She opened her window. She hadn’t climbed out in a skirt before.
“Gabe, turn away,” she whisper-shouted down to him.
“Why?”
“Just do it,” she added.
He raised his hands and cupped them over his eyes then turned away from the building.
Monica maneuvered out of the window, closed it gently, and climbed down the ladder.
“Okay,” she said.
Gabe turned around. Even in the dim light, his expression was completely readable. His lips parted as if he wanted to speak, but nothing came out.
She did a little twirl in her red plaid schoolgirl uniform. “I knew you liked it, and there was no reason for me to wear it anymore. I thought that tonight—”
He stopped her with a kiss. He scooped her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers with such tenderness her heart swelled in her chest.
Gabe pulled back and drank her in. “Fucking hell, Monica!”
She cocked her head to the side. “Fucking hell, good? Or fucking hell, bad?”
His gaze traveled up her legs and stopped at her skirt. “So good!”
She lifted his chin to meet her gaze. “We’re not going on the roof?”
“No, I have another place for us to go.” He glanced at her Mary Jane’s. “Can you run in those?”
“I could probably beat you in these,” she said with a teasing smile.
“Since I’ll be running with a giant hard-on, you’re probably right.”
She took a brazen step forward and palmed him through his cargo shorts.
Holy Mary!
Biologically speaking, his penis should fit inside of her, but the logistics of sex were starting to seem a little scary.
He took her hand. “Come on! We’re going to sneak into the gardens.”
They ran down Bellflower Street through the Langley Park town center, careful to avoid any passing cars. They bypassed the main gate and edged in through a gap in the fencing. He led her to their secret spot and pulled aside the spruce branches for her.
“Close your eyes,” he said.
She complied and heard the click of a lighter.
“Open your eyes, Mon.”
Mason jars with lit candles peppered the small, hidden space, and the alcove glowed like a secret fairy garden. A sleeping bag stretched across the grass.
Gabe checked his watch then reached into his pocket and held out a box. “It’s a minute past twelve. Happy birthday, Monica.”
She took the box and lifted the lid. A slim, silver bracelet twinkled in the candlelight. She removed it and held it out. A single charm hung from a link.
“It’s the—” Gabe began.
“Eiffel Tower,” she said, fingering the delicate charm.
“We’ll get there, Mon. I promise you. We will.”
She fastened the bracelet around her wrist then met his gaze. His eyes shined in the light.
“I love it, Gabe! It’s perfect!”
He lifted her hand and kissed the back of her wrist. “There’s one more thing.”
He brought her over to the sleeping bag. He picked up one of the Mason jars and held the light next to an aspen tree trunk. Something was carved into it.
G + M Forever
Monica ran her finger over the letters.
“I know you’re not supposed to carve into trees, but I wanted to put our mark on this place.”
She turned to him. “I love you.”
“You do?”
She gazed into his eyes. “I do.”
He cupped her face and kissed her. She leaned back onto the sleeping bag and brought Gabe with her. He propped himself up on an elbow and gazed down at her outfit. “Can you put this on for every birthday?”
“There’s another surprise for you,” Monica said with a shy smile.
Gabe trailed his fingers up her leg and then paused at the apex of her thighs.
“I’m not wearing any panties.”
“Christ, I love you, Monica.”
He massaged her sweet bud, and her core grew slick with excitement. He worked her body, kissing her neck, then he unbuttoned her blouse. His mouth slid lower. Gabe found the perfect rhythm, and she flew over the edge. Her orgasm rippled through her body in sensual, pulsing waves.
She caught her breath. “I want to feel you inside of me.”
He removed his T-shirt, shorts, and boxers, and she took off her uniform. The humid August air added a layer of sheen to their skin. Sweat lubed their bodies as they kissed, legs tangled together, on top of the sleeping bag.
Monica ran her hands down Gabe’s back. He was shaking.
“What is it?” she asked.
His eyes shined with emotion. “Have you ever wanted something so much but were absolutely terrified at the same time?”
“Yes,” she answered, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.
Monica reached between them and stroked Gabe’s cock. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. She lined him up with her entrance and thrust her hips. His cock parted her folds, and he surged inside of her.
“Mon, are you okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah, keep going.”
He slid in further, filling her, stretching her. He’d used his fingers on her all summer, but this was different. She relaxed her thighs and allowed them to fall to her sides like butterfly wings opening to the sky.
He pushed up onto his elbows. “Wow!”
She smiled up at him. “It doesn’t hurt. It feels right.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded and swiveled her hips.
He moved inside her. A gentle in and out motion that built up momentum as he thrust. Gabe released a low growl as his pace increased. Monica gasped, the breath caught in her throat. Gabe’s cock filling her tight core combined with the pressure of his body rubbing against her sensitive bundle of nerves had her body on fire. She met each of his thrusts, grinding into him with wanton delight.
“Gabe,” she called out, so close to finding her release.
“Monica, come with me,” he breathed into her ear.
She squeezed his ass as his body pumped wildly on top of her. The slap of sweaty limbs and lusty moans sang out into the night air as they came together surrounded by the glow of candlelight.
After they’d caught their breaths, Gabe rolled off of her and propped himself up on his side. He ran a finger from her chin down to the center of her breasts. “You’re so beautiful.”
Monica stared up at the stars. The world was so big, and all she and Gabe had known of it was this one little slice. “What if we didn’t wait two years to leave? What if we changed the plan and left sooner?”
Gabe’s finger stopped moving. “We need those two years, Mon. We need to make sure my dad’s okay with the moving company and that Oma has the help she needs to run the bakery. Plus, we’ll have earned our associate’s degree and saved up more money.”
A shooting star raced across the sky. The thin trail of white disappeared as quickly as a lightning strike. “It just feels like a long time to wait.”
Gabe touched the Eiffel tower charm on her wrist. “We can do it. It’ll go by fast. I love you, Monica.”
She turned from the stars, glanced at the charm, then met his gaze. “I love you, too.”
8
Everything seemed perfect on the outside. Monica glanced over at Gabe as he boxed up an apple strudel for a customer. He caught her eye and winked. She fingered the charm bracelet and smiled back.
“Monica, those cupcakes will not ice themselves,” Oma said. She picked up a cake box and headed toward the back door. “I’m leaving for mass.”
“Mr. Collier’s not picking you up?” Monica asked, keeping her gaze trained on the cupcakes.
“No,” Oma replied firmly. Mr. Collier wasn’t a subject open for discussion.
Out of the corner of her eye, Monica would have sworn her grandmother was blushing.
Oma left through the back door just as Michael came in the front.
&nb
sp; “Look, it’s my long-lost cousin!” Michael said with an easy grin.
Gabe came around the counter and shook his hand. “Hey, cuz! It’s good to see you!”
Michael gestured to the apron. “The culinary arts suit you, man.”
Monica joined them. “What brings you in, Michael?”
“I heard it was your birthday. I wanted to wish you well.”
Monica wiped her hands on her apron. “Eighteen! Footloose and fancy-free!”
“Are you guys doing anything?” Michael asked.
Monica shared a look with Gabe. His cheeks had gone pink.
“That’s definitely not for me to know,” Michael said, his cheeks matching Gabe’s.
“We started celebrating early,” Gabe said.
Michael nodded and rubbed his palms together. “I have sort of a big favor to ask of you, Gabe.”
“Anything, what do you need?”
“Could you help me get my deejay equipment to Sadie’s Hollow? Maybe stick around to get it all set up.” He looked at Monica. “You’ve heard of Sadie’s Hollow, right? It’s about an hour south of here. Langley Park kids have been going there to party for ages. You should come, too. It’s the last bash before everybody goes off to college.”
Something sank in the pit of her stomach.
Everybody goes off to college—except for her and Gabe.
“That’s not really my scene but thanks, Michael.” She turned to Gabe. “But you should help your cousin out.”
The phone rang, and Gabe hurried behind the counter and answered it.
She watched him nod as he listened to whoever was on the other end.
Gabe cupped his hand over the receiver. “It’s a lady from one of those fancy shops in Mission Springs. They need a rush order of cupcakes and pastries delivered as soon as possible. It’s almost closing time. Should I tell her no?”
Monica shook her head. Orders had been dropping off all summer. They needed every client they could get. “Tell her we can do it. I’ll close up the bakery and deliver the order. You can help Michael. We can meet back here later tonight.”
“Are you sure, Monica?” Michael asked. “I don’t want to steal Gabe away and ruin your birthday.”
Her body felt heavy, weighted to the ground. “It’s no big deal. Gabe and I have all the time in the world to celebrate.”
Monica parked the Subaru a few doors down from the posh Mission Springs boutique, and the familiar ache of inadequacy came seeping back into her bones. She’d spent all of her schooling in this world, but she had never made it past that invisible line separating the super-wealthy from the mere mortals like herself. Courtney had been the only person to cross that divide. To everyone else, she was the baker’s granddaughter. The charity case offered a scholarship.
She glanced down at the Eiffel Tower charm and released a shaky breath. “I could sure use some direction.” For attending years of parochial school, she wasn’t a very religious person. But it never hurt to throw out a request to who or whatever was out there in the universe.
Monica waited for a beat. No chorus of angels. No thunderbolts. She shook her head and got out of the car. Usually, her grandmother would turn down rush deliveries. Too much of a risk. All too often, rush deliveries turned into unhappy customers who, due to lack of planning and foresight, often underordered or overordered. But Oma wasn’t calling the shots this afternoon. Monica balanced the box of pastries in one arm and opened the door to the boutique with the other.
“She’s here! She’s here!” a petite woman with spiky blond hair called out, taking the box out of Monica’s arms. “You’re a lifesaver!”
A woman with a dark, chin-length bob joined them, but her expression was grim. “Casey bailed. Something about her contract with the modeling agency.”
“Dammit,” the blonde said. She looked at her watch. “We have exactly eight minutes to get ready and no model. What the hell are we going to do?”
“Hold on a hot minute,” the woman with the bob said, taking a step back and eyeing Monica like a hawk. “Who are you?”
Monica’s jaw dropped. “I’m just delivering the pastries. My grandmother is the baker you ordered from.”
The two women looked at each other.
“She’s perfect,” the blonde said, scanning her from head to toe.
The woman with the bob nodded. “Right! I mean, the hair, the eyes, those lips.”
The blonde pulled a tape measure from her pocket. “You mind?” she asked. The woman knelt and measured the length of her legs.
“Well, no. Go ahead.”
What was going on?
The woman with the dark bob smiled. “I’m Cora, and the woman who’s taking your measurements is Leigh. We’re the designers behind the Cora Leigh brand. We’ve been going around the country trying to secure funding to expand our brand. If all goes well, this is our last stop, and then it’s full speed ahead!”
“Oh!” A million questions raced through Monica’s mind, but that was all she could manage to say.
“What’s your name, honey?” Cora asked.
“Monica. Monica Brandt.”
“Listen, Monica,” the blonde said, coming to her feet. “You’ve got the look we’ve been searching for. You’re stunning. That’s a no-brainer, but you’ve got an edge. There are lots of pretty faces out there. But to find someone who’s beautiful with an air of mystery and sophistication, now that’s rare.”
“Please tell us you’re over eighteen. We’ve been trying to work with an agency, but they keep sending us thirteen-year-olds,” Cora said over her shoulder as she pulled a dress from the rack.
“I’m eighteen today. It’s my birthday,” Monica said in a daze.
Leigh measured her waist. “Have you ever wanted to be a model, birthday girl?”
“My whole life,” she answered with a dreamy whisper.
Cora handed her a dress. “This is the first dress. There will be six outfit changes. Leigh will help you with the garments and do some quick styling. Your job is to wear the hell out of our clothes while I explain the designs and business model to the potential investors.”
“Can you do this, Monica?” Cora asked.
Monica swallowed past the lump in her throat. Was this really happening?
“Monica?” Cora repeated.
She blinked. “Yes, I can do it.”
“You’re a natural, Monica. You really are,” Cora said.
The last hour had passed in a whirlwind. A group of potential investors entered the shop, ate her grandmother’s pastries, then unknowingly watched the baker’s granddaughter model six glamorous dresses. They had actually clapped when she came out in the final gown.
Clapped!
“That was amazing!” Monica said. “I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity.” She started to tidy up and reached for the empty pastry box.
“You’re not going, are you?” Leigh asked.
Monica looked from Leigh to Cora. “We’re done, right?”
Cora put a hand on her shoulder. “Monica, when we said you were perfect, we didn’t mean just for today.”
Leigh nodded. “You’re perfect for the entire brand. We want you to be the face of Cora Leigh Designs.”
The axis of her limited world shifted. “Like a job?”
“Absolutely, a job!” Cora added. “We can’t pay you a lot right now. But you’ll have a base salary, and we’ll cover all travel, meals, hotels, and everything else business related.”
“When does it start?” she asked, still reeling.
Leigh shared a look with Cora. “It started when you put on that first dress.”
Monica couldn’t wrap her mind around all this. “Then, what now?”
“Now, we catch a flight back to San Francisco. That’s where we’re based,” Cora began, “and then we leave for Paris a day after that. That would give us time to get you an expedited passport if you don’t already have one.”
“Paris,” Monica echoed. “I could be in Paris in
two days.”
“With the time change, it’s more like three. But, yeah, in a couple of days you’ll be in the City of Lights. You can even pack a picnic and eat it next to the Eiffel Tower.”
At the mention of picnicking, the air rushed out of her like she’d been sucker punched.
Gabe.
Their plans.
Their dreams.
“Can I think about it?” The words cut like shards of glass.
Cora and Leigh exchanged concerned looks.
Leigh smiled. “Monica, things move fast in fashion. When you’re hot, you’re hot. We’ve got a lot of buzz going around Cora Leigh right now. This is a huge opportunity for you. We want you to be a part of it. But we don’t have time to wait.”
Monica bit her lip and nodded.
Cora retrieved a small pad of paper and a pen out of her pocket. “Our flight doesn’t leave until late. Meet us at the airport. If you’re not there, we’ll know your decision.” She ripped off the sheet of paper and handed Monica the fight information. “But I hope you’re there. I really do.”
Monica glanced at the piece of paper. Then folded it carefully and pressed it into her pocket. She left the boutique in a stunned daze. The drive back to Langley Park seemed foreign. All the streets and corners she knew like the back of her hand looked unfamiliar, like fragments from a distant memory. She turned onto Mulberry Drive and saw a woman standing in front of the bakery. She pulled the car over and rolled down the window.
“Sorry, we’re closed.”
The woman turned around. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her skin a pale gray, but Monica recognized her.
“Monica, it’s me, Mrs.—”
“Yes,” she said, interrupting. “Mrs. Garza, it’s so good to see you.”
Monica cut the ignition and jumped out of the car. “How’s Vanessa? I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to visit. We haven’t had any deliveries to the hospital in several weeks.”
Mrs. Garza held tight to a plastic bag. It was the flimsy kind you get at the grocery store. It was jammed with fabric. She tightened her grip on the bag. “I’m here for Vanessa. I know she would want you to have these. These were her last designs.”
The Complete Langley Park Series (Books 1-5) Page 85
