Page 89 of If This is Love

“Yeah, I feel so… so…” Somewhere way deep down inside me, it felt like a silent scream was trying to be heard. The closest thing I could liken it to was being trapped in a distressing dream and trying to cry out, but your voice was gone. I’d never felt anything like this, and I had no idea what it meant. I blinked a few times and managed to fully reconnect my mind, and then I saw the mess I made on his slacks. “Oh my… well…”

Truthfully, seeingthatmade me feel about twelve years old, giggling with Michael about the sex talk we’d gotten at school one day long ago. And that was a wholesome little distraction from the strange, foreign, restrained panic lurking deep in my chest.

“Actually…” I gave in to the urge to impishly grin up at him, the tiniest little giggle escaping as I pushed away any thought of the anxious feeling tightening my chest. “I feel like I should do your laundry since I made a big mess on your slacks.”

Gabe kept his hands on my shoulders but pushed away just enough to glance down, and then he looked at me again. A trulydevilishgrin broke across his face, dimples pulling deep into bothof his scruffy cheeks for the first time, and this was hands-down myfavoritesmile of his—even though it was the first time I’d ever seen it.

He closed the distance between us again, settling his lips onto mine for a hard but quick kiss and then he pressed his forehead against mine. “You’re not touching my laundry.”

I snickered, cupping his chin and stroking his short, soft whiskers. “Why not?”

He braced both palms on the table, caging my hips between his arms and forcing me to lean back a little. “Because I made you make that mess, and I’m damn proud of it, and I’ll still be damn proud of it when I wash ‘em myself.”

Dropping my head backward, I laughed without reservation, and Gabe peppered kisses all over my neck. And all that anxiousness just melted right away, leaving nothing but chills covering my arms from his kisses and closeness. Just like magic.

Like everything didn’t justfeelbetter when he was close to me, it just was.

* * *

Baby…baby… baby…

I gripped my hands tighter around the steering wheel and felt them sliding from how clammy they were, my stomach twisting, my words from just minutes ago repeating in my mind.

I shouldn’t have called him baby. This was afirst date,and we hadn’t officialized anything, so I shouldn’t have been calling himbaby.

You hit my spot just right.

I rested my elbow on the side of the door and pressed my fingertips against my forehead, rubbing it firmly as I internally cringed. What thehellwas mymouththinking saying stuff like that, because that was definitely not mybraincoming up with that kind of vulgar talk.

What thehellwas I thinking doing any of that at all?

“No,” I said out loud to my empty car. “Stop it.”

I was overthinking it all. I needed to calm down.

Glancing at the digital clock on the dash, I saw that it was about ten ‘til ten, and I felt so foggy and irritable. These wild people were all planning to go back out and party some more, but I was ready to crawl into bed and wrap myself up tight to hide from the awful feeling tying my stomach up in knots.

My spot… my spot… my spot.

I gritted my teeth and groaned, reaching to spin the dial and turn the music up so Ella Fitzgerald could distract me with herLittle Girl Blueblues.

I hummed loudly along with the melody and stared out at the darkened street with intense focus to ignore my mind as it taunted me with all the mortifying things I’d said and done, and I justhated myselffor feeling like this at all. Ihated myselffor not just being a normal adult woman who could behave like a normal adult woman with a man she honestly...truly...

And once again,whydid I always go straight tohating myselffor something like this?

What waswrongwith me?

Pulling into my driveway, I glanced in reflex at my front porch and gasped sharply.

What was that? Right there in the corner of my porch?

Was that a man?

It was the outline of a man’s form. He was standing there, leaning against the post in the corner, and who thehellwould be hiding out in the darkness on my porch like that? Every man I knew in the greater New Orleans area would be standing in the light somewhere, and they’d alsocall mefirst or send me a message or something about why they were here.

That couldn’t be anyone good.

I shifted into park and eyeballed the figure. It was so dark in that corner of the porch that it was hard to see much detail beyond the outline, but the posture wasexactlylike that of someone who was leaning right up against the porch post to try to blend in with it.

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