My frown deepens. “But… why?”
“Why not?” he throws back.
“Because I googled you.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” he drawls. “Gonna have to explain it.”
I sigh with a slight eye roll. “You commented the other night had I googled you, I would’ve known you retired in Seattle. So… I googled you.”
Gage slaps a hand over his eyes dramatically and groans. “I swear… that video of when I was twenty-two and streaking across a parking lot was supposed to be destroyed.”
My mouth drops open. I haven’t seen that video, but I’ll be googling him again as soon as he leaves. Except he adds, “Just kidding. No naked videos of me.”
Darn.
“I still need you to explain the point,” he prods.
I take in a breath, let it out, and stare at him unflinchingly. “I googled you, and you had beautiful women on your arm at many events. You’re the type whose supermodel girlfriend invents a cure for diabetes and in her spare time rescues stray animals.”
Gage’s eyes round slightly, and there’s a moment when I think he’s so stunned, he can’t speak.
Then he tips his head back and laughs so hard, I’m afraid he might cause a hernia. I watch him, a low buzz of exasperation thrumming through me.
When he gives me his attention, he snickers one more time and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. It’s just… first and foremost, you’re every bit as beautiful as any woman I’ve had on my arm.”
I flinch from the words and struggle to believe them.
“Secondly,” he continues, “while it’s true I’ve dated here and there, and had occasions to bring dates to certain events, a good chunk of those photos are of me with any one of my four sisters. They love going to fancy dress-up stuff. They’re incredibly vain and love to have their egos stroked in front of the cameras.”
“Really?” I exclaim.
Gage laughs again. “No, they’re not vain. I just like to tease them that they are. They’re wonderful, actually, but come on… you are beautiful, and I’d gladly take you to a formal event and be proud to have you on my arm. Honestly, though, I’d like to start with a date.”
I chew on my bottom lip, a bad habit when I’m confused and trying to sort through feelings. Gage watches me intently.
“I haven’t been on a date since…” My fingers twist hard around each other. “Well, for a long time.”
“Sounds like you’re due, then,” he says lightly.
“I don’t know,” I hedge, fiddling with the collar of my turtleneck.
“I won’t hurt you, Jenna,” Gage says in a low voice, and my eyes snap to his. “I think you’ve been hurt before and are wary, but I won’t hurt you. I’ll be honest with you. Always.”
While I’m still having a hard time accepting his words, I have to accept that they are his truths. I am resoundingly confident that Gage isn’t a player, that he’s not trying to take advantage of me.
My biggest concern is why bother starting something if I’ll never let it go anywhere? I’m not sure I can have a future with any man. Such a huge part of me has to remain private, and I’m so fearful and mistrustful of how I appear that—
Gage leans over and takes one of my hands, which jolts me out of my thoughts. It’s so warm, and he holds me with reassuring pressure. “Stop overthinking and just say yes.”
We lock eyes.
Another long moment passes between us that doesn’t seem as awkward as it did before, but finally, I say, “Okay. Yes. I’ll go on a date with you.”
“And my bucket is filled again,” Gage says, and I blink in surprise at the pure happiness in his voice. He stands from the couch, and I scramble up too. “It’s late, you still have work to do, and I’m going to quit this night on a high note.”
He heads for the door and I follow, feeling completely out of my element yet fascinated by the potential of what he might say or do next. What may or may not happen tomorrow?
Opening the door, Gage turns to look at me, but he glances downward. Not toward my jaw or my neck… but farther south. Something flashes in his eyes, but they flick right back up, and I realize he just checked out my chest.
Mortification hits as I realize in my haste to get out of my pajamas and into a turtleneck, I’d forgotten to put on a bra.
I’m going to give the guy a pass because I’m well-endowed in the chest, and God only knows how they look under the formfitting, soft cotton. Besides, it’s no different from me noticing how good his chest looks in his shirt, which is really, really good.
He grins sheepishly at me. “Let me do some research about a good restaurant. I’ll call you tomorrow to figure out what time I’ll pick you up. Sound good?”
“You can text if it’s easier,” I say as he steps over the threshold.
Glancing back, he shakes his head with a smirk. “I prefer calling.”
“Old school, huh?” I muse with a knowing look.
“Nah,” he says, walking backward toward the stairwell so our eyes stay locked. “Just like hearing your voice.”
I blush hard over the compliment, and Gage spins effortlessly at the top step and trots down and out of sight. Leaning against the doorjamb, I sigh… one of those heartfelt sighs I reserve for good romance novels.
No idea what I’m getting into, but for the first time since the fire, fear is not holding me back. I’m nervous, but I’m more curiously excited about the possibilities than I’ve ever been.
Stepping back into my apartment, I drift into my room to nab my phone from the dresser. There’s one thing I need to do before I focus again on work.
I dial my sister.
CHAPTER 9
Gage
I truly have no idea when I last went out on a date. After retiring from the league last year, I was incredibly transient. Spent a lot of time back home in Iowa, visiting family—hopping from home to home to hang out with siblings. I did some traveling—trips to Costa Rica, South Africa, and a jaunt through Europe. I fucking took an art class—which I sucked at—and spent a lot of time renovating the houseboat I’d purchased in Seattle.
I was busy, but not so busy that I couldn’t meet women. Thing is, I wasn’t interested in a relationship. Though I’ve had my share of girlfriends over the years, nothing stood the test of time. Like I told Baden… the right one hasn’t come along yet.
And now there’s Jenna.
I don’t think many men would give her a second look, not because of the scars. She’s gorgeous in her own right despite them. But she’s complicated, and men—at least most of the ones I know—don’t like complications. They want relationships to be easy and challenge-free.
I can’t explain why a complicated woman has my attention right now, but she does. And I don’t think I want to fix her, because she’s not broken.
Maybe she’s a little wary. She’s certainly had significant trauma in her life, but she’s about the most resilient person I’ve ever known.
And that is what makes her fascinating. No matter how high the hurdles were she had to overcome, she’s a self-conscious woman—through circumstance—who made a ballsy move from the safety of a private life with her sister and moved across the country to where she knows hardly anyone just so she could take a job that exposes her to many people.