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“What are you doing?”
“Deep breathing helps you focus.” One of his hands goes to my shoulder, the other flattens on my diaphragm. “Take a deep breath.” He pushes gently against my stomach, hustling my heartrate. “Then let it out.”
Can he feel my shoulders tremble? My heart pound? My resolve not to like him waver? I lurch out of his embrace.
“You’re so jumpy.” He tilts his head and studies me like he’s trying to figure me out. “Like you’ve never been close to a guy.”
“I’ve been close to lots of guys.” Fib some more, Jess, you do it so well.
“Lots, huh?” His eyebrow lifts.
In my head. “Maybe I just don’t wantyouto touch me.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t look like he believes that for a second. “But if you change your mind, I promise to behave. You have my permission to knee me in the balls if my hands travel. Free shot.”
“Pass.” I step back. “I have a feeling your idea and my idea of behave don’t share the same zip code.”
“I’ll go by the homeschool code of conduct. Scout’s honor.” He holds up three fingers as a pledge. On the wrong hand.
“You don’t know anything about homeschoolers or Boy Scouts.”
“Not true.” His expression is seven kinds of put out. “Hallmark channel.”
“The roles you play don’t count.” From what I’m figuring out, Gabriel’s life consists of stepping into one persona after another, even when’s he off screen, making it impossible to figure him out.
Smiling, he shrugs. “We’ll skip the deep breathing.”
“We’ll skip the whole thing.” My gaze hits the clock. “We have eight minutes. I’m not dressed, and I still have to put on makeup and have an entire panic attack.”
He looks at me like he thinks I’m kidding.
I’m not. Since the day I soldHauntedand signed my publishing contract,anxietyhas become so much more than a word in my online thesaurus.
He drapes the sundress he chose earlier over my shoulder. “It goes with the emerald in your eyes.” His smile shoots from spectacular to supernova. I’m still blinded by the light when he disappears into his room and tugs the door closed behind him.
Sagging on the bed, I press a palm over my suddenly crazy heartbeat. I don’t like Gabriel Wade. I can’t like Gabriel Wade. Please don’t let me like Gabriel Wade.
When I hear the rumble of his shower, I put on the dress and pair it with my white flats, telling myself I’m short on time, and I can’t go with my first choice of invisibility cloak anyway.
Obnoxious rap music startles me. I glance around the room for the source.
It’s as if Gabriel’s moved in. His massive shoes lay tipped on the floor, his hat is on my pillow, and Eminem is shouting swear words from Gabriel’s phone on my bed. I pick it up and kill the sound.
The song is an alarm reminder labeled—book shit with escalator girl.Nice. When I deactivate the alarm, there’s no password on his phone so the home screen shows an unread text from someone he’s named Short Blonde One—Forgot to tell you happy bday yesterday. Please change your mind. Ur all I have.
My brain pauses over finding out it was his birthday, then speeds forward to the image of the girl who sent the message. Blue-eyed and blonde, she’s gorgeous. Victoria’s Secret gorgeous. Gabriel-worthy gorgeous. And without my permission, my chest squeezes in a sharp spasm.
chapter 12
Gabe
“Find your niche and coast.”
~ Meredith Morgan
(played by the award-winning Meredith Wade)
Raising Ryder: Episode7
