“Are you going to get to what you want, or am I supposed to guess?”
He shook his head. “No, no, I’m sorry. I don’t want to waste your time.” He paused again. “The thing is, Crys—” He cleared his throat. “The thing is, because of my history, which it sounds like you know a little bit about, I, uh, find it difficult to tolerate … closeness.” Two pink spots appeared on his cheekbones. Was he blushing? God, I didn’t even know men could blush. As if my opinion of him mattered somehow. Something small and warm moved through me, something I had little idea how to identify.
“Closeness?” I frowned, uncomfortable with the softness in my tone.
He pressed his lips together, the color in his cheeks increasing. “I find it difficult to get physically close to people. Or rather, I find it emotionally distressing. Uh …” He laughed softly, an embarrassed sound. “God, this didn’t sound so pitiful in my head.” He looked somewhere behind me. “Or maybe it did. Maybe it’s just worse hearing it out loud.”
“What is it I can do for you exactly, sugar?” My voice still sounded soft. Helplessly, my heart squeezed, and I felt a shiver of compassion run through me for the way Gabriel was struggling in front of me. The unfamiliar emotion unbalanced me, and I drew myself up straighter.
“Gabriel,” he corrected.
“Okay, what is it I can do for you, Gabe?” He didn’t smile with his mouth, but his eyes squinted slightly as if he was. But then the lines around his eyes smoothed out, and I wondered if that had been a sort of smile, or just my imagination.
“You can help me practice being touched by a woman. Getting comfortable with someone in my personal space.”
I blinked at him as he looked down at his hands in his lap. “You want me to help you with that?”
His gaze met mine and I saw that gentleness there again—hope—and something about that expression aimed right at me made me feel good and … needed. For the bare glimmer of a moment, it made me feel as if he saw more in me than just the piece of ass all the other men who came to this club viewed me as.
“I’ll pay you, obviously. It would be an after-hours job, nothing more. You wouldn’t even have to take your clothes off.”
You wouldn’t even have to take your clothes off.
His words brought me up cold, snapping me back to reality, reminding me that he saw me exactly as other men did, in fact exactly as I was. With my defenses firmly back in place, I stood, picking up the keys next to me on the settee, tossing them his way. He caught them with one hand. “Listen, as much as I hate to turn down a paying gig, I’m no therapist, okay? You want to learn how to touch someone, get a girlfriend. You’re a good-looking guy. I’m sure there are plenty of sweet, wholesome girls who wouldn’t mind you practicing on them for free.”
He stood, too. “I’ve insulted you.”
I laughed. “Sugar, I can’t be insulted.”
“Everyone can be insulted.” Regret laced his tone. He put his hands in his pockets and tilted his head in that way of his, his hair falling over his forehead again. My fingers twitched to smooth it away from his eyes. What is wrong with me?
I felt my skin prickling with unease. Everything about Gabriel made me feel uneasy. I needed him to leave. “You don’t know me, Gabe. Thanks for the job offer, but I’m going to decline. I do wish you luck with your little problem. Ten minutes is up.”
He sighed, not moving. “I really am sorry. God, this didn’t go the way I meant it to.”
“I’m sure it didn’t.” I held the door open.
Outside, Anthony was sitting in a chair, wrapping a bandage around his injured hand. “Things kosher?”
I nodded jerkily as Gabriel moved past me. He stopped when he crossed the threshold and turned back to me. “I really am sorry,” he said.
I crossed my arms over my chest, my eyes meeting his. Standing this close, I could see that his eyes were hazel with striations of copper. His lashes were thick and lush, curled up slightly—lashes any girl would kill for.
I took a small step back, putting even more distance between us, and blew out a breath. “It’s fine. Really. Good luck again.”
He started to turn away but then looked back. “Can I just ask one more question?”
I moved from one leg to the other. “Sure.”
“What were you thinking when you looked at me from the stage? When our eyes met.”
I frowned slightly, about to deny I’d been thinking anything at all but deciding it didn’t matter at that point. I’d never see him again. “I was thinking you didn’t belong here.” And I’d been right.
He paused, his expression enigmatic as his eyes moved over my face. “Huh. Funny,” he finally murmured. “I was thinking the very same thing about you.”
I laughed, a short huff of sound. “Well, you were wrong there. This is the one place I do belong, sugar.”
“Gabriel.” His lips tipped up slightly, his eyes lingering on me for a heartbeat too long, before he turned and walked away.
CHAPTER TWO
Focus on the good things, even when they’re simple. Then bury them deep so only you know where they are.
Shadow, the Baron of Wishbone
GABRIEL
I’d fucked that up royally. You can help me practice being touched by a woman. For the love of Christ. No wonder she’d told me to leave. I’d sounded like some sort of psychopath. I shifted into park, turned my truck off, and waited in my driveway for a minute. What the hell had I been thinking? Not only had I messed things up, and presented myself as completely pathetic, I’d insulted her.
Crystal.
What was her real name? I wondered who she was, wondered why my heart had begun to beat insistently against my chest—as if trying to get my attention—when she’d stepped onto that stage, that distant, removed look on her beautiful face. As if she were made of stone. And yet her body moved so fluidly, so gracefully. She fascinated me. I hadn’t gone there for anything more than to find a woman who might be willing to take on a small side job far less “hands on”—so to speak—than what was procured in the back rooms of a place like the Platinum Pearl. But she had intrigued me, caught my attention, and hadn’t let go. Something about her … called to me. Something that had nothing at all to do with her skimpy outfit or overt sexuality. Something that had nothing to do with the reason I was there in the first place. I let out a small, humorless chuckle that turned into a groan as I raked my hands through my hair.
I couldn’t deny I was attracted to her, but even I wasn’t stupid or inexperienced enough to think developing a crush on a stripper would be a good idea.
In retrospect, it had been a bad plan from the start. And I realized that the moment I’d voiced my reason for being there to her and watched the expression on her face change from wary to surprised to … hurt. Yes, it was hurt that flashed across her features before her face had gone hard again. If eyes were windows to the soul, I’d witnessed the closed sign being flipped over within the speed of a single blink. How long had it taken her to master that?
I’d told her she wouldn’t have to take her clothes off, as if she should be thankful for the opportunity not to be demoralized. And yet, isn’t that really what my whole plan did? Use her? I hadn’t thought much of the nameless her when I’d come up with the idea—I’d only thought of myself. God, I’d acted like an asshole. It was a terrible idea. An embarrassing idea. Made even worse by the fact that she’d recalled my story, probably remembered my full name.