Falling Fast
Page 33
Once I hang up with him, I reprogram the code for the door of the vault with a different combination, then head inside. That missing gun is setting off alarm bells like crazy, making my skin prickle and my gut twist. Wanting to check on Gia, I head up to my room where I expect to find her getting ready. She’s not there, and I know she didn’t come back outside, so I head back downstairs and open the door to the room she had been using. Finding her in the bathroom standing in front of the sink, wearing a T-shirt and nothing else, I lean against the doorjamb and watch her as she curls her hair.
“You could have gotten ready upstairs,” I inform her when her eyes meet mine in the mirror.
“My stuff is all down here,” she retorts, and I try not to let that bother me even though it does. I don’t want her shit down here. I want it in my space, next to my stuff, but I also know I shouldn’t push too hard to get my way, even though everything in me wants to do just that.
“Are you okay?” she asks after a minute, and I pull my eyes off her hair to look at her eyes.
“Yeah,” I lie, and her head tips to the side.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” I step up behind her and wrap my hand around her waist, dropping my face to her neck. I breathe in her scent, letting it take away the feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“I should be ready in fifteen minutes or so. Do you mind if we head out a few minutes early so I can stop at the store on the way, to pick up some flowers for your mom?”
“You don’t have to get my mom flowers.” I smile, and her hands come to rest over mine against her stomach.
“I know I don’t have to, but it’s something my mom would do if she were going to dinner at someone’s house, and I like the idea of doing it too,” she says, and my gut twists for a different reason.
“We’ll stop,” I promise, kissing her neck then lifting my head to look at her in the mirror. As much as I love the fact that she’s willing to open up to me about her parents, I hate the sadness I see in her eyes when she talks about them.
“If I’m going to get ready, I’m going to need you to let me go,” she whispers after a moment. Turning her in my arms I kiss her, then let her go to finish getting ready.
Heading up to the loft, I change my shirt and call my dad back, letting him know what the detective said. Before I hang up, I tell him not to say anything about it in front of Gia, since I don’t want her to worry. She’s already dealing with enough and I hate that some of the stuff she’s dealing with is because of me. Lisa hasn’t been back to the bar or done anything else to Gia, but a couple of days ago, her friends came into the bar trying to fill Gia’s head with bullshit when one of my friends from the military was in town for a visit.
By the time I get back downstairs, Gia is standing in the kitchen, wearing a pair of dark jeans that are tight and cuffed at the ankle, with black heeled boots. They’re the same ones she wore the day we met. She also has on a cream-colored soft-looking sweater that has a deep V cut out of the back with strips of black satin material going across, keeping it together. Turning toward me when she hears my boots hit the wood floors, she smiles and I notice that, for the first time since I met her, she’s wearing makeup. It’s not a lot, but the effect is enough to make a difference in the brightness of her eyes and the fullness of her already plump lips.
“You look gorgeous,” I tell her, and she smiles while her eyes soften.
“Thank you.” She tips her head back for a kiss once I’m close, something I’ve become used to her doing this last week. Anytime she wants my mouth, her head tips back and her eyes lock with mine, letting me know silently what she wants. I fucking love that she gives that to me.
“Just so you know, your rules don’t apply when we’re at my parents’ house. I can and will kiss you whenever I want.”
“Not in front of your parents,” she denies with a smile while shaking her head.
“I’m not agreeing to that, baby,” I mutter, sliding her hair over her shoulder and kissing her neck. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, I just want to put out some food for Loki, since he’s refusing to come inside to eat,” she mumbles, and I smile, watching her fill his bowl with dry food.
“I told you he’s his own dog,” I say, taking the bowl from her once she’s done and going to the front door. I set the bowl down outside and whistle for Loki to come. He bounds up the steps and starts to eat. Giving his head a rub, I shut the door behind me then pull my coat off the hook and put it on. Grabbing her black, short leather jacket, I help her with it then watch her loop the thick cream-and-gold scarf she knitted the other day from the yarn Mom got her, around her neck.
“Ready?” I ask, and her eyes meet mine.
“As ready as I’m going to get.”
Taking her hand, I lead her out the front door to where my Suburban is parked then help her in. Once she’s situated, I shut the door, jog around to the driver’s side and get in behind the wheel. After starting up the engine, I drive us into town and stop to get gas then stop once again at the local grocery store, since the flower shop isn’t open on Sundays. It takes Gia longer to pick out flowers than it does for us to get to town, so by the time we hit the highway to my parents’ place, it’s already after four, which I know is making her more anxious.
“It’s going to be okay, so you can stop looking at the door like you’re thinking about opening it and jumping out onto the highway,” I tell her while reaching over and grabbing her hand, bringing it to rest on my thigh.
“I wasn’t thinking about doing that,” she grumbles under her breath, making me smile.
“Have you ever had dinner with a boyfriend’s family before?” I ask, and her hand, under mine, convulses on the word boyfriend.
“No… I…” She clears her throat. “I’ve never really had a boyfriend.”
“What?” I question in shock, glancing over at her quickly before looking at the road once more.
“I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I’ve dated some, but nothing ever serious.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No.” I see her shift in her seat.
“Babe, how the fuck is that possible?” I wonder how in the world a woman who looks like her, acts like her, and dresses like her hasn’t had a serious man in her life before now.
“I don’t know. It just never happened.”
“You know that’s what this is, right?” I question, just to make sure she’s clear on what’s happening between us.
“I didn’t know,” she admits, and one hand tightens around the steering wheel while the other does the same around hers, that I’m still holding onto.
“Well that’s what this is. I’m your man, your boyfriend, your significant other. Whatever the fuck you want to call me, that’s what I am to you.”
“Significant other?” she repeats, and I hear the smile in her voice, but I ignore that and stay focused.
“This is more than us sleeping together,” I say, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice but failing to do so. “Do you understand that?”
“I understand,” she whispers, and I grunt. “We never talked about it,” she defends, and I shake my head.
“I didn’t think we needed to. You’ve been in my bed for awhile now, and before that, we had dinner together almost every night, gone out together, and spent a fuck’ov a lot of time together.”
“I didn’t want to assume this was more serious than it was, even if I wanted it to be that serious,” she replies, and I glance at her again, seeing her worrying her bottom lip.
“Baby, you need to start talking to me about shit if it’s bothering you or if you have questions. Don’t ever be afraid to ask me about anything when it has to do with us.”
“Okay,” she agrees, and I let out a breath.
“How is it possible that you make me so fucking happy and so fucking crazy at the same time?” I ask the windshield.
Her hand squeezes mine and I glance at her quickly before turning down my parents’ driveway. “I’m glad. I mean, I’m not glad I make you crazy, but I’m glad you want to be…” She pauses like she’s not sure how to say the next words. “My boyfriend.”
“You could have gotten ready upstairs,” I inform her when her eyes meet mine in the mirror.
“My stuff is all down here,” she retorts, and I try not to let that bother me even though it does. I don’t want her shit down here. I want it in my space, next to my stuff, but I also know I shouldn’t push too hard to get my way, even though everything in me wants to do just that.
“Are you okay?” she asks after a minute, and I pull my eyes off her hair to look at her eyes.
“Yeah,” I lie, and her head tips to the side.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” I step up behind her and wrap my hand around her waist, dropping my face to her neck. I breathe in her scent, letting it take away the feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“I should be ready in fifteen minutes or so. Do you mind if we head out a few minutes early so I can stop at the store on the way, to pick up some flowers for your mom?”
“You don’t have to get my mom flowers.” I smile, and her hands come to rest over mine against her stomach.
“I know I don’t have to, but it’s something my mom would do if she were going to dinner at someone’s house, and I like the idea of doing it too,” she says, and my gut twists for a different reason.
“We’ll stop,” I promise, kissing her neck then lifting my head to look at her in the mirror. As much as I love the fact that she’s willing to open up to me about her parents, I hate the sadness I see in her eyes when she talks about them.
“If I’m going to get ready, I’m going to need you to let me go,” she whispers after a moment. Turning her in my arms I kiss her, then let her go to finish getting ready.
Heading up to the loft, I change my shirt and call my dad back, letting him know what the detective said. Before I hang up, I tell him not to say anything about it in front of Gia, since I don’t want her to worry. She’s already dealing with enough and I hate that some of the stuff she’s dealing with is because of me. Lisa hasn’t been back to the bar or done anything else to Gia, but a couple of days ago, her friends came into the bar trying to fill Gia’s head with bullshit when one of my friends from the military was in town for a visit.
By the time I get back downstairs, Gia is standing in the kitchen, wearing a pair of dark jeans that are tight and cuffed at the ankle, with black heeled boots. They’re the same ones she wore the day we met. She also has on a cream-colored soft-looking sweater that has a deep V cut out of the back with strips of black satin material going across, keeping it together. Turning toward me when she hears my boots hit the wood floors, she smiles and I notice that, for the first time since I met her, she’s wearing makeup. It’s not a lot, but the effect is enough to make a difference in the brightness of her eyes and the fullness of her already plump lips.
“You look gorgeous,” I tell her, and she smiles while her eyes soften.
“Thank you.” She tips her head back for a kiss once I’m close, something I’ve become used to her doing this last week. Anytime she wants my mouth, her head tips back and her eyes lock with mine, letting me know silently what she wants. I fucking love that she gives that to me.
“Just so you know, your rules don’t apply when we’re at my parents’ house. I can and will kiss you whenever I want.”
“Not in front of your parents,” she denies with a smile while shaking her head.
“I’m not agreeing to that, baby,” I mutter, sliding her hair over her shoulder and kissing her neck. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, I just want to put out some food for Loki, since he’s refusing to come inside to eat,” she mumbles, and I smile, watching her fill his bowl with dry food.
“I told you he’s his own dog,” I say, taking the bowl from her once she’s done and going to the front door. I set the bowl down outside and whistle for Loki to come. He bounds up the steps and starts to eat. Giving his head a rub, I shut the door behind me then pull my coat off the hook and put it on. Grabbing her black, short leather jacket, I help her with it then watch her loop the thick cream-and-gold scarf she knitted the other day from the yarn Mom got her, around her neck.
“Ready?” I ask, and her eyes meet mine.
“As ready as I’m going to get.”
Taking her hand, I lead her out the front door to where my Suburban is parked then help her in. Once she’s situated, I shut the door, jog around to the driver’s side and get in behind the wheel. After starting up the engine, I drive us into town and stop to get gas then stop once again at the local grocery store, since the flower shop isn’t open on Sundays. It takes Gia longer to pick out flowers than it does for us to get to town, so by the time we hit the highway to my parents’ place, it’s already after four, which I know is making her more anxious.
“It’s going to be okay, so you can stop looking at the door like you’re thinking about opening it and jumping out onto the highway,” I tell her while reaching over and grabbing her hand, bringing it to rest on my thigh.
“I wasn’t thinking about doing that,” she grumbles under her breath, making me smile.
“Have you ever had dinner with a boyfriend’s family before?” I ask, and her hand, under mine, convulses on the word boyfriend.
“No… I…” She clears her throat. “I’ve never really had a boyfriend.”
“What?” I question in shock, glancing over at her quickly before looking at the road once more.
“I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I’ve dated some, but nothing ever serious.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No.” I see her shift in her seat.
“Babe, how the fuck is that possible?” I wonder how in the world a woman who looks like her, acts like her, and dresses like her hasn’t had a serious man in her life before now.
“I don’t know. It just never happened.”
“You know that’s what this is, right?” I question, just to make sure she’s clear on what’s happening between us.
“I didn’t know,” she admits, and one hand tightens around the steering wheel while the other does the same around hers, that I’m still holding onto.
“Well that’s what this is. I’m your man, your boyfriend, your significant other. Whatever the fuck you want to call me, that’s what I am to you.”
“Significant other?” she repeats, and I hear the smile in her voice, but I ignore that and stay focused.
“This is more than us sleeping together,” I say, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice but failing to do so. “Do you understand that?”
“I understand,” she whispers, and I grunt. “We never talked about it,” she defends, and I shake my head.
“I didn’t think we needed to. You’ve been in my bed for awhile now, and before that, we had dinner together almost every night, gone out together, and spent a fuck’ov a lot of time together.”
“I didn’t want to assume this was more serious than it was, even if I wanted it to be that serious,” she replies, and I glance at her again, seeing her worrying her bottom lip.
“Baby, you need to start talking to me about shit if it’s bothering you or if you have questions. Don’t ever be afraid to ask me about anything when it has to do with us.”
“Okay,” she agrees, and I let out a breath.
“How is it possible that you make me so fucking happy and so fucking crazy at the same time?” I ask the windshield.
Her hand squeezes mine and I glance at her quickly before turning down my parents’ driveway. “I’m glad. I mean, I’m not glad I make you crazy, but I’m glad you want to be…” She pauses like she’s not sure how to say the next words. “My boyfriend.”
