Page 8

8

Jack

I ’ve been an asshole the last couple of days. I couldn’t help it. I was frustrated when Sampson called me about all the issues with Gisella’s car.

How could she have been driving that death trap?

I snapped at everyone all day on Monday. It did get slightly better after I spoke with her, but not by much. It didn’t help that I had a restless night of sleep. My conversation with Nate on Saturday kept running through my head.

Sure, I’m attracted to Gisella. How could I not be? She’s gorgeous. But there is something about her—the way she comforted Tyler after the accident and stood up to me when she tried to convince me not to fire him. There’s just something about her that intrigues me.

For reasons that make me slightly uncomfortable, mainly because they’re foreign to me, I don’t have any of the same reservations I felt with my ex or any other women I’ve dated casually.

When the insurance company called me, explaining they needed more forms filled out and asked me for her email, I didn’t think twice when I told them to send me the forms and that I would get her to fill them out.

I wanted to see her, and that gave me the perfect excuse.

I could always see if she was open to just sex. But she doesn’t seem like that kind of woman and, again, for some inexplicable reason, that isn’t all I want from her.

I blame Nate for the anxious excitement swirling in my gut as I turn into the parking lot of the restaurant.

Stepping down from my vehicle, I spot Gisella crossing the lot to the front door. Even casually dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, she’s stunning.

I meet her at the door and pull it open for her, relishing the shy smile she gives me as she passes. Walking in behind her, I steal a glance at her ass. I can’t help it.

Perfection.

With a smile, I follow her into the restaurant. Having been here many times, I point to a section and ask the hostess if we can be seated there. She agrees and leads us to a booth in the back that’s quieter and more private than some of the other tables.

After we’re seated and order drinks, I watch Gisella nervously fidget. “Do you want to talk about what made your week feel so long?”

Averting her eyes, she toys with the edge of her napkin. “It’s complicated.” She gives me a pleading look. “Maybe we can just talk about other stuff to get my mind off it?”

Her features give away that whatever is going on is wearing on her. I want to push, but I hold back. “We can do that. What do you want to talk about? ”

She gives a little shrug. “I don’t know. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

I raise an eyebrow at her. “So, tell you everything?”

Her sweet laugh slips across my skin like silk. “Touché. I guess, start with where you grew up.”

“Upstate New York. I was there until I was nineteen, when I joined the army. Then I moved everywhere.” I take a sip of my water. “What about you?”

“I grew up in San Diego. Lived there until I moved here four years ago with my ex because he wanted to get into the music business.”

I grunt at the mention of her ex. What an idiot to let her go. “How long ago did you break up?”

“Right before Christmas last year.”

“What happened?” Apprehension coils within me. I don’t know how I’ll handle it if she indicates she isn’t over him.

Before she can answer, the waitress comes back with our drinks, and we give her our food orders.

Once we are alone again, Gisella takes a sip of wine. “I guess it was multiple things. We had been together for five years. And I think we both finally realized that neither of us could be bothered to make the relationship work. We were just coexisting. I was focused on my career, and he was an aspiring musician and wanted someone to go to every show and follow him around like a groupie.” She frowns, as if she’s thinking of something unpleasant. “Honestly, the breakup was just as boring as our relationship had been.”

Relief fills me.

“What about your family? I know Tyler is your cousin,” she says softly.

Thanks to my somewhat dysfunctional childhood, this isn’t my favorite topic, but I don’t want to avoid her question. “Yeah, Tyler is my cousin. His grandmother, my aunt, raised me since I was nine. Tyler’s mom and I are as close as siblings. Her name is Becky. She’s hilarious and doesn’t take any of my shit.” I laugh as I think about my spitfire of a cousin. Next to Nate and Ian, she’s my best friend. She’s brutally honest in the most loving way.

Gisella has a sad yet genuine smile on her face. “I love that. I always wanted someone like that in my life.”

“Are you an only child?”

Sadness overtakes her smile. “Kind of.” She takes another sip of wine. “I, um, was in foster care starting at age four.”

Her answer shocks me. Not only because it breaks my heart for her, but because if it weren’t for my aunt, I would have been, too, when my mom decided she couldn’t take care of me anymore. My dad died when I was seven, and throughout the two years following, my mom spiraled into depression and alcoholism until she dropped me off at my aunt’s house and never came back. “I’m sorry, Gisella. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

She shrugs and gives me a lackluster smile. “It’s okay. The families I was placed with weren’t great, but they weren’t horrible. I’ve heard some horror stories about families other kids were placed with, so in comparison, I was lucky.”

“Families? As in, you had to be moved around?”

She nods. “I think I was placed with five, maybe six. I didn’t keep count. I did have one wonderful foster mom for about two years when I started high school. Her name was Clara. Unfortunately, she was older and couldn’t take care of me for long. But I would still visit her even after she went into a nursing home.” She fiddles with her wineglass. “My childhood is probably why I stayed with my ex for so long. I was afraid of being alone again.”

I’m at a loss as to what to say. Even with having an aunt and cousin who love me, I understand the feeling of abandonment and loneliness that comes with being left by a parent.

As I’m trying to figure out how to explain that I can relate, she says with a look of embarrassment, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that last part. Let’s talk about something else.”

Wanting to ease her discomfort, I smile. “So I obviously know where you work, but what do you do there?”

She laughs. “Yes, you obviously do know, since you can creep on your vehicle. I’m the Controller.”

I don’t admit that I checked the tracker on my G-Wagon long before sending her lunch because I was curious about her and where she was. “Wow, accounting. So you’re intelligent and beautiful.”

A blush teases her cheeks as she rolls her lips over her teeth. Her voice is low and breathy as she replies, “Thank you.”

I shift in my seat. I love the sound of her voice, especially like that. “And outside of work?”

“Well, I bake,” she says, and I smile. I can’t wait to try one of her cookies. “I read a lot. And I volunteer a couple of times a week.”

“Where do you volunteer?”

“At a senior assisted living facility.”

“A senior center? So you do what? Play bingo?” I tease.

She smiles wide. “Every Saturday, in fact. Have you ever played?”

Chuckling, I shake my head .

“Well, don’t knock it till you try it. Because it is quite fun.”

“I will take your word for it.” I know she wanted to change the subject away from her childhood, but I’m curious. “Is Clara the reason you volunteer there?”

Surprise filters through her features. “She is, actually. Everyone there was so nice to her. And to me. Their kindness helped make a difficult time a little more…bearable.”

After she finishes her sentence, she continues looking at me with a mystified look.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I was with my ex for five years, and he never put it together that Clara was why I volunteer at the senior center.”