Page 72 of Good Guy Gabe

“Because I’m hung over!” he yells as vehemently as everything else he says. But it’s enough for him to drop slightly, to lean his head down to mine and take a breath. “And because everything is falling apart, and I get why you hate me, but I can’t stop loving you or worrying about you or doing what I need to do, right? I can’t leave you to clean up my mess on your own.”

All that adrenaline coursing through me goes straight to my heart, squeezing tight. “Gabe—”

There’s a loud thud next to my head, Gabe hitting the wall behind the mirror. The room is wood paneled, so he leaves nothing but a minor dent no one will ever notice except me.

“Not a mess to clean up,” he corrects himself, his hand with its now bruised knuckles sliding over my stomach. “A baby to take care of. I know you hate me, Joss, I know you do. But this is my baby, and you can’t take that away from me. I have so much love to give them. You can reject my love, but it’s not fair for you to make that decision for them when you know,you know,how good a father I’m going to be. You know.”

I swipe away the tear that’s welling in my eye, that’s always there, that will never stop falling and I’m so completely exhausted with the unending tears that I’m as frustrated with myself as I am with him. “You are. But how can I possibly trust you after what you did? You’re not even willing to give me space, you’re constantly coming over—”

“I was outside!” he bellows as he pushes himself back to give himself the space to wave his hands wildly without hitting me. “Fuck, I’ve been taking care of the goddamn walkways for youand your customersso you don’t have to. This is the first time I’ve been inside, and I’m sorry, but you were the one glaring at me when the fucking ground is frozen and I’m just trying to bust the dirt up so the crew can get this deck going!”

“I mean, I wasn’t glaring at you,” I grumble.

“I saw you!”

“But it wasn’t a glare. Or, it was a glare, but because . . .” I don’t think I need to explain this, but Gabe is staring me down like he genuinely doesn’t understand why I was watching him when he was literally out there swinging an axe without a shirt on. I huff in irritation for caving to this level of manipulation. “You know my hormones are all over the place.”

Gabe blinks and rears back. He’s all over the place right now, and he’s still red, his skin still damp with sweat. I don’tunderstand what’s up with him. I know he’s hurt, but this is ridiculous.

Until it clicks.

It’s only been five months I’ve known him, a blink of an eye, truncated over and over again by the demands of his schedule that has him forever traveling and keeping weird hours.

But an eternity. And as much as I hate that I know this so well and that when I’ve caught it in the past, it’s always been endearing enough that I feel the ghost of that warm fuzzy welling within me again, I know exactly what’s happened.

The big dummy’s had too much coffee this morning.

“Are you okay?” he asks, panicked. “Did the morning sickness come back? Is your blood pressure okay?”

“No, I’m fine, it’s fine, it’s—” I roll my eyes up to the ceiling and grudgingly admit, “I mean, yeah, you elevated my blood pressure, probably, but . . .”

He sinks, dejected, before he straightens up with a playfulma’amthat’s absolutely unfair to me.

Because I feel it settling between my legs.

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t get allma’amwith me like you don’t know you’re a thirst trap.”

The idiot actually lights up like he didn’t know this. “You think I’m a thirst trap?”

“Youarea thirst trap. Look at you.”

He looks down at himself like he genuinely didn’t know this. “No one thinks I’m a thirst trap.”

“What are you talking about? You have a whole goddamn thirst trap club, just like Blaise and Merrick!”

“The Angels? They’re just making cookies for me because they’re nice ladies.”

“Are you absolutely insane? Are we actually talking about this right now? They make cookies because they think you’re the marrying type, so they figure it’s better to get your attention with baking than boobs. Do you really think Rachel went to the game in Minnesota because of the team? She went because of how great your ass looks in the white pants!”

Gabe is quiet for several seconds as he takes this in. He’s quiet for long enough that I’m thinking he truly didn’t know this before and I’ve opened his eyes to this whole new world.

Stupid me, because when I see that grin start to form and those eyes start to twinkle with joy, I get mad. Now he knows all those women are waiting for him to sweep them off their feet. “So, you can drag your lying ass over to their houses,” I grumble, turning toward my bedroom to get dressed for the day. I’m out here arguing with Gabe in an oversized tee-shirt, for god’s sake.

Gabe boxes me in with his arms again. “You miss me.”

“Do not,” I spit out, perhaps too quickly and vehemently to be believable.

“You miss my dick.”

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