Between the Lines (2 page)

Gabe – 2

She’s a
fucking reporter. A hot one, but a reporter all the same. I knew she was too
good to be true. Then again, she hadn’t written any of the articles that nearly
destroyed Jesse, so can I really hold it against her?

“What do
you do, Gabe?” she asks.

“I teach
English, Literature and Creative writing at Baxter Academy of Arts.”

“Do you
enjoy it?”

“Yeah,
it’s okay.” I’m not about to tell her that it’s the best job I ever had because
she might ask questions.

“Are you
on spring break, since you’re here and not there?” She smooths her skirt over
her thighs. I kind of wish she wouldn’t. Those are the nicest legs I’ve seen in
a long time. Long and toned. Strong and shapely. She’s got to have some power
in those thighs, the kind a guy likes a woman to have when she rides him.

Shit! I
barely know her and I already want to know what her legs feel like locked
around my hips.

“Yep.” I
glance at the clock. “Though technically, since it’s near four, I’d be getting
off work soon anyway.” It’s already four? Mateo and I must have been at the
hospital longer than I thought. A lot of us from the school had dropped by,
taking our turns going in to visit and trying not to stay so long as to wear
Jesse out. He’s still pretty drugged and was in and out of it, but I’m glad I
got a chance to see him. The rest of the staff who came by hung out in the
family lounge until it was their turn.

I glance
back at her, trying not to focus on the sexy legs. “What are your plans for
dinner?”

Her brown
eyes pop open, a bit surprised. “I hadn’t really thought about it. Probably a
frozen dinner or takeout.”

“We could
order something and have it delivered.” I probably should actually take her
somewhere, but I want to stay off my leg. A frozen dinner doesn’t sound
appetizing and I don’t want to be hobbling around the kitchen trying to put a
meal together. However, I do want to spend more time with Ellen.

She
smiles. “I think it’s a great plan.”

“So, what
are you in the mood for?” At this point, I don’t care what we have, I’m just
glad she’s staying because I definitely want to get to know Ellen West a hell
of a lot better.

Ellen
shrugs. “Mexican?”

Shit! Is
that because of Mateo? I hope she isn’t just hanging out with me hoping he’ll
come back. That would suck. “Let me see which one close delivers.” I grab my
phone and type in the local restaurant delivery service. It’s a great app that
I’ve used countless times while recovering from surgeries and was so glad there
was one for this area too.

“Maybe
Chinese or Italian would be better. I’ve just been craving Mexican for so long,
but it’s always a disappointment.”

“Too
Americanized?” I laugh.

“Yeah,”
she says. “Unless you’re south of the border, or at least close to it, it’s not
the same.”

“I should
take you to meet Mateo’s mom then. Her tamales are to die for.” Shit, why did I
bring up Mateo? Now she’s going to be thinking about him and the food she’s
craving. Maybe I should take a few cooking lessons from Mrs. Perez.

At least
I won’t have to worry about Mateo cooking for Ellen. He can’t even boil a pot
of water. If it isn’t a steak or burger on the grill, he’s lost.

“Maybe
you should.” She grin. “But, that doesn’t solve the issue of tonight’s dinner.”

I scroll
back through my phone naming off the different restaurants.

“Mama
Maria’s, Italian, right?”

I nod and
read her the menu.

Ellen
nearly groans. “I hadn’t realized how hungry I was but just thinking about
salad, bread, pasta, some chicken parm and tiramisu makes my mouth water.”

I’m
laughing. “Is that your order?”

She bites
her upper lip before speaking. “I know it’s a lot, but the leftovers will be
just as good. They always are.”

Ellen
could order the entire menu if she wants. As long as she stays here and doesn’t
ask about Mateo.

I grab a
pen and pad of paper off the table and write down our orders before calling it
in.

“What
about Mateo?” She asks with concern.

I wish
she’d forget about my friend. “Who knows when he’ll get back, but I’ll order
him something just in case.” And hope he doesn’t have a chance to eat it before
breakfast.

That’s
not exactly fair though. The only reason Mateo would be called back to the
school is because a kid’s in crisis. Those kids have had enough issues in their
lives and I hate that they’re still dealing with the fallout of memories, panic
attacks, anxiety or whatever is happening right now that they need Mateo.

Ellen

This is turning
out better than I hoped. Not only am I sitting with an employee from Baxter,
but he’s hot as hell with muscles in all the right places, flat stomach and the
sexiest blue eyes I’ve ever encountered.

And he’s
the English teacher? 
Damn!
They didn’t make English teachers like this
when I was in high school. And, I’m pretty sure my English teachers were way
past the age of retirement and women who loved literature. They probably had
fantasies of Mr. Darcy, or maybe even Romeo, while under the covers of darkness
after they retired for the night. Guys like Gabe Kent, young, handsome, blonde
hair, blue eyes, and a body to salivate over, were usually the coaches and
taught lame classes like phys ed or driver’s ed. He can’t be more than
twenty-five or twenty-six and built like a football player, not like a man who
spends his time in a classroom. 

An
English Teacher
from
Bye
Bye Birdie
pops in my head. I sure wouldn’t mind playing Rosie Alvarez to
his Albert Peterson.

Does he
write poetry, read
Little Women
and have an overbearing mother like
Peterson? I bite back the giggle. I can’t imagine this over six-foot hunk of
manliness curled up and enjoying the adventures of Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy, but
looks can be deceiving. My father is the perfect example of a wolf in sheep’s
clothing. Though I’d peg Gabe to be more of a wolf than a sheep, and in a very
good way, unlike my unhappily incarcerated father.

If I’d
had a teacher like Gabe, I would have taken every English class allowed in
school. Actually, I did, but it sure as hell wasn’t for the teachers.

My beer
is empty and I don’t even remember finishing it. Gabe’s is on the table and
from what I can see in the bottle, there are only a few sips left. I jump up
from my seat as he hangs up the phone.

His
eyebrows rise in surprise. “You’re leaving? I just ordered dinner.”

Like I
would leave while he is still here? Perish the thought. “I’m going to run
upstairs and grab a bottle of wine.” I grin. “Beer doesn’t exactly go with
Italian, at least in my opinion.”

“I’d
offer you some, but we don’t really keep any around here.”

“Not a
problem, plus, I want to put something more comfortable on.”

Perhaps I
shouldn’t have added that last thought since his eyebrows rose a bit. I hope he
doesn’t think I’ll be returning in my sexy nightie, though it doesn’t sound
like that bad of an idea, once I know him a little better, of course.

After
unlocking my apartment door, I hurry back to the bedroom and throw open the
closet door. What should I change into? The short skirt was okay for earlier,
since I was trying on clothes in some of the little shops on the square, but I
have to be too careful sitting around in it. Not that I don’t sit like a lady
when in a skirt, but I want to be comfortable.

After
changing and running a brush through my hair I go to the fridge. I recently
stocked some of my favorite wines in here. All white and dry. I hope he isn’t a
red drinker because I don’t have any of those. Not to say I don’t have
favorites, I just don’t have a place to keep them properly in this small
kitchen. Before I rush back out the door, I grab the corkscrew from the
charger. If he doesn’t keep wine around, chances are, he might not have a
corkscrew either. Personally, I never travel without one.

I stop
just outside Gabe’s door to catch my breath and then knock.

“Come
in,” he calls from inside and I let myself back into the apartment. He’s
standing in the kitchen, dumping water out of the ice pack before adding more.
Should he really keep ice on it that long?

“How did
you hurt your knee?”

“Old football
injury,” he grins at me.

I’m not
sure if he’s being serious or not. Some people like to exaggerate injuries when
it could have been a simple fall. Though, he does have the shape and height to
be a football player.

I go into
the kitchen and put the bottle on the table. It’s nice being around a guy I
actually have to look up to a bit, instead of directly in the eyes. At five
foot eight, I rarely come across guys that are that much taller than I am. When
I’m in heels, I might as well give it up. Gabe has to be just over six foot and
perfect.

“Glasses?”

He nods
to the cupboard beside the sink and I take out two wine glasses before opening
the bottle. “I hope you like white and dry.”

“Great,”
he insists as he limps back to the couch. “I don’t see how anyone can drink
those sweet wines.”

“What, no
Boone’s Farm for you back in the day?” Not that I ever had it before going off
to college. My roommates brought it back to the dorm because it was all they
could afford. I nearly gagged the first time I took a drink. Nothing like the
wines I was raised on. Literally raised on. Dad had me tasting when I was
fourteen. He claimed that if we were in France, it wouldn’t be an issue. Of
course, all of those tastings took place at my grandparents’ vineyard at
private family events. Still, I was only fourteen.

“Nah,
couldn’t risk getting caught and kicked off the team.”

So he did
play football. I fill the glasses, put the cork back in the bottle and set it
in their fridge. There’s not much in there. A gallon of milk, about a dozen
bottles of beer, a stick of butter, some apples, eggs and cheese, along with
the various condiments like ketchup, mustard and mayo, but that was about it.
“You guys don’t eat much.”

“My
roommate was supposed to shop this weekend. He didn’t quite get around to it.”

“Have you
and Mateo been friends long, like high school buddies, college?” I know they
work together, but Gabe only told me that he worked at Baxter. I have to be
careful not to slip up and give myself away.

Gabe
frowns at me. What was wrong with the question? I don’t think I sounded like I
was prying, even though I was. I have a story to write and the perfect
opportunity just fell into my lap.

“No, we
met when we both started working at Baxter last June. As we both needed a place
to stay, we took this two bedroom.”

I take
the seat I was in earlier and snuggle into it, glad I put on a sweater. The
front of the house, where Gabe’s apartment is, is shaded and the temperature
feels like it’s dropping. It wasn’t exactly hot today, but I wasn’t
uncomfortable while I was shopping. Now I’m chilled.

“Cold?”
he asks.

“It’s
damp,” I answer. I don’t want him to think I’m really uncomfortable, but I am
glad I put these pants on.

“I know
just the thing.” He pulls himself from the couch and limps over to the
fireplace.

“That
thing still works, in a place this old?”

“Yep,” he
grins. “And, one of the reasons we took this apartment. It’s a nice source of
heat if the power goes out. Which it did more than a few times this last
winter.”

Wood is
already stacked in the grate and all Gabe does is strike a match. Before I know
it, flames are licking at the logs.

“You
should sit on the couch so you’re closer to the fire.”

As it
would mean also sitting next to him, I happily move. This is turning out to be
much nicer than I anticipated. Maybe I don’t need to worry or think about
Baxter tonight. That blog post I’m planning doesn’t seem so important right
now. Not with Gabe in the shadowed room and a fire going, and delicious wine to
hold us over until dinner gets here.

He takes
his seat back on the couch, his thigh against mine, even though there’s plenty
of room for him to sit without touching.

“So, did
you grow up in New York?”

I get
that he wants to get to know me. I want to know everything I can about him.
Especially how well he kisses, but I’ve got to be careful. Nobody can learn the
truth. I promised and it could be dangerous.

“Nevada.”

“So why
here?”

“I went
to school at Columbia and never went back.”

“They
don’t have good schools in Nevada?” He asks in disbelief.