Up by Five (6 page)

Conner Dixon had throw rugs.

His living area consisted of a matching sofa, love seat and oversized chair with an ottoman and a beautiful coffee table. A coffee table that was not covered with magazines, remote controls or empty glasses.

Conner’s held a stack of four books, a set of coasters—Gabby wasn’t sure her brothers even knew what a coaster was—and one remote control. One! Unbelievable.

The living room was separated from the kitchen by a long, marble-topped bar with three tall stools. The bar held a bowl of fruit. Fruit!

The kitchen was huge, with a center island—that was not covered with junk mail. Even Gabby’s center kitchen island was covered with junk mail. There were a few dishes propped in the sink and there was a bag of chips and a twelve-pack of bottled water on the counter, but otherwise it was clean.

And there was a throw rug covering the faux-wood floor in front of the sink.

“Did your sisters decorate for you?” she asked, facing him again.

He frowned. “No, why?”

“Your place is really nice.”

Even the lighting in the living area was bright but warm, provided by nice lamps that sat on matching end tables.

Gabby suddenly felt her eyes well with tears. She sniffed. Crap.

“You okay?” Conner stepped close, his hand closing around her elbow.

She nodded. Then shook her head.

“Here.” He pushed her into the chair. He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a cold bottle of water that he held out.

She took two big drinks before she gave him a small smile.

“Sorry. I just got a little choked up.”

“Your apartment?”

She nodded. “All of my stuff was hand-me-downs, not worth a quarter at a rummage. None of it matched. But it all had a story. The kitchen table and chairs had been my grandmother’s. My couch was the first thing my uncle bought after he graduated from law school. My bed was the one my mom slept in growing up. My coffee table was from my other uncle’s frat house. It had the best stuff scratched in the surface.”

She looked up at Conner, feeling stupid. He was sitting on his coffee table, facing her, their knees almost touching.

“I am really sorry that happened to you, G,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry that I hesitated for even one second when you said you needed to stay here. Of course you can. However long or short you need.”

And then there were the sweet Conner moments. They spent most of their time together at work, of course, but she’d seen him calm an older woman after she’d fallen and broken her arm, she’d seen him with kids at the scene of a car accident, she’d seen him go into a condemned building after a litter of kittens.

“Thanks, Conner.”

He nodded. “I like it better when you smile.”

She smiled. “Doesn’t everyone always like it better when other people smile?”

“Probably. Except IT guys. I think the ones at the hospital like to see people cry. All that ‘have you tried restarting the computer?’ bullshit and using big terms just to make us feel stupid.”

She grinned.

“And personal trainers. If you smile around them, they make you do double reps.”

She chuckled.

“But dammit, Gabby, I really like it when
you
smile. When you smile it means things are okay. I always look for your smile at scenes. Once I see it I can breathe deep again.”

Her smile died and she felt her eyes widen. “What?”

He nodded. “I didn’t realize it until just now. But there’s always this churning in my gut when we’re at a scene. Adrenaline, all of that. And it doesn’t stop until I see you smile.”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t always smile at a scene.” There were too many times that the smile didn’t come for several hours, sometimes a day or two, after a scene. They all knew that there would be bad scenes and that things wouldn’t always go their way. But none of them took that particularly well.

He nodded. “I know. But I don’t think that churning stops until you do.”

“That’s…” She didn’t really know what that was.

“Because I trust you. And because you’re smart and dedicated and you have a lot of heart. If you’re smiling, things really will be okay.”

Gabby had no idea what to say to all of that. It was deep. And sweet. And way too emotional for her and Conner.

“You better be careful, Dixon,” she said softly. “It almost sounds like you did notice a girl even without makeup and a push-up bra.”

“That’s the damnedest thing. I did. But I didn’t. How’s that possible?”

She rolled her eyes. “You mean how was there a bra—push-up or otherwise—nearby and you didn’t notice there were boobs?”

His eyes narrowed. “Something like that.”

She wet her lips.

His gaze followed her tongue.

The entire upper half of her body tingled.

Damn.

She was
not
going to be that girl. She was not going to fall at Conner’s feet.

He was not perfect, he was not a god, he had no magical powers.

Probably.

She cleared her throat. “That’s easy. You like the girls who gaze up at you adoringly and I’m not the type.”

“You don’t gaze?”

“Not adoringly.”

“At me?”

“At anyone.”

“Ever?”

“Nope.”

“Why is that?”

She shrugged. “Maybe I like being gazed
at
.”

His eyes did that thing again where they dropped to her lips, then roamed over her hair and ended on her mouth again.

And her body did the same
oh yeah
thing that she didn’t really understand.

She was responding to something from him that she couldn’t even really define.

“Being gazed at is good,” he finally said.

“Yeah.”

“I’m not really good at that.”

She gave him a small smile. “Yeah.”

He looked surprised. “Yeah?”

She laughed. “Yeah.”

“I’m generally known as quite the romantic.”

She nodded. “You are.”

“And sweet. Sexy.”

“Yep and yep.”

His eyes narrowed again. “You don’t agree?”

“I think you’re
very
romantic and sweet and sexy…with the girls who pursue you first, the ones who come on to you.”

He opened his mouth. Then shut it.

She laughed again. “We’ve spent thirty-six hours a week, every week, for two years together, Conner. You didn’t think I’d notice a few things?”

He leaned in. “What do you think you’ve noticed, G?”

“That you like the obvious girls, the ones who are all about you, the ones who will do anything for you. You flirt, but you never ask them out before they’ve thrown themselves at you. You love being doted on. You love the view from that big old pedestal they put you on.”

Something flickered in his eyes, but he gave her a slow grin. It didn’t make her tummy flip like it should have. Because it was practiced. She could tell he was faking it.

“So you know my secret.”

“That you’re full of shit?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

She nodded. “You’re full of shit. You only like the sure things, but none of them know that. You make them feel like they’re special and beautiful and wonderful, and they never realize that they did all the pursuing.”

“What makes you think that I don’t really think that they’re special and beautiful and wonderful?”

“You do,” she said, knowing that Conner really was a good guy who appreciated women. He treated them all well. “But not before they think
you’re
special and beautiful and wonderful.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not really the romantic type deep down. It’s an act.”

She snorted. “Bullshit.”

“Seriously.”

“No. You want to be romantic, but something holds you back from doing it first, from making that first move. So you let all your sweetness and romance out on Sara Gordon.”

Gabby could tell she’d shocked him. Again.

“You don’t think I’m really head over heels for Sara?”

Gabby laughed. “Sara is safe. You flirted with her, but you didn’t really turn it on until she showed you her wedding ring. You kept with it because you can romance her, get all that stuff out of your system on a woman who can never really do anything about it.”

She tipped her head, realizing for the first time that she’d
really
psychoanalyzed Conner.

“Why is that anyway, Dixon? You don’t want to go all crazy for a girl who’s unattached?”

He sat back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Ah, she’d gotten too close. Good to know.

“Yeah, probably not,” she said with a shrug. “But just so you know…you’re safe with me. You can be yourself. I’m not the girl to be pursuing a guy on a good day and certainly not right now.”

She’d grown up around men. Tough guys. “Real” men. They worked with their hands, they drank beer, they told raunchy jokes, they preferred denim over all other fabrics. But as loud and passionate as they were about their sports, poker and cars, they were more so about their women. The men she knew—her father included—were romantic and protective while being all about women’s lib. They respected women and they picked women who would be their
partners
. Not one of them got away with thinking women—theirs or any others—were the weaker sex. She supposed that’s why Conner was able to make her tummy flip at times. She liked a protective guy, a guy who would insist she sleep in his guest room when she was homeless, but who would also get out of the way when she needed to stitch someone up and would admire her ability to deal with a drunk who’d put his car in the fountain in the park.

“Not right now?”

She pushed up from the chair, the blanket slipping off one shoulder.

Conner’s eyes immediately went to the bare skin.

Definitely not right now. Or ever.

She was nervous about medical school. It would be demanding, and she wanted it bad. She needed to reduce the chaos as much as possible and then control what was left as best she could. With her family there would always be some craziness going on.

Getting involved with Conner Dixon would be like adding an earthquake to the hurricane that was the Evans family.

She didn’t need any more shaking up than she already had.

“Medical school is all I care about right now,” she told him, pulling the blanket back up to her neck. “I don’t have the time or energy for anything else.”

Conner rose, standing way too close, something she couldn’t quite define in his eyes.

“My sisters have always sucked any extra time and energy,” he said. “I haven’t had anything left for a woman. And women are a lot of work.”

Gabby smiled and stepped back. “What you need is to live with a woman who’s
not
a lot of work. For about two months. Then you’ll see we’re not all so bad.”

Conner shook his head. “Women aren’t bad. Women are awesome. That’s the problem.”

Hmm. Not exactly the word she’d been expecting. “Con—”

“And now
you’re
a problem.”

“Wh—”

He reached up, his thumb going to the corner of her mouth. He drug it across half of her bottom lip and her body exploded with what felt like a thousand Fourth of July sparklers. He held his thumb up. There was a smudge of chocolate.

His eyes were on hers though. “I can’t believe that for two years I thought of you as just Gabby. You were one of the crew. Someone I could trust and depend on. Someone I respected and valued. And now, within a few hours of realizing you had boobs, you’ve become trouble. Typical.” He wiped his thumb on his jeans and headed for the kitchen.

She frowned and followed. “I’m not going to be any trouble.”

“You already are.”

“How?”

He grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped it open and drank. “Until about an hour ago,” he went on after swallowing, “I was finally, fully girl-free. Olivia and Cody got together a month ago.
One month
I’ve been
not
the primary guy in someone’s life and now here you are, moving in with me, wearing your hair down, with your boobs and your mouth…” He trailed off and took a huge swig of beer.

And now it was her turn to stare at him, amazed.

She took the beer can from him and took a long, cold drink.

She set the can on the counter and propped a hand on her hip. “What about my hair and my boobs and my mouth?”

“They’re all
here
, with me, in my apartment. This is my girl-free zone!”

“Girl-free zone?”

“Not even my sisters are allowed here. I moved here a year ago and that was the rule we put down. This is the one place in my entire life I can go without girls!”

“You don’t bring girls here?” She
knew
that wasn’t true.

“Sex girls,” he said. “Not
real
girls.”

She just looked at him. This was Conner. Nothing had changed. But it felt very different standing here now with him and it wasn’t all about her attire—or lack of attire.

“You’re scared of me.”

“Excuse me?”

She nodded as the realization sank in. “You’re scared of me. Because there’s no definition for me.”

Conner grabbed the can and drank again. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m a girl, but I know you pretty well, and you like me and trust me. I’m a friend, but you want to see me naked. I’m a crewmate, but you want to sleep with me.”

He scowled at her. “What makes you think I don’t want to sleep with Sierra?”

“Because she’s not the type to fall all over you.”

“Neither are you. Or so you say.”

Gabby nodded. “But you’re still attracted to me. Which is what makes you nervous.”

“I’m not scared of you, Gabby.”

She didn’t believe him. “Okay. That’s good. Because having sex with a friend, someone who knows you and who you really care about outside of the bedroom, is a very different experience than a hookup or a relationship that starts with sex.”

“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ve only had fairly long-term relationships and they were with guys I was friends with first.”

“How many?”

“Three.”

“How long is long term?”

“The shortest was ten months. The longest was two years.”