Chapter Twenty-Three
I think… I was letting her in. Is what that felt like? To talk to someone and have them actually get it? I mean I was as honest as I could be and she didn’t freak out, call me crazy, try to kiss me, shout my name, though I wouldn’t be against the shouting, she just… listened. I liked it. —Gabe H.
Gabe
“Where are we?” Saylor asked, getting out of the car. It was one of the rare days that I’d actually driven my car.
A car that even Wes hadn’t sat in before.
I usually let Lisa drive it around when she needed it, but for some reason, it was one of those days and I’d decided to use it instead of my bike.
Saylor hadn’t said much when I told her to get in.
Though I had to admit a bit of pride when her innocent eyes took in my BMW coupe.
“Anthony’s,” I answered. “My favorite restaurant. I said fish, didn’t I?”
Saylor froze. “But, Gabe, my clothes. I’m not exactly dressed for—”
“You look perfect.” I shrugged. “Besides, who cares?”
Her gaze narrowed. “Do we really need to rehash that conversation?”
“I was pissed.” I looked away, shame washing over me. “Let’s just leave it at that.”
“How do you get so many girls?” Saylor asked.
I stumbled a bit. “Sorry, what?”
“No.” She smiled. “I’m dead serious. You are seriously the worst smooth talker I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”
“False.” I snickered. “I could charm the dress off a nun — I just choose not to when I’m around you.”
Her face fell.
“Shit.” I wiped my face with my hands. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”
Yeah, or she was going to impale me on the sharp side of the swordfish decorating the wall.
“With you…” I said, sighing. “I can just be me.?
?
“A non-smooth talking jackass with shifty eyes?” she asked dryly.
I winced. “Ouch. You beat all your dates beyond recognition, or is it just me?”
“Just you.” Her smile was wide. God, I’d forgotten about that mouth of hers. And officially looking at anything but her mouth.
My eyes lowered to her chin. Perfect. There was nothing attractive about chins. Except they were attached to mouths and, well, hell, right back where I started.
“Can I help you?” The hostess asked.
“Two for dinner.” I didn’t take my eyes off Saylor. I should have. But I didn’t want to, and it was a day of not wanting to do the things I’d been doing for four freaking years.
So I continued staring.
I was probably going to get slapped soon but whatever.