Page 7 of Ropers Can't Tie Knots
“If you try to feed him, he might. He’s a wild animal.”
“Oh.” Gabe releases a shaky breath, and while I normally have zero patience for teaching city slickers about harmless wildlife, something about his fear makes me bite my tongue. “Are there, ah, more wild animals around I should know about?”
“Tell you what. Why don’t we get your stuff inside, and you can ask all your questions then?”
He clears his throat with a nod. “Sure. That would be great, thanks.”
He has brought little with him. A few suitcases, mostly, and I’m surprised he doesn’t have boxes of books.
“I thought you’d have loads of reference books or something.”
Now it’s Gabe’s turn to poke fun as we carry the last few bags in from the car.
“The few books I have are at the office, but it’s all online. I don’t own shelves of encyclopedias with case law. I’m not a lawyer from an ’80s TV show.”
He smirks, and I just can’t let him have the last word. “That makes sense. You just like to wear loafers to a ranch like an ’80s sitcom character, then?”
He snorts and laughs. “Okay. We’ve established we both know the ’80s.”
Gabe kicks off his loafers that make me question how the fuck this living situation will work out. If he fills the bathroom with fancy lotions and shit, I might have to change my mind and tell him to leave.
We each carry two of his bags, and he follows me up the stairs. The first door at the top is his, and I enter, dropping the bags in the middle of the room.
“This is your room. It’s nothing fancy.”
Gabe looks around the room with a smile. It really isn’t fancy. It could use a paint job and a new light fixture, but I don’t get many guests here. Fixing it up isn’t high on my priority list.
“This is great, Hunter. It really is.” He opens the closet and mumbles under his breath. “I appreciate you doing this.”
“Not like I had much choice,” I respond with a pointed look. “If Jamieson hadn’t put me on the spot, I wouldn’t have offered.”
Gabe’s smile falters. “Are you always this prickly?”
“No. I’m usually worse.”
We stand there staring at each other. I can’t read his expression, and I give nothing away either. I’ll let him draw his own conclusions about why this arrangement might not end well.
Gabe just shrugs off my admission and smiles, carrying on like we both didn’t just make each other uncomfortable.
“Yeah, well, sorry about that, but your friends wouldn’t let the idea go once it came out. Thanks anyway, though. The housing market in Kissing Ridge is more competitive than I thought.”
I don’t know if that’s true or not, but he has no reason to lie about it.
“It’s fine. Listen…” I might regret this, but if he’s living here, maybe I should at least try not to be a complete asshole. I owe that to Jackson and Riley, at least. Gabe is important to them, and if the roles were reversed, I’d want them to treat my friend better than how I’ve just welcomed Gabe.
Not to mention, my grandmother would likely cuff the back of my head for being rude.
“It’s getting late, and I know the grocery store closes early on Sundays…you’re welcome to join me for dinner later. It’s nothing fancy, but I don’t mind sharing until you get settled.”
Jesus Christ, why did that hurt so much to say? Has it really been so long since I’ve been a gracious host and polite human that it physically pains me to be nice?
Gabe nods quickly and smiles. His eyes crinkle at the edge, and he pushes his wire-rimmed glasses up. His adorable glasses.
“That would be super helpful, Hunter. Thank you so much.”
“Okay. Good. I’ll, ah, be downstairs then. Happy unpacking, I guess.”
Happy unpacking?
