Page 65 of Flirting With Forever
The party was a mess but a fun one. Mak—Finn’s new love—had made the cakes, others brought food and paper goods, and the townhouse was filled with laughter and teasing all afternoon.
“Any more brother sightings?”
Dawson’s low-voiced question held more than a bit of interest.
“No,” Gage said. “You?”
“No, but I did some digging.”
Gage’s eyebrows lifted at that. “And?”
Dawson took a drink from the cup he held and leaned his hip against the kitchen counter. “She’s an enigma, that one. Not many women would give up a princess lifestyle to sleep in her car. Any idea why she is?”
“Was,” Gage countered. “And no. She says her father wants her to take her place in the business, whatever that means. She doesn’t like it that her family keeps tabs on her and wants her back in Chicago. What do you know about them?”
“Corporate accounting. Seems on the up-and-up, but there were a few holdings that I haven’t been able to track. Might mean something, or it might mean nothing.”
“She’s scared of them.” The moment the words emerged, Gage wished he could take them back. He didn’t feel right sharing something so personal about Sloane’s life, not even with his brother. “She says they won’t hurt her, but—I don’t know. Something is off there. Big time.”
“I’ll keep digging.”
“Be discreet,” Gage ordered. “If they find out, they’ll blame her.”
“I have my ways, little brother.” Dawson placed his arm around Gage’s shoulders and squeezed. “But watch your back, just in case.”
A huff left him. “I already am.”
The following Wednesday evening, Gage let himself into the townhouse and paused at the glorious smell filling the air. He removed his shoes and took the stairs two at a time, entering the open space with a curiosity he couldn’t have disguised if he tried. “Something smells good.”
Sloane turned from the stove with a bright smile, but he noted it didn’t reach her beautiful eyes.
“One of my grandmother’s recipes. Chicken and dumplings and apple pie. Hope you don’t mind. I was in the mood to cook. Happy birthday!”
He grinned as he joined her in the kitchen and drew her into his arms, lowering his head to kiss her. He kept it light and sweet, but as always, they got a little carried away before it ended. “Mmm. I don’t mind at all, but I still think you taste better than dinner.”
She smiled against his lips.
“You haven’t tried it yet.”
He kissed her again. “I stand by my words. Are you my present?”
She laughed softly, and he noted the flush that rose into her cheeks, deepening the freckles.
“Your present is a delicious dinner and the fact that I finished the downstairs. You’re one hundred percent organized. Everything is labeled, stacked, and logged both here and at the rentals building. We’re celebrating everything tonight.”
His body tensed at the news and the way she pulled away from him to turn back to the stove. Gage took in the scene. The table settings and candles, the low music filtering out of the speakers. But was it a celebration—or something else?
“Go wash up,” she said. “It’s hot and ready.”
That she was, he mused, feet dragging toward the bathroom because his mind filled in the blanks left by overthinking. He prayed his gut was wrong. Begged it to be. But even though it was his birthday, something felt off, like the air was electrified and a storm approached.
He washed up, then braced his hands against the counter to stare into the mirror in front of him. All his life, he’d worked to provide himself with safety. Security. A means that meant he’d never have to go without again. Money to fall back on if one source failed and he needed another. Sloane had been right about that. About his reasons why and need for control.
But things didn’t work that way with people. With Sloane. Nothing could keep her here if she didn’t want to stay.
And that lack of security? That awareness that he was helpless when it came to her actions and decisions? That he couldn’t stop her if she chose to leave him…
That nearly sent him to his knees.
