Rebel North by J.B. Salsbury
Five
Gabriella
“You’re going out on a date with him?” Annette says while she takes Mrs. Lawrence’s vitals.
I run my thumb along the paper-thin skin of her hand, noting how soft it is. She was brought in two weeks ago, in the final stages of heart disease, and we’re keeping her comfortable. She sleeps most of the day, only waking when her ninety-eight-year-old husband visits once a day.
“I am. But it’s not a real date. He’s gay,” I whisper, not that Mrs. Lawrence is alert enough to care.
Annette nods knowingly. “The pretty ones always are.” She moves the stethoscope around Mrs. Lawrence’s chest.
“He’s not out to his family. They’re wealthy. His last name is etched into glass on the biggest building in the city.”
“So, what? He’s trying to keep up appearances to his folks?” She readjusts Mrs. Lawrence’s blankets.
“That’s the feeling I got, yeah.”
“A date with a beautiful man where you two get to pretend to be crazy about each other, but there’s absolutely zero pressure for sex?”
“Sounds nice, right? I can wear sensible underwear and not worry about overeating—”
“Or overdrinking.”
“Exactly!”
She frowns. “I’m jealous.”
Annette has a head of gorgeous natural curls and a face with smooth skin and freckles, both a source of envy for me. She never has a problem finding a date. Or a bed partner.
I haven’t been in a relationship since before the accident. God, it’s been three years. I’ve settled for flirtatious friendships that never lead to more. I have yet to find a man who sees beyond my scarred face. Not that I’ve been out there looking.
“Where is the party?” Annette asks once we’re in the hallway.
“It’s at that new French restaurant in Greenwich Village.”
“The Cellar? It’s impossible to get in there.”
“Not when you’re loaded.”
“You’re so lucky. Take pictures. Text me from the bathroom. Oh! Take pictures of the bathroom!”
Evan joins us in the hallway. “I wasn’t going to ask, but I gotta know. What bathroom?”
Annette smirks at him. “Gabriella has a date with that super-hot guy she saved from the alley.”
He frowns. “The drunk bum?”
“He was drunk. I wouldn’t say one night of overindulgence earns him the title.”
“You know him well enough to say that?”
I cross my arms at my chest. “I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.”
He huffs out a frustrated breath. “Suit yourself.”
Annette and I watch him walk away until he’s out of sight. “Someone’s jealous,” she says.
“No way.” I rearrange a stack of old magazines on a table in the hallway.
“He’s so into you.”
“We’ve worked together for two years, and he’s never done more than a little harmless flirting. Honestly, I’ve had underwear make bigger moves.”
She rocks into my side. “Men don’t always see that what they want is standing right in front of them.”
I bat my eyes dreamily. “To think I’ve been sitting in front of my dream man for years just waiting for him to be desperate enough to notice me. Is there anything more romantic?” I sigh, then roll my eyes.
Truth is, she’s not wrong. I won’t ever be the woman who sweeps a man off his feet at first sight. The best I can hope for is to be the friend that developed into more. The occasional drunken mistake. The funny girl with the great personality.
And now, added to that, the beard.
Kingston
“Nervous for your date?”
I shoot Hayes a glare. “Fuck off.”
He chuckles from his leaned position on the bar at The Cellar and sips his vodka rocks. His date, Ellie, a call girl he calls on frequently, sits at his side quietly sipping a glass of merlot.
“It’s just,” he lowers his voice, “you’ve been eyeing the door since you got here.”
Yeah, I have. I don’t tell Hayes I’ve been eyeing it a lot longer from outside.
I don’t know what happened. I slept in late this morning, hit the gym for two hours, and took my time getting ready for tonight’s dreaded family party, and I still arrived forty-five minutes early.
I sip my scotch and find my gaze drawn to the door again. “This is your fault. You invited her to a slaughter.”
“I invited her as entertainment.” He scowls into his drink. “You should thank me.”
A hot pit of fire opens up in my gut. “You’re a real asshole.”
He stares at me without a single flicker of regret. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
I lean across him to Ellie. “You’re a saint to spend even a second with this prick.”
She smiles, kindness in her eyes. “He pays well.”
“Fuck,” Hayes mutters and shakes his head.
“He better. You’re earning every dollar.” I decide it’s better to wait for Gabriella outside, or I may end up throat punching my brother and causing a scene.
I slam back the rest of my drink and place my glass on the bar. When I walk away, I purposefully slam his shoulder with my own. “Dick.”
The air outside is warm and muggy, and either the weather or my nerves make my shirt cling to my skin. I find a place to wait against a red brick wall and shuffle my suede Corthay boots. The valet is busy while black executive cars and luxury SUVs mixed with the occasional sports coupe drop off those lucky enough to get a reservation.
When a Honda Accord with a missing hubcap pulls up, my stomach sinks. This has to be her Uber.
The back door opens, and one pale, toned leg emerges, tipped with a black stiletto heel with a thin ankle strap—sexy, classy, timeless. She unfolds from the vehicle wearing an A-line LBD that is whimsical, contemporary, and ultra-feminine. I recognize the signature hemline, puff sleeves, and romantic silhouette as designers Nicky and Simone Zimmerman’s work. Gabriella’s auburn hair is gathered at her ear, the side-swept locks doing what they can to cover up the three silvery white scars that slash from her temple to her neck.
She’s stunning, classy, and dressed to perfection.
“Kingston, hey,” she calls to me while her long, pale legs eat up the distance between us. “I hope I’m not late.”
Goddamn, she looks good enough to eat. “No.” My hands fist tightly from their position deep inside my pockets. “You’re fine.” And I mean that in every sense of the word. She looks incredible.
Her big blue eyes captivate me, pull me deep, and—see, this is why she should not be here tonight! This is why Hayes totally fucked me with his impromptu asshole-invite. This is why I am so screwed.
“All right,” she says soothingly and slips her hand into the crook of my elbow. “I have your back.”
Her words cause a small spasm in my chest, but the feeling doesn’t settle because I’m too focused on what the fuck she’s talking about.
She has my back? I’m leading her into the lion’s den, and she thinks I’m the one who needs protection?
Before I can ask, she’s tugging me gently toward the front door of the restaurant and inside. Hayes and Ellie spot us immediately, so I steer her away from them and to the hostess stand.
“Mr. North.” The pretty brunette’s eyes light up. “Your party is waiting.”
We follow behind her through the crowded restaurant, and Gabriella tugs on my arm. “They know you by name here?” she says softly. “How many times have you been here?”
“A few.”
She mouths the word wow and seems genuinely surprised.
“There he is!” My brother Hudson’s voice calls out from inside the private dining room, and I feel Gabriella tense at my side.
She’s not the only one.
My shoulders hurt, and my neck aches. This is going to be the longest night of my life.
I internally cringe.
I take that back. Second longest.