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I try to concentrate on his voice and the words he’s saying, but the moment his lips brush my ear, I lose all my brain cells.
“It would be a waste to deny ourselves what we both want,” he continues. “And trust me, I know you want this. You’re just afraid to let go. But you don’t have to be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you. I’m not Justin.”
I freeze. He just said the only word that could sober me up in an instant. Justin. No matter that tonight finally confirmed I’m 100 per cent over my ex. The emotional scars he left on me will never disappear. I never want to feel that humiliated, helpless, or powerless again. And the only way to keep safe from all those things is to not kiss a man who could hurt me a thousand times worse than Justin ever did.
I push Gabriel backward and wiggle away from the prison of his arms. “Sorry, I can’t.”
MGM doesn’t fight me. He lets me go without putting up a struggle. We face each other from across the patio. His face is tense, his jaw clenched. “Tell me, Blake, am I paying for another man’s sins? What number did he pull on you?”
“I’m not interested in discussing my ex with you.” I take the towel off my shoulders and hand it to him. “Thank you for this, but I’d better be on my way.”
Gabriel takes the towel but blocks my path to the steps. “You’re changing into a dry sweater first and I’m walking you to your cabin.” His authoritative tone doesn’t admit retorts.
“Fine,” I say.
I wait for him as he goes inside and returns a minute later with one of his sweaters. He holds it up for me while also keeping the door open for me to go in and change.
“I’ll wait out here,” he clarifies.
Inside, I remove my sweater and put on his pullover. The thing is ridiculously large for me—I have to roll up the sleeves to fit my hands through the holes—but it’s cozy and warm, and it smells like Gabriel.
Once I’m adjusted, I exit the cabin and lift my chin at him as if to ask, happy now?
MGM glares at me, signaling he’s far from happy. Taut-lipped, he gestures to the porch steps as if to say, ladies first.
The rain has stopped, but the night is still on the chilly side. I precede him down the dirt trail until we reach a fork in the road.
“What’s your cabin number?” MGM asks, rolling on the balls of his feet.
“Three hundred and forty-five,” I reply. Then, striving to make conversation, I add, “Aren’t you going to get lost?”
After the almost kiss, the atmosphere between us has become awkward.
“Don’t worry, I’ll spread breadcrumbs.”
“I don’t see any bread in your hands.”
Exasperated, Gabriel shows me his phone. “I put a pin for the cabin position in the map app, I won’t get lost.”
“Okay.”
He now uses his flashlight to illuminate the road and, after what feels like a million turns, we reach my cabin.
I pause before the steps. “Thank you for walking me home and for the sweater.” I pull nervously at the fabric. “I’ll return it tomorrow.”
His only answer is a terse nod, but he doesn’t leave right away. He stares at me with a hard look I can feel burning a hole between my shoulders even as I turn away and hop up the porch steps.
I pause at the cabin door, looking at him again. “Goodnight, I guess.”
“Goodnight,” he says, without moving.
He’s waiting for me to get in safely, so I open the door and disappear inside, shutting it quickly behind me.
With my back turned to the door, I lean against it and take a minute to gather my thoughts. I’m torn between relief and regret that we didn’t kiss.
But as I get under the covers wearing only Gabriel’s sweater, regret takes over.
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