Page 30 of Adrift

That’s the perfect opening.

I half-expect Gage to take his chance and get his hands all over me. But instead of putting aside his wine glass, he just leans back and sips and keeps on watching me with this intense curiosity.

“Hence the bartending. So do you really love drunk people, or the tips, or…?”

I find myself chuckling. “Honestly, making sure everyone’s having a good timeisimportant to me.” Gage nods along as I talk. “But it makes it easy to move around and be a bartender. Explore the world. Walk in anywhere and get a job.”

“Is that how you found the job here?”

I shake my head and laugh. “I called ahead first. I really wanted this gig. Came over from Vancouver, and Berty hired me on the spot. One of his friends had just moved out of this flat,” I gesture around me with the wine glass. “Er… apartment, I mean. So it was fully furnished and in need of a tenant. And somehow, I guess I’m still here.”

Gage smiles slightly. “I’m glad,” he tells me, quietly but sincerely.

God, he’s a sweetheart.

He’s obviously trying to say thank you for being there for him earlier, seeing through his toughness and giving him an open space to talk about everything on his mind.

It was easy. Not just because of who I am, or what job I do. There’s something about him that just makes sense to me.

“Me too,” I tell him softly.

I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

But I don’t want to think about that. This evening—and the whole afternoon before it—has felt soft and warm and exciting in a way I’ve never felt before. I don’t want cold, hard reality to come creeping back in.

I have a few months before I have to worry about the future. For now, I want to live in the moment.

“So…” I clear my throat and finish off my wine. “You look pretty tired out.”

“Dead on my feet,” Gage admits, groaning as he sets aside his glass and stands up.

I stand up, too, craning my neck to keep looking up at him. “The bedroom’s that way. I put your stuff there earlier.”

He follows me into my tiny bedroom with its little double bed, and then we pause and look at each other.

Gage says exactly what I’d expect him to say, before I can even get a word out. “I’d be happy with the couch. I was ready for a sleeping bag, after all?—”

“Do you snore?” I interrupt him.

Gage blinks. “Uh… not that I know of?”

“Good. We can share,” I tell him.

I swear, it’s not just an excuse. I might be thinking some mighty distracting thoughts right now, but I do have Gage’s best interests at heart. He’s too tall to fit on the couch, and there’s no way I’m letting him sleep on the floor.

Not when there’s a perfectly nice bed… which also happens to have me in it. But I’d like to think that’s a bonus.

“Are you sure?” Gage asks. Even so, he can’t stop the groan of relief when he sits and sinks into the bed.

“Positive,” I tell him, turning my back and opening my dresser to grab my PJs. Then I hesitate and glance behind me, also not surprised to find that Gage has rolled over to look away.

The moment isn’t right.

Damn it. Despite how much I want this to happen between us tonight… something tells me it would be a bad idea. So I just tug my PJs on and turn off the light, joining him in bed. “What a gentleman.”

“I do my best,” Gage says softly.

I can’t resist grinning into the darkness as I feel my way to the other side of the bed and climb in. “Oh, good. I do love an overachiever.”

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