Chapter 44
Gabe
Speed limits became a malleable concept to me. Even though I’d never once broken the law. Never even gotten a parking ticket. But flying down the freeway, going God-knows-how-many miles per hour, I was okay with the fact that this might be the first night I ever get pulled over.
Because I was driving to Josie.
Six hours away. I’d thought about it a lot these past two months, remembering Isabelle’s advice. That if we took it one day at a time, a solution to our long-distance problem would reveal itself.
It hadn’t yet, and the six hours was part of the problem. That and the fact that we were both self-employed and never took a day off—certainly not for a twelve-hour round trip drive to see each other.
I’d left a frantic voicemail for my parents, asking if they wouldn’t mind coming out of retirement for a couple days to watch The Bar for me. And even in the middle of the night, I received a joyous “YES” texted in response—which surprised me.
Except I also realized that in the past decade, I’d never asked someone to fill in for me at The Bar. Suddenly, my life was starting to make room for Josie—to stretch and grow and find space.
And maybe, if I listened even more, we’d find a way. Because here I was, at four in the morning, racing to the tattooed vixen who had beckoned me.
There was no way I’d be able to give her up now.
Two hours and two coffees later, the sun rose behind me as I approached the famous Los Angeles skyline. It was a vibrant dawn, streaked with rosy pinks and plum purples, and all of it reflected off the glittering skyscrapers.
I gaped like a kid down long, palm-tree lined boulevards with buildings that raced toward the sky. There was a hum of people that Big Sur didn’t have, and as I turned off down Highway 1, I coasted through Santa Monica and Venice Beach and saw surfers and body-builders and rollerbladers. The beaches weren’t as dramatic here as they were in Big Sur—they were welcoming and soft. And as I drove east toward Josie, I was greeted with rolling hills and smoggy traffic and kids walking to school.
If someone could create a place that was Big Sur’s exact opposite, Los Angeles would be it. I had expected to hate it the moment I’d arrived, but instead, I felt suffused with wonder and excitement. Because the truth was I almost never traveled. Never saw things that were new, even though I was surrounded by Big Sur’s magnificent beauty every day.
But even that could stop feeling amazing if you weren’t paying attention.
Even though I hadn’t slept, I felt wild with reckless energy. I drove past a large sign that said ‘Welcome to East Los Angeles.’ I rolled down my windows, and a blend of Spanish and English sifted through as people walked to the bus and opened their storefronts. I passed huge murals: a brightly lit Virgin of Guadalupe, Frida Kahlo, and the colors of the Mexican flag. Josie had told me how important this city was to her heritage, how her parents had sought a place in America after they left Mexico where they could rebuild their community.
I felt another stirring of discomfort that I’d so easily asked Josie to give up this place that reflected the prism of her Mexican-American heritage. That I’d demanded she move to Big Sur with its population of nine-hundred people.
I needed to make things different between us. Better.
And before I knew it, I was pulling in front of a light blue cottage, covered in magenta jacaranda, and Josie was sitting on her porch swing. Everything came roaring back: our separation; the long, sweet re-kindling; the aching erection I’d had for going on six hours now.
When I stepped out of my car, I had the strangest sensation that the path of my life was about to take a sharp left turn into something new and beautiful.
And as Josie raced barefoot across the wet grass and launched herself into my arms, the only feeling I felt was gratitude.
Chapter 45
Josie
I’d had a sexy plan that I’d concocted during the six hours it took Gabe to drive down from Big Sur. I was going to drag out the delicious torture, making him beg until he lost his voice. The fantasy had done the trick—distracting me (and arousing me) as I tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
But then he was suddenly standing there. In Los Angeles. In my front yard. With his kind smile and even kinder eyes. No longer a ferocious Viking sent from another world to seduce milk maidens before he charged into battle.
Just Gabe. Here to fight for me.
So instead I launched myself into his arms, squealing as he lifted me easily. I wrapped my arms around his big shoulders and kissed him for what felt like days. His hands tightened around me, one palm gliding up my back to tangle in my hair.
“I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, Josefine,” Gabe said against my lips. “So many beautiful things, and, sweetheart, nothing is as beautiful as you are.”
We were moving backward through space, up my front steps. My front door was kicked open, then slammed shut, and then my back was shoved against the door with a solid thud.
“I need to know what you want,” Gabe said as he kissed and licked along my neck just under my ear. I was already floating in some kind of pre-orgasmic bliss.
“Why?” I panted, loving that sex between us was always one long, delicious, filthy tease.
“Because if not, I’m going to take you against this goddamn wall.”
I flashed him a wry smile, wrapping my fingers in his beard. Yanked, and he hissed.
“Then fucking do it,” I commanded.
On a low growl, he dragged my panties aside, and Gabe plowed every thick inch of his cock inside of me.
“Holy fuck,” we both swore, my arms reaching above my head as I took every hard thrust.
Even pushed to the edge, Gabe’s long strokes brushed against every nerve ending inside of me perfectly. My hips bruised against the door as I chanted Gabe’s name.
He turned, bumping us into the kitchen counter. Shoved pots and pans to the floor. He slapped his hand on the shelves, and I ripped his shirt open, dragging my fingernails through his chest.
“Christ, Josie,” he groaned. “How do you do this to me every fucking time?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed, slapping him hard on the ass. “And fuck me faster.”
Another slap, and the challenge in his eyes was like white-hot lightning.
Gabe turned again, laying me on my kitchen table, and there was the sound of glass breaking as cups knocked to the floor. The table hit the wall over and over. He propped my legs up on his shoulders and bent me the fuck in half.
“Your cunt feels so good, sweetheart,” Gabe gasped, “I’ve missed this so much.” His middle finger slid to my clit, circling roughly.
“You know what would feel even better?” I teased, dragging that finger lower until it met the tight muscle of my ass. “Isn’t this what you fantasized about?” Gabe lowered his forehead to mine with a soft curse.
“Every fucking day,” he whispered, finger pressing. He slid in to the first knuckle, and I screamed.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, attempting to still his movements, but I could only kiss him breathlessly.
“No never,” I promised. “And please don’t stop.”
Gabe groaned against my lips, kissing me hungrily, gliding the rest of his finger completely inside my ass and thrusting his cock slowly. I gave him two sharp spanks, and he growled, speeding up. Bent me an inch farther, and I swore I felt him in my throat.
“God yes, Gabe,” I moaned, so deliciously, deliriously, decadently full that tears sprang to my eyes. “This is everything; you are everything.” I was panting and knocking utensils to the floor and clutching his face, and then the most intense orgasm of my life screamed through me.
“I need this,” Gabe promised, the rhythm of his cock sparking my orgasm into a continual loop of pleasure. “I need this Josie. I need you.” Another quick snap of his hips, and Gabe came with a roar.
I watched him in absolute awe, muscles straining and sweat on his broad chest.
/> And then he slowly slid out of me, flipped me onto my stomach, and licked my clit until my hips bucked against the table, another orgasm sliding through my bones like a river.
I was face-down on a plate, hands gripping a chair, legs shaking, and Gabe, sweet Gabe, was licking and kissing and massaging up my spine. Scooped me up and kissed me with such intensity tears spilled from my eyes.
“Don’t leave,” I begged. “Stay with me.”
And he did just that.
Chapter 46
Gabe
Josie’s coffee pot hissed and hummed as I stood in her kitchen, bleary-eyed and slightly disoriented. Her kitchen was a wreck, and I was pretty sure we had wrecked it. I also hadn’t slept not in my bed—and not outside of Big Sur—in a long time.
After our hot kitchen sex, Josie and I had fallen asleep in her giant, sunny bed, the two of us curled tightly around each other. And now all I knew was that it was sometime in the late afternoon. And I was In Los Angeles. In Josie’s home.
I rubbed my hand down my beard, watching the coffee pot work. And set about cleaning Josie’s kitchen.
I’d only ever seen it during our video chats, but up close it was even more spectacularly Josie. Pictures of her family members were framed and hung on the wall, shoved into the sides of cabinets and taped to appliances. The refrigerator was a mural of her and Lucia with other friends I didn’t recognize; old concert posters and movie tickets and tiny paintings and photos of her clients—a collage of her love and the vibrancy of her life.
I straightened her table and found utensils that we’d flung across the room. Swept up the pieces of glass and grinned at photos of Josie when she was a teenager: sullen and punky with red streaks in her hair.
Eventually, I grabbed a mug, filled it to the brim, and stepped outside onto Josie’s tiny porch. It was already a warm L.A. afternoon, and her streets were filled with people. I perched on one of the chairs and watched as families streamed out of the open doors of the church a block away, bells pealing. Little kids on bikes drove by, speaking Spanish and squealing with delight. Cars blared an endless mash of hip-hop and soul and mariachi music. Across the way, towards Whittier, older women were setting up tamale stands and a small collection of fruit stands.
“Buenos dias,” Josie said, and I turned to see her leaning against her front door looking sleepy and beautiful, black-and-lavender hair tangled around her face.
“Good morning,” I said back. “Or actually, good afternoon. I made coffee and cleaned your kitchen.”
“I saw that,” she said with a smile. “I’ve also already gotten calls from my neighbors, my brother, and my parents. Wondering who the bearded hunk on my porch is.”
I laughed. “I’m part of the East L.A. Channel now, huh?”
“Most definitely.” She walked over and slid into my lap, hands landing on my beard. I wrapped my arms around her back and pulled her closer. Pressed a kiss to her warm lips. “My whole family… and, well, neighborhood… is intrigued by the hippie lumberjack I’ve been constantly on the phone with for two months.”
“Hippie lumberjack?” I laughed.
Josie kissed my cheek. “You know you’ve got a certain… look.”
She reached forward, undid the tie in my hair, and ran her fingers through the length of it. I never, ever wanted this moment to end, but I could already feel the encroachment of our long distance. All around me, Josie’s community was enjoying a leisurely Sunday afternoon. The noise, the people, the blend of cultures and languages.
I thought about love and sacrifice. My parents and Isabelle and Maya. About listening because my heart had recognized something in Josie the very first moment we’d met. And I trusted it to know. Like my sister had said, maybe Josie and I were going about this the wrong way.
“If they see us together today, will people talk?”
“That’s a fucking sure thing if I ever heard it,” she laughed again. “They’ll definitely talk. Because it means you’re real. And this whole neighborhood has been waiting for me to…” she stopped for a second, clearing her throat. “Well, waiting for me to find some happiness.”
I brushed her hair off her shoulder. “Can I be that happiness, Josefine?”
“You are,” she promised softly. “And wait… you’re staying today? I thought you’d have to open The Bar in—” she glanced at her phone, “—right about now.”
I chuckled against her collarbone. “My parents are taking over for a few days. I’m all yours, if you’ll have me.” The mood was light, but the look we exchanged was heavy with meaning. “Why don’t you show me your community?”
“An L.A day?” Josie said, clapping her hands together.
“Show me what you love,” I said. “Show me everything.”
* * *
I expected to hate Los Angeles, to be constantly comparing it to Big Sur’s magnificence, but with Josie at my side, I felt suffused with wonder and excitement. Especially with Josie at my side, who looked too trendy to be with me. As usual, she was all boots and leather and colorful ink peeking out from the sleeves of her jacket. And she was slightly different here—more confident, more at ease. Lit up with the pride that comes with showing off the place that you love.
We drove down East L.A.’s famous Whittier Boulevard with the windows down and the radio turned up. Low-riders and vintage cars lined the streets. Groups of people were already out, drinking, laughing. Unlike Big Sur, we didn’t cruise under a canopy of redwoods but rather old telephone poles and ancient palm trees, strung with twinkle lights. Jacaranda and orange poppies sprung up through cracks in the sidewalk next to massive murals.
We strolled through Mariachi Plaza and watched dancers and artists. Sampled food from Guatemala and El Salvador. Josie bought art at vendors and chatted in Spanish with the older Mexican women selling aqua fresca. The sky darkened with stars as we drove towards downtown, which felt alive with lights and sounds. The Hollywood Sign winking in the distance and men and women dressed to the nines strolling down the street. The flash of light bulbs when famous people appeared and this almost tangible hum of energy. Like standing on the beach in Big Sur right before a thunderstorm.
On Sunset Boulevard, we sat on bar stools, pressed skin to skin, and drank Old Fashioneds as a Billie Holiday-impersonator crooned into a microphone. Snuck in a late-night Open Mic event and watched burlesque dancers and singer-songwriters grace the stage. Outside, the street had been turned into a makeshift block party with a live brass band, and Josie and I danced for what felt like hours. Breathless with laughter, Josie dragged me to her favorite food truck, and we ate carnitas as grease dripped down our hands, toasting each other with cheap beer and limes.
“How’s your taco?” Josie asked, head tilted and eyes bright with amusement.
“Incredible,” I groaned happily. “This whole night is incredible. And the block party and the music and the dancing and all the people. I don’t even know what time it is.”
“1:30 in the morning,” she said, eyebrow arched. “See? You’re not that much of an old person.”
I laughed, feeling exhilarated, and pulled Josie in for a long, slightly inappropriate kiss as people wolf-whistled behind us.
“What’s next?” I said when I finally let her come up for air.
“One more place,” she panted, tugging on my beard. “It’s my favorite.”
Chapter 47
Gabe
We coasted up Mulholland Drive, Etta James on the radio and windows down to let the night sounds in. We passed old Hollywood mansions and rows of palm trees. Climbed up the canyon until we reached a startlingly beautiful viewpoint. All of Los Angeles sprawled naked and glimmering in front of us, still radiating energy even though it was past two in the morning.
Josie parked but left the music on, then slid out and onto the hood of the car. I joined her, pressing my head against hers.
“Something else, huh?” Josie asked, and there was a nervous edge to her voice.
“It’s gorgeous,” I
replied. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s not Big Sur.”
“That’s okay,” I said, turning to capture her gaze. “It has its own beauty. Thank you for taking me here. For this whole day.”
Josie smiled, but there were tears in her eyes.
“I came here the night before my wedding. With Lucia,” Josie said. “It was my bachelorette party.”
Gabe turned his head towards me. “That’s interesting. I would have thought you would want something a little wilder than this.”
Josie grimaced, shrugging her shoulders.
“Did you suspect something was off that night?” I asked softly.
She shook her head. “I didn’t have a clue. We were spending the night apart anyway, so at that point, I hadn’t spoken to him since that morning. I thought everything was perfect. But—” she hesitated, biting her lip. “Lucia said something. Told me that if I didn’t want to go through with the wedding, she and I could run away. No questions, no judgment. Just get in the car and drive. And briefly… so briefly, I considered it.”
“Do you wish you had done it?”
“I don’t know,” she said on a long exhale. “But I’ll never doubt my instincts again. They’d been so quiet the entire time I’d known Clarke. Even with the dozens of red flags that would pop up, sometimes daily, any hesitancy I felt I squashed. Immediately,” I said. “But that night I was really unhappy. I had this surface-level happiness, and if you asked me, I would have told you I was so excited for my wedding. Couldn’t wait to marry my soulmate. But that night… that night I was so fucking anxious. And nervous and freaked out, and in that moment, the thought of not marrying Clarke felt so right. The most right feeling I’d had in a long time. And I… ignored it. Just like that. Because when someone has spent months gaslighting you, the first thing they destroy is your inner compass.”
Fall in Love Book Bundle: Small Town Romance Box Set Page 221
