He looked confused by her sudden withdrawal. “You don’t believe what happened between us meant something to me?”
“I believe you, Gabe,” she admitted sincerely. “But think about it. You and I were both hurting, grief-stricken about losing Chris that night. We just needed someone. If it hadn’t been me making out with you, it would’ve been someone else.”
“That’s not true,” he argued, but she caught the note of uncertainty in his voice.
“Here we are again,” she continued, “having gone through something that shook us both to our roots. I just… I don’t know that I can trust this. And I’ve seen how you operate, Gabe. Women are constantly throwing themselves at you. I’ve seen you leave Mulaney’s with more women than I can even count.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, his posture growing defensive. “Didn’t realize you were counting. If I’d known, I would’ve given you a copy of the scorecard I keep in my wallet, let you play along.”
She closed her eyes, trying not to let his sarcasm get to her. He was hurt by her perception of him—that was clear. The knowledge that her words were hurting him made her stomach sink. She reached out and placed a hand on his arm, but the contact was a mistake. Hell—every contact with him was a mistake. She’d discovered that all too well.
She could deny her attraction to Gabe all she wanted, could lie to herself—to him—and pretend her heart didn’t race every time he walked into a room, that her stomach didn’t somersault whenever she heard his voice. But there was no denying how her fingers tingled the moment they touched his skin and how that simple contact sent heat lancing through her.
“It meant something to me, too,” she said softly, letting her fingertips drift lightly along his forearm.
“Elle.”
Her gaze snapped up to his. “Yeah?”
“You should probably go.”
*
Her hand instantly fell away, his reaction no doubt unexpected. She probably thought he was being a petulant asshole, but he was actually trying his damnedest to be a gentleman. Because what he wanted to do was kiss the hell out of her again, sweep her off to his bed, and make love to her until they both passed out from sheer, blissful exhaustion.
“Okay,” she said, backing away, her expression conflicted. She held his gaze for a long moment as if she might say something more, but then turned and headed for the doorway.
“It’s bullshit,” Gabe called to her, not willing to let her walk out the door thinking he was a piece of shit manwhore.
She turned back, frowning. “What?”
“My reputation,” he repeated. “How many women I’ve slept with. It’s not what you’d think—not what I let people think even back in high school. And none of the women I have been with were one-night stands, contrary to popular belief.”
“What about Chelsea Barton?” Elle demanded.
It actually took him a minute to figure out who the hell she was talking about. “Billy Monroe’s girlfriend?”
Elle nodded.
He scoffed, shaking his head with a bitter laugh. “No, Elle,” he said, “I really didn’t sleep with her. She only said that to piss off Billy and to get back at me for turning her down. Yeah, she gave me a ride home from Mulaney’s that night, but when she wanted to get busy, I turned her down. I wasn’t interested.”
Elle blinked at him for a moment. “But…why didn’t you say something when Billy first backed out of testifying against his cousin for Chris’s murder?”
“I tried to deny it, if you’ll recall,” he reminded her. “But given my reputation, you didn’t buy it.”
She closed her eyes on a sigh, her shoulders sagging. “Gabe—”
“My point is, Elle, I don’t sleep with just any woman with a pulse,” he continued, not willing to accept an apology now, not when he was hurt by her lack of faith and trust in him. “I never have. When I’m with a woman, it’s because I care about her and I respect her. If either of those things is missing, it’s a no-go, no matter what my dick has to say about it.”
She stared at him for a long moment, maddeningly silent. She could see through him in so many ways and didn’t give a good goddamn about his charm or his swagger or any of the other bullshit he dished out. That’s what he loved so much about her. So why couldn’t she accept this truth?
“I get it,” she said, her chin lifting. “What you’re saying is perfectly clear. Thanks for saving me from making a huge mistake.”
He frowned, perplexed by her reaction, and went after her as she stormed toward the front door but wasn’t able to keep up with her thanks to his leg.
Why the hell was she acting so pissed? He’d just explained he didn’t sleep around, that he wasn’t the total asshole she’d thought he was. Fucking hell, that’s what he got for being a gentleman on the night they’d—