Page 35 of Out of Bounds

“A hussy?”

“Yes. I shouldn’t have said what I did. You are a grown woman who can make her own choices, and I didn’t mean to disrespect how you choose to conduct your life.”

“Wow,” Felicity said, shocked by his admission. The look on his face told her that he was genuinely remorseful, but she couldn’t help but notice that he left out the part about kissing her. Not that she was going to bring it up either. “You could have just asked.”

“I know,” he said, shifting uneasily where he stood next to the coffee table. “In the moment, asking didn’t seem reasonable.”

“But accusing did?”

“I’m not saying it was logical. Just that I’m not a complete caveman.”

“You do realize that Talia is also a grown woman who can make her own choices, right?” she asked. His apology was greatly appreciated, especially since she could tell that he meant it. She just also wanted to make sure he knew this wasn’t just her he was acting this way toward.

“I was…enlightened…this morning once I returned home. May I, uh, sit?” he asked, motioning toward the other end of the couch. She nodded in reply and pulled her legs in to her chest, making room for him. “Apparently word made it through Bunz that I was not happy that she was working there, and she read me the riot act basically the second I walked back into our flat. Told me all about how Heather opened it to be a safe place for women, and that each one of the half-naked punks working there is trained in some sort of security protocol in case something does happen.”

“Those punks as you call them are good, decent guys. I helped her interview them, and she didn’t hire just anyone.”

Gunnar sighed, relaxing into the couch a bit.

“Talia told me all that. How the guy who served Cowboy and me the other night is paying his way through law school, and how there’s another guy working there as a second job to support his younger sister. As a guy who was raised by his grandparents after both his parents overdosed, and worked his ass off to be successful enough to play a professional sport, I understand those guys. They’re my people.”

“I had no idea about your parents,” Felicity said, her heart squeezing at the thought.

“I was really young when mom died, and I never met my dad. My grandparents were my parents,” he said with a shrug. “They had next to nothing, but they still took me in and raised me. But, it taught me a lot, like the value of hard work. So, I can respect those guys who are doing what they need to do in order to make their dreams come true. And that’s what I want for Talia, for her to be able to do whatever it is she wants—like becoming a teacher. She said that Heather has already helped her get signed up to audit a class this semester.”

“Heather has some amazing connections.”

“So do you apparently, since you’re the one who hooked Talia up there. I’m grateful, I really am. I don’t think I said that. She’s had a rough year, what with her mom passing and then finding out about me. She needed some good to come her way.”

Felicity couldn’t hide the smile that took over her face as she listened to this. She liked knowing that she helped Talia and that she was happy. She also really liked hearing Gunnar compliment her.

“It seems I misjudged you, Effie.”

“Ugh, why do you call me that? Such a stupid nickname. I hate nicknames!”

“You hate nicknames? You call your brother by his.”

“Tripp has been ‘Tripp’ since he was born. He’s Dalton Royce Sutherland the Third. ‘Tripp’ is short for triple,” she told him, watching him nod in understanding. “That’s all we know him by. He didn’t start going by ‘Dalton’ until he ran away to St. Thomas. So Cullen knows him as Dalton, because that’s what he went by down there. And now that he’s in charge here, he still introduces himself that way, but it’s kinda hit or miss who calls him what.”

“But they all still call you Flick.”

“Yes! And I hate it!”

“Where does it even come from?”

“When Tripp first started talking, he couldn’t pronounce Felicity. It came out as Flick, and it just kinda stuck. It wasn’t so bad when we were kids, but now here we are, twenty-some years later, still calling me that stupid name! And no matter how much I ask people to stop, they don’t. Just one more way they show me just how much they don’t respect me,” she said, unloading way more than she intended.

“I don’t see it that way at all,” he told her, his eyes soft with understanding. He turned toward her, pulling his leg up onto the couch so he could fully face her. “The world I’m used to, a nickname means that you’re accepted and part of the team. Just ask Cowboy—hell, I can’t remember the last time any of us called him Britt. He showed up in Liverpool, all cocky American, just like some cowboy out of the movies with that twang of his, and he could not have been more out of place. But us giving him that nickname meant that he was one of us. It was our way of taking ownership of him. We don’t give people nicknames unless we like them.”

Butterflies soared through Felicity’s stomach, making her breath catch ever so slightly. Try as she might, she couldn’t look away from Gunnar, who was staring at her with such intensity she felt like she was on display. She had no idea what he was trying to say, since up until now it seemed like they couldn’t stand each other, but at least now she knew that whatever this pull was she felt when he was near her, she wasn’t alone.

“So, you’re saying you like me?” she asked coyly.

“Something like that,” he replied, leaning back and resting against the arm of the couch.

Well then…

“Gunnar, how do you feel about sushi?”