Page 3 of Intoxicating Pursuit
A smile played across his lips. “Well, your care today has been a gift, and you listening to my music is a gift, too.” He laughed lightly, a smile deepening the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes.
“And not suing me for accidentally feeling you up is another. So, thank you right back.” He looked over my face again and shrugged. “Cheers to being even?”
He raised another of the flight’s sample glasses, and I matched the gesture. I felt like I’d been shot through by lightning, but if he could keep it light, so could I.
“Cheers, it is,” I managed.
***
M y cell phone pinged:
This is Charlie. Here to pick up Gabe.
I held it up for him to see. “Is Charlie your guy? And do you actually go by Gabe?”
“Oh, yes. . . and yes. Gabriel’s only for the stage.” He huffed a sigh. “If Charlie’s here, it’s probably time for me to go.”
Something occurred to me, and I glanced at my watch. “You know, the staff might show up soon. Can you get your glasses back on without it hurting?”
He slid them on gently, easing past the cut. “I don’t think I can bear to put the helmet back on.”
“It should be okay. Just give me a second.”
I got up and checked the tasting room. Finding it empty, I searched for the best escape route, then returned to Gabe.
“Let me text your driver real quick.” I picked up my cell phone and messaged Charlie back, indicating the location of a side door the employees couldn’t unlock. “Okay, I think we’ve got a plan.”
I put my shoulder under Gabe’s once more, braced a hand across his broad back, and stood him up to his full height.
Whatever chemical reaction I’d had to his proximity and warmth before was significantly stronger now. The feel of his solid back, the heaviness of his damp, muscled arm over my shoulders, and the closeness of his torso pressed against mine—it all set my body embarrassingly aflame.
He was still the same guy he’d been an hour ago, but, at least to me, he was no longer a stranger.
He was someone who had relaxed me after countless long days.
His songs had added energy and rhythm to my life and had created so much beauty that it sometimes brought tears to my eyes.
I felt like I’d known him through his music for my whole adult life.
But he hadn’t known me. I was still a relative stranger to him, and I needed to respect that. I tried to keep cool.
We hobbled into the tasting room and slowly made our way to the far wall and a door marked “Staff Only.” I nudged it open to reveal a narrow hallway of exposed brick leading to an exterior door.
The tight space was a former means of accessing the warehouse cellar and was now the location of the brewery offices—and an unfortunate landing zone for clutter.
“I know this is a little snug, but it will keep you away from unwanted attention,” I said.
The door closed behind us, and we tottered down the hallway, squeezing around boxes of delivered goods and a vacuum cleaner left in the middle of the floor by last night’s closing crew.
The dim, confined hall forced us to clasp together even closer, and the warm, powerful mass of his body was everywhere.
I tried to focus on the task at hand, but a highly distracting, tingling heat crept across my skin everywhere he touched me.
In the last few feet of the hall, a huge mop bucket was planted by the door, directly blocking our path.
I braced myself against the wall and tried to shove it out of the way with my foot, but everything was sandwiched too tight.
I could hear the staff arriving in the tasting room and knew there was no going back.
I sighed. “I’m really sorry about this.” Seeing no other option, I turned my body fully against his, held him tight, and tried to scoot us around the bucket.
One faltering step later, my brain shut down.
His strong chest was pressed against my breasts, and the rough stubble of his chin grazed my cheek.
Had I wanted to go somewhere? Why would I move from this spot?
I breathed in the woodsy scent of his soap—pine needles, fresh moss, and resin.
His body was throwing off absolute waves of heat, and my knees all but melted.
But he didn’t seem bothered in the least. In fact, he smiled, no trace of pain in his features for a moment.
“Now, then. This doesn’t feel like something to be sorry about at all.
” He leaned his back against the brick for support and let his rough hand fall from my shoulder to trace a slow trail down my arm. “This actually feels quite nice.”
His deep voice was a quiet echo in my mind, and his fingers left warmth on my skin. My lips parted, and I tilted my face up to his. His lips were just inches from mine, and for the love of God, he moistened them and took a deep breath, the rise and fall of his chest moving against mine.
Then the terrible, shrieking sound of ancient, ill-fitted, metal-on-metal ripped through the silence, and a blinding streak of light crossed our faces as someone yanked open the side door from outside.
“Honey, I’m home,” Marco sang out, his keys jangling. He stepped into the dark hallway, and his eyes adjusted. He stopped short. “What the hell is this?”
Marco was even taller than Gabe, and his smooth, dark hair and sculpted face were set in a mask of disbelief. He glared at our bodies pressed together, at our filthy biking gear, and at the trail of mud we left behind us.
He stared me down, fuming. “Seriously, Sammy, what the hell?”
“Look, I can explain.” The guy was injured, for heaven’s sake, and Marco’s worried about a little dirt? Give me a break.
“I don’t want an explanation. Just get out of here. Both of you. I can’t believe this.” Marco lifted the mop bucket out of the way and pushed the wrenching, squeaking door back open, his lips pinched tight, his cheeks set in a scowl. “Seriously, just get out.”
I had more important things to do than clapping back at Marco, but I would catch up with him later. He had to quit treating people like this. After all, who did he think he was?
Gabe and I managed our way out the door and onto the pavement, where a black SUV sat idling. He put a hand on the exterior wall and shifted his weight off my shoulder.
A tank of a young man with buzz-cut, dark hair hopped out of the car and stared in shock. “Gabe, dude, what happened? You look like shit.”
“Thanks, Charlie. Just come and help me, will you? I can’t get around at all.”
Charlie hustled over, replaced me as Gabe’s crutch, and practically carried him the short distance to the SUV. He planted Gabe in the backseat, and they worked to lift his lame ankle into the car.
As Gabe reached to close the door, he looked back at me, his expression mixed. He seemed to think for a minute, maybe settling on something. “Thanks, Sammy,” he finally said. “Not sure what I would have done without you today.”
“Of course. Thanks to you, too.”
He made a sort of half-smile, the door clicked shut, and the black car pulled away into the distance.