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Gabe doesn’t even look back. “Security detail. Don’t mind them.”
“Are you in danger?” I ask, only half-joking. I know most billionaires have a whole security team, but I’ve never really known someone so rich.
He squeezes my hand and glances down to wink at me. “Only my heart.”
Oh, wow. He has to stop saying things like that.
He helps me into the passenger seat and runs around to slide into the driver’s seat. Wow. The two security guys hop in the SUV behind us. Gabe drives the SUV through Worthington Hills, which is currently buzzing with weekend energy. Banners for the art festival flap from every streetlamp, and there’s a steady flow of families, college kids, and elderly couples streaming toward Main Street. We park a few blocks away to “get the full experience,” according to Gabe, and as soon as we step onto the sidewalk, he offers me his arm.
God, he’s ridiculous. And I love it.
We stroll through the crowd, and it’s so normal, so weirdly domestic, that I almost forget who I’m with.
The art festival is everything I hoped for and more. Booths line both sides of the street, selling everything from watercolor pet portraits to blown-glass frogs. A local jazz band plays in the gazebo, and the air is thick with the smell of kettle corn and the faintest hint of cotton candy.
Gabe is into all of it. He asks questions at every booth, wants to know how things are made, and what inspired the artist. He watches me as I inspect the art.
At one point, Gabe disappears for a minute and comes back with a tote bag full of art prints and a bouquet of sunflowers. “For you,” he says, holding them out like it’s nothing.
I stare at the flowers, then at him. “Thank you.” His gesture melts my freaking heart into a puddle.
We spend hours at the festival, sampling everything, listening to music, and generally acting like a normal couple on a normal Saturday. I don’t know when I’ve ever felt this happy, or this safe. Every time I catch Gabe looking at me, he has that same soft, awestruck look—like he’s still surprised I exist.
Eventually, the sun starts to dip, and the crowd thins out. My feet hurt, and my arms are full of flowers and prints and a slightly creepy hand-painted mug.
“Are you ready to head back?” Gabe asks, but I can tell he’s already plotting something.
We stroll back to the car in easy silence. At one point, I glance back and catch the security guys lagging a few yards behind, watching us like a hawk.
“Can I ask you something?” I say as we reach the car.
“Anything.”
“Is this… normal for you? Doing things like this?”
He takes a long time to answer. “No,” he says finally. “It’s not. But with you, it feels like it could be.”
I have no idea how to respond to that, so I just squeeze his hand and climb into the SUV.
The drive back is quiet, but it’s a comfortable quiet, the kind that comes after a perfect day. I catch Gabe glancing over at me, and I can tell he wants to say something, but he lets it go. When we pull up to #1 Love Place, he opens my door and helps me out like an old-school gentleman.
We ride the elevator up, and as soon as we step into the eighth-floor hallway, I feel the butterflies take flight again. Gabe follows me to my door, then stops, hands in his pockets.
“Thank you for the wonderful day.” I smile up at him. Before I’m able to stop myself, I go up on my toes and kiss him, right there in my doorway. Gabe kisses me back, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second. His hands cup my face, and for a moment, the whole world drops away.
When we finally break apart, I can’t stop smiling. “So, what’s next?”
He leans in, forehead resting against mine. “Dinner at my place. Tonight. No pizza this time—I want to cook for you.”
“I’d love to,” I tell him.
His smile is pure sin. “How about seven?”
I nod too fast and try to play it off. “I’ll be there.”
“Fair warning.” He winks, and I almost swoon right there in the hallway. “My lasagna will blow your mind.” He lets his eyes drag over me, slow and deliberate, like he’s imagining me naked under my leggings and cardigan. Honestly, maybe he is.
My brain goes totally blank. “I can’t wait. See you at seven.”
He kisses me once more, quick and sweet, then heads down the hall toward the elevator. I watch him go, my heart doing its best to break the land-speed record.
