Page 14 of Man of Honor
I had to clear my throat before I could answer.“She’s getting settled.”
His expression relaxed, like some weight he’d been carrying had lifted a little.“Good,” he muttered under his breath, nodding once.“That’s good. She’ll be safe here.”
“I need to ask you some more questions.”
Gage didn’t bother responding, at least not right away.He moved slowly, waking up on his own time and pouring himself a cup of coffee.He took a long sip and leaned against the counter, watching me over the rim of his mug.Either he was mulling over his answer or taking his sweet time just to annoy me, but my patience was wearing thin regardless.Then he cocked his head toward the coffee pot and said with just a hint of amusement, “Help yourself.There’s bacon and biscuits over by the stove.”
He didn’t budge an inch as I reached into the cabinet over his head for a mug, forcing me to brush against him.He chuckled, and I gritted my teeth, doing my damndest to ignore the warmth of his skin and the herbal, woodsy scent of his body wash.He was doing it on purpose, the dick.
“You’re not gonna make this easy, are you?” I asked, letting my irritation slip.
His gray eyes sparkled with mischief.“Since when have I made anything easy for you?”
He was playing with me just like he used to, only this time, if he kept it up, I wouldn’t feel guilty calling his bluff.We stood there, locked in a silent standoff, both daring the other to make the first move…until a loud clatter and laughter from the other end of the house snapped the moment.Gage blinked and gave me a slow, lazy smile.The kind that said:just kidding.
Without missing a beat, he grabbed a sheet of paper towels and wrapped some biscuits and what must have easily been half a pound of bacon into a protective pouch.“Come on,” he said, holding his coffee with one hand and tucking the food in the crook of his elbow.He jerked his head toward the door.“I’ve got somewhere private we can talk.”
I followed a barefoot and damn near half-naked Gage down the hall, coffee in hand, up two flights of narrow stairs to the attic.
It was the first time I’d ever been past the ground floor.The slanted ceilings were a tight fit for men our size, and I ducked to avoid a low beam.The place was an asthmatic’s nightmare.Sunlight filtered through a row of tiny circular windows, lighting up a thick cloud of swirling dust motes.Steamer trunks were stacked against the walls, leather straps brittle with age, and an ornate mirror leaned against a pile of boxes, its glass so cloudy it barely cast a reflection.A row of cracked porcelain dolls sat on a shell beside the window.Something about their chipped, painted faces creeped me out.
“This place is really something,” I muttered, pausing to examine an oil painting of a black-eyed priest in red robes.
Gage followed my eyes and laughed.“We call him Monsignor Misery.”
I raised my eyebrows, taking in the stern, ghostly face staring back from the canvas.“It’s a miracle growing up here didn’t drive you all insane.”
“Who says it didn’t?” Gage asked flippantly.He didn’t sound like he was kidding.
Before I could respond, he was climbing through a hatch in the back wall, making it look easy despite his injuries.I followed less gracefully, focused on keeping every drop of coffee where it belonged in my cup.
We emerged into full morning sunshine, and I realized we were on the roof.The main house had steep gables, but this section must have been added during a different time period.It wasflat and lined in sturdy slate tiles that would stay cool beneath the sweeping branches of an enormous oak.The air was already thick with humidity, but up here, the fresh, green-scented breeze kept it bearable.Pleasant, even.
“Hell of a view,” I admitted, taking in the spread of emerald lawns, moss-draped courtyards, and mature oaks.Past the furthest tree line, I caught a glimmer of dark water.The bayou was never far away around here.But this high above it all, the world seemed almost peaceful.
Gage sat with his back against a chimney and unwrapped the breakfast in his lap.“Always liked it up here,” he said breezily.
I settled awkwardly beside him.“You know, she asked about you.”
Gage turned his head and gave me an unreadable look, chewing slowly.“Who? Ivy?”
I nodded. “You made a big impression.”
“Just trying to keep her alive,” he muttered, looking away and tearing into his buttermilk biscuit.
“You’re her hero now,” I continued, throwing out a little tease.“You should’ve seen her face when you didn’t rush out to greet her the second we got here.She thinks you hung the moon.”
He grimaced. “Just what I need.”
I leaned back, propping myself on my elbows with my coffee resting between us.Just soaking in the view. “It’s not so bad,” I said idly.“Reminds me of someone else I used to know.”
Gage’s eyes flashed a warning.“Don’t start.”
“Just saying,” I went on, forcing my tone to stay light.“I know what it’s like to be on a pedestal.You latched onto me pretty hard back in the day.”
“Yeah, well, we both know how that turned out.”
There wasn’t much to say to that.Nothing that led anywhere good, at least, so I kept my mouth shut.I stretched my legs out in front of me and crossed them at the ankle, aiming to look more at ease than I felt.It was impossible to fully relax with Gage lounging beside me, close enough to touch.It was infuriating how he drew me in so effortlessly.He’d tried so hard back when he was a teenager, and I'd refused him every time.But he didn’t even have to try now.I wanted him so badly that just sitting beside him, breathing the same air, left me aching.