Happenstance(5)

Chapter Two





It’s very silent now that Gabe’s arms are around me.

Silent except for the loud rapping of his heartbeat near my ear.

I’m not going to lie, I forget my ulterior motive for several long moments, the ample heat of his big body sinking into mine and ceasing my shivers. He smells like a construction site—sawdust and paint and coffee—and somehow I know that going forward, I will always associate those smells with warmth and comfort. I’m almost cross-eyed at the sudden rush of heat to my bones and before I can stop myself, I melt against him a little, seeking more.

I don’t even get annoyed when he sniffs my head.

“She…Elise…asked us what we’re doing on the island,” Banks says briskly after a full minute. It’s impossible not to notice the deeper resonance to his tone. It’s either resigned due to my choice of Gabe for warmth…or irritated. Or both. “Would anyone like to share with the class?”

“I came for some routine acupuncture,” Tobias says, followed by a brief sniff.

Lie. I’m pretty good at determining when someone isn’t telling the truth. It’s what led me to the field of reporting. And that subtle hitch in his tone has my eyes flying open. When did I close them? Actually, am I drooling on this guy’s sweatshirt? Not quite, but I’m close. “You came all the way out here for acupuncture? Why couldn’t you see an acupuncturist in Manhattan?”

A beat passes. “Mine is more of a specialist.”

I’m leaning sideways to look at Tobias now, beside Gabe’s shoulder. “You said it was routine.”

Suddenly we’re in a stare-off across the stalled cable car. Banks shifts to face Tobias, an eyebrow arched in curiosity and there’s a speculative rumble in Gabe’s chest. My first impression of Tobias was fairly simple. He’s a cocky idiot who doesn’t know when to shut up. But over the course of a few breaths, that impression begins to change and it has everything to do with the sudden tension bracketing his mouth and drawing up his shoulders. The playful twinkle is gone from his eye—briefly—before he’s laying it on thicker than ever.

“You caught me,” Tobias drawls, smoothing his collar. “I was conducting an affair.”

Banks and I trade a skeptical look. An identical one. One that surprises me. I can count on one hand the people in my life with whom I’ve shared this kind of intuition and it was developed over the course of years. With Banks, there’s a weird sense that we’re on the same page. Though…that can’t be possible when we’ve known each other a matter of minutes.

“If you were having an affair, you definitely would have told us immediately. Bragged, even,” Banks says, his incredibly rich brown eyes still fastened on mine, like he’s reading the words right out of my head. “But since none of us want our ears to bleed when we’re unable to call for medical attention, let’s move on. Gabe, I assume you were here working on the housing development?”

Gabe grunts in affirmation.

“Who put you in charge of interrogating everyone?” Tobias wants to know. “I have a lot of experience playing a cop and wouldn’t mind putting it to use.”

“It’s not an interrogation,” Banks clips. “But if we’re going to be here for a while, we might as well know who we’re sharing air with.”

Tobias laughs. “Don’t act like you give two shits about our explanations for being on Roosevelt Island. You’re only asking as a formality, so it won’t seem odd when you ask Elise about hers. Be a little less obvious, mate.” The Brit is sharper than we’ve given him credit for, even if his charmingly affable expression is back in place. “On second thought, stare at her with a little more psychotic intensity. Maybe you’ll kickstart the engine and we can all go home.”

“No, thank you,” Gabe mutters.

My head tilts back so fast to observe his face that my neck gets a crick. In the last few minutes, the construction worker has become this silent monument of comfort, but with the low utterance of those three words, he becomes the focal point of the tram car. When he realizes he’s turned himself into the center of attention, the tips of his ears turn a dark shade of red, starkly obvious on his Irish-looking skin. “Never mind. I’d just…rather not go home.”

“Why?” I ask, my attention drawn to the strong column of his neck where a tattoo peeks out from his hoodie, stretching up toward his ear. It looks like a wing of some kind. There’s some lettering on the other side, as well. How far down those neck tattoos stretch? There’s so much ground to cover. “Why don’t you want to go home?”

He hesitates. “My brother lives next door.”

“You boys in a tiff or something?” Tobias asks absently while looking out at the skyline.

“Sort of,” Gabe replies. “But it’s more that he’s living with my ex-wife.”

I trade a wince with Banks, our expressions once again indistinguishable.

What the heck is up with that?

While I’m continuing to wonder about my oddly immediate kinship with Banks, I’m only half aware of my palm sliding up and over the rock-solid mound of Gabe’s right pectoral. My hand is moving of its own volition, as though compelled to give him comfort. And when my fingers trace the outline of the wing tattoo on his neck, I begin to wonder if the air is thinning in this cable car. Or if some kind of delirium-inducing toxin has been released into the scant space, because I don’t just go around stroking the pectoral muscles of strangers. Talking to strangers is a stretch for me, unless it’s strictly work related.