“Allow me,” he said, seeing her now and smiling. He took the opener back, uncapping her beer with one swift movement and clanking their bottles together. “Cheers.”
Julia sipped her drink politely, trying not to choke as the strange, yeasty flavor entered her mouth. She hummed unconsciously and waited.
“Ever had a beer before?” Gabriel grinned.
She shook her head.
“Then I’m glad I’m your first.”
She blushed and hid her face behind her long mahogany hair.
“What are you doing here?” He wore a curious expression.
Julia paused, wondering how best to put it. “I was invited to dinner.”
I was hoping to finally meet you.
Gabriel laughed. “I guess I ruined that. Well, Miss Brown Eyes, add that charge to my tab.”
“Will you tell me what happened?” She kept her voice quiet and tried not to let it shake.
“Will you tell me why you haven’t run away yet?” His blue eyes found hers, and he looked at her sharply.
She ducked her head again, hoping the act of submission would cool his sudden flare of anger. Sitting with Gabriel after what happened was a stupid thing to do. He was drunk, and there was no one to rescue her if he decided to get violent. Now was her chance to leave.
Inexplicably, however, Gabriel’s arm reached out to close the gap between them. He pushed her hair behind her shoulders, his fingers tangling in the waves slowly, very slowly, before he withdrew. A connection of sorts flowed from his fingers and into her hair. Julia absorbed the sensation and hummed again softly, forgetting his question entirely.
“You smell like vanilla,” he remarked, shifting his body so that he could stare at her properly.
“It’s my shampoo.”
He finished his beer and opened another, taking a long pull from the bottle before he turned to her again.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“They love you, you know. You’re all they talk about.”
“The prodigal son. Or perhaps, a demon. The demon Gabriel.” He laughed bitterly and finished his beer in almost one swallow. He opened another.
“They were so happy you were coming home. That’s why your mother invited me to dinner.”
“She isn’t my mother. And maybe Grace invited you because she knew I needed a brown-eyed angel to watch over me.”
Gabriel leaned closer so that he could cup her cheek. Julia inhaled sharply as his touch surprised her, his large, blue eyes gazing at her in intoxicated surprise. He moved the pad of his thumb across her blush and hesitated, almost as if he was absorbing the heat from her skin. When he withdrew his hand, Julia almost cried out at the loss.
He placed his bottle down on the porch and stood up quickly. “The sun is setting. Would you like to go for a walk?”
She bit her lip. She knew she shouldn’t. But this was Gabriel from the photograph and possibly her one and only chance to see him and spend time in his presence. After what had happened earlier, she doubted he’d be coming home again. At least, not for a long, long time.
She placed the blanket to one side and stood up.
“Bring the blanket,” he said, and when she’d scooped it up under her arm, he took her smaller hand in his.
She gasped. A tingling sensation began at the tips of her fingers and traveled slowly through her arm until it reached her shoulder and skated to her heart, causing it to beat much faster.
He brought his head closer to hers. “Have you ever held a boy’s hand before?” She shook her head, and he laughed softly. “Then I’m glad I’m your first.”
They walked slowly into the woods, quickly disappearing from view of the Clarks’ house. Julia liked the way her hand fit in his and the way his long fingers curved across the back of hers. He held her gently but securely, squeezing her from time to time, perhaps to reassure her of his presence.
Julia began to think that this was the way holding hands with someone was supposed to feel. Not that she had any experience.
She’d only ventured into these woods a time or two before and always with Rachel. She knew that if something went wrong, she’d most likely get lost trying to find her way home. She pushed such thoughts to the back of her mind and focused her attention entirely on what it felt like to hold the enigmatic Gabriel’s warm, strong hand.
“I used to spend a lot of time here. It’s very peaceful. Up ahead there’s an old apple orchard. Has Rachel shown it to you?”
Julia shook her head.
Gabriel gazed down at her with what looked like a serious expression. “You’re awfully quiet. You can talk to me. I promise I won’t bite.” He flashed her one of his winning smiles, one Julia recognized from Rachel’s photographs.
“Why did you come home?”
He ignored Julia’s question and kept walking, but she noticed that he began to grip her hand more tightly. She tightened her grip on his as well to signal to him that she was not afraid. Even though she was.
“I didn’t want to come home, not like this. I lost something, and I’ve been drunk for weeks.”
Gabriel’s honesty surprised her.
“But if you lost something, maybe you can try to find it.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What I lost is lost forever.”
He began walking more quickly, and Julia had to hasten her strides just to keep up with him.
“I came home for money. That’s how desperate and absolutely f**ked I am.” Gabriel’s voice softened, and Julia felt him shudder. “I was f**ked up even before I destroyed everything and everyone. Before you ever arrived.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged and began to drag her to the left. “We’re almost there.”
Through an opening in the trees they entered a small clearing that was carpeted in thick grass. Wildflowers and weeds and old rotting stumps littered the expanse of green. The air was quiet and vibrated with peace. And at the edge of the open area stood several aged apple trees, weary-looking and worn.
“This is it.” He gestured widely. “This is Paradise.”
He pulled Julia to a large rock that stood inexplicably at the edge of the clearing and lifted her by her waist so that she was perched on top of it.
Then he climbed to her side. Julia shivered. The rock was cold in the shade of the setting sun and was already sending chills through her thin jeans.
Gabriel shrugged out of his jacket and placed it around her shoulders.
“You’ll catch pneumonia and die,” he said absently, placing an arm around her and drawing her close to his side. His body heat radiated from his bare arms and his t-shirt, warming her immediately.
She inhaled deeply and sighed with contentment, marveling at how well she fit under the crook of his arm. As if she’d been made for him.
“You’re Beatrice.”
“Beatrice?”
“Dante’s Beatrice.”
Julia flushed. “I don’t know who that is.”
Gabriel chuckled to himself, his breath warm against her face as he nuzzled her ear with his nose. “Didn’t they tell you? Didn’t they tell you the prodigal son is writing his book on Dante and Beatrice?”
When Julia didn’t answer, he brought his lips to the top of her head and brushed a gentle kiss against her hair. “Dante was a poet. Beatrice was his muse. He met her when she was very young, and he loved her from afar his whole life. Beatrice was his guide through Paradise.”
Julia’s eyes were closed as she listened to his voice, inhaling the scent that clung to his skin. He smelled of musk and sweat and beer, but Julia ignored those distractions and focused on the scent that was Gabriel, something very masculine and potentially dangerous.
“There’s a painting by an artist named Holiday. You look like his Beatrice.” Gabriel reached down and brought her pale fingers to his lips, kissing her skin reverently.
“Your family loves you. You should make up with them.” Julia’s own words surprised her, but he only pulled her in more closely.
“They aren’t my family. Not really. And it’s too late anyway, Beatrice.”
Julia started at the name and realized that the beer had definitely caught up with him. But she didn’t move her head from resting on his shoulder.
A short while later he was rubbing his hand up and down her arm, trying to attract her attention.
“You haven’t had your dinner.”
She shook her head. “No, I haven’t.”
“Shall I feed you?”
Though it made her sad to do so, she lifted her head from his shoulder.
He smiled at her and walked over to one of the remaining apple trees. He studied the boughs of hanging fruit and chose the largest, ripest red apple before picking a smaller one. He put the smaller one in his pocket as he walked back to her.
“Beatrice.” He smiled and handed her the apple.
Julia stared at it entranced, as if it were a treasure.
Gabriel laughed and moved his hands, extending the fruit in his right palm, the way a child would hold a sugar cube to a pony. Julia took the apple and brought it immediately to her lips, taking a firm bite.
He watched her chew; he watched her swallow. Then in silent satisfaction, he resumed his former position, his arm tight around her waist. He pressed her head gently to his shoulder and began eating the smaller apple that he had hidden in his pocket.