As soon as he said it, she cringed, realizing she’d totally just invited herself to his place. “I didn’t mean to presume,” she said in a rush. “I can just go to my aunt’s.”
He gave her a chastising look. “Seriously, Elle? Do you really think I want to dump you on Charlotte’s doorstep after what just happened? I thought we were past that perception of me.”
She felt the heat rising to her cheeks and finished wiping herself off, depositing the tissues in a small plastic trash bag he held out before saying, “We are. I am. I just didn’t want you to think I have any expectations.”
“Well, I do,” he assured her, dragging on his T-shirt and giving her a pointed look. “I expect for you to give me a shot to prove I’m the kind of man who deserves you.”
Her heart sank, realizing how much her misperception had hurt him. “I agree I owe you that much.”
“It’s settled then,” he said with a sharp nod. “You’re coming home with me. But mind if I ask why you don’t want to go to your house?”
“I don’t want to be there right now,” she told him, locating her cutoffs and pulling them on. She grabbed her bra and T-shirt and put them on before adding, “If I go back there tonight, I’m going to have to face the pictures. And the memories.”
He stepped closer, took her face in his hands, and brushed a brief kiss to her lips. “Say no more. You’re staying with me tonight. In my arms. And I promise not to let you go until morning.”
She snaked her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his chest, loving the feel of his strong arms as they held her close. “That sounds perfect.”
Chapter 15
Gabe kept glancing at Elle as they drove back to his house, still not quite sure he hadn’t imagined what had happened outside the old, abandoned church. Was this really Elle McCoy sitting beside him, her head back against the seat, eyes closed, a contented smile draping her luscious, full lips? Even now, he longed to whip the car over to the side of the road so he could lose himself in another kiss.
Her grin widened. “You should keep your eyes on the road.”
He laughed. “How did you know they weren’t?”
Her auburn lashes fluttered a little as she opened her eyes and rolled her head toward him. She was tired. He could relate. “I can feel you looking at me. I’ve always been able to feel you looking at me.”
He scoffed. “Right.”
“Believe it or not,” she said with a shrug, “but I’ve always known when you were near, when you were watching me.”
He sent a glance her way and tried not to sound skeptical when he said, “Prove it.”
“I can’t, not really,” she admitted. “Maybe it’s like when moms know something is up with their kids. Or when twins know when something’s going on with the other. I just know. Runs in the family, I guess. Charlotte has the same instinct. Half the time she shows up to come to my rescue, I haven’t called her. She just knows.”
“What are you saying?” he asked cautiously. “You have some kind of sixth sense? Are you going to tell me you see dead people next?”
She laughed sleepily. “No. Nothing like that. It’s not supernatural.” She yawned and when he glanced away from the road, her eyes were drooping as she murmured, “It’s love.”
Gabe’s chest constricted, squeezing the air out of him. But it wasn’t panic he felt. It was hope—hope he hadn’t been willing to indulge in until that moment. Was she saying she loved him? How was that even possible? Just a few weeks ago, she’d been calling him an irredeemable jackass.
But, more importantly, what the hell was he feeling? Did he love her? He knew he cared about her, had been infatuated with her since she was that gawky, wiry teenager she was so convinced was beneath his notice. But was it love?
Whoa. Slow your roll, dude.
It was a little early to be thinking that way. Right now, he needed to just focus on the moment and on keeping her safe. Then, maybe at some point, he could get a handle on what the hell he was feeling.
When he glanced her way again, she was fast asleep, her face slack in repose and unbelievably beautiful. He reached out and took her hand in his, bending over slightly to bring her hand to his mouth and press a tender kiss to her fingertips. She shifted a little at the pressure and twined her fingers with his.
God, he was in trouble…
When he pulled into his driveway a few minutes later, he almost hated to rouse her from her slumber. Odds were good she hadn’t slept a whole lot lately—well, judging by his sleep habits of late, anyway.
He came around and opened the door, unbuckling her seat belt and lifting her into his arms. She nuzzled close and mumbled something incoherent against his shirt, then lazily draped her arms around his neck.
“I gotcha,” he whispered, easily carrying her up the steps—not so easily maneuvering around until he could unlock the door.
How the hell did the guys manage this kind of thing in the movies, for shit’s sake?
