Page 47 of Tattered and Torn
Killian laughs. “I’m glad to hear that.” Then he looks my way. “I heard you went too. Your first time?”
“Yep. It was a little terrifying at first. My horse—Odin—is really tall. But after a while, I was able to relax enough to enjoy the scenery. Pine Lake is stunning.”
Killian nods. “It is. Hannah and I like to camp up there. You should try it sometime, Gabrielle. Join one of the overnight camping excursions and rough it out in nature.”
I laugh. “I think a picnic and a hike around the lake was enough roughing it for me.”
“Spoken like a true city girl,” John says. He winks at Killian. “Baby steps. We’ll get her camping yet.”
“Hey, I did all right for myself today,” I say in my defense. “At least I wasn’t the one who fell in the lake.”
Killian’s brow goes up. “Who fell into the lake?”
“Krista,” I say. I nod toward the trio, who are sipping wine from long-stemmed glasses. “The brunette.”
“Yikes,” Killian says. “I take it she wasn’t hurt.”
John shakes his head. “Just her pride.”
“Well, have a nice evening you two,” Killian says. “I’m heading back to the office.”
After we finish our dinners, we both have a brownie for dessert. I didn’t have time to prepare anything else. I really need to talk to Jennie about placing a regular order for pies.
When we’re done, John reaches into his back pocket for his wallet.
“That’s okay,” I say. “It’s on the house. That’s one of the perks of dining with the restaurant manager.”
He smiles. “Remind me to eat with you more often.”
I definitely could live with that.
My pulse starts racing when I realize now’s a perfect time to invite him back to my place. That’s how this works, right? Invite the guy over for a nightcap and see where it goes. “Would you like to come to my apartment? For a drink?”
His smile fades. “I—it’s getting late. I should get back to the barn and check on the horses.”
I glance out the window to see it’s still light outside. It’s only eight-thirty. “So, that’s a no?”
He studies me a moment, his eyes searching mine as if he’s working through a difficult problem. “I’ll walk you to your apartment, though. It’s the least I can do after you kept me company today.”
Part of me—my bruised ego—wants to tell him to never mind. But part of me is hopeful that I’m not imagining the connection I feel between us.
I try not to let my disappointment show. I like John. I more than like him. He’s the strong quiet type, that’s for sure, but he also exudes integrity. I find that very attractive. “Thanks,” I say, forcing a smile.
It’s not his fault if he’s not interested.
We leave the restaurant and head upstairs to the staff apartments.
I unlock my door. “Goodnight, John. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As I’m reaching for the doorknob, he says, “Gabrielle, wait.”
I pause, looking back at him.
“Maybe just one drink,” he says. He’s frowning, clearly not happy at the prospect of being alone with me in my apartment.
Letting him off the hook, I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. Just forget I asked. Have a good evening.”
When I open my door and step inside, he follows me in.