Page 7 of This Thing of Ours

Gabby gave him a tight smile. “That would probably be for the best.”

Even though thesecond half of their date didn’t go as spectacularly as the first. Gabby still agreed to another one, for two reasons. First, their date had some surprisingly good moments that she’d decided she wanted to explore more fully and felt she owed it to herself and to Derek to give it another try.

And the second, she was tired of waiting for something—or should she say someone—that might never happen. She was tired of wearing her heart on her sleeve and not having her feelings reciprocated. If she could get those feelings from someone else, she was going to give it the old college try—pun intended.

So, with her newfound resolve in place, it was no surprise to her that…

After they’d finished their meal and he’d walked her out of the restaurant with her hand clasped in his.

After he’d escorted her to her car and placed a light kiss on her cheek—studiously ignoring Leo hovering in the background.

After he’d whispered how much he’d enjoyed their date and asked if they could please do it again on Sunday…

She’d said yes.

Doubts are a bitch, though. And as Leo drove her home, she had quite a few. She sat in the back seat—seemingly so far away from Leo in the vast expanse of the Continental—and wondered whether she’d done the right thing by agreeing to a second date. Wondered if she were leading Derek on, knowing her heart wasn’t fully in it.

But maybe it could be.

She’d never know unless she tried.

Gabby’s pep talkin the car hadn’t lasted long. All day Saturday, she’d debated canceling her second date with Derek. But in the end, she hadn’t. And funnily enough, it had been the object of her desire that had tipped the scales in Derek’s favor.

To say she’d been surprised to find Marco at her doorstep Saturday morning would’ve been an understatement. In the almost four years she’d been living in the carriage house, not once had Marco come pounding on her door. And pound he had, waking her from a deep sleep. She liked her sleep. A lot. And the weekends were the only time she didn’t have to wake before the birds. Having it disturbed had not put her in the jolliest of moods.

The carriage house wasn’t small, but it wasn’t large either. Single-story, her bedroom was close to the front door. Even still, she had a feeling the pounding had been going on for a good few minutes as it slowly penetrated her dreams until she was finally jerked awake.

She groggily kicked at the sheets, disorientated as she rolled from the bed. Hazy sunlight showed through the window, making it impossible to tell what time it was. She stumbled to the door, flipped the lock, and yanked it open. Even with one eye closed, the other only half opened, she instantly knew who stood in front of her. She frowned, wondering if she were still dreaming.

He stood unmoving, quietly studying her. She didn’t need to look in a mirror to know she looked a fright. Hair a tangled mess, no makeup, more than likely sleep lines from her pillow indenting her cheek, and possibly even dried drool crusting the corner of her mouth. Mornings were not her best look, but as his eyes devoured her, she got the feeling Marco might not agree.

The chilled morning air coming through the open front door started to penetrate her sleep-warmed body. It traveled from her bare feet, up the exposed length of her legs and under the hem of her oversized, baggy sleep shirt where the iciness caressed over her stomach and hardened her already hard nipples. She shivered. But before she could ask Marco what he was doing there, he pushed his way in, slamming the door and cutting off the draft.

Gabby took a few hasty steps back, hugging her arms around her middle. Marco, of course, looked perfect, dominating the room. She watched him as his eyes swept his surroundings. Ever vigilant.

He was, again, in a suit, the color that day, a rich, warm gray. His shirt was blindingly white, its collar encircled with a silver tie, precisely knotted. He was freshly shaven, but she knew that wouldn’t last long, and that by the middle of the day, he’d have a dusting of black scruff covering his jaw. But his hair would still look just as perfect as it did then, no matter how many times he ran his fingers through it.

His eyes made a full circuit, landing back on her. “You went on a date last night.”

It wasn’t a question, but she knew he expected an answer. Straightening her shoulders and acting braver than she felt, she replied, “Yes.”

He took a step closer and even with the few feet that still separated them, he loomed over her. “I don’t want you seeing him again.”

What?

Why should he care if she dated? Unless hecared. Her heart started beating faster in her chest, as she asked, what to her was the most vital of questions, “Why?”

“It’s not safe until we know more about him.”

And her bubble burst. How silly of her to think she’d get a declaration of love. “You want to do a background check on a boy from my school?”

“Yes.”

“You guys are ridiculous. I’m an adult and don’t need your permission to go out on a date.”

“You’re acting like a spoiled child.”

Oh, no, he did not just say that. She took a step back, crossing her arms more firmly across her chest, and said as calm as she could muster, “No. I’m acting like a woman with a brain in my head and not some macho thug who sees imaginary threats around every corner.”

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