I look down at her ridiculous dog with the stupid bows in its hair, obviously excited because she thinks she’s gonna get to go somewhere. I look back up at Gabby, slowly shaking my head no, but find myself giving her what she wants. “Sure, why not?”
But this time I’m gifted with yet another new look from Gabby as she smiles huge, genuinely lighting up her face like I just handed her the world in the palm of my hand, exclaiming, “Thanks.” Looking back down at the dog, she keeps on, “C’mon baby, let’s go to Aunt Lizzie’s house.”
My chest warms and I find myself immobile with the look she gifted me just for telling her the damn dog can come with us. I find myself thinking I need to get my shit together at the same time wondering what else I can do to make her that happy again.
The dog, receiving affirmation she gets to go, starts attacking the door. Gabby arms the security system, which I hope is a fucking good one, and the beeps snap me out of my reverie. We both head out the door and into the garage. But I’m stopped in my tracks, once again, before heading down the steps as she pushes the button to lift one of the garage doors.
What the hell?
Her Tahoe is parked in the middle of mass chaos. Unlike her house, which seems organized and decorated to the hilt, her garage is a fucking disaster filled with shit. Old shit and a lot of it.
“What the hell?” I’m not able to tear my eyes off of the tragedy in front of me. This is a serious disgrace to garages everywhere.
Gabby’s already down the stairs, her long sexy legs making their way through the mountain of crap that is her garage, she looks over her shoulder with a scowl. “What the hell, what?”
“Are you a hoarder?” I’m still not able to move off the top step.
“Do I look like a hoarder?” She keeps moving while explaining the calamity in in front of me. “I like to shop, hitting garage and estate sales as much as I can. I find great stuff and even though I might not have a plan for it, I buy it. Someday I’ll have the perfect place for all this, either for me or a client. I got great deals on most all of these pieces. They’re treasures.”
I have to make myself move down the steps to wade through the shit Gabby considers treasures. “I don’t think you got the great deal here. I’m pretty sure you’ve been taken to the cleaners,” I mutter, as I beep the locks on my truck following Gabby to the passenger side.
“You’ve not seen what I can do with an old piece of furniture. Trust me, they’re treasures.”
I look down at her and smirk. “I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it, but I’m not seeing your vision.” I open the back-passenger door of my quad cab, putting the bowl and platter on the floor before opening the passenger door for her. I watch her bend to pick up her dog, her skirt stretching tight across her ass and thighs. I have to tear my eyes away from her ass as she climbs into my truck, settling her dog on her lap. Shaking my head, I slam her door, I round the front of the truck to climb in and start it up. Jacking up the A/C for her and wanting to keep the mood light, I turn to her, resting my forearm on the steering wheel.
She looks up at me as she finishes buckling and I say, “I didn’t take you for a Saints fan.”
Waving her hand in between us, she explains. “Well, it is a Fantasy Football Draft, and even though I only go to eat and hang out with my family, I like to dress for the occasion.” I keep staring at her as her explanation gets crazier. “I really don’t watch much football. I like the colors and the fleur-de-lis is pretty. I wore a Raiders shirt one year and thought I was going to be disowned. My family is full of Chiefs fans, which translates into Raider-Haters, so I switched to the Saints because the Chiefs mascot does nothing for me. Are you a Chiefs fan?”
Now I’m the one shocked as shit by her crazy-ass reasoning for wearing a Saints shirt. All I can manage is, “Broncos.”
She gives her head a little shake and frowns, explaining why she won’t cheer on my team. “I can’t wear orange.”
“Ouch, that stings.” With this, she rewards me with another huge smile. “I don’t know where I’m going. Lead the way, Gabby.”
What I did not do is talk to her about Trevor Harper.
My younger cousin Paige is dragging me by the hand and my very pregnant cousin Sophia is waddling behind us, pulling up the rear.
“Paige, what are you doing?” I ask, trying to keep up with her.
She pulls me into the room that used to be Tony’s, which is now just a shrine to my favorite cousin. Medals, trophies, pictures, and Tony memorabilia litter the room that used to be his in his parent’s house. Tony is the only boy of four kids and although he’s never been a mama’s boy, he’s my aunt’s only boy, which makes him her golden boy. So, although my female cousins’ rooms have been remade into exercise rooms, craft rooms, junk rooms, and the like, Tony’s room will always be a shrine. His sisters give my poor aunt shit about this all the time, but I honestly don’t think she cares and will never change a stitch.
“What do you mean, what am I doing? I want to know who that man is that brought you here and why he can’t take his eyes off of you no matter where you are in the room. It doesn’t matter if he’s drinking beer, eating dinner or shootin’ the shit with the men, he’s always got an eye on you. And those eyes are hot, just like the rest of him. Now spill,” she demands.
My rollercoaster of a day didn’t stop when Jude showed back up at my house this evening, demanding to know why I lived alone and I had to tell him what I hate telling anyone—that my parents are dead. I should be used to it by now. It has been three years and eight months, but it’s always emotionally draining as much as I try and get used to it.
And if that wasn’t enough, big, badass Jude Ortiz who wears a bullet proof vest, rounds up bad guys for a living and is uber bossy—went sweet on me. First getting really close, apologizing, and then he touched my face. I swear, when he slid his hand into my hair I thought I was going to melt into a puddle right onto my kitchen floor. My whole plan for driving separately then leaving early was thwarted when he informed me I was coming with him to the draft and like an idiot, without thinking, I said, “Okay.” And this is what I get. I knew this would happen, my crazy family is all up in my business about it and I don’t even know what it is.
Two hours earlier when we pulled into my Uncle Tony and Aunt Lizzie’s driveway, I took a minute to warn Jude what he was walking into. Here is how that went:
Me: Um, Jude, I need to talk to you about my family. They’re all going to be here.
Him: Yeah, Tony said this is a family thing.
Me: No, you don’t understand. I have a pretty big family. Even the little kids will be here. And since I’ll be walking in the door with you, they’re going to freak out.
Him: No, they won’t.
Me: Yes, they will.
Him: Sugar, they won’t. It’s not a big deal.
Me: Yes, they will and it is a big deal.
Him: Then they can have their freak out, they’ll get over it.
Me: What?
Him: Not a big deal.
Apparently finished with our tennis match conversation, he gets out of the car, gathers all the food, opens my door, and waits for me to get out. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”