Alex: Gabe wouldn’t hurther.
King: it’s not her I’m worried about *winking face with tongue*
KATHERINE
This is not at all how I thought my afternoon would go. It’s so much better. Gabe’s saying all the right things. And the no-touching rule is adorably sweet. I’ve never been with a man so determined to get to the bottom of his issues, so open-minded and aware of his flaws. Not to mention, intent on correcting them. He’s taken the first steps to heal, and knowing him, he’ll continue until he’s successful.
“Yeah,” he parrots the word back to me. “Speaking of, I have a proposal.”
My heart somersaults in my chest, and I suck in a sharp breath.
The phone in his pocket vibrates against my hip, momentarily distracting me from his statement. My cell has buzzed several times since the meeting ended, so I’m betting King is trying to find us and maybe make sure we’re not killing each other.
But I’ve never wanted Gabe dead. On the contrary, I want him alive and kicking and preferably naked.
I wet my lips. “You were saying?”
He pushes away from the table. “We need to be face-to-face for this.”
Oh my god.
But instead of dropping to one knee, he toes one of the rolling chairs into position and perches on the edge of it, staring up at me with anticipation in his eyes.
“I want you to run Chanler & Cort with me. Out with the old, in with the new. We could change the company for the better. I’ve got so many ideas. I’m sure you do too. You’re so smart and thoughtful, and you understand the business in ways I don’t.”
My heart drops with each word. Then I start to vibrate with annoyance. Frustration. All the usual suspects. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Of course, we’d go from a beautiful heart-to-heart to talking business.
Business is all anyone seems to care about.
He babbles for another twenty seconds or so about his ideas with the same exuberance he shows here at the foundation. “We could start small. But there’s got to be a way to get rid of some of the fees that are keeping people broke.”
I swallow at that, my sails deflating.
Mouth open to continue, suddenly he bites the words back, and his lips curve down. His shoulderssag, and he leans back a little, losing himself in thought. Or maybe it’s a memory.
It’s easy to forget that he had a life before he became the tech tycoon he is today. That prior to making his billions, he was a bookish boy on a farm in Nebraska. Our childhoods were as different as dogs and cats.
Feeling less sour, I ask, “What are you thinking about?”
He takes my hands, resting them in my lap, and shrugs his sudden melancholy off. “Nothing important.”
The deflection is a hint of the old Gabe. The man who locks himself away when it doesn’t suit him. Who holds himself aloof. Which means it’s probably a painful thought. Some little gremlin he’d rather not release.
But I want to know because I’m endlessly fascinated by him, warts and all. Not that he has any, you know, actual warts. That lean body is pretty much perfection.
“I think it is,” I push back, squeezing his fingers.
He looks everywhere but at me.
“I was remembering a time when my mom bounced a check. She didn’t want us to know, but I saw her tears, heard the raised voices after bedtime. The fees were money we didn’t have. She begged thebank, but—” He shrugs again, and my heart hurts for him. For the sweet boy who hated seeing his mom sad. “They’d already forgiven overdraft fees and weren’t willing to do it again.”
I don’t know what to say to that, but I know that while I was thinking about my heart and my future, Gabe’s heart and future are caring not just about me but those in need. Mothers like his. Rural kids like he was.
And just like that, my frustration evaporates, and I sink down into his lap. His arms wrap around my waist, and I cling to any part of him I can. There’s something about the stiffness in his muscles that tells me there’s more to the story. More pain in the memory.
“I hated hearing her beg,” he murmurs, voice raw.
I squeeze his waist.
