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Gabi
“What do you think?” Kylie asked, spinning around in a very pink, very short dress. It was as if one of Gabi’s childhood Barbie Dolls had come to life, complete with long blonde hair and matching heels.
“You look gorgeous,” she answered honestly. Kylie had finally agreed to a date with Grant and had pulled out all the stops to prepare. Fresh manicure, blow out, all the things Gabi didn’t really care about. “He’ll be speechless.”
Kylie put a hand on her hip. “He’d better, this was not cheap.”
Gabi laughed. “I mean it, you’re stunning. Where are you going again?”
“He made reservations at Nicola’s,” she squealed, doing a little happy dance that was very Kylie.
She made an approving face. He was obviously trying to impress her. That earned him some points in Gabi’s book. And she was keeping track. No one took Kylie out without Gabi’s full approval. Nicola’s was nearly impossible to get into and had about a month-long wait-list.
“That sounds incredible. But you’ll let me know if he takes you anywhere else, right?”
“Yes, Mom,” she said. But it was warm, they always watched out for each other. “I’ll apprise you of all our movements.”
“Good.”
As if on cue, the doorbell rang and Kylie ran to the door, letting out an excited squeal. Before she flung the door open, she took a steadying breath and opened it as calmly as if she were expecting the mailman.
Grant stood there looking very much the GQ model and every bit the Ken to Kylie’s Barbie. His suit was tailored to perfection, his hair masterfully tousled, and he held an impressive armful of roses. “Kylie,” he said with a devastating grin, handing her the flowers. “You look absolutely stunning.”
She cradled the flowers in her arms with a slight flush that was rare. “Why thank you, Grant, you look pretty good yourself.”
“Hi, Grant,” Gabi said from where she was sitting on the sofa.
“Good evening, Gabi,” he replied with a nod. But his attention was firmly on Kylie.
Points for remembering her name at least.
“I’m just going to put these in water.” Kylie bounded off toward the kitchen.
In her absence, Gabi looked squarely at Grant. “Kylie says you’re going to Nicola’s tonight.”
“Yeah,” he answered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I hope she likes it. I made the reservation right after I met her. I was hoping she’d eventually agree to go.”
Points. Points. And more points.
But he didn’t need to know she was keeping track. Instead, she looked him dead in the eye and warned, “Be careful with her. Anything happens to her and I will come after you.”
He laughed for a second then went white when he realized she wasn’t kidding. He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet a bit. “Of course, you have my word.”
“Good,” she answered just as Kylie came back into the living room.
Grant’s face lit up when he saw her. “Ready to go?”
“I am.” She slid her arm through the one he offered her.
“Have fun,” Gabi told them.
Kylie gave her a little wave and Grant nodded in her direction. They were too caught up in each other for much more than that.
Once they were gone, Gabi sighed and pushed herself up from the sofa. Another Friday night at home.
It wasn’t as if she wanted to date, she didn’t even want to be out, it was just ... she didn’t know.
She locked up Kylie’s apartment and went back to her own. It was annoyingly quiet.
With a sigh, she grabbed a glass of wine and sat down to the Finch designs once again. She wanted to finalize the master suite as soon as possible so she could get the textiles and wallpaper ordered.
Of all the rooms she had designed in her life, this was her favorite. It had elements of all the things she had dreamed about since she started sketching designs as a teenager. If it were hers, it would have a far different color scheme, but this was as close as she was going to get to creating her perfect room for a while.
She couldn’t wait until she had her own house. A completely empty canvas waiting for her ideas without needing anyone’s approval was her ultimate dream.
Without really thinking about it, she pulled out her sketchpad and started roughing in some new ideas for her imaginary house. She wouldn’t admit it, but that zebrawood coffee table she saw at AdamsMade was front and center in her new living space.
She had been at it for nearly an hour when her phone buzzed.
Shook from her trance, she grabbed frantically for her phone, praying that Kylie was safe. She was ready to throw on a bra and tennis shoes should she need to rush to her aid or hunt down that smarmy lawyer.
But it was an unknown number. Heart racing for fear Matt had acquired her even newer number, she swiped the screen.
UNKNOWN: Hi Gabi, this is Mason.
Mason? That annoying thrill that always accompanied thoughts of him zinged through her body like electricity, and just ramped up her heart all the more. She pressed a hand to her chest, grateful he couldn’t see the flush creeping up her neck.
She didn’t know how to respond, so she just waited, less and less able to breathe as the minutes ticked by. How was it possible one little text could do this to her? She didn’t even know what he wanted.
Finally she just answered.
GABI: Yes?
MASON: I just got word that the walnut for Mrs. Finch’s cabinets is coming in tomorrow morning. Would you be able to stop by the shop to okay it so we can get started on the pieces?
On a Saturday?
GABI: On a Saturday?
MASON: I keep the showroom open on Saturday’s. It’s no problem if you can’t, it can wait for Monday.
No! She didn’t want that. For some reason waiting until Monday to see Mason sounded like torture.
GABI: It’s fine. I’ve got a few things to do in the morning and then I’ll drop by. Probably around 11 if that works.
MASON: That works.
GABI: See you then.
MASON: Thanks Gabi, goodnight.
GABI: Goodnight.
She set the phone down, her head spinning with one thousand thoughts. She read and re-read the text thread. There was nothing there that indicated anything special, but she couldn’t help the way her heart was responding.
He had texted her on a Friday night to see her on Saturday when it all could have waited for Monday. That meant something, right? Dammit, where was Kylie when she needed her? This needed to be dissected at least sixteen different ways.
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Mason
Mason tried his damnedest not to stare at the clock every second the next morning, but he was failing fully. A few of his guys were in finishing up projects, and he ignored the sidelong glances his actions were earning him.
He didn’t owe them any explanations, especially when he didn’t have any.
At fifteen minutes to eleven, he wandered out into the showroom and moved a few pieces around, adjusted the lighting, and added a new end table Cruz had finished the day before. That took all of ten minutes.
At five ’til, he was standing stupidly in the middle of an empty showroom, hands on his hips wondering if he needed to see a doctor. He never got this worked up over a woman. And this one didn’t even seem to care that he existed.
He grinned at the thought of changing that, and then groaned aloud when his eyes traveled to the clock again exactly one minute later.
Eleven rolled around, and even though he kept a close eye on the door, she still didn’t appear. He shuffled some papers at the desk, checked the website for new orders, and jotted a few notes for upcoming orders that he was handing off to the other guys now that he was going to be occupied with Gabi’s projects.
The door finally alerted her arrival an irritating twenty minutes later, and when he looked up to see her breeze through the door, he nearly fell off his stool.
She had clearly come from some sort of workout. Sea-blue running tights hugged every inch of her toned legs, and her form-fitting white tank top left a heart-stopping amount of skin showing. And as if that weren’t enough, sexy little wisps of hair were falling from her bouncy ponytail and curling around her neck.
Jesus. He couldn’t breathe. Not even a little bit. He wanted to take her into the back room and fuck her so hard she wouldn’t be able to work out for weeks.
The hardest thing he had ever done was stand and somehow say, “Gabi, thank you for coming in on a Saturday.”
She pursed her lips in mild irritation, but it just made him want her more. “Hello, Mason. Sorry I’m a little late, my spin class went long.”
Spin? Fuck, now all he could think of was how strong her legs must be, how they would flex and squeeze around him as he buried his tongue in her pussy. “It’s not a problem,” he told her, hoping she didn’t catch the strain in his voice. He had to clear his throat.
“Come on back,” he said, waving at her to follow him. “The order just came in this morning. It looks good.” He hated that he had to physically restrain himself from making a lame joke about showing her his wood. His brothers would have thought it was hilarious. Gabi? He highly doubted it.
She followed him into the shop where he had laid out some of the prime pieces. They would be the cabinet doors, the most visible part of the kitchen, and he wanted her okay before he made any cuts.
“Oh, this is beautiful,” she said, setting her small purse to the side and running her hand down the smooth surface of one of the pieces.
He envied that wood. Deeply.
She looked up at him with a small smile. “The quality is just amazing.” She looked at the rest of the pieces, her smile widening with each one. He could almost see her designs coming to life in her eyes. “Perfect,” she said, standing up after a careful inspection.
He had to agree. But about her. “I’m glad you approve,” he said, taking a step closer.
She didn’t move away, but his closeness made her cross her arms timidly. She seemed nervous, he wanted to know why. “Will you get all of the walnut from this supplier?” she finally asked.
“They’re the best,” he said matter-of-factly. “And I only work with the best.”
She seemed pleased with his answer and gave him a nod to prove it. After a moment she said, “This is going to sound strange, but can I look around your shop?”
He grinned at her. “Worried about the quality of my machines?”
“No,” she assured him, smiling just a little, “I just love workshops; my dad had one growing up. I love the sounds, the feel, the ...” She paused and took a deep breath. “Smell. I love the smell. Does that sound weird?”
“Not at all,” he answered, ignoring the violent tug her words had on his entire being. His heart felt strange in his chest. “I love it too, I always have. My dad is actually the one that taught me how to build in the first place.”
She smiled at him truly for the first time, and the space between them seemed to ignite and burst into flame. “Was he as good as you?”
“At building?” He laughed. “He was terrible, actually, but a good teacher, and once I surpassed his abilities, he found every way possible to nurture my interest.”
“He sounds amazing,” she said.
“He was,” he answered softly. His father had been everything to him; he missed him every second of every day.
“Oh, Mason, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay,” he assured her, the tenderness in her voice and baby blue eyes made his heart kick back to life. He wanted more of it. “You had no way of knowing.”
She offered a smile, but it wasn’t full of pity like most people when they found out about his father, but of understanding. He wanted to know more, but he knew it wasn’t the time to pry.
“Well, come on, I’ll show you around.”
Her eyes brightened, and his cock tugged hungrily when he caught the faint scent of her perfume as he passed her. Heaven help him, this woman was going to send him to an early grave.
He showed her all the different rooms and machines, introduced her to Jim and Michael, who both gave him a wide-eyed stare when they saw her. He could only shrug in return. The woman simply didn’t seem to know how stunningly beautiful she was, and seemed so genuinely happy to meet his employees.
Damn it. There wasn’t a single unappealing thing about her. And if she kept showing up in workout tights, it wasn’t going to be long before his interest was there for everyone to see.
The last room he showed her was the storage area. It was full of long shelves with wood carefully sorted into type, size, and thickness. It was his favorite room in the world. The room he had dreamed about since childhood. It was a playground.
“Oh, wow,” she breathed. “I didn’t realize you had this much stock on hand.”
He shrugged. “I can’t seem to stop buying when I find a good source or a rare cut.”
“Well,” she said cutely, “I suppose there are worse habits,” and then disappeared around one of the shelves.
He shook his head. Dead. She was going to kill him dead. But he would enjoy it.
With that in mind, he followed her down the aisle just far enough back to really enjoy the sway of her backside. It was a fucking knock-out. No, scratch that, she was a fucking knock-out.
“Are you looking for something in particular?” he finally asked. They were getting close to a dead-end, and she had been scanning the shelves pretty carefully.
“Zebrawood,” she answered sheepishly. “I just wondered if you had more pieces like that coffee table.”
“I have a few,” he said, his voice taking on a darker, definitely more sultry tone. “But nothing is quite like that one.”
He could see the flush start to climb her neck at the change in his voice, and she turned toward him with wide eyes. “I’m sure.”
He had forgotten what they were talking about and just kept moving toward her. She backed up a step but had nowhere to go with her back against the shelves. Her flush was in full force and her eyes darted to him and then focused on his mouth.
Stopping just short of her, he let his eyes roll over her luscious lips, the curve of her neck, the valley between her breasts. “Gabi,” he said, his voice was seductive and dark, and he could feel the intake of her breath as he leaned toward her. His skin buzzed knowing she wanted to kiss him just as much as he wanted to kiss her.
“Gabi,” he said again. Her eyes met his and were filled with so much desire he couldn’t see straight.
Without thinking, he slid a hand up her neck, cradled her cheek, and brought his lips closer.
Hers parted.
And then her phone rang, startling them both.
She fumbled for her phone, her flush deeper than ever as a ridiculous electronic version of “Whip It” filled the space between them.
“It’s my dad,” she said sheepishly and slipped away from him.
He groaned inwardly as her footsteps carried her down the aisle. He heard her greet her father with a strained voice, and then she disappeared from the shop taking all the warmth with her.
He dropped his head to the shelf she had just been leaning against and took a steadying breath. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! He had been so close to finally tasting her. His cock was going to be hard for hours.