The Billionaire's Matchmaker(14)

“Reclusive,” they both said at the same time.

Gabby laughed then slid onto the floor. Charlie scrambled into her lap, pressing his head against Gabby’s chest, happy and content. “Hey, Charlie,” she said.

Envy flickered in T.J. Ridiculous. How could he be jealous of a dog? But he was. He wanted to be the one welcomed into Gabby’s arms. He wanted to kiss her again, damn it, but every time he tried to get close, she shifted away.

“I need some air,” he said. “I’m going to go grab us some food at the diner.”

“Sounds good. And I can get some work done while you’re gone.” She reached for the wallet she kept in her backpack. “Let me—”

“I’ve got it, Gabby.” He ducked out of the room before he got into a battle for her affections with a twenty-pound dog.





Chapter Six



Two seconds too late, Gabby realized her mistake.

Her hands still hovered over the keyboard on her laptop, as if sheer will could recall the email she’d sent. She cursed, then cursed again, loud enough that Charlie hopped up and let out a bark. “Damn it,” she said to the dog. “How could I be so stupid?”

There was only one area of Gabby’s life that she had learned to keep organized and detailed—her career. Ever since that debacle with that controversial mural she’d painted, she’d kept a detailed appointment log, made daily To Do lists, and always followed up on calls and emails. She’d seen too many artists let their creative side rule the business, which made for a chaotic approach and ultimately ticked off clients and gallery owners. Something she had been guilty of for years because she’d been too cocky, too brash, to play by the rules of grown-up life. But quirky, creative, disorganized artist didn’t equal smart and successful businesswoman, nor did it help build a career. She was still working on juggling her creative and sensible sides. And today, she’d failed.

Damn.

She’d been distracted by that damned kiss and the changes in T.J. He’d been on her mind all day and even more so once he had left her in the room.

The single room. That she’d offered to share with him. Even as her body hummed at the prospect of sharing a bed—oh yes, a bed—with him.

Ever since that day at the dance when T.J. had asked her out, Gabby had wondered what it would have been like if she’d said yes. That O-M-G kiss they’d shared today had raised all those thoughts again, only now they had a very adult edge to them.

One room. One night. Just her and T.J.

Gabby’s fingers went to her lips. What if tonight she acted on those feelings she’d held back for so long? What if she took advantage of the bed, the privacy, the temporary togetherness? Would she regret it—or savor the night as a wonderful sweet memory?

Then she glanced at her laptop and chided herself. Getting any more distracted by T.J. would detonate her comeback before it even got off the ground. T.J. was only along for the ride, and at this point in Gabby’s life she needed roots, permanence, direction.

The door opened and T.J. stepped inside, holding a bag. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I—” He stopped talking and took another step forward. “What’s wrong?”

She let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. Despite all the years that had passed and everything that had happened, T.J. could still read her emotions as plain as a sheet of paper. It showed that he was still one of her closest friends and right now, she needed that. Needed him.

“I screwed up. When I sent the email of today’s images to the gallery, I accidentally sent the wrong photos.” She moved to the computer on the desk, pivoted the screen toward T.J., and showed him the two photos of Charlie—one with him in front of the American Gothic barn, and the other of him laying at the feet of the bison statue. “It’s not a big deal, and I sent the right ones immediately afterward, but it feels like a big deal because this job was so important to me.”


“It’ll be fine, Gabby. I’m sure.”

She shook her head. “I sure hope so. I’ve never worked with this gallery before, and I hate to give a bad first impression. I’ve worked so hard ever since—”

“What?”

She lowered her gaze. Bit her lip.

“What?” he repeated, softer this time.

She dropped into the chair. Maybe if she told him, she’d feel better. In the old days, talking to T.J. had always eased her burdens, from difficult classes or to the tough days when her parents fought like warring armies. “After you left for college, things kind of got off track for me. I mean, I had my friends, and they were great, but my family was pretty much gone. My parents got divorced. My dad moved to Portland and my mom went to Florida, leaving me in Chandler’s Cove. I always had this wild, almost self-destructive side of me, and that just brought it out more.”

“I always liked that part of you,” T.J. said. “You encouraged me to break all those rules that put a straightjacket on my life.”

“Sometimes, T.J., rules are a good thing.” She crossed her hands on her knees and met his gaze. “I just took a little longer to learn that lesson. About a year ago, the Chandler’s Cove Convention and Visitors Bureau hired me to paint a mural downtown. It was supposed to showcase the town’s attributes. How it was family friendly, a great community, etc. They invited the media to watch me paint it live, a whole ‘local girl brings the town to life’ thing.”