Spark
Page 44
Layne took a deep breath.
Then she stepped forward to throw her arms around his neck and hug him.
CHAPTER 19
Gabriel stiffened when Layne’s arms went around his neck.
With the way his life was going, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find her goal was to choke him.
But then she was just holding him, her slender arms full of strength, their height difference putting her head against his shoulder.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held like this.
Yes, he could. That mother, after the fire. But hers had been a motion of gratitude and desperation. It hadn’t been about him.
He should be pushing Layne away. He could slice right through her offer of comfort and make her as miserable as he’d been last night. He’d made himself vulnerable once; he wouldn’t make that mistake again.
But the warmth of her body made it all the way through his sweatshirt, and the scent of her hair was in his nose, one of those fruity shampoos like raspberries or apricots. Beneath that, something natural and fresh and outdoorsy, like cut grass or no, hay. Had to be hay, from the farm.
It felt nice.
Push her away.
He should. He would. The last thing he needed in his life was something else to screw up.
But right now, this second, when the thought of being at home or at school made him feel like a caged, rabid animal, standing in the middle of the woods being held wasn’t all that bad.
“Thanks,” he said, dropping his head to speak against her hair. Her cheek was right there, if she’d just lift her head. Her cheek, the slope of her jaw, the curve of her ear. He wondered what her skin would feel like, what her lips would taste like. He let his hands find her waist.
She stiffened.
Gabriel froze. Maybe he was reading this wrong. She hadn’t called last night. Maybe a hug-without-pretense just meant she felt pity for him.
Christ, even his thoughts wanted to screw with him.
There was a tree right here. He wanted to bang his head against it.
No, he wanted to push the hair back from her face and kiss her, to cut this cord of tension between them.
But maybe that cord was the only thing holding him together.
He slid his thumbs along the jacket, just below her ribs, barely a motion, half an inch, if that. But he heard her quick in-take of breath, felt the minute shift of her body as she drew back.
Damn.
He couldn’t take another rejection. Especially from Layne. She wasn’t like other girls. She saw him. Every single weakness.
And that was the reason for the hug. She wasn’t interested.
She felt sorry for him.
He let go of her waist. He kept his voice flat, uninterested, like her hanging off him was a random inconvenience. “Come on. I don’t have all morning to play escort.”
She yanked her hands free, stepping back to stare up at him.
Jesus, he sounded like such a dick.
“Don’t do that,” she said.
“Do what?” He pulled the iPod from his pocket and un-wound the cord. He could see buildings through the trees from here, and he nodded down the trail. “You’ve got to be close, right?”
“Yeah, but ”
But he didn’t hear the rest of what she said. He plugged the headphones into his ears, turned his back, and ran.
Gabriel hoped Michael would be gone by the time he got home, but his brother’s red pickup truck was still sitting in the driveway when Gabriel stepped out of the woods behind the house.
He had half a mind to fall back into the trees.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Layne.
Gabriel hadn’t even recognized her at first. Her hair had been down, a spill of chestnut brown that fell almost all the way to her waist, with a few damp tendrils curling around her face. No glasses. Skintight gray pants that left nothing to the imagination, with knee-high leather boots. Hell, if she wore that getup to school, she’d have half the male population trailing her in the halls. Even her maroon jacket had an athletic cut, fitting snugly along the curve of her waist. The black ribbed turtleneck had pretty much been the only familiar thing about her.
So what? She pities you.
He walked around to unlock the front door quietly, hoping Michael would be in the shower, or even better, still sleeping. At the very least, in the kitchen, hidden from view.
Nope. Michael was sitting on the staircase, a cup of coffee on the step beside him.
Gabriel couldn’t make himself shut the door. The sunshine was a welcome weight against his back.
“Don’t run,” said Michael. His voice was even.
Gabriel scowled but he didn’t take his hand off the door.
“I’m not running from you.”
“You look like you’re ready to bolt.”
“Yeah, well, you look like a ”
“All right, stop.” Michael held up a hand. “I didn’t wait here to pick a fight with you.”
“So what do you want?”
“That girl Hannah the firefighter?”
“What about her?”
“Her father is the county fire marshal.”
He must have looked blank, because Michael added, “That means her ‘unofficial’ visit might have been pretty damn official.”
Gabriel waited, unsure what response would be safe. Really, saying anything could be a mistake. Michael had almost seen through him last night. He kept hearing his brother’s accusation on the porch. Are you the one starting these fires?
Michael picked up the coffee mug and stood, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Come here. I want to show you something.”
Then she stepped forward to throw her arms around his neck and hug him.
CHAPTER 19
Gabriel stiffened when Layne’s arms went around his neck.
With the way his life was going, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find her goal was to choke him.
But then she was just holding him, her slender arms full of strength, their height difference putting her head against his shoulder.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held like this.
Yes, he could. That mother, after the fire. But hers had been a motion of gratitude and desperation. It hadn’t been about him.
He should be pushing Layne away. He could slice right through her offer of comfort and make her as miserable as he’d been last night. He’d made himself vulnerable once; he wouldn’t make that mistake again.
But the warmth of her body made it all the way through his sweatshirt, and the scent of her hair was in his nose, one of those fruity shampoos like raspberries or apricots. Beneath that, something natural and fresh and outdoorsy, like cut grass or no, hay. Had to be hay, from the farm.
It felt nice.
Push her away.
He should. He would. The last thing he needed in his life was something else to screw up.
But right now, this second, when the thought of being at home or at school made him feel like a caged, rabid animal, standing in the middle of the woods being held wasn’t all that bad.
“Thanks,” he said, dropping his head to speak against her hair. Her cheek was right there, if she’d just lift her head. Her cheek, the slope of her jaw, the curve of her ear. He wondered what her skin would feel like, what her lips would taste like. He let his hands find her waist.
She stiffened.
Gabriel froze. Maybe he was reading this wrong. She hadn’t called last night. Maybe a hug-without-pretense just meant she felt pity for him.
Christ, even his thoughts wanted to screw with him.
There was a tree right here. He wanted to bang his head against it.
No, he wanted to push the hair back from her face and kiss her, to cut this cord of tension between them.
But maybe that cord was the only thing holding him together.
He slid his thumbs along the jacket, just below her ribs, barely a motion, half an inch, if that. But he heard her quick in-take of breath, felt the minute shift of her body as she drew back.
Damn.
He couldn’t take another rejection. Especially from Layne. She wasn’t like other girls. She saw him. Every single weakness.
And that was the reason for the hug. She wasn’t interested.
She felt sorry for him.
He let go of her waist. He kept his voice flat, uninterested, like her hanging off him was a random inconvenience. “Come on. I don’t have all morning to play escort.”
She yanked her hands free, stepping back to stare up at him.
Jesus, he sounded like such a dick.
“Don’t do that,” she said.
“Do what?” He pulled the iPod from his pocket and un-wound the cord. He could see buildings through the trees from here, and he nodded down the trail. “You’ve got to be close, right?”
“Yeah, but ”
But he didn’t hear the rest of what she said. He plugged the headphones into his ears, turned his back, and ran.
Gabriel hoped Michael would be gone by the time he got home, but his brother’s red pickup truck was still sitting in the driveway when Gabriel stepped out of the woods behind the house.
He had half a mind to fall back into the trees.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Layne.
Gabriel hadn’t even recognized her at first. Her hair had been down, a spill of chestnut brown that fell almost all the way to her waist, with a few damp tendrils curling around her face. No glasses. Skintight gray pants that left nothing to the imagination, with knee-high leather boots. Hell, if she wore that getup to school, she’d have half the male population trailing her in the halls. Even her maroon jacket had an athletic cut, fitting snugly along the curve of her waist. The black ribbed turtleneck had pretty much been the only familiar thing about her.
So what? She pities you.
He walked around to unlock the front door quietly, hoping Michael would be in the shower, or even better, still sleeping. At the very least, in the kitchen, hidden from view.
Nope. Michael was sitting on the staircase, a cup of coffee on the step beside him.
Gabriel couldn’t make himself shut the door. The sunshine was a welcome weight against his back.
“Don’t run,” said Michael. His voice was even.
Gabriel scowled but he didn’t take his hand off the door.
“I’m not running from you.”
“You look like you’re ready to bolt.”
“Yeah, well, you look like a ”
“All right, stop.” Michael held up a hand. “I didn’t wait here to pick a fight with you.”
“So what do you want?”
“That girl Hannah the firefighter?”
“What about her?”
“Her father is the county fire marshal.”
He must have looked blank, because Michael added, “That means her ‘unofficial’ visit might have been pretty damn official.”
Gabriel waited, unsure what response would be safe. Really, saying anything could be a mistake. Michael had almost seen through him last night. He kept hearing his brother’s accusation on the porch. Are you the one starting these fires?
Michael picked up the coffee mug and stood, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Come here. I want to show you something.”
