentary of her talent . . . of her. They had a lot in common. He was a professional, too. The kind of man she thought she should be dating. She had decided to risk it, telling herself she would never find Mr. Right if she didn’t take any chances in life. Yeah. Mistake.
“Yeah, well, there are a lot of things we never did, Cody.”
He frowned, clearly trying to figure out just how much she was insulting him. “I guess I underestimated how far you would go for a story, Gabs.”
“That wasn’t about a story,” she snapped, her face and ears hot.
He snorted. “You’re telling me you’re into this guy . . . a felon. Man, you really are slumming it.” His lips curled into a sneer.
“My personal life is none of your business. Should I ask HR what their position is on you voicing an opinion on what I do in my free time?”
His lips flattened into a hard line. He was well aware of HR’s position. They’d been up front with HR when they started dating . . . and when they stopped. She knew the head of HR had warned Cody to behave himself . . . not in those precise words, but that was the gist.
She continued, “And I changed my mind about doing the story. He doesn’t want to give an interview. I’m not going to force him into it.”
“God, you’re really into him.” He tsked and shook his head. “Thinking below the waist. That’s a rookie mistake and rookie you are not. You’ve been in this business long enough to know better. I expected better of you, Gabs.”
“You know what, Cody. I really don’t care what you expect of me. My job doesn’t require me to squeeze an interview out of an unwilling subject. I’m not you.”
“That’s right. You’re not. And that’s why I’m leading my own team and you’re still a staff writer—exactly where you were when you were hired on three years ago.”
The reminder stung. It was the truth, however, and not one
she hadn’t thought about. She’d felt stuck in a rut lately. She’d blamed it on turning thirty, but that was only a number. It was the fact that she thought she would be further along in her life by now . . . that she would be someone else. Someone who felt pride and a sense of accomplishment in what she did.
When she learned of Nana Betty’s surgery it had been the perfect excuse to take a break and figure out her next step in life. She had been telling herself her next step was to return to her life in Austin.
Now that no longer felt right. She knew, especially in this moment staring at Cody’s face, that she needed to get her resume out there. No sense prolonging it.
“You know what else, Cody?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”
“I quit.”
It was late when she finally parked her car in front of his gym. She knew it was well after hours and the place was probably closed and she had missed her window of opportunity.
Except she then recognized his parked car.
She took a steadying breath and flexed her grip on the steering wheel, stretching her fingers and then settling back into a tight grip. The lot was empty save his car. He was still here and alone apparently. You can do this. You can do this.
With that mantra rolling around her head, she stepped out of her car.
She eased open the door and stepped into the well air-conditioned space. She inhaled the crisp aroma of fresh paint and sweat. The renovations were still fairly recent. That explained the fresh paint smell. She knew that the place had opened with a splash. People had been interested, both because Cruz Walsh was the owner and because the gym offered free after-school programs to kids that lived in the surrounding communities—surrounding neighborhoods that consisted of a lower socioeconomic population. The closest neighborhood, in fact, happened to be where Cruz Walsh grew up. She might have made a point to know that fact in the days she was obsessed with him. When she got her own car in high school, she might have even driven past a few times. Stalkery behavior, sure.
It seemed clear to her why he picked this location. He wanted to give something back to the community where he grew up. He wanted to help kids like himself, kids who didn’t have a lot of resources. It seemed proof enough that Cruz Walsh was a decent person. She didn’t know why other people didn’t see that. People like her sister.
The door might have been unlocked, but it was clear that the gym was closed for the day. Most of the lights were off.
Except someone was here. Guns N’ Roses pumped at a low volume from some hidden speakers and the main office light was on. She stepped up to the open door of the main office and peered inside. Giant post office tubs of mail blocked her from making it very far into the space. The envelopes inside the tub caught her eye. How could they not? So many of them were brightly colored shades of pink. Coral pink. Magenta. Mauve. Lilac. Fuchsia. Watermelon. Bubblegum. They were decorated with stickers and hearts.
She lifted one letter and a cloud of glitter gusted out from the thin paper. She read the addressee’s name. Cruz Walsh, Man of My Dreams. Just that. No address.
She bent down and browsed through the rest of them. None of them had Cruz’s physical address, but several had little epigraphs and notes in addition to his name.
Cruz Walsh, future husband.
You’re the butter to my bread.
To the most beautiful man alive.
She gasped. Realization dawned. Oh my. They were love letters.
Various fragrances wafted up from the plastic bin, and she realized that several of them were perfumed. The different perfumes battled with each other for dominance to create an overwhelming mélange of scents. Holding her breath, she eyed the three bins. There were hundreds of letters here. All unopened. The senders were females from all over the country. She even spotted a few return addresses from Canada. One from Germany!
“What are you doing?”
She whirled around with a gasp, feeling caught. Like she was up to no good.
Cruz stood framed in the doorway, his dark eyes intent and burning as they fixed on her. His mouth was frowning. She could only stare at his frown and feel unsettled by it. Not that he was the smiley sort, but that frown made her stomach twist. He most definitely did not look happy to see her.
“Uhh . . .” Her gaze flicked to all the bins of mail rather guiltily.
He followed her gaze and his nostrils flared in clear annoyance.
“You have a lot of mail,” she remarked.
“Yeah, I haven’t bagged them up and taken them to the trash this week yet.”
“Women write you love letters?”
He grunted. “If you could call them that. I guess. I don’t open them.”
Her mind processed that. If this was what he got for not even granting interviews, she couldn’t even imagine what would happen if his story got picked up on any major platform.
“At least they don’t know where you live,” she offered.
“Small blessings.” His lips twisted wryly. “What are you doing here, Gabriella?” The question sounded tired and she felt very unwelcome . . . and very foolish standing in front of him.
She shifted uneasily, smoothing a suddenly sweating palm down over her hip and telling herself not to read too much into his behavior. So he was rather abrupt. She could understand that. Her sister had been awful and not just to him but to his sister, too. They hadn’t parted on very good terms yesterday.
“I wanted to see you.” She let that hang out there, hoping he would say something. Fill the awkward space between them.
Nothing. He turned and looked away from her, staring at the wall as though he saw something there of interest . . . or maybe he just didn’t want to look at her face.
She started to suspect he was gathering his thoughts to come up with a polite rejection.
She knew all about rejection. It was something she could practically smell on the air.
She moistened her suddenly dry lips. This wasn’t like him. Ever since their time locked in the storage closet he had come on strong. He didn’t mince words. He wanted her. He’d been clear about that. Even her self-doubts and self-consciousness couldn’t deny that.
And yet right now she felt like she was standing in front of a different man. “Cruz?” She whispered his name as though she needed to say it out loud to confirm this was him. Her Cruz. The same man who had said: We started something years ago. You think I’m gonna let another twelve years go by?
This man seemed like a stranger.
He looked back at her, his expression resigned. “You should go.”
She flinched like he had slapped her. He wanted her to go? She held his dark gaze, words winging through her mind but none surfacing on her tongue. Shaking her head, she pushed past him out of the front office.
She guessed the scene with her sister yesterday had really turned him off her. Maybe it was for the best.
Except she couldn’t not acknowledge what her sister had done. She couldn’t leave without apologizing for her behavior. “I’m sorry for what my sister did yesterday. She was cruel and vicious. I hope Malia isn’t too hurt. She’s a very sweet girl. She didn’t deserve that . . . neither did you.” There were so many things he hadn’t deserved, and it killed her to know that she might heap any more suffering upon him.
He stopped and looked at her. “Family is everything to me. I’d do anything for them.”
She nodded, understanding. He was that kind of person. Family first with him. Of course, this would make him even more wary of getting involved with her. Why should he want the trouble?
“I understand.” Exhaling, she turned and marched out of the building, her arms swinging fiercely at her sides.
She hadn’t even told him about the video. That would probably be the icing on the cake for him. Another thing to blame her for. But was that really her fault? Sure, Jabal was her friend, but Gabriella could hardly be blamed for her ex-coworker’s poor choices.
She made it to her car and then stopp
ed. She stood there, fuming, stupid tears pricking her eyes.
She knew what this was. She knew what the crushing weight on her chest was about. She liked him. She really liked him and she had never stopped liking him. Not even when she was in her twenties and he was only a memory and an unattainable one at that—even when it had been wrong on every level to like him, she had.
He was the dream she never forgot.
Then suddenly, impossibly, she saw him again and he wanted her. By his own admission, he wanted her. HER. He’d made her feel things. Made her crave him like air. Of course, she was a hot mess right now. Damn him for changing his mind. She came here ready to bare herself. Ready to strip down before him, both literally and physically.
She wasn’t running away this time.
Before she quite knew what she was doing, she pushed away from her car and swung around. She marched back toward the gym and pushed inside the double doors, glad that he had not yet locked them.
A quick glance verified his office was empty. He wasn’t there. She stepped forward into a main area that was divided into sections. There was a basketball court, a volleyball court, and an area with a giant colorful tower of blocks and tunnels for younger kids to climb.
She peered through the vast space, searching. Meager light glowed on the far side of the gym. This single light saved the interior from complete blackness. She stalked across the floor toward it, crossing the basketball and volleyball courts.
Thwack. Thwack.
The sound rang out in a steady staccato, echoing through the cavernous building. “Paradise City” ended and Aerosmith rolled on.
If she had to guess, the heavy thuds were Cruz beating a punching bag. She tried not to let that vision take over her mind—tried not to see Cruz’s impressive body straining and working out. Although she was too angry to let that idea distract her.
Beautiful Sinner Page 19
