“Oh.”
I study her face, watching as she gets control of her emotions and a mask takes over her expression.
“It was lovely to meet you, Gabriel. I need to get home,” she says as her eyes slip to my chest.
“Come home with me,” I repeat. I don’t know what it is about this girl. But I need to be with her.
“I can’t. I … that guy that just left is my boyfriend, I guess. Well, maybe boyfriend is a strong word to describe him. But whatever it is, or we are, I need to be respectful of him. I can’t go home with you, Gabriel,” she says as she refuses to make eye contact.
“Okay,” I say, obvious disappointment covering my voice. “Can I have your phone number, at least?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she murmurs.
Striking out all over the place.
“Can I at least see you safely to your car?” I ask. That gets her attention, and her eyes wander to mine.
“No funny business?” she asks, and I chuckle.
“Funny business? No. No funny business,” I tease as I motion for her to walk in front of me toward the door. I reach around her to grab the door. She may have turned me down, but I still have manners. Mymãe, my mother, raised me right.
When we reach Monica’s car, I grab the handle and open the door for her.
“You’re quite the gentleman,” she says softly.
“Always,” I respond. As I look down at Monica’s face, beams of moonlight highlighting her beautiful bone structure, I’m utterly captivated. “May I ask you a question, Monica?”
“Uh, okay?”
“How old are you?”
“Oh. I’m thirty-four.”
Fuck. She’s over a decade younger than me.
“How old are you, Gabriel?”
“I just turned forty-five,” I answer, and her eyes widen with surprise.
“No fucking way!” she exclaims, and I chuckle again.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You certainly don’t look that old.”
“I can assure you it’s what my birth certificate says. And also my knees in the morning,” I say dryly.
“You look great. That’s all I’m saying,” Monica tells me.
“Is that your convoluted way of saying you find me attractive?” I tease.
“Oh, please. You know you’re good-looking. Don’t even act like that,” Monica tells me as she rolls her eyes.
“Monica!” I hear a voice shout from behind us. I turn and see the guy from before jogging toward us. Her maybe-boyfriend. Great. “What the fuck are you doing, Monica?”
I turn toward her and raise one brow. This is how he talks to her? She gives me a shaky smile as she turns to him.
“I was just leaving. Gabriel was seeing me to my car,” she explains.