She pulled her hand from mine and crossed her arms over her chest. “Excuse me?”
I inhaled deeply. “What I meant to ask, dear Fern, was if you’d please meet me at the St. Paul Grill at six o’clock tonight. I will literally fade away if I have to be without your presence this evening.”
She raised a brow. “Well, how could I resist an invitation like that?”
I yanked her in for a hug and rested my chin on the top of her head. “You can’t.”
She pulled back. “Actually, why don’t we meet here at six, and I’ll have dinner prepared for us?”
“I like the way you think, Fern Ethel.”
I took my Gabe Approved Uber home and was happy to my core that my mother was out of the house when I arrived. After a quick shower, I pulled on my favorite jeans, soft gray American Eagle tee, and burgundy zippy cardigan before making myself some lunch.
The thought of the past twenty-four hours put an inerasable smile on my lips. As if out of a movie, I had a hulky man whisk me off in a private plane for dinner and a Four Seasons hotel stay. Again, how was this even happening to me? Until recently, I was fairly certain my fairy godmother had stepped out for a smoke and was murdered in the alley. But suddenly, I wondered if she’d just gotten a little drunk, wondered off, and had finally found her way back to me.
But, like a movie, this would be over soon, and real life would kick in. I quickly shoved that thought out the window and watched it fall to a bloody death on the sidewalk below.
I was going to do this day-by-day thing and live my life like a wild woman for a little longer. While this wasn’t the typical me, why couldn’t it be? I’ve had friends who had hook ups, and they came out the other side just fine. No scars or anything.
I had the afternoon free and wanted to think of something that I could do for him. Nothing could remotely compare to his gesture, but there had to be something.
Two hours later, Josh the doorman and I lugged my Mexican themed dinner to Gabe’s apartment. I proudly entered the code, and the door opened. Yes, he’d entrusted me with the code into his heart and home. Well, not sure about the heart, but the home for sure.
I’d swung into Party City and filled my cart with anything Mexican Fiesta-themed, and once Josh disappeared, I sprung into action.
I strung up my twinkle lights around the kitchen along with several sombreros and streamers. I threw a brightly colored tablecloth over the table, topped it with rainbow margarita glasses, and twenty balloons in every primary color the store had inflated for me.
I whipped up a batch of Mama’s tacos and gave my bartending skills a whirl with the margaritas. It was nearly five o’clock so I skipped into the manliest bedroom I’d ever been in and jumped into my favorite red and black bikini. Nothing screams Mexico more than swimwear. I topped it with my black sheer cover-up, and pride bubbled up as I stood in the magical Mexican kitchen. Maybe Pinterest wasn’t the devil after all.
At exactly 5:52, the front door opened, and my chest tightened. I’m not proud of the shit my heart has gone through because it’s been cheated, stabbed, burned, and thrown against a wall multiple times, but it sings “Saltero da un dirupo per te” for Gabe.
“Honey, I’m home.”
The words braided my stomach. Home. He was home. And I was in his home.
I shot over to the center island, jumped up, and crossed my legs as sexily as I could. He entered the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks as he absorbed the room.
“Shut the front door. My heart just skipped a beat, literally.”
“Well, that’s arrhythmia. You could die from that.”
“Smart ass.” He let out a warm chuckle. “Look at the beautiful Fern Novotny on the kitchen counter next to a pitcher of margaritas and my favorite meal of tacos.” He popped his brow. “Which shall I devour first?”
My tummy did a twisty thing as he slowly walked toward me, his eyes gliding down my bikini-clad body. “Well, the tacos are hot, but they aren’t nearly as spicy as this woman.” He reached me and took my chin between his fingers as he kissed my lips. “No fucking comparison.” His breath sent chills to my skin before he kissed his way down my neck and pushed my cover-up off my shoulders. “Look what you’ve done. Now I’ll never be able to walk into my kitchen and not envision you right here, looking perfect.”
I pulled him close. “And the tacos, they’re perfect too.”
A little tingle raced up my neck as he untied my bikini top. “Anything you touch is perfect.”
The cool air hit my chest as his hands and lips found their way. After a moment that quickly wrangled up what felt like a zillion butterflies in my stomach, he picked me up. “Is the stove off? I need to have your lips on mine for a bit, and I’m sure as hell not going notice a fire with you in front of me.”
I squirmed out of his grasp. “Nope, we need to eat while everything is fresh and hot.”
He raised his brows as he reached around and tied my bikini. “You know I like it when it’s hot.”
I slapped his arm before I loaded him up with tacos.
Thirty minutes later, we’d stuffed ourselves, and I felt sloshy from the margaritas
