Chapter 27
Gabriel
I stand in front of Lexie’s door at precisely five fifteen. I hesitate to knock because, honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to get when she answers the door. Am I going to get the Lexie in a silly dress from the mid-century, the Lexie in reindeer slippers, or a Lexie I haven’t met yet? I suck in a breath and knock.Courage.
I pause before knocking again, listening. When I hear the click-clack of little high-heeled feet, I step back and wait. “Who is it?”
“Gabriel.”
I hear her locks disengage. When she pulls it open, I’m relieved she’s not wearing animal footwear. But, I’m not sure I’m very happy about what she is wearing. I look at her feet first. Nude stilettos with a hole at the toe. Good. Those are good. I follow the line of her shapely leg until it meets the hem of a sort of pink dress that hits her right above her knee. The fabric of the dress looks heavy, with a raised brocade pattern that look like they’re sown with a silver thread swirling all over.
As my perusal continues, I note that the dress has a pleat in the center front. I can’t help wondering if she’s wearing those garters again. Moving up, I see the dress is fitted just under her breasts and cinched with a belt made with matching fabric and a buckled bejeweled with large stones. It has a deep scooped neckline that, I’m not going to lie, makes her breasts look stellar. The dress may be a little snug because it seems to be pressing her ample bosom up and out slightly. I blink a few times as I stare, remembering earlier today, I had my hand on one of those.
When I finally look at her face, her smile is now a grimace. Her lips now in a straight line and one of her brows is arched. She looks pretty even irritated. Her hair is up in a ponytail, but it’s been curled into soft waves. The part where you’d normally see a hair tie she’s wrapped in strawberry blonde hair it to hide the tie ala ‘I Dream of Genie’.
She turns and walks into her apartment. “Is this acceptable?” she deadpans.
“You look… nice.”
Whirling around, she shoves her hands on her hips, “Gabriel, I think I know why you’re single.”
Because I choose to be, but I’ll play along, “Why is that?”
“You have no idea how to treat a girlfriend. How to speak to her.”
“I do too. Besides, you’re not really my girlfriend.”
“Ouch. Well, then I feel the need to help you out with this. Here’s your tip of the day… When a woman makes an effort and spends an hour getting ready to go on a date with you, you don’t show up and scrutinize her outfit like you disapprove, and you definitely don’t tell her she looks ‘fine'.”
“I said ‘nice’.”
“Same difference. The adage applies here. If you can’t say anything nice…”
“So, I’m supposed to tell you that you look beautiful even if I don’t mean it?”
She gasps. I watch her long lashes blink furiously. She drops her hands down to her sides and slowly turns toward her tiny living room. “You know what? I’m not feeling very well again.”
“No, now I didn’t mean that.”
“I think you did.” Her voice is soft. “I’m sorry I’m not beautiful.”
“Oh, shit. Lexie. That’s not what I meant. You’re twisting my words. I do think you’re beautiful. I think you’re one of the most stunning women I’ve ever met. I just don’t get your clothes sometimes.”
She turns back to me, “I don’t get yours either. You wear the most boring ties on the planet.”
I look down at myself. Slate gray suit by Armani, white shirt, matching slate gray tie. “What’s wrong with my tie?”
“It’s the same color as your suit.”
“So? It’s monochromatic.”
“Monochromatic? Does that mean boring?”
“It’s stylish. I like it.”
She harrumphs. “Whatever, let’s go because there’s no need to keep going on about this subject. Let me say this, though, Gabriel. I’m not going to start dressing like those women you usually date. If you want that, let’s end this thing right now. I’m sure you have time to call one of them.”
“No. I don’t want that.” I walk toward her slowly. If I can just get close enough to her to touch her, I know I’ll be able to smooth things over. She’s watching me approach her with a wary eye on me. She slowly begins to back up. Jesus, I feel like I’m trying to catch a runaway cat. “Lexie.” I say softly.’
