Going Down Easy (Boys of the Big Easy #1)(12)

“And did you figure then that you were going to end things with us?”

She nodded.

Suddenly he shifted on his chair, leaning onto the table, his eyes flashing. “Then why in the hell did you show up in my bar two nights ago?”

Addison swallowed, her heart beating hard against her chest wall. “I should have stayed away,” she admitted softly. “I know that. I knew it as I was walking up the sidewalk and through the door. I knew it the second you looked over and saw me.”

“But you didn’t fucking stay away,” he practically growled.

She shook her head. “I couldn’t.”

Gabe swore and shoved a hand through his hair. “Goddammit, Addison.”

“I know.”

“This is . . . bullshit.” He pinned her with his gaze again. “You can’t stay away. I don’t want you to stay away. What the hell is going on?”

“There’s just . . . It’s complicated,” she said. “It’s not as easy as my just moving here and us continuing to go out on the weekends.”

“Why not?” he demanded. “You want more than that? Let’s talk about that.”

She shook her head. “You’re . . . amazing. But no, I definitely don’t want more than that.”

He blew out a breath, seeming almost relieved. Had he offered more accidentally?

“Then let’s keep doing what we’re doing,” he said. He leaned in again. “I’ve never wanted a woman like I want you, Ad. Let’s just keep it going. It’s good. It’s really, really good.”

Her heart softened, and she felt herself leaning in, too, and almost nodding. But no. She couldn’t fucking nod yes to that. They couldn’t keep it going. She wasn’t in New Orleans alone. She couldn’t spend every weekend, or even one weekend a month, with him the way she had been. Her parents weren’t here to watch Stella. And dammit, she had to be with Stella on the weekends, showing her daughter around the city that was her new home, introducing her to beignets and exploring the museums, not off screwing some hot bartender in the French Quarter. And seeing the city, eating beignets, and exploring the museums with him.

Dammit.

She took a deep breath. “Okay, fine, there’s something I have to tell you.”

“There’s someone else.” He said it flatly. No drawl. No huskiness. No hint of humor. None of the things she usually loved in his voice.

“No—” But then she thought about it. That was definitely one way to put it. “Well, okay, yes.”

He blew out a breath. “Dammit, Addison.”

“But it’s not what you think,” she told him. She paused and added, “It’s maybe worse.”

“Worse than you fucking me behind some other guy’s back?” he asked.

It was insulting that he’d think that of her. But then again, he didn’t really know her, did he? So she simply shrugged. “Yeah, kind of.”

“What’s worse than that?”

“The someone else is a girl. And is five. And is my daughter.”

Gabe stared at her. Addison just sat quietly, letting all of that sink in. She watched him processing it.

Then she watched as his mouth—easily one of her top three favorite body parts of his—spread into a huge grin.

A grin.

Oh yeah, she really loved it when he grinned. Sometimes it was sexy—like after he’d said something naughty and was watching her reaction. Sometimes it was mischievous—like when he’d thought of something they hadn’t done yet, in the bedroom and otherwise, and he was about to show her. Sometimes it was flat-out happy—like when he was joking with his brother or other patrons at the bar. And sometimes it was big and bright and made her feel like the most special woman in the world—like the one he gave her when he would first turn and see her sitting at the bar on a Saturday night.

This one was like none of those. This one was like she’d just given him the greatest gift anyone had ever given him. It was a little like the Saturday-night grins but even more.

“You have a kid?” he asked.

She nodded. “Stella.”

“Well, holy shit, Addison.”

“I know. I—”

“That’s fucking amazing.”

Wait, what?





Chapter Three

“It’s amazing?” she repeated.

Gabe reached across the table and grabbed her hand. His palm was slightly rough, and his hand engulfed hers, making her feel small and delicate and . . . warm. Very warm. It reminded her of the way he wrapped himself around her in bed. He always wanted to hold her after sex, and his huge body around hers always made her feel protected and safe and loved. And when that L word hit her brain, she always pulled away. She wasn’t a cuddler. She didn’t need to be held and protected and taken care of. She took care of herself and her stuff. Like Stella.

And now she wanted to pull away, too. It was strange. She typically did hold hands with him. Gabe was a very physically demonstrative guy. He always seemed to want to be touching her—running his hand over her hair, putting his arms around her from behind and pulling her up against his body, resting his hand on the back of her neck. And she let all of that go. Because she actually really loved it. The feeling that he just couldn’t help but touch her and the way it said to the rest of the world, “She’s mine.” But she only let it happen in public. It seemed safer that way. Like when the rest of the world was bustling around them, she couldn’t get totally lost in him. But in private . . . when it was just the two of them, the touching was sexual. And then she pulled away. They didn’t spoon, she didn’t sit in his lap, they didn’t cuddle on the couch.