Page 58 of Between Now and Forever
My teeth grind together as I stop myself from saying anything. This is none of my business.
So why does it feel a whole lot like my business? Why do I want to do wild things when I think about her with someone else?
It’s a question without an answer. A problem with no solution—none that are satisfying, anyway.
I’ve thought about fucking her. I’ve thought about just giving in and hoping I can make a one-night stand out of it. Maybe it would remove the intensity and let me think clearly.
But I haven’t because I know none of that is possible.
There would be no going back with Gabrielle Solomon. If I touched her, that would be it for me. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. It’s a fact. And with that comes a lot of heavy shit—opening a huge vulnerability that I’m determined to keep closed.
Alaska, here I come, I guess.
“That’s okay with you?” Scottie asks. “You won’t mind seeing her with someone else?”
I step back from her. “Why are you doing this? I haven’t said more than twenty words since we met. Why are you being so chatty now?”
“Because she’s my friend. And friends help each other out when they have an opportunity.”
“And you think this is helping her out?”
She smiles. “You’re a good guy, Jay Stetson. I’ve only met Gabby once, but she really impressed me. What’s wrong with hoping two good people get together?”
I lift a brow and head for the front of the store. “Leave Cupid’s work to Cupid, Scottie.”
“You’re no fun, Jay.”
That’s been said before.
Mr. Thomas hands me my card and receipt. I thank him and get out of the store and into my truck before I’m cornered by someone else.
The encounter with Scottie has left me sweating. Thinking about seeing another man walk out of Gabrielle’s house in the morning, like I see at Della’s, raises my blood pressure.
No one deserves Gabby. I’ve thought about that—endlessly. It’s kept me up at night, preoccupied my thoughts at breakfast, and followed me around the afternoons. It’s not even that I’m just attracted to her. It’s more than that. Thatmore than thatis what has kept me inside my own house. In my lane. Out of trouble.
There’s nobody good enough for her. Who is trustworthy enough to handle her sweet, trusting personality and feisty, hardheaded nature?
Who can be trusted to get Dylan through his rough years and to keep Carter from having a deflated basketball?
Not me. And not anyone I know.
Probably not anyone in the world.
But that won’t stop them from trying. And it probably won’t stop her from falling for one of them either.
I turn on the truck and pull onto the street. I consider stopping at Betty Lou’s for a piece of pie but think better of it. My mood is trash, and I don’t want to be a dick to anyone.
My phone rings, and I press a button on the steering wheel to answer it. “Hello?”
“What are you doing?” Lark asks.
“Driving home from the hardware store. What about you?”
“Driving from one farm to another. I hate it when it’s all wet like this. There’s mud up to my neck whenever I get out of my truck.”
“Change careers.”
“But I’m so good at what I do.”
