Gabe probably shouldn’t have agreed to come on this ride, but every second he’d sat at that breakfast table and contemplated how Eve’s face had looked when he’d sent her away from his room—and his naked ass—he’d felt more like the aforementioned ass.
It might have been morning, but he’d started to crave a shot or a beer—more evidence, perhaps, that he needed to take a break from alcohol. It was hard to sit sober in that big room with only his thoughts for company.
His relief when she’d finally come downstairs had been cut short by the way she’d avoided his gaze. He never wanted any woman to be embarrassed around him. So he’d slapped on his most cheerful persona and went to work. And when she’d asked him to come to the village, he’d agreed.
He glanced at her in the driver’s seat. They’d opted to take her car, mostly because he’d been excited to get in the well-maintained antique powder-blue convertible. It had seemed like an odd choice for her, even odder when he realized she drove it like a grandma, top up.
He wasn’t about to tell Eve how to drive her own car. Still, it seemed a shame she didn’t open it up on the curving mountain for the full sexy convertible experience.
Not that he needed to find her any sexier than she was. She wore tall brown boots and jeans and a button-down shirt today, her hair neatly contained in a complicated knot at her nape. They didn’t speak much on the drive down, which was good, because he had to concentrate hard on many things. Like stuffing down the memory of the sexy expanse of her back in her bikini. And all that jiggling. So much jiggling.
And the lust in her gaze.
It was much harder to forget his desire for her ass when he knew she desired his ass. But after a sleepless night, he’d decided to do just that. Besides, it was entirely possible he’d imagined it. Saw what he wanted to see. Made her arousal up out of thin air.
He wouldn’t bring up ButtGate. He’d make sure everything was cool by, well, playing it cool.
She pulled into the stretch of civilization that consisted of the village that served the locals and the rich people who owned land in this area. She easily found a spot in front of the post office, and turned off the engine. “If I remember right, there’s a small boutique down that way.”
“It always had a bunch of mannequins in the window,” he mused.
He glanced her way when she was silent. Her face was unreadable. “You’ve been here before?”
“Yeah. Of course.” But then he realized she may very well not know. The Kanes and Chandlers had had matching side-by-side lake houses, until Brendan had sold his and bought a more ostentatious one closer to Rockville. Gabe assumed Tani had sold hers when everything had been liquidated, but who knew. “I used to come here with the Kanes. You were probably too young to remember.” And Jesus, that made him feel old, but the reminder was good—that his ass was an old ass.
She didn’t respond to that, merely got out of the car, and he followed suit.
The village hadn’t changed much at all. It was still picturesque and quaint, a light dusting of snow away from being a Hallmark movie.
He took note of the hesitation in her step when they passed the ice cream parlor. “Do you want to get some food? You didn’t eat, right?”
She checked her watch. “I can’t get ice cream now. It’s not even noon.”
“You’re an adult. One of the great things about being an adult is being able to eat ice cream at all hours.”
She tucked her fingers into the front pockets of her jeans. “I’m good, thank you.”
He fell into step beside her as she walked down the picturesque main street. He nodded at the few locals who were out and about. Well used to vacationers and strangers, they regarded the two of them with distant curiosity. “How long has it been since you’ve been here?”
“Years.”
Longer for him. He’d stopped coming on the Kanes’ vacations when he’d hit eighteen. It would have been odd for him to accompany the family after that.
They slowed as they approached the end of the street and took in the empty storefront. “Huh,” Gabe said. “Looks like the shop went out of business.”
“Well, this is a problem.”
“We can drive farther away.”
She pulled out her phone. “I’m pretty sure the nearest mall is almost an hour away.”
“That’s not too bad.” He’d be okay spending an hour in her company, enclosed in that tight little convertible.
“I wish I could order something online and have it delivered, but nothing ever fits me—” She stopped midsentence as she turned and he followed her gaze to a little shop across the street.
“Is that a tailor?”
“Yes. He’s a designer too.” She didn’t bother to check traffic as she drifted across the street. No need—the road was nearly deserted, the summer vacationers still far away.
