Page 12 of Finding Home

Finally, at 2:30, he called it.

“You weren’t lying,” he said, walking up to her and tugging the towel she’d been using out of her hands, signaling that they were done for the night. “You know your way around a bar.”

A smug smile lifted her lips, and it was all he could do not to drag her into him and wipe it right off her mouth with his own.

“I’m not in the habit of lying,” she countered, her deep-brown eyes sparkling with humor. But no sooner had he absorbed the way her face lit up than something shifted in her eyes, her gaze dipping to the floor, her pretty smile faltering.

Okay. His earlier curiosity niggled back to life. Something was definitely up there. The urge to probe was strong. Fuck, why did she have to be so intriguing?

“So, you worked at a bar in college?” he asked, caving under the weight of wanting to learn more about her. If he could admit he was wrong about her, then he at least wanted to know her truth.

She looked back into his eyes. Whatever moment she’d had with the floor was over. “Yep. Three years at a bar near the campus. Helped subsidize my partial scholarships.”

Gabe held her gaze, tilting his head, assessing. He deliberated his next question carefully, then, deciding he wanted it out there between them, he said, “Your dad is Walter Morgan, isn’t he?”

As he predicted, Hope’s back went up. Literally. She straightened to her full height, which was above average for a woman, and because he was no shrimp himself, she came right up to his chin.

Her eyes glittered, battle ready. “Yeah, so?” She crossed her arms in a defensive gesture and took a big step backward, closing herself off from him.

Not so fast, sweetheart. He took a deliberate, but slow step toward her. She held her ground, which he took as a good sign. She could turn her back on him, tell him to go to hell, mind his own business, fuck off, any number of things really, but she didn’t. She stood rooted in place, eyes blazing.

It impressed him.Sheimpressed him.

“So, it seems strange to me that a man like Walter Morgan, construction and business genius, would let his precious daughter sling liquor bottles so she could pay tuition.”

After a brief pause, Hope bit out, “If you must know, he wasn’t on board with the idea. In fact, both my parents hated it. But…” She shrugged like it was an insignificant part of her past, which Gabe had the distinct feeling it was not. “I was determined to make it on my own.” She raised her chin and said with utter resolve, “I still am.”

Then her pretty lips spread into that wide smile, the fire in her eyes softening into a sweet, pleading, melted-chocolate look. The overall effect hit him square in the chest with a blast of heat that went directly south.

“Which is why I need a job,” she said. “Bartending. For you.”

Gabe stared at her, waiting for the punch line. When her smile stayed plastered in place, he realized she wasn’t joking. He let out a hard laugh and turned his back on her—and the smile he was damn sure many a man couldn’t and didn’t resist. “No,” he said firmly, as he walked around the bar to start his lock-up routine.

Her hand came around his forearm with an impressive grip, and he stopped what he was doing to look at where she touched him. Heat sizzled from his arm to his groin. Christ, this woman might be the end of him.

“I’m sorry.” She said, removing her hand quickly, completely unaware of how his body had responded to her touch. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.” She sighed heavily. “Look, I know you think that I am the spoiled princess daughter of a wealthy man who is going through her wild disobedient phase.”

Now it was Gabe’s turn to cross his arms, not liking at all that his judgments of her had been so easy to read, but not ready to admit she wasn’t totally off base either.

Hope rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen the way you look at me—like you can’t be bothered to give my charmed little rich life the time of day.”

Then you’re not looking hard enough, princess. Because more and more he was looking at her like he’d be happy to give her a lot of his time of day—and night.

“I get it. You think we’re worlds apart. But we’re not, Gabe. I’m actually a lot like you.”

He snorted at that.Not likely. She was sweet, vulnerable, kind to the bone, and optimistic. He was her opposite on all four counts. And more.

“I am,” she insisted. “I want a chance to prove to my family, but mostly to myself, that I can take care of myself. That I can build a life for myself without needing to depend on anyone.” Her warm brown eyes melted into his. “Can you understand that?”

Damn it. Yes. He could. More than she realized.

His mother died when he was eleven. After that, his sister, Lori, who was five years older, swept in and took over the role of caretaker. His dad worked his ass off to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. Together, his sister and father made sure they had enough of their shit together so that Gabe’s teen years could unfold as normally as possible. He had thanked them by being the biggest pain in the ass he could be. He remembered, vividly, the fights with Lori over his general disobedience. The long looks of disappointment and weariness he’d get from his dad while they’d have a fight, which usually ended with Gabe slamming the door and taking off for hours without anyone knowing where he was.

His sister and father just wanted to make the best life they could for him in the absence of a nurturing maternal figure. But what they couldn’t see was how all their hovering and rules and regimens only made him miss his mom more. And in turn made him act out more. Looking back at how he’d behaved, he didn’t know why his father and sister still talked to him.

By the time he turned eighteen, he was so sick of his sister’s mother-hen routine, and his dad’s quiet but watchful eye, that all he wanted to do was break free and have a life of his own. He moved out, took odd jobs for a while, got up to a lot of no good, then eventually took a few business classes at the local college and got it into his head to buy the bar and make a living out of its success.

What he hadn’t realized was how much work would go into making it a success, or how much it would ultimately cost him. Never in a million years would he have guessed he’d be in the situation he was in right now, but one thing he did know was that he could relate to wanting to make a life for himself, to hell with what anyone who loved him had to say about it.

---