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“All the time, Escalator Girl.” His tone suggests that exhausts him. “No donuts.” I appreciate that he keeps hiswhyunspoken. “Every other carb is fair game?”
“Yep.”
We end up at the Einstein’s drive-thru not far from my house just as the sun wakes up.
Gabe hands me my garlic bagel and my Coke, then turns into a gated neighborhood that requires an entrance code. While I live in the investment banker section of Highland Park, Gabe lives by players from the Dallas Cowboys.
Near the end of the street, he pulls into a wide driveway and turns off the car. He sips his soda and digs in the other bag for his egg sandwich, making no move to get out.
Stretching my legs, I take in the white brick house with the red door and the portico extending over us that attaches to a four-car garage and wonder again why he’s not staying here. It’s way more private.
The sound of an engine behind us has me looking in the side mirror.
A black sedan stops behind us in the driveway. The engine cuts and an older guy in sunglasses and a dark suit steps out.
“Shit.” Gabe closes his eyes and leans back in the seat.
chapter 18
Gabe
“Don’t invite anyone into your problems.”
~ Meredith Morgan
(played by the award-winning Meredith Wade)
Raising Ryder: Episode41
As much as I itch to shift the car into reverse and tear out of the driveway, I can’t. David parked me in. I don’t even know why I’m here. I hadn’t planned on coming until the second I asked Jess to leave the hotel with me.
Gripping the steering wheel, I watch David march up the driveway in my rearview mirror. Then I grab my casual face and get out of the Mustang.
Jess follows my lead, but stays on her side of the car, like she’s not sure what to do.
David pauses next to the bumper, his gaze on her.
If he’s holding out for a formal introduction, he doesn’t need one. He’s seen the pictures. He knows who she is. Why I’m with her. And I know exactly where he stands on that—on top of a big, fat objection.
Because David’s a die-hard when it comes to manners, and Jess is awkwardly shifting her feet, I introduce them. “Jess, David. David, Jess.” I offer the appropriate hand gestures, keeping the inappropriate ones to myself.
Meeting on her side of the car, David shakes her hand and smiles—as much as David ever smiles. “I hear you’re an author.”
Not from me. I haven’t even given him her full name. But he’s a Sherlock Holmes when it comes to research.
“Not really.” Jess’s limp handshake matches her smile.
If my ego is an arrogant roar, hers is a faint whimper. I want to change that, but’s it not like you can gift someone confidence. I wish she could see what I do—that when it comes to the hard stuff, she’s the one who rocks when I duck and cover.
“Let’s talk.” With a pointed look at Jess, David heads toward the front door.
I resign myself to follow. I can’t leave until he does. I catch Jess’s eye over the roof of the car. “I’ll be fast.”
“It’s fine.” She slides into the passenger seat, leaving the door open and picks up her Coke.
David’s waiting on the porch, one hand in his pocket, the other on the railing, eyes narrowed like I’m on his clock, and he’s mentally docking my pay.
“I don’t want to talk about the show.” He should’ve gotten that when I hung up on him last night. Feet planted wide, I silently dare him to press me.
