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

When Gabe turned to Kennedy, a smirk spread across his lips. “You’re not packing any sharp utensils at the moment, are you?”

Kennedy’s brows furrowed. “No. Why?”

“Rae said you might harbor a little ill will toward me.”

“Ill will?”

“Like ‘cut my balls off’ kinda ill will.”

While Kennedy laughed at Gabe’s summation, I smacked his arm playfully. “You weren’t supposed to mention that.”

“I figured it was the best way to break the ice.”

Kennedy nodded. “You figured right. It is true that I wasn’t initially a big fan of yours, but I’m willing to get to know you better.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Would you like to fix a plate, Gabe? There’s plenty to eat.”

Glancing over Kennedy’s shoulder, Gabe eyed the goodies lining the counter. I usually didn’t see so much breakfast food except on the weekends or if we had company, but once again, I shouldn’t have been too surprised that Kennedy went all out to impress Gabe.

“It looks and smells delicious. While I brought breakfast for Rae and myself, I’d love to try some of yours as well.”

I grinned at Gabe. By offering to taste Kennedy’s food, he was knocking it out of the park when it came to getting on her good side.

Kennedy pulled her shoulders back. “If it’s from any of the restaurants here in town, I guarantee mine is better.”

Before Gabe could reply, I said, “Actually, he went to Rafferty’s.”

Both Kennedy and Ellie’s eyes widened to the size of the antique dinner plates on the counter. “You got her breakfast from Rafferty’s?” Ellie asked.

“Yes, I did.”

Kennedy swallowed hard. “Like her favorite French toast from Rafferty’s?”

When Gabe nodded, Kennedy swore under her breath. Glancing between Kennedy and Gabe, Ellie quickly said, “That was so sweet of you.”

Gabe turned to smile at me. “It was the least I could do considering Rae’s been kind enough to give up her time by allowing me to hang out with her.”

Shaking my head, I replied, “You really didn’t need to do anything else. After all, you bought Linc’s and my dinner last night. That was plenty.”

“But this was more about a gesture of my appreciation.”

Oh, it was a gesture all right—an epic one. Sure, the old adage said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, but I was certainly feeling it that morning as well.

After handing the Rafferty’s bag to me, Gabe piled a plate full of blueberry scones, croissants, and sweet rolls. “I have a feeling I’m not going to get any songwriting done today because I’m going to be in a food coma.”

With a triumphant grin, Kennedy said, “I hope it gives you the fuel you need to write.”

“Thank you. I’m really grateful to both you and Ellie for your hospitality.”

Gabe’s statement rendered all of us speechless, and I was sure Ellie and Kennedy were both thinking the same thing I was: how was it possible for this eloquent and gracious Gabe Renard to be the same asshat from the other day?

“You’re very welcome,” Ellie squeaked as Kennedy and I nodded.

When Gabe started over to the table, Kennedy reached out and stopped him. “Actually, why don’t you guys take your breakfast out on the veranda?”

“Is this because you don’t want to see my French toast?” I questioned under my breath.

With a roll of her eyes, Kennedy replied, “No. This is more about you and Gabe having time to yourselves—you know, to feed his muse.”

“I really appreciate that,” Gabe said.

When we started out the side door, Ellie said, “You guys take your time. Kennedy and I will drop Linc off with Dad.”

“Really?”

Ellie smiled. “Yes, really.”

“Okay, thanks.” Pointing at Linc, I said, “Make sure you have your homework and your lunch.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled in spite of himself. “I will, Mom.”

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too.” Linc waved at Gabe. “Bye, Gabe.”

“Bye,” Gabe replied.

When we walked out the side door onto the veranda, I gasped. Sometime during the morning, one or both of my sisters had set up the glass-top table for us. While I’d imagined eating out of the takeout containers, there were real china plates and crystal goblets, and a pitcher of orange juice sat on the white linen tablecloth, along with a carafe of coffee.

“This is impressive,” Gabe remarked.

“I wish I could take the credit, but my sisters must have done it.”

“You’ll have to thank them for me.”

“I will.”

As he gazed at the heaping plate in front of him, Gabe asked, “Do you guys eat like this every morning?”

I laughed as I poured a glass of orange juice. “While she does cook every morning, that”—I motioned to his plate—“is strictly for your benefit.”

“I’m going to have to stop by her store. These scones look amazing.”

“They are. Everything Kennedy makes is amazing. She has a natural talent for it, plus she spent a summer in Paris back in the day, taking classes at Le Cordon Bleu.”

“That’s impressive. She never wanted to leave here and try her hand in the big city?”

“She did. She lived in Chattanooga for a few years but really didn’t like it, so she came back home.”

Gabe smiled. “You Hart women are small-town girls through and through.”

I took the box of French toast out of the Rafferty’s bag. “Pretty much. I really want to travel more. We do a yearly beach trip to the gulf, but I want to see other places and other cultures.” I motioned to the French toast in front of me. “Taste French toast in Paris, or maybe crepes.”

“Paris is a gorgeous city. Great architecture.” He winked at me. “And lots of sinful diversions.”

“I’ll pass on those.” When I took my first bite, I pinched my eyes shut and moaned in ecstasy.

“That good, huh?” Gabe questioned, amusement vibrating in his voice.

“Practically orgasmic.”

“Now I’m regretting that I didn’t get any for myself.”

“Do you want to try a bite?”

“Sure.”

After spearing a piece on my fork, I started to hand it over to Gabe when he leaned in and opened his mouth. Ah, so we were going to play it that way. Fine. I could do that. I could totally feed him some of my French toast. It wasn’t like it screamed foreplay or anything.

When I brought the fork to his lips, Gabe took the tines between his teeth and slid off delicious morsel. As he chewed, I found myself unable to look away, still holding the fork frozen in mid-air. When his tongue darted out to swipe off the excess powdered sugar and syrup, heat burned between my legs.

“That is pretty fucking amazing French toast,” he replied.

“Yeah,” I so eloquently muttered.

Gabe grinned. “You better hurry up and eat it before it gets cold.”

“But I’m warm now.” At the realization of what I’d just said, I jerked my hand back. Oh, I was warm all right. My face felt like an inferno because I couldn’t believe what I had said. “I mean, it’s still so warm. The French toast is so warm.”

“I’m glad.”

“How did you manage that?”