He sighs, exasperation painted across his handsome face. “Because I’m not the monster you think that I am. I’m not an asshole. I’m not a cheater and frankly, neither is my cousin. It was a case of mistaken identity and now that we’ve cleared that up, we can proceed with this date. Plus, you need to eat. You said you were hungry—I overheard you telling the hostess when you walked in the restaurant.” His voice drops just slightly but it doesn’t lose the rough edge that I like it has. “And I’m going to feed you.”
Feed me?Why does that sound so suggestive and so fucking hot?
“But won’t it be miserable?” I counter, folding my arms, half-hoping that’ll scare him off. “Obviously, mistakes were made, and you understand now that I’d only kissed you for a job. Won’t this be awkward now?”
“Probably,” he admits without hesitation, his lips tugging into the faintest smile. Then he strides toward me, his boots heavy against the floor, and for one wild second, I have no idea what he’s about to do.
He yanks out the chair that was across from him, the scrape of wood against wood punctuating the moment, and points at it. “But sit your ass down anyway and eat with me through the awkwardness.”
My pulse stumbles, and I wet my lips, trying to decide whether I should bolt out of here or just face the inevitable meal that he’s insisting I have with him. With a huff that I don’t entirely feel, I slide into the chair, my movements reluctant.
There goes my plan to get dicked down tonight. There’s no way this is going to result in any sort of post orgasmic bliss.
Gabriel steps closer, leans down behind me, and grips the back of the chair as he pushes me in with zero effort. My eyes drop tothe way his biceps flex bracketed either side of me as he moves me in place. They’re so strong. I never thought I would be into the body builder type, but something about Gabriel tells me his muscles are earned from pure hard work.
His face drops right next to my cheek, his breath tickling my ear before he murmurs softly, “Good girl for listening to me.” And then he straightens and rounds the table to his seat like he didn’t just say something so wild.
A jolt shoots down my spine, and goosebumps ripple over my skin like those two words alone have the power to undo me. I swallow hard, tugging at my collar to distract myself—only to remember, too late, that I’m not wearing a shirt with a collar. Nope. I’m wearing a dress. A very tight, low-cut dress, because for some reason, my idea of appropriate first-date attire in freezing, winter weather includes a neckline that barely covers anything and snow boots.
Brilliant choice, Alessia. Truly.
It’s so warm in here, and I’m way too turned on by his little, innocent comment that my nipples go from icicles to pencil lead. Gabriel must notice. His gaze drops to where my chest is practically spilling out of myget me fuckeddress.
His eyes linger for half a beat too long before snapping back to my face. And then, as if this situation couldn’t get more unbearable, he smiles at me easily.
“You look beautiful tonight. Let’s order.”
Yeah. This isn’t going the way I planned at all.
Chapter 8: Gabriel
Lately, my life's felt like it's been stuck on autopilot.
I wake up, either ride my motorcycle into the city or take the train depending on my mood and the weather, and head straight to the new building Roman and I bought. Then I spend the whole day there, working until I'm worn down to the bone and my stomach's empty and growling, before dragging myself home to collapse into bed after scarfing down whatever meal my little sister Eden managed to throw together for dinner.
Sometimes Eden's still wrapping up her design classes in the city when I get home, and I end up eating something frozen and sad by myself in a quiet house that feels bigger than it has any right to. Other times, I drag myself next door, half-dead on my feet, and practically beg my other sister Rhiannon for leftovers from whatever she cooked for her husband and my toddler niece. She never turns me away. I'm grateful for that, even when I'm too tired to say it out loud.
What's my dating life been like? Forget it. I haven't been doing that. I don't have the time, and I sure don't have the energy. I've got patience, don't get me wrong. That's one thing I've quietlyperfected over the years, probably out of necessity more than virtue. But patience alone doesn't make you a good partner. I feel like I've loaned out every bit of myself to other people, to responsibilities, to distractions that keep stacking up. By the end of the day, there's nothing left in the tank. Nothing worth offering, anyway.
And despite being the one who sat Rhiannon down two years ago and told her, flat out, to stop running and make room for love when she finally got serious with Cain, her now-husband, I sure as hell haven't followed my own words of wisdom. It's easy to give good advice when you're watching someone else's life from the outside.
Selling the family thrift store was supposed to change things. That store has been in the Carpenter name since before I was born. It was the first thing my parents built together when they were young and in love and still had the whole world ahead of them. It kept us afloat through everything: their deaths, my divorce from Amber, taking guardianship of Eden when she was just ten years old and had no idea how much her world was about to shift, and clawing my way into a career I knew almost nothing about as a fresh college grad running purely on stubbornness and the pressure of people depending on me.
Letting go of that store felt like closing a chapter I'd been holding open for too long. I thought it would free something up inside me. Lighten the load. Give me room to breathe and finally start something new on my own terms.
But months later, trying to launch this new venture feels like wading through quicksand. Roman's been a godsend, handling the sales, finances, marketing, and every bit of business strategy work that I have no business understanding. He’s started enough businesses to understand what works and what doesn’t, which means I get to keep my focus on delivering the new building.
The heavy lifting, the coordination of resources and instructing them what we’re going to do each day, the day-to-day grind of building something from nothing? That’s all me.
Cain has stepped in with legal help more times than I can count. And Eden’s even chipped in on a few design suggestions. She's her own person now. Twenty-two, about to finish school, doesn't need me hovering the way I used to. That part I'm proud of, even if it took me a while to loosen my grip. A stronger part of me looks at her like my daughter. It’s hard to let go and see her moving forward with her life while I’m trying to catch up. Moving into my ‘act two’ of life.
But I’m fuckingdrowning.
Which is probably the only reason I agreed to this blind date my cousin Natasha set up with Alessia.
“She’s beautiful, Gabriel. Trust me. Dark brown hair, natural waves, eyes like chocolate and big curves. She’s divorced too so she understands the feeling of starting over. Don’t worry. She’s just looking for a good time. Not a relationship. I think you two will hit it off. Have dinner with her, maybe break your extremely dry streak, and just have fun.”
So here I was. Waiting for her. Ready to have fun. Trying to break my unintentional celibacy with a woman who seems to be interested in doing the same thing without any sort of strings or commitment.
