“You must really like working at Baine International.”
“I love it.”
“What were you doing before?”
He shrugs. “Private security. Events. Some occasional bodyguard work here and there. I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done if Beck hadn’t given me the opportunity to come in and meet Nick.”
I tilt my head. “I didn’t realize my brother helped you get the job.” I’m taken aback, although it’s obvious to me that Andrew and Gabe have developed a friendship that extends beyond work. Gabe and Nick too. “How did you and Andrew meet?”
He gives me a vague shake of his head. “Like I said, I was doing a lot of random temp jobs. They all start blending together after a while. I think I was working the door at some private club when I ran into Beck.”
“My stiff, workaholic brother at a club? I’d pay to see that.”
Gabe clears his throat and drifts away from me, heading toward the kitchen. “You must like to cook?”
“Sometimes.” I follow him into the gleaming, modern kitchen that was my favorite feature in the place when I bought it. “I only know how to cook big meals, like my mom used to make. Cooking for one just doesn’t seem to be part of my DNA.”
“You and my mom would get along great.”
“Yeah?”
He glances at me. “Yeah. She’d love you.”
His steady gaze seems to reach inside me, as warm and enticing as a caress. A soft yearning that goes beyond the physical unfurls within me as our eyes linger on each other. I want to know more about this man. I want to know who he is outside the boundaries of his work for Nick and my brother. I want to know everything there is to learn about him.
In a small, private corner of my heart, I realize that I want him to let me into that other part of his life.
He walks around the large island in the center of the kitchen, back toward the bolted emergency door that leads to the interior stairwell fire escape. “Who’s got keys to this door?”
“Just me and the building maintenance manager.” I arch a brow at him. “Would you like to inspect my entire apartment, officer?”
He slants me a sheepish smile. “Sorry. Bad habit. I should probably get back on the road.”
I follow him out of the kitchen and back toward the living area. As he passes a narrow table situated behind one of the sofas, I see his gaze pause on my collectionof framed photographs that sit there. I have pictures of my friends and places I’ve traveled all around the world, but it’s the candid snapshot of my parents that Gabe reaches for.
“Your mom and dad,” he says, more statement than question. “They look happy.”
“They were.” I move in beside him, looking at their smiling faces. My mom is seated on weathered white porch steps in rolled-up denim overalls and a baggy T-shirt, peeling a bright red apple. Her chocolate-brown hair is gathered in a messy bun, her fair, freckle-spattered face flushed, either from the day in the sun or warmed from the fact that my dad is sitting behind her, his strong brown arms wrapped around her waist, his squared chin resting on her shoulder.
I can still see the love in their eyes as they stare out from the glass-covered image. My heart breaks a little for them, too, knowing that this captured moment in time was one of only a precious few they had left before a drunk driver in town would steal my mom away from us.
“I took this photo not long after I turned eight years old. It was such a wonderful day. We had just come in from the orchard with a bushel of apples, and Mom and I were going to make a bunch of pies. They looked so happy sitting outside on our veranda, I ran into the house and got my new camera to take their picture.”
“This was taken when you were eight?” Gabe remarks quietly, and I know he remembers that I told him about losing my mom at that age. His eyes are tender when he looks at me. “I’m glad you have this memory of them.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
He carefully sets the photo back down. “So, youdidn’t grow up in the city?”
I shake my head. “Not at all. We lived upstate on fifty acres of apple orchard that belonged to my mom’s family. My dad’s still there.”
Gabe smiles. “I figured you for a city girl.”
“I love the city. I love the energy of it, the culture, the endless opportunities you can’t get anywhere else.” I pivot around to face him, resting my hip against the edge of the table. “I’m glad I grew up where I did, but this is home.”
“I know the feeling. My family’s all in Bayside, going back several generations. I like it well enough there, but that wasn’t the life I wanted.”
“Is that why you joined the military? To get out of the hometown and see more of the world?”
