Page 24 of One Short Summer

I have no idea what is going on. “So what? We’ve been doing this for the past year.”

She breaks eye contact and shrugs, absentmindedly brushing back and forth across her forehead with her fingertips. “I know. That makes it even worse. My parents taught me early on to take care of myself, and when I’m on the road with my team, we all take care of our own stuff too. We’re adults, after all.”

“Adults can take care of other adults, or at least be considerate of them, especially when they were in an accident.” I walk around the island and stop in front of her.

This is so typical for Monica. Too stubborn and proud to accept help, just like she fought me on moving in with me, and then again for not letting her chip in on the mortgage payments and other expenses.

I’m actually surprised she hasn’t brought this up sooner.

Instead of shaking some sense into her though, I clench my hands, the muscles in my arms flexing with the motion.

Monica’s eyes flicker up my arms, locking on my biceps for several beats before she clears her throat.

What on earth was that?

Before I can contemplate asking her, she chimes back in. “I know, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“But?”

“But it’s one of those things I realized this week. That this thing between us has been super one-sided. It’s like you’ve been my fairy godmother or something like that—the male version, of course. Taking care of me like it’s the most normal thing in the world, without ever asking for anything in return. I feel bad about that, I guess, and don’t know how to ever repay you.”

Wow. That went somewhere else entirely.

Pulling out the barstool beside her, I sit down, wanting to be on her eye level. It takes me bumping my knees into hers for her to look at me, but at least she finally does. “Hey! Remember it’s me you’re talking to. We’ve been sharing a house for most of the last year. That’s pretty much as close as anyone has ever been to me, not that I would do this for just anyone. You’re a very sweet, kind, caring, and talented person. You need to get it in your pretty head that you don’t owe me a thing. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.”

My words don’t exactly trigger the response I intended as I watch the pink tinge travel up Monica’s neck and cheeks before she covers her face with her hands. “Oh gosh. Stop it already. I can't remember the last time I blushed. How embarrassing.”

Flabbergasted.

I’m absolutelystunnedshe’s reacting this way.

It’s also interesting she can still surprise me after we’ve known each other all this time.

Intent on making her break out of this, I peel her hands off her face and hold them in mine. “I just want you to know that nothing I’ve done is special, Monica. That’s what people do when they care about each other. And you deserve people like that in your life because you only deserve the best.”

My stomach squirms at my words, but her flushing skin distracts me before I can figure out why.

Naturally, Monica tries to pull her right hand out of my grasp but I won’t let her. “Seriously, Gabe, stop it. I obviously don’t do well with thisstuff.”

She chuckles quietly though, and a smile finally breaks through her fierce mask.

“Are you kidding me? I didn’t know getting you to blush would be so much fun.” I lean in the slightest bit as her eyes focus on my face. “That kind of makes me wonder what else makes you blush.”

I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience because I have absolutely no idea where that thought just came from, and I’m almost—almost—horrified by what she must be thinking of me right now.

This isn’t me. I don’t say stuff like that.

But when I just stared into her gorgeous green eyes, the color on her cheeks somehow making them shine brighter, I just blurted out whatever was on my mind.

Instead of the witty comeback I expected, she doesn’t say a thing.

Nothing.

Not a single peep. Her eyes are wide, her pupils dilated, as she continues to silently stare at me.

I’m actually not sure if that’s worse than being scolded.

The air between us buzzes with an anticipation that is about to throw me off the chair at any moment now, and I’m about to demand a response. A reaction.Something.

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