She turned her head to answer and flushed when her nose nearly brushed against his. But she didn’t back away before she said, “Delicious. Thank you.”
When she still didn’t pull back, Gabe’s pulse began to race, and it was all he could do not to lean in just another inch and capture those full lips that were turned up in a sultry grin. But he forced himself to draw away and turn his attention back to his food. He was finally managing to break through her defenses. He sure as hell didn’t want to ruin it by moving too fast. He wanted to savor every moment, every look, every caress.
And today was about her. He hadn’t been joking when he’d said she needed to have a little fun. He knew the dark mood he always found himself in on the anniversary of his mother’s death, and if there was anything he could do to spare Elle that kind of sorrow, he was glad to do it. It was worth it just to see her smile, hear her laugh.
As soon as they finished eating, they headed toward the midway where Elle made good on her threat to completely trounce him at the ring toss. But he paid her back by totally killing it at the shooting gallery—in spite of her efforts to throw off his shots by blowing in his ear. Which he had to admit, he didn’t mind one damned bit.
“So how are you holding up?” she asked as they shared a bag of cotton candy, the sugar crystals clinging to her lips, tempting as hell.
He forced himself to look away and focus on where he was walking after he nearly plowed into a woman pushing a stroller. “I’m okay,” he lied. His leg had gone from sore to throbbing, but he wasn’t about to call it a day just yet.
Of course, she saw right through him. “Liar,” she said with a laugh. “We should get you home.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Besides, you haven’t gone on any of the carnival rides.”
Her brows shot up at this. “Are you serious? We’re hardly teenagers, Gabe.”
“So what?” he countered. “There’s nothing that says grown men and women can’t act like kids now and then.” He gestured to an elderly couple climbing aboard the Ferris wheel. “They have at least a couple of years on us, don’t you think?”
She grimaced a little. “The truth is, I’m afraid of heights. If I get stuck at the top of that thing, I’ll have a total panic attack.”
He gave her a disbelieving look. “You? Afraid? Don’t believe it.”
She shook her head, casting a nervous glance toward the Ferris wheel. “Believe it. I’m terrified.”
“Would it help if I held your hand?” he asked, reaching tentatively for her fingertips. When he looked up from her hand, he was surprised to see her chest heaving with short, shallow breaths. He took a step closer, frowning with concern. “Hey, it’s okay. We don’t have to go if you’re that scared.”
She shook her head, her cheeks flooding with color. “No, it’s not that. I, uh…” She pulled her fingertips from his grasp and took a step back, forcing a smile. “Let’s go. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
She shook her head with a tremulous little laugh. “No. Not at all. But I have to conquer this fear sometime, right?”
*
A moment later, they were sitting in the Ferris wheel car, swaying gently as it stopped to allow others to board.
“Okay, I was wrong,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. “This was a bad idea. A really, really bad idea. I think I’m going to throw up.”
“Oh God, don’t do that,” Gabe pleaded. “The poor kids beneath us will be traumatized for life.”
She actually laughed a little, then took a deep breath and forced her eyes open. And immediately regretted it. “Oh crap. We’re not even at the top yet.”
“Hey,” Gabe said softly. “Look at me.” When she turned her head slowly toward him, finally meeting his soothing gaze, he gently grasped her chin. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Elle. I swear it.”
Elle’s stomach flipped end over end at the intensity of his promise. “I believe you.”
His thumb smoothed lightly over her skin and his gaze dropped down to her lips. But as his head dipped ever so slightly toward hers, the jolt of the Ferris wheel made her gasp and he pulled back.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he said. “I’ll flag the guy down and let him know we want to get off.”
She shook her head. “No. I can do this.” Then, impulsively, she reached for his hand, twining her fingers with his, and found it did help to know he was there beside her, that he had sworn to keep her safe.
She was just about to tell him so when she suddenly caught sight of a familiar face. One of Jeb Monroe’s sons—Jeremy—was standing across from the Ferris wheel, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against a low fence post, staring up at her.
“Oh God,” she whispered, her skin prickling with fear that had nothing to do with heights. “He’s here.”
“Who?” Gabe asked, following her line of sight.
“Jeremy Monroe.”