gnawed at her lower lip, turning her attention to the table. “He dragged me down the alley behind the club chanting something, and his eyes…”
Gabe poured her another glass of wine. Tegan took a sip and shook her head. “You probably need to know more, but I’m not ready. It’s too…”
“Yeah, I get it.” Gabe sat across from her seething with rage, and he took a swig of his beer, trying to cover the emotion. “This isn’t really the right venue for secret-sharing anyway.”
When he found the Hingo demon who did this to her he was going to enjoy killing him. He’d witnessed firsthand that the woman across from him was tough, a warrior, but that demon had left her shaken, her eyes veiled in fear. He’d make sure he died a slow, painful death.
“Let’s talk about something else.” The H&M bag sat on the seat next to him, and he grinned. “Like what time we’re supposed to be at the party.”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
He shook his head, relieved to see color return to her cheeks again. “Never.”
She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “If I agree to this—and that’s a huge if —then we need some ground rules.”
He rested his forearms on the edge of the table, leaning toward her. “Go for it.”
“First,” she said, holding up a finger with a rebellious sparkle to her eyes. This was the warrior he was growing too fond of. “If my mom asks how we met, I’m your karate instructor. My mom still lacks faith in my business, so if nothing else, she’ll realize I do have real students. She doesn’t need to know most of them are under ten years old.”
He nodded. “You got it.”
“Two: my mother will connect the dots herself, so we don’t need to outright lie to her or shock her with a public display of affection, okay? If she jumps to the wrong conclusion that we’re dating, then it’s her problem.”
“And no mentioning I’m a PI and currently under your employ, I gather?”
“Exactly.” She took a bite of pizza.
“So I guess calling you ‘pumpkin’ is out of the question?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Definitely!” She shook her head. “In fact, even after the party, you never get to call me ‘pumpkin.’”
“Deal.” He offered his hand across the table to shake on it, but she hesitated. When she finally did take his hand, her gaze met his. For the first time since he met this woman, he noticed a hint of trust in her eyes.
“Thanks for letting me come with you.”
She set her fork down. “Just doing your job, right?”
She slid out of the booth, leaving him behind, wishing it could be more.
Chapter Five
To say Gabe cleaned up nice would be a huge understatement. Tegan came out of her bathroom to find him wearing his new black jeans—which fit him just right in all the right places—with a tight black T-shirt. He reached for the brick-red button-down, every muscle in his arm tense, making it tough to pry her gaze off of him.
He noticed her, then, hopefully having missed the gawking, and smiled. “You look beautiful.”
Heat flushed her cheeks. Tegan looked down at her halter dress, hoping to hide the blush. She’d never worn this one. She usually wore pants or shorts. In her line of work she didn’t usually have an occasion for anything fancier, but the moment she tried on this dress, she had to buy it. The deep teal color complemented her skin, and the wide tie that wrapped behind her neck covered her scar perfectly. She even put on a little mascara, eyeliner, and lip gloss.
“Thank you.” She allowed herself to peer over at him again.
Gabe slipped the dress shirt over the tee and rolled the sleeves partway up his forearms. “What do you think, buttoned or unbuttoned?”
She imagined sliding her hands up his torso, feeling his muscles respond through the T-shirt and blurted out. “Unbuttoned.” She cleared her throat, reining in the attraction a notch, and shrugged. “But whatever you want is fine.”
He flashed her a
Gabe poured her another glass of wine. Tegan took a sip and shook her head. “You probably need to know more, but I’m not ready. It’s too…”
“Yeah, I get it.” Gabe sat across from her seething with rage, and he took a swig of his beer, trying to cover the emotion. “This isn’t really the right venue for secret-sharing anyway.”
When he found the Hingo demon who did this to her he was going to enjoy killing him. He’d witnessed firsthand that the woman across from him was tough, a warrior, but that demon had left her shaken, her eyes veiled in fear. He’d make sure he died a slow, painful death.
“Let’s talk about something else.” The H&M bag sat on the seat next to him, and he grinned. “Like what time we’re supposed to be at the party.”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
He shook his head, relieved to see color return to her cheeks again. “Never.”
She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “If I agree to this—and that’s a huge if —then we need some ground rules.”
He rested his forearms on the edge of the table, leaning toward her. “Go for it.”
“First,” she said, holding up a finger with a rebellious sparkle to her eyes. This was the warrior he was growing too fond of. “If my mom asks how we met, I’m your karate instructor. My mom still lacks faith in my business, so if nothing else, she’ll realize I do have real students. She doesn’t need to know most of them are under ten years old.”
He nodded. “You got it.”
“Two: my mother will connect the dots herself, so we don’t need to outright lie to her or shock her with a public display of affection, okay? If she jumps to the wrong conclusion that we’re dating, then it’s her problem.”
“And no mentioning I’m a PI and currently under your employ, I gather?”
“Exactly.” She took a bite of pizza.
“So I guess calling you ‘pumpkin’ is out of the question?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Definitely!” She shook her head. “In fact, even after the party, you never get to call me ‘pumpkin.’”
“Deal.” He offered his hand across the table to shake on it, but she hesitated. When she finally did take his hand, her gaze met his. For the first time since he met this woman, he noticed a hint of trust in her eyes.
“Thanks for letting me come with you.”
She set her fork down. “Just doing your job, right?”
She slid out of the booth, leaving him behind, wishing it could be more.
Chapter Five
To say Gabe cleaned up nice would be a huge understatement. Tegan came out of her bathroom to find him wearing his new black jeans—which fit him just right in all the right places—with a tight black T-shirt. He reached for the brick-red button-down, every muscle in his arm tense, making it tough to pry her gaze off of him.
He noticed her, then, hopefully having missed the gawking, and smiled. “You look beautiful.”
Heat flushed her cheeks. Tegan looked down at her halter dress, hoping to hide the blush. She’d never worn this one. She usually wore pants or shorts. In her line of work she didn’t usually have an occasion for anything fancier, but the moment she tried on this dress, she had to buy it. The deep teal color complemented her skin, and the wide tie that wrapped behind her neck covered her scar perfectly. She even put on a little mascara, eyeliner, and lip gloss.
“Thank you.” She allowed herself to peer over at him again.
Gabe slipped the dress shirt over the tee and rolled the sleeves partway up his forearms. “What do you think, buttoned or unbuttoned?”
She imagined sliding her hands up his torso, feeling his muscles respond through the T-shirt and blurted out. “Unbuttoned.” She cleared her throat, reining in the attraction a notch, and shrugged. “But whatever you want is fine.”
He flashed her a
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