“Are you fucking serious right now?” I screech, my eyes glaring daggers at him.
Several patrons have turned our way, curious as to what the disruptions is all about. I push the chair away from me and stand, grabbing for his wrist and yanking him back in surprise.
When I see the expression on his face and the playful grin across his mouth, I realize I’ve been played.
He laughs again, this time the sound drips with sarcasm.
“Ah shit, you should see your face!” he muses, amusement flickering across his face. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist. I didn’t realize you don’t have a sense of humor.”
He gives me an eye roll and before I can stop myself, my arm flies back as I smack at his chest. Hard. His chest is like the Rock of Gibraltar and my palm stings from the impact. I pull it back and rub it with my other hand, which only makes him laugh harder.
I grumble. “You asshole. I thought you were serious, goddamn you. And now I think you broke my hand, you brute.”
Gavin continues to laugh, like it’s the most hilarious thing he’s ever heard. “I know…that’s why it was funny.” He gasps for breath in between sobs of laughter.
“Great, a wannabe comedian. Don’t quit your day job,” I offer drolly.
Gavin pats my shoulder condescendingly before reaching down to pick up my bag that’s sitting by my feet. I assume this means we’re leaving, so I throw the strap of my purse over my shoulder and steal his hat from the table, placing it on my head backwards just like he’d been wearing it. I lift my brows to him, daring him to challenge me.
His lips curve into a smile and he tips his chin as we walk out the door, amidst stares and low murmurs of conversation.
As we head out onto the sidewalk, I ask him about his celebrity, curious to know how he deals with it. “Is it always like that for you here?”
He seems confused by my question. “Is what always like that?”
I hitch my thumb in the direction of the trattoria door behind us. “You know, the fan worship.”
My feet struggle to keep up with his fast pace. His long legs stride at a swift clip.
“Oh, yeah. Sometimes,” he admits with a hint of embarrassment which makes me even more curious about him. We turn the corner and head between two large, stone buildings. “Come on. I’m just down this way.”
This neighborhood is quiet and old, the quintessential Italian block where second and third story flats have their laundry flying out to dry above us and kids play kickball in the streets. As we meander down the cobblestone, which is as treacherous as a landmine field in my wedged sandals, I wonder if that’s all he’s going to say on the subject. His modesty is strange to me, considering if I’d asked Cade the same question, he’d blather on about how it’s the price of fame.
Yada yada yada. You know, Mr. Egotistical.
“Are you actually leading me to your place? Or are you just trying to get me lost in some devious social experiment to see if I can find my way back?”
Gavin grins, his eyes lighting up with amused glee. “Now, would I do that to you?”
I stop in the middle of the street and glance around suspiciously before giving him a squinty glare.
“That’s yet to be seen, Gavin Lancaster,” I observe, tapping my chin with my index finger. “I haven’t decided if you’re going to turn out to be my hero or a dirty rotten scoundrel.”
He considers this for a second, scratching the stubble on his jaw before he gives me a playful wink. “Honestly, my mother would argue that I’m a scoundrel. But lucky for you, today I’m wearing my hero cape, rescuing cute girls in peril. Can I call you Mary Jane?”
“No one’s ever accused me of being like Mary Jane,” I snort. “Poison Ivy, maybe…” I mumble that last comment under my breath.
Gavin stares at me with curiosity before turning around and continues down the cobblestone street.
“Well, I guess we both might be different things to different people. Either way, you’re welcome to stay with me as long as you need to, Kady. I have a bunch of away games coming up, so feel free to make yourself at home.”
With a sigh of relief, I trail after him, touching his wrist with my fingers in gratitude. I’m momentarily stunned by the tingle of electricity that shoots up my arm. I wonder if Gavin felt it too, because he whips his head down to find me staring up at him. I bite down on my lip trying to cover my shock.
“Thank you, Gavin. I promise I’ll be a good houseguest and won’t get in your business.” I stop again and he turns back to look at me over his shoulder.
“What?” he asks.
I draw my fingernail between my lips, chewing on it like I do when I’m in serious thought about something. “Um, well, not to get too personal…but speaking of business. Maybe you can let me know when you’re going to bring someone home for the night, so I can find somewhere else to hang. You know, so you have some privacy. I don’t want to cramp your style.”
