I also noted there was a paper Trader Joe’s bag on the island with him.
I barely came to a stop when he turned to put the coffeepot back in the maker, saying, “Key on the island. Remote to the garage in the bag. We’re at mine tonight. Come to me when you’re done.”
Painstakingly, I lowered my gaze to the key on the counter.
I’d given into the he’s-my-man, I’m-his-woman thing, but this was a whole new level of fast.
“Gabe—”
He turned back to the island and began screwing on the caps to the travel mugs.
He did this cutting me off.
“Also in the bag is a black knit cap, one of my long-sleeved tees, several pairs of black latex gloves and a Maglite. Be sure you get all your hair under the cap. I don’t think, if you break into that guy’s place, he’ll call the cops, and you don’t intend to take anything, but you might do damage, and that might piss him off enough to phone in a report. So you don’t need to leave anything at the scene. Be sure whoever enters with you has the gloves and does the same thing. Don’t turn on the Mag until you’re inside and keep the beam aimed low.”
Well, there it was.
Evidently, our rhythm was going to be: Gabe was going to be bossy or pushy or go too fast, I was going to have the desire to scarper (even after the beard clippings revelation), then he was immediately going to show me why I should stay right where I was (which was when I’d remember he cleaned up his own whiskers).
As such, I took the key, went to get my purse, dug out my key chain and added it.
He was at the short hall that led to a laundry room and onward to his garage. He was also holding both coffee mugs and the Trader Joe’s bag.
I went to him, took the mug, but when he moved to head toward the garage, I caught his hand.
He looked down at me.
“Sorry I passed out again last night,” I said softly.
His eyes warmed (dang, that was pretty), and he replied in the same tone, “Point of yesterday was for you to feel free to do just that.”
“Can I ask why you don’t kiss me?” I blurted.
His heavy brows drew down. “I kiss you.”
“Not on the lips.”
Comprehension dawned and his entire face warmed.
“Gotta ask again if you were even conscious for our first kiss,” he said, a teasing lilt to his deep voice I instantly fell in love with.
“Of course I was, but?—”
“I got control, babe, but I didn’t have a lick of it that day with you,” he declared.
I stared.
My heart thumped.
He kept going.
“That’s not me. I knew better than to do that when I was assigned to you. I couldn’t help myself. Powerless to stop it.”
Oh…
My.
He wasn’t done.
