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

Then he’d met me for lunch at The Hitching Post, and this time I beat him to the punch by telling May I would be covering the bill. Although he initially protested me buying his lunch, he appeared very grateful in the end. When he’d texted me in the afternoon to ask if he could spend a few hours with me, I told him he could but said he’d have to come to the house. The one bright spot was that for the first time I could remember, I had the place all to myself. Aunt Sadie was at bingo over at the American Legion, Kennedy and Ellie had gone to Chattanooga to pick up supplies for their businesses, and Linc had gone over to my dad’s.

Before Gabe had called, my plans for my evening at home had entailed baking. Once again, it was a prime example of how compared to him, my life was so simple. As I hurried out of the kitchen to get the door, I skidded to a stop in front of the gilded mirror in the hallway. I quickly checked my appearance before heading on into the foyer.

“Who is it?” I called.

“It’s Gabe.”

“Gabe who?” I teasingly asked.

“You know who,” he retorted.

I laughed as I opened the door. “I thought you would be proud that I asked this time.”

“Yeah, I’m thrilled.”

“Come on in.”

“Thanks.”

After we walked into the kitchen, Gabe eyed the counters covered in groceries. “What’s all this? Are you making me dinner?”

I laughed. “You wish.”

He cocked his brows at me. “What’s with all the bags?”

“Tomorrow is the PTA bake sale at Linc’s school, and somehow he wrangled me into making his favorite turtle brownies.”

“I thought your sister was the baker.”

“She is.”

“So why not delegate it off to her?”

“Because it’s important for them to be made by my hands.” When Gabe continued staring blankly at me, I sighed. “You’re not a parent, so you wouldn’t understand.”

“Let me guess: to show Linc that you truly care for him and his education, you are prepared to spend countless hours in the kitchen toiling away on baked goods after a long day at work.”

I widened my eyes in surprise. “Exactly.”

“See? I’m not a total parenting dumbass.”

“I never said you were.”

“Trust me, you implied it.”

I held up my hands. “If I did, I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” He then proceeded to start emptying one of the grocery bags.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Uh, what does it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks like you’re trying to help.”

“Ding, ding, ding. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“You’re going to help me make brownies?” It was one thing for him to hang out with me, but for a famous musician to actually participate in baking? It was way too crazy.

Gabe shrugged. “Yeah. Why not?”

“Excuse me for stereotyping, but you don’t seem like the baking type.”

“Once again, I would ask that you not make assumptions about me. Some people would stereotype my mother as being a typical passive pastor’s wife, but trust me, she isn’t. She made sure her boys participated in cooking just as her daughter did.”

“I like your mother’s style.”

A genuine smile lit up Gabe’s face. “She really is an amazing woman.”

A storm of emotions rolled through me at his words and expression. “That’s nice. You’re really lucky to have a supportive and loving mom.”

“Do you ever hear from yours?” Gabe asked.

“Nope. She’s never even met Lincoln.”

Gabe’s brows popped up in surprise. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish. There have been a few phone calls here and there, but it’s probably been at least five years now.” I sighed. “She is the epitome of the old saying that you can’t make a whore into a housewife.”

“Damn,” Gabe muttered under his breath as he opened a box of brownie mix.

I giggled at his reaction to my honesty. “Sorry, but I can’t help calling it what it is. Sometimes I try to see things from her perspective. She wanted to get the hell out of her abusive home, and as a seventeen-year-old high school dropout, the only way to do that was through a man. She bounced from one to another trying to make one stay.” I shook my head. “She struck gold the day she got her mitts onto my dad. He wanted to be the white knight who saved her, the one who changed her. After trapping him into marriage by getting pregnant with Kennedy, she then popped out me and Ellie in quick succession before realizing motherhood was not for her.”

“That had to be hard on him,” Gabe remarked.

“I’m sure it was. I mean, I can only imagine considering what I’ve been through myself, but when we were growing up, he never made it seem hard. It was just like everything flowed so effortlessly with him—well, almost everything.” I grinned at Gabe. “He did sort of stumble with female hormones and our periods.”

Gabe laughed. “I don’t know many men who are comfortable with those things, least of all a father. It meant you guys were growing up, and I’m sure he hated that.”

Once again, Gabe surprised me with the depth of his response. As I was getting to know him better, I could see he wasn’t just a self-obsessed sex fiend. Although we’d only been hanging for a few days, I already felt a deep connection with him.

I cleared my throat. “Okay, let’s get down to business. We need to start working on the brownie mix.”

He jerked his chin at the cabinets. “Where do you keep your mixing bowls and baking pans?”

“Mixing bowls are in the top right cabinet. Baking pans are in the cabinet by the stove.” As Gabe reached up for the mixing bowls, his t-shirt rode up, affording me an excellent side view of what I imagined was his very defined six-pack. Besides his perfect abs, I couldn’t help noticing the tattoos. While he had one on his bicep and a few on his arms, I’d obviously never seen any under his clothes.

Before I could stop myself, I reached out and touched the ink. Gabe froze for a few seconds at my touch then slowly brought the mixing bowls down onto the counter.

After jerking my finger away, I said, “Sorry. I was just admiring the ink on your side.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s in another language, isn’t it?”

Gabe nodded. “Hebrew.”

“What does it say?”

“It’s the word for family. I got it done a few years back when I took a trip to Israel with Eli and my older brother, Micah. Since everything in my life personally and professionally is tied to my family, I thought it was a cool idea.”

I smiled. “I really like it. My family means the world to me too. Maybe I should get a tattoo like yours.”

Gabe eyed me curiously. “Do you have any tattoos?”

Groaning, I opened the carton of eggs. “Yes, I have two meaningful ones, and one I would like to forget.”

“Don’t tell me you got Linc’s father’s name tattooed on you somewhere.”

With a laugh, I replied, “No, thank God, but I do regret being sixteen and sneaking off to get a tramp stamp.”

“Hmm, let me see.”

“Fine.” Turning around, I untucked my shirt and held it up a few inches. “There it is.”

“It’s not bad.”

I threw a glance at Gabe over my shoulder. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m serious. I was expecting something like a tribal band or Chinese symbols.”

I rolled my eyes. “I thought I was being so badass with those roses. I really want to get it lasered off when I get enough—”

My breath hitched when I felt Gabe’s fingers on my skin. “I wouldn’t get it removed.”

“But, uh, it’s…uh, a tramp stamp,” I protested breathlessly.