Page 77 of Out of the Cold

He smiled. “I guess it is.”

She couldn’t resist kissing him again. She meant it to be quick, but his hands came up and gripped her hips, and it turned into something long and lazy, promising more.

She had to hold on to him when they finally drew apart, and she was gratified to see he looked as dazed as she felt. “I’d better make some coffee.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I could make us breakfast with Len’s fancy waffle maker.”

“That sounds amazing.”

Now she was the one recalculating. He was acting so natural, like what they’d done was not in the least a cause for concern.

Maybe there was no need for discussion. They could see where things went. She was here for at least two more months, possibly longer if she needed it. If this was real, they could talk about what came next. If it wasn’t...well, she’d be gone and starting over somewhere else, anyway. No harm, no foul.

She used the French press to make coffee while Gabriel pulled things out of the fridge and cabinets. He plugged the waffle maker into the one working outlet, and before long he was pouring batter into the heated griddle, his face a study in concentration.

She set plates and utensils, butter and syrup on the table.

He slid a waffle onto a plate. “Dig in.”

“I’ll wait for you,” she said, watching him pour the batter once more. She could stare at him for hours, drinking in the graceful way he moved, the expressions that came and went.

When his waffle was ready, they moved to the table. He observed as she spread butter on and poured a generous amount of maple syrup.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked.

“I like looking at you.”

“I can’t eat if you’re not eating.”

He laughed and took a bite.

“This is incredible,” she said. “Thank you.” She dragged a bite of waffle through melted butter and syrup. “Looking the way you do, and cooking, you must have had women falling at your feet.”

He gave a surprised laugh. “I don’t know about falling at my feet, but it didn’t hurt. Angie appreciated it. She could barely boil pasta.”

“You were living with her?”

He nodded. “We were planning to get married, but after Ricky, things fell apart.”

She hadn’t expected that, but she kept her voice neutral. “What do you mean?”

He paused. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Only if you want to tell me.”

He scrubbed at his beard. “I was a mess after Ricky died. Angie was used to me taking care of things—taking care of her—and I couldn’t anymore. She tried to stick it out, but I wasn’t easy to live with, and it wasn’t what she signed up for.” He let out a long breath. “It was a relief when she left.”

“It sounds like maybe you dodged a bullet.”

His gaze, sharp and surprised, met hers. “What do you mean?”

She hadn’t meant to sound so judgmental, but she understood Angie more than she wanted to.

“It’s great that you liked taking care of her, but when you needed someone to lean on, she couldn’t do it. That’s not someone you want to marry.”

“I never thought about it that way. I only know I let her down.”

“You’d know better than I would. But you have to be able to count on the person you marry to be there for you in hard times. Especially then.”

---