“All clear.” Gabe fills the entryway to my place. He steps back, holding the door open for me. I walk past him, and he shifts farther away from me like I have the plague.
Laura does another one of her whistles as she follows me in.
“Keep your feet off the couch here, Gabe. This place is swanky.” I flip on a few more lights, looking around my place. I scrunch my nose.
“Is it? Someone decorated it for me. All I told them was that I liked white.” I didn’t love what they’d done to the place, but it worked. Laura nods, but I want her to say more. “White is supposed to be clean, spacious, quiet.” I bite the inside of my lip, suddenly feeling insecure. “I grew up on a farm. Living in the city has taken time to get used to. When I make a space feel more open it feels like…”
“You can breathe.” I turn to look over at Gabe, who is standing behind me again. I nod.
“No, I dig it. I wish I could be this clean. I think he’s the cleanest out of all of us.” She points her thumb at Gabe. “Some of those service years stick with them.”
“I guess I should feed you?” I say, not actually sure what to do next. I’m not used to having people over or cooking.
“You don’t have to do that,” Gabe says. That’s a lot of words in one sentence for him.
“I’ll order something. It’s fine really. I might have something here too. Lola was here yesterday and she usually stocks things up for me. I’m not the best cook. Well, unless you consider baking cooking. But when it comes to actual food there’s a lot for me to learn. Not that I haven’t eaten a chocolate cake for dinner a few times.” Oh God, why am I rambling? Gabe is staring at me, not saying anything. If anything I bet he is also wondering why the heck I’m rambling too.
“I’m down for a cake dinner.” Laura is quickly growing on me.
“You need more than cake for dinner.” Laura rolls her eyes. “We’re hosting. That means we’ll feed you.” Laura spins around to face Gabe, who is standing awfully close to me. It almost feels like it’s us against him. “You sayin’ you’re cooking?”
Gabe grunts. From the look on Laura’s face I get the impression that he can actually cook.
Not going to lie. I want to see him in my kitchen. My phone starts to ring from inside my purse. Gabe beats me to it. I smile, knowing that he won’t be able to answer my phone because of the extra level of security I had added to it. Yet I watch as he taps the screen before bringing the phone to his ear. My mouth hangs open in shock until I remember that he had turned off my security alarm only minutes ago without me providing the code.
His dark eyes are on me. “Lose her fucking number.”
“What are you doing?” I try and grab the phone from him, but it’s useless. Not that it stops me from trying.
“Who am I? I’m the man in her life now,” he says before ending the call. I stare up at him in shock. He did not just say that. I glare up at him. He of course looks unfazed.
“Do you two need a minute?” Laura asks. I turn my head to look at her. Her eyes bounce between Gabe and me. I gasp, jumping back as I realize I had plastered myself against him in my efforts to retrieve my phone.
“I’m going to change. Eat whatever you like.” I wave towards the kitchen. Gabe’s eyes darken at my words. What is wrong with me? I turn, rushing towards my bedroom, keeping my mouth sealed this time. I hope I left some candy in my nightstand. I don’t think I’ll be able to leave my room for the rest of the night.
Chapter 4
Gabe
I swipe a thumb across my lower lip, imagining what Catriona tastes like. Sweet and tart, I’d guess, like a summer fruit pie. My mouth begins to water. I take a step toward the bedroom door when Laura’s voice pulls me short.
“You do remember why we’re here, right?” my partner asks. “To protect the body, not screw the body.”
Irritation surfaces at the cavalier way Laura refers to Catriona, but she’s right. My job is to ensure the safety of my client at all times, which means my eyes should not be on Catriona’s fine rack or her curvy ass but on the windows and doors and all other possible avenues of entry. I give my partner a curt nod and step back.
“Check out the bedroom space while she packs. I’ll watch the front door.”
Laura knocks once before going into the bedroom, and I catch a glimpse of another monochromatic room. Catriona doesn’t look like a woman who belongs in a museum space. She’s beautiful enough to inspire art, but it would be colorful works. Like those paintings where it was splashes of color or lots of flowers. It wouldn’t be the grays and whites and blacks that are in this antiseptic apartment. There’s almost nothing personal here. I wonder what her lab looks like. Probably bare there too. Well, she’s either going to love the safe house we set up or she’s going to hate it.