She lived in a duplex with brown siding. A few trees blossomed beside a cluster of mailboxes at the end of the main sidewalk. Adrian searched for her white pickup in the lot, but it wasn’t there. Undeterred, he made his way to number 206 and knocked.
A short woman opened. Her brown hair hung to her shoulders, and she crinkled her nose to adjust the glasses perched there. This must be a roommate. He wasn’t sure Gabby had ever mentioned a roommate, but it made sense.
“Can I help you?”
“My name is Adrian Bear. I’m looking for Gabby—sorry, Goldie Bybanks.”
“You’re Adrian?” She scanned him like a barcode. He couldn’t remember feeling squeamish under a woman’s approving glance, but he did with hers. “Wow, Goldie wasn’t kidding.”
Adrian brushed off the attention. Gabby had talked about him with her roommate. That was a good sign.
“Is she here?”
Her roommate slung a purse over her shoulder. “Nope. I’m just headed out, but you’re welcome to wait here for her.”
She was headed out, but she was welcoming him in? “I can just wait in the car.”
“Come on,” said the girl, ushering him in. Somehow, she managed to trade him places, leaving him in the eave of their apartment and her on the step.
“We don’t have much, but you’re welcome to whatever’s in the fridge. Nice to meet you.” She closed the door, leaving him awkwardly alone.
Adrian stared around at the space. A small screened TV sat on top of a cheaply built table. A few books were heaped onto the coffee table in the room’s center. The couches were mismatched, one floral, the other blue, and the curtains were blandly generic, making him wonder if they were the original fabric that had been supplied in every unit whenever these had been built, which he suspected was some time ago.
He remembered Gabby that morning in his cabin, how she must have felt the same awkwardness being in a space that wasn’t her own. The sight of her purple duffle bag resting near the entrance into the hall was heartening. It assured him he was in the right place.
He wandered through, checking out the space. The fridge was covered in magnets and papers. A bowl was left on the table. He fiddled with the spoon, accidentally knocking it on the floor. Good grief, he was all nerves.
Not wanting to intrude down the hall and unsure of what else to do, he settled himself on her couch—it was too hard; how did they possibly relax on this thing?—leaned back, and closed his eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
GABBY’S KEYS JANGLED AS SHE crammed them into the lock. Wanderlust had injected into her veins, spurring her movements. Unfortunately, it also made her palms slippery. She nearly dropped her keys as she turned the knob into her apartment.
And she stopped.
It should have been empty. Sadie had already left for work, and Gabby had called to tell her goodbye. She was grabbing her bag and that was it.
But when she caught sight of the bowl on the table, and a man sleeping on her couch, her heart gave a little lurch. All at once, a series of disasters streamed through her subconscious. Someone had broken in. She’d heard of idiotic robbers who decided to take naps in the middle of their heist. Why anyone would break in here, she couldn’t understand. She and Sadie had nothing for them to steal.
Then again, the door hadn’t been forced or broken into. Neither had any of the windows, that she’d noticed.
Gabby curbed her panicked impulse to reach for the nearest heavy object, smack the man with it, and bolt for the police station. Instead, she took a few rattling steps toward him.
Black hair, feathered lashes, teasing lips, his hands resting peacefully on his chest as it rose up and down. She’d fantasized about this face, imagined every aspect she could summon, and when she couldn’t remember those, she’d stared at the selfie he’d taken of them for longer than was probably mentally healthy.
Lightness puffed in her chest, and her senses climbed sky high. Oh goodness. Adrian Bear was here. Asleep on her couch.
She watched him for a few moments, inching closer just to be sure. The past six weeks couldn’t have erased the memory of his features. Lips parted slightly. Scruff itching along his jawline. The freckle she’d noticed near his left ear. It really was him.
“Adrian?” She crouched before him and shook his shoulder, thrilling at touching him. Disbelief still clamored through her. What was he doing here?
He stirred and lifted his lids.
“Gabby?” he said groggily.
She sank back on her heels. “You were sleeping on my couch?”
“Just returning the favor,” he said, stretching his arm outward. “Nothing like finding a beautiful woman sleeping in my bed.”
She couldn’t seem to close her mouth. Her insides were squealing. “What are you doing here?”
He pushed himself up. It wasn’t the eyes so much as the directness of the gaze, the shape of him, his arm resting on the cushion, the way he tilted slightly in her direction.
The air hummed. Something invisible drew her to him.
“I needed to see you,” he said, his fingers finding hers.
The touch was a shock wave that made her brain babble. She was hyper-aware of his fingertips, of his skin, of the flecks of intensity in his hazel eyes. Throughout their entire, brief relationship, she’d constantly questioned the reality of him. She couldn’t have dreamed this moment up, though, not with the way her blood was racing or the way his gaze penetrated her.
He was here. He was real.
She wanted to return his adorable comment. She’d needed to see him, too. It was the whole reason she’d searched out job openings in Chicago. But she’d found one, and no amount of weak knees or love-struck realization could change the fact that she had a flight to catch.
She had to go.
She
