Page 48 of The Forbidden

“Okay,” I say, and I feel his body relax. I shut that down fast. “But we can’t tell anyone.”

Gabe’s eyes narrow. “Keep it a secret.”

“Just like back in college,” I affirm.

“But you didn’t want to keep it a secret.”

“I do now.”

He studies me thoughtfully and I know he thinks I’m doing this to get back at him. But I’m doing this for self-preservation. If I can keep what Gabe and I have in a bubble, I can prevent feelings from developing. I can keep things contained and under control.

It’s my best chance of protecting my heart but deep in my gut I know it’s a risk that I could be destroyed, no matter if we keep it to ourselves or tell the world.

“Fine,” he finally relents. “We’ll keep it a secret.”

CHAPTER 19

Gabe

It wasn’t only but a handful of times I’d sneak onto Blackburn Farms to meet up with Kat at the little apartment above the tack room the summer between our freshman and sophomore years of college. But in those days, Kat would meet me at the farm’s boundary where I’d leave my car parked at the edge of an old service road and we’d steal through the night, hand in hand, to our destination. I trusted that everyone who could catch us was tucked away where they should be and there’d be no irate father or brother waiting to lay me low with buckshot.

I don’t have those assurances now.

I drove my G 550 because I intend to park on that service road again and my Ferrari sits too low. I intend to sneak along the same paths to that apartment but I don’t have the promise of safety. Kat has no idea I’m coming and that’s by design. If I’d have asked to come over, I’m quite confident her answer would’ve been no.

That’s not to say she’s changed her mind about us continuing to see each other. In fact, she came to my house last night under the guise of working on the winery expansion, but we spent barely thirty seconds talking before we were going at it in my office. Let’s just say that my desk got well used and it wasn’t to study spreadsheets or investment reports.

We’ve been back from France for three days now and Kat has played it cool with me. She’s not once asked to get together, content to make me work for it.

That’s fine as I’ve got a lot to make up for. But her agreement to spend time with me has been hard to come by and it’s hit or miss whether she’ll even respond. The reason I’m so sure she would say no if I asked tonight is because last night, after our heart rates had returned to normal and our sweat had cooled, Kat let me pick her up from the desk and carry her up to my bedroom. She then let me take my time with her body, getting reacquainted with all the little sensitive spots that I used to own. She let me put my mouth everywhere and when she climaxed on my tongue, she called out my name with such longing, my chest ached.

And after that was all done, she let me just hold her. Granted, I think she was worn out, a puddle of bliss and quite malleable. I forced her to be vulnerable by holding her tight, talking about inane things. Eventually she relaxed and we managed to have a conversation that had nothing to do with the winery, the original feud or our horrid breakup.

We talked about our trip to France and all the things we did that weren’t business related. Charmed by the history, the ancient buildings and the simpler way of life outside the major cities, Kat now yearns to return to Europe and explore. We lay in bed and I told her about my travels, and all I could think was that I’d love to be the one to take her, but to voice that aloud would cause her to shut down and bolt.

So I took what she offered, which was some companionable cuddling and conversation.

Oh, it didn’t last long. She eventually realized that we were talking candidly and with ease. If we didn’t have a tattered history between us, she might have stayed longer.

But nope. She bolted, and she’s been silent this morning. Hasn’t responded to my texts, either inviting her to get together or about winery-related items. She’s even ignored my text asking how Sylvie has been doing this week since she’s attending a horse camp Blackburn Farms is putting on. Sylvie wasn’t committed to riding but they do all kinds of fun things on the farm, and her friend Carmen is attending, the main reason she agreed to do it.

Kat has underestimated my determination though, and as I creep stealthily among the quiet and darkened barns, my eyes adjusting to the dark, I don’t waste time getting to my destination.

Looking up the staircase that leads to her apartment door, I’m pleased to see her living room light is on and her Jeep is parked beside the building. The sconce light at her door throws a tiny bit of illumination down on me. Everything else around me is dark, including the main house off in the distance on a knoll.

The efficient thing to do would be to march up the stairs and knock on her door.

The smart thing to do would be to call her and let her know I’m here.

If someone were to make a list of my qualities, efficiency and intelligence would be at the top no doubt. But I need to do something different, so I’m going to call on a quality that is rusty at best.

Bending over, I grab some pea gravel and start pelting her window. By about the fifth one, Kat’s face appears at the glass and she frowns as she looks out. I can tell when her eyes lock right on me because I can see the flash of irritation from where I’m standing.

She disappears and then the door opens. I drop the gravel, brush my hands off on my jeans and start for the staircase.

“Stop,” she says, and I look up to see her holding her palm out to me. “I’m not inviting you in.”

“That’s good,” I say, halting at the bottom step and leaning my elbow on the railing. “Because I want you to come with me.”

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