Jacob's Ladder: Gabe (Jacob's Ladder #1)

“Good.”

Gabe broke apart one of the cornbread muffins in his hand. “Tell me, Linc, do you play any sports?”

“Soccer.”

Gabe glanced from Linc to me. “Not football like your mom?”

“I’m really not comfortable with him playing until he’s a little older,” I said.

“He’s got plenty of time. I didn’t start playing until I was about twelve.”

“Was it because your mom was a scaredy-cat and thought you’d get hurt?” Linc asked while shooting a look at me.

Before I could respond, Gabe shook his head. “No. It was more about the fact that we were living overseas at the time.”

“Was your dad in the military?” I asked.

“No. My parents were missionaries.”

I stilled my fork midway to my mouth. “You’re the son of missionaries?”

“What does that seem so shocking to you?”

“I guess I never stopped to imagine it.” I gave him a pointed look. “Maybe it was because of your behavior when we first met.”

“How did he act?” Linc asked.

“Uh…” While Gabe smirked at me, I quickly answered, “Not very Christian.”

May interrupted us by bringing our food. “Let me know if you guys need anything else.”

“Thanks,” Gabe replied as he picked up his fork. When we were once again alone, Gabe stared intently at me. “As I said this morning, I am truly sorry for the way I acted yesterday.”

I cocked my brows at him. “And this morning?”

With a scowl, Gabe added, “Yes, this morning as well.”

“Whatever,” I muttered before taking a sugary sweet sip of tea.

“You are going to forgive him, aren’t you Mom?” Linc asked.

As Gabe leaned forward expectantly in his seat, I slowly set my glass down. “You know, Linc, that’s really between me and Mr. Renard.”

“But they always say in Sunday school that we’re to accept sincere apologies and love our neighbor.”

For the first time in my life, I regretted that my son paid attention in church. I obviously couldn’t tell him that part of me not forgiving Gabe stemmed from the fact that he was a sex fiend who wanted to get in my pants. He also wasn’t old enough grasp the enormity of a man being a sexist pig either. “Fine. In light of what you said, I forgive him.”

Gabe smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Let it be noted for the record that it was only under duress,” I hissed at Gabe.

“I’ll take it in spite of that.”

Even as we began devouring the Southern goodness on our plates, the conversation never died down. Like an obsessed member of the paparazzi, Linc wanted to know every facet of what it was like to be in a band, and Gabe was kind to humor Linc’s incessant questions about what it was like to get a record deal and to go out on tour.

Of course, as I watched Linc’s eyes light up as he heard about the antics of life on the road, I couldn’t fight the uneasy feeling that came over me. It was the same feeling I got whenever Linc talked about music and wanting to play the guitar. My heart had been broken too many times because of music. I’d ultimately lost my mother and my boyfriend because of music, and I would be damned if I lost my son as well.

With his plate empty, Gabe leaned back in his chair and rubbed his belly. “Damn, that was good. I can’t remember the last time I had really good Southern food. I guess it was the last time I was at my mom and dad’s in Texas.”

“They really do have the best food in town. I guess that would be obvious since we eat here at least once a week,” I said as I wiped my mouth with my napkin.

“Yeah, Linc told me you did.” The moment the words left his lips, a panicked look took over Gabe’s face. At the same time, Linc gasped next to me.

Glancing between the two of them, I asked, “Wait, when did you say that?”

Linc swallowed hard. “Uh…back when Gabe was asking what was good.”

Although I didn’t remember Linc mentioning our dining habits to Gabe, I merely nodded. After clearing his throat, Gabe asked, “So who’s up for dessert?”

“Yes, pie!” Linc exclaimed as I said, “No, I think we’re good.” Of course, my son wanted to get dessert, which would equate to having to spend even more time with Gabe. Truthfully, it wasn’t that bad spending time with Gabe. I certainly liked the side I was seeing of him tonight more than the one I had the previous day or that morning, even if Linc’s eyes were a little too star-struck for my liking.

“Come on, Mom, we always have pie.” Linc waggled his brows at me. “I’ll even get the lemon and let you have some.”

I laughed at his antics. “You sure know how to sweeten the pot, don’t you?” With a sigh, I added, “Fine. You can have a piece of pie, but don’t get lemon just because of me. I can get my own.” I’d barely raised my hand off the table to wave May over when she came charging forward.

“Is there something I can get you?” she asked, ignoring me and staring straight at Gabe.

While I rolled my eyes at her actions, Gabe merely smiled politely. “Yes, we’d like dessert.”

“Yes, yes, of course. What kind would you like?” Once she scribbled down our orders for two slices of chocolate pie and one of lemon, May scurried off to the kitchen.

“You handled her pretty well,” I remarked.

“After all these years, I’m kinda used to it.”

“Are fans always that way?” While I wanted to ask if women were always that way around him, I decided it was best to stick to fans in general—I didn’t have any doubt in my mind what women were like with Gabe Renard. It was part of why he’d seemed so horrified yesterday when I’d told him no.

“Most of the time, yes. While I try to just handle it politely, my brother Eli goes way over the top. He starts conversations, asks about their families, what they do for a living.” With a smile, Gabe shook his head. “He was born to be a politician. He’s all about the shaking hands and kissing babies.”

I laughed. “He sounds pretty cool.”

“He is. He and my sister are so much alike—all sunshine and roses. Me, I’m more Oscar the Grouch when it comes down to it.”

Tilting my head at him, I teased, “You? Never.”

Gabe grinned. “Whatever.”

May returned with our pies. When Gabe practically inhaled his, Linc and I stared at him in shock. “That was amazing. I think I’ll get another slice.”

Loud chatter interrupted us. At the sight of my Aunt Sadie’s silver bouffant peeking out from under her wide-brimmed red hat, I fought the urge to dive under the table and hide. I’d forgotten she and the other silver-haired ladies loved to come by The Hitching Post for desert after their Red Hat Society meetings. There was no way in hell she wasn’t going to come over and demand to know what I was doing with Gabe. She might’ve been an old maid, but she was bound and determined that her nieces would tie the knot.