Page 58 of Boiling Point
“As are you.” I smiled into my wine and took a long sip.
“Careful,” she said, voice low as she sliced a fig in half. “Flattery’s going to my head.”
“That’s probably the wine.” I let my gaze linger. “And it’s not flattery if it’s true.”
She rolled her eyes, but I caught the faint flush on her cheeks as she reached for her wine. She curled her fingers around the stem, poised and elegant, and I couldn’t help but study her a moment longer—how naturally she moved through this night, how completely she held my attention.
“You continue to surprise me,” I said quietly.
Her brow furrowed. “How so?”
“Well…” I shifted, resting my elbow along the back of the booth, brushing my fingers over her shoulder. “You said you’re not used to dating like this. But you carry yourself like someone who knows exactly what she’s doing.”
She tilted her head, skeptical. “So I’m not awkward enough for you?”
I smiled. “I mean, you’re confident. Self-possessed. Sexy as hell. And I can’t fathom how no one’s managed to snap you up yet.”
She looked down at her glass, thumb tracing the stem. “I dated a lot in high school. Had a long-term boyfriend senior year—we thought it was serious.” Her voice softened. “Then lifehappened. He went off to college. I stayed back to take care of Dad.” She shrugged. “We tried the long-distance thing. Didn’t last a semester.”
“And after that?”
“I dated here and there,” she said. “But as Dad’s ALS progressed, he needed more and more care. I guess I just…put everything else on hold.”
“Understandable,” I said gently.
She glanced up again, her eyes clearer now. “It’s not like I didn’t have…fun,” she added, the corner of her mouth quirking. “I just wasn’t auditioning for anything serious.”
I chuckled, low in my throat. “Well, that clears up one mystery.”
“Oh?”
“I was starting to worry you were some kind of divine anomaly—brilliant, beautiful, confident…and somehow still unattached.” I took a slow sip of wine, savoring the richness before adding, “Though I will say?—”
She raised a brow in warning. “Careful.”
I leaned closer, dipping my voice just enough to make her shiver. “For someone without much ‘long-term dating experience,’ you’re remarkably good at…everything else.”
Her eyes narrowed, amused. “Did you just compliment my?—”
“Technical proficiency?” I asked, all mock innocence. “I’d never dare.”
She laughed—quiet and wicked—and it sparked behind my ribs. Whatever darkness she’d carried moments ago had lifted, replaced by something warmer. Lighter.
“Just saying,” I murmured, lifting her hand to my lips. “If that’s your baseline…I’m frankly terrified to find out what you’re like when youareauditioning for something serious.”
She tilted her head, studying me, that smile still teasing her lips. “Who says I’m not?”
Chapter 22
Gabrielle
Idon’t know how we made it back from Dallas without a speeding ticket.
Or crashing.
Cal’s hand stayed planted on my thigh the entire ride—except when it didn’t. Except when it wandered higher, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of my dress with that slow, deliberate confidence that made breathing feel optional. And I let him. Every time.
By the time he pulled into the garage, my pulse was a drumbeat, and my patience had melted into the floorboard.
