Hooked on You: An Annapolis Harbor Series Prequel, Lea Coll [love letters to the dead .txt] 📗

“Still. Thank you.” His eyes were open and vulnerable. “I wanted you here.”

“Yeah?” I liked that. I let that feeling settle in deep—someone wanted me.

Chapter Fifteen

GABE

We rode home in silence, content to hold hands. Was I ready to tell her everything about me? Was I ready for her to be disappointed that I wasn’t what she wanted, or for her to be disgusted by my past?

When the Uber pulled to the curb, I opened the door and got out. I looked up at the white shotgun house with tall black shutters. “This is where you live?”

Taylor searched my face. “Is it not what you expected?”

“Honestly? I don’t know what I expected.” Did she own the home? If so, she was definitely out of my league.

Taylor unlocked the door and led him to her second-floor apartment. “It’s not much but it reminds me of home.”

“It does?” I was surprised her place was a small apartment. I glanced at the kitchen, living room, and the hall presumably leading to a bedroom and bath.

“Yeah, I grew up in Annapolis. The houses were built in the 1800s so they’re tiny. My parents talked about moving to a bigger house with a large yard but we could walk to restaurants, the waterfront, and school.”

“Did you want to sit here?” Taylor gestured at the love seat in the living room. “Or I have a little balcony off my bedroom.”

“The balcony.” I needed fresh air for the conversation we needed to have.

“Did you want a beer?” Taylor asked as she walked in the kitchen.

“Sure.” There was still time to back out. I could keep things surface level with her. As I watched her pull the drinks from the fridge, I knew she deserved more than a quick fuck.

I followed her down the hall through her bedroom with its bed, dresser, and a small chair. “Sorry, I didn’t make my bed this morning.”

Her words drew my eyes to the bed covers which were pulled back and all I could imagine was her sleeping between the sheets and whether she wore silky lingerie or nothing at all. Fuck.

“Gabe?” Taylor held the French doors open for me to precede her outside where a table sat between two chairs.

I sat in the chair on the end and Taylor set the drinks on the table, lifting her hair off her neck. “It’s a hot one tonight. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the never-ending heat here.”

All I noticed was the way her breasts lifted with her hands holding her hair up. I shifted my attention to my beer, lifting it to my mouth. “No, I guess not.”

“What are we doing here, Gabe?” Her body was tense.

I hated that all my back and forth made her doubt my intentions. I wanted to be different. I wanted to be someone she could count on. “I’d like to get to know you better. Isn’t that what people do when they’re dating?”

“Are we dating?” Her tone was skeptical and I didn’t blame her. I’d been pushing her away since we met.

“I showed you the French Quarter, I took you to Harrison Street and my favorite restaurant for lunch, and I took you to the police station. That counts as dating,” I said in a teasing tone because I hadn’t considered those dates at the time.

Taylor laughed. “I’ll give you the first two, but I don’t think the police station counts.”

“It doesn’t?”

I couldn’t stop watching her as she laid her head back on the chair.

I remembered when she’d kissed my cheek after our tour of the French Quarter, that hot-as-fuck kiss in the bar office, and that simple kiss outside the station. Maybe we hadn’t said we were dating formally, but we’d gotten closer over the last few weeks.

“I don’t think we can consider the walk from the police station to the bar romantic.” She smiled.

“Well, I’ve never been accused of being romantic.”

“I can see that.” Something sparked in her eyes like she thought I was something else—hot, sexy? God, I hoped so.

I tipped my bottle toward her. “You’re going to ruin my street cred. I can’t be romantic.”

“I don’t think you have the street cred you think you do. You’re a big softie under that chip.”

I leaned forward so my elbows rested on my legs wondering if this was the segue I needed to talk about my past. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“How you’re really a big softie?” Taylor teased, unaware my tone had gotten serious.

“No, what I haven’t told you. What I’ve kept from you because I know you won’t like it. After I tell you this, you probably won’t want to see me again.”

Her attention snapped to me and I tried to enjoy the moment because it might be the last one I got with her. I took another long sip of beer before I began. “When I was a kid, my mom didn’t work. We lived off government assistance.” It was something I was embarrassed about.

“Despite the food stamps, we never had a lot of food. She didn’t care if I had food to eat, where I was, or what I did. In high school, I ran with the wrong crowd and got into trouble.” My muscles were so tight my back started to ache. Taking a steadying breath, I continued, “I have a criminal record. I was arrested for theft when I was eighteen.”

She was silent for so long I didn’t think she would answer. Finally, she said, “Okay.”

“Just okay?” That couldn’t be it. She had to be thinking something.

She chewed her lip for a few seconds like she was thinking about what to say. “I can’t say I’m surprised. I wondered when we first met if you’d been in trouble before. You’ve said your upbringing was different than mine. But I haven’t seen anything since that caused me any concern. Isaac clearly trusts you with the bar, money, supplies, and training the other employees.”

A muscle ticked in my jaw. “I have a