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He pulls back and looks at me. “How carefully did you read the contract?”
“I made them revise it three times.”
“Then does relocating the animals revert the property to your ex?”
“No. Not unless I missed something. I normally trust myself, but now—this just feels too set-up.”
“It was set-up,” he confirms. “We already know that, but that doesn’t mean there’s a contractual reason.” His hand settles on my leg. “It’s proven that if you aren’t occupying the property, then you’re more likely to give up the fight to keep it. At the riskof sounding like an ass, when this is just business, I’ve used it myself.”
“You have?”
“I have and I told you, my father’s a prick. He’ll do anything to win, which is one of the main reasons we pushed him out of the firm. I promise you, this was his doing.”
“You think your father set-up the flooding of the shelter?”
“Yes,” he says, “I do.”
“He’s that bad?”
“Yes, he is, but I know how to fight my father. You’re not going to let the shelter become a ghost town. The day after tomorrow, we’ll have a clean-up crew there and we’ll make damn sure we get at least some of the animals back in their places within seventy-two hours.”
“Gabe, that’s big money. I have to wait on the insurance and—”
He leans in and kisses me. “It’s almost the end of the year. Grant me the tax write-off. I need it.”
My hand settles on the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “You’re impossible.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“You’re generous to the extreme and I appreciate it—but I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”
“I volunteered my help and for a good cause.”
“And here we are. Burger time,” Gabe says again, with a smile. “You’re going to love these burgers like a fat kid loves cake.”
I laugh. “That’s a very politically incorrect joke.”
He wiggles his eyebrows and sets us in motion. “That’s me. Politically incorrect.”
“Yes, you are,” I agree, and once we’re on the road, “Bend you over without a finger of Vaseline. Really?”
“Did you want me to be gentler with him?” he asks, his tone serious as he opens the door for me.
“No,” I say, laughing again. “No. I don’t want you to be gentler with him but you crack me up.”
We laugh and joke for the next five minutes until we’re at the burger joint where we are both eager to get inside, walking hand in hand, with hurried steps. Once inside, we claim a table with open seating and a waitress eyes Gabe as she approaches us with a greeting and request for our order. “Two of my usual.” He glances at me. “Cheeseburger and fries. That works, right?”
“Yes. It does. Well done.”
“Well, then my usual works perfectly,” he concludes, his gaze warm with this realization, as if our liking the same burger the same way turns him on while he is what turns me on. The way he looks at me. The way he talks to me. The way he protects me. And the way he makes me laugh. “Let me adjust my pants,” I say, snorting while repeating his earlier statement. “Do you say that kind of thing in all negotiations?”
“Shit does tend to come out of my mouth. It works with Reid, though. He’s a hard-ass that just drives nails in people while I take them off guard with the unexpected. We’re a good team.”
“You’re close, then?”
“More so lately, since Reid met his wife. He’s changed. He’s the first one to tell you she changed him.”
“Softened him?”
