Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
I have no idea how to respond to that, so I just squeeze his hand and climb into the SUV.
The drive back is quiet, but it’s a comfortable quiet, the kind that comes after a perfect day. I catch Gabe glancing over at me, and I can tell he wants to say something, but he lets it go. When we pull up to #1 Love Place, he opens my door and helps me out like an old-school gentleman.
We ride the elevator up, and as soon as we step into the eighth-floor hallway, I feel the butterflies take flight again. Gabe follows me to my door, then stops, hands in his pockets.
“Thank you for the wonderful day.” I smile up at him. Before I’m able to stop myself, I go up on my toes and kiss him, right there in my doorway. Gabe kisses me back, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second. His hands cup my face, and for a moment, the whole world drops away.
When we finally break apart, I can’t stop smiling. “So, what’s next?”
He leans in, forehead resting against mine. “Dinner at my place. Tonight. No pizza this time—I want to cook for you.”
“I’d love to,” I tell him.
His smile is pure sin. “How about seven?”
I nod too fast and try to play it off. “I’ll be there.”
“Fair warning.” He winks, and I almost swoon right there in the hallway. “My lasagna will blow your mind.” He lets his eyes drag over me, slow and deliberate, like he’s imagining me naked under my leggings and cardigan. Honestly, maybe he is.
My brain goes totally blank. “I can’t wait. See you at seven.”
He kisses me once more, quick and sweet, then heads down the hall toward the elevator. I watch him go, my heart doing its best to break the land-speed record.
CHAPTER EIGHT
GABRIEL
Tonight, I’m winging it, but my endgame is stealing Alice’s goddamn heart.
On autopilot, I throw together my grandmother’s lasagna recipe. I layer noodles, ricotta, mozzarella, and sauce. My hands move fast, muscle memory from years of watching Nonna do it the old-fashioned way, but my brain is a fucking train wreck. All I can think about is Alice. Her laugh. Her mouth. The way she looks at me like she wants to murder me one second and kiss me senseless the next.
I want her so bad I can barely breathe.
The lasagna hits the oven, and I scrub down my kitchen like Nonna herself is going to see it. Then I check the time and see she’ll be here in eight minutes. The anticipation is making me insane.
When the elevator pings, my heart jackhammers against my ribs. I open the door to find Alice standing in the hallway, clutching a white pastry box like a shield, and wearing a black long-sleeve T-shirt and gray yoga pants. Her hair is down—soft, loose, and curling around her face in a way that makes my hands ache to touch it. She gives me a shy wave and a smile that could topple empires.
“Hey,” she says, voice bright.
“Hey, yourself. Come in.” The words barely make it out of my mouth. My brain just… stalls.
She breezes in, sidestepping me like she owns the room. Her gaze sweeps the penthouse, wide and electric, drinking in every inch. “Nice place.”
“Thank you,” I tell her as I shut the door behind us. I can’t look away from her. The way she moves, it’s like every step is precise, head held high, confidence stitched into her spine. Still, her eyes flicker over everything, hungry and alert, taking stock of every detail. “Mrs. Winters made me promise to tell her all about it.” She turns to me and winks.
“I didn’t know you were friends with Mrs. Winters.” I laugh.
“I wouldn’t call us friends. More like she’s the building gossip who’s trying to use me to get all the good gossip.”
“Oh, really?” I worry about what others think of me. Anyone except Alice, that is. “What did Mrs. Winters have to say about me?”
Alice turns to me and bites her lip. “Well, she told me you bought the penthouse from the past tenant when he fell in love and got married.”
“That’s true.” Oliver Burkhardt, a business acquaintance, offered it to me for a steal, and I jumped at the chance to buy the best penthouse in Worthington Hills. “What else did she tell you?”
“That you don’t really talk to anyone in the building.” Also true. Until I met Alice, I didn’t really feel the need to interact with anyone. “And you bought all the apartments on the ninth floor so your security staff could live onsite.” Damn. The building grapevine is on it, I think, as she continues. “And you’re hot but grumpy. Which I found out for myself.” My girl winks at me.
I arch an eyebrow at her. "When have I been grumpy with you?"