Breaking Hollywood(18)

He's right. I shouldn't be interfering in how he lives his life.

It's not like I have anything to be singing about.

Lost my job, ran over a movie star with my car, homeless. Yeah, I should keep my opinions to myself.

Grabbing the bottle of scotch, I pick up my coffee and go into the  living room. I see Gabe through the window, sitting out on the terrace.  He's smoking a cigarette.

Gucci is lying out by the pool. She looks like she's sunbathing. All she  needs is a towel and a bathing suit, and she'd be good to go.

I wonder if you can get bathing suits for goats.

I go outside and sit on the lounger next to him.

"Sorry," I say. "I'll keep my opinions to myself from now on."

He doesn't look at me. The only response I get is a nod of his head.

I put my coffee down on the lounger and pour some scotch into it. I put the scotch on the floor.

When I look at Gabe, he's watching me with mild amusement.

"I thought it was too early to be making things Scottish."

"Clearly, you're a bad influence. And I figured, if you can't beat him, join him."

His lips lift at the corner. "I'm all for kinky, Speedy, but beating's  not my thing. Now, a little light spanking, and I'm your man."

Gabe spanking me? Yes, please.

I laugh, despite myself. "You're incorrigible."

"It's my best feature." He grins. Putting his cup to his lips, he takes a drink.

I do the same. And then I start coughing. "God, that's strong. I think I put too much in."

Gabe laughs.

I like the sound of his laugh. It's raspy and deep. Like it comes from  somewhere hidden deep inside him. But I like it most when it's me making  him laugh.

I sit back with my coffee and stare out at the view.

It's lovely up here.

And hot.

The sun is beating down, and I can feel myself starting to sweat. This  sweater really was not a good idea. Maybe I should change into a  T-shirt.

Gabe sighs lightly and leans back on the lounger, staring up at the sky.  He takes a drag of his cigarette. I watch him. I see just how dark the  skin surrounding his eyes looks. I didn't notice before.         

     



 

"You look tired," I say gently.

He blows the smoke from his mouth and then turns his head to look at me.  "You would, too, if you had been woken up by a head-butt from a goat."

"I didn't mean it as a criticism." I hold my hand up in surrender. "I  only mean it as a concerned employee. And I am sorry about Gucci. I'll  make sure she stays out of your room."

He takes another sip of coffee. "I didn't sleep well," he tells me.

"No? Why not?"

He stares at me for a long moment. So long that I start to squirm under his penetrating gaze.

Then, he looks away, over at the skyline, and he takes another pull on his cigarette. "My foot was bothering me."

"Gabe … I know you said you don't take painkillers, but maybe you should consider it."

"No."

"It would help you sleep."

He quickly sits up. "For fuck's sake, Ava! I said no."

This is only the third time he's called me Ava. But I don't get the warm shivers this time.

Hearing him say my name in anger is the slap I needed. I told myself I'd  stop interfering in his life, and here I am, doing it again.

"I don't mean to interfere. My intentions are only ever good. But I am  sorry for pushing. I'll do my best to stop sticking my nose in where  it's not wanted." I start to chew on my thumbnail.

Leaving his cigarette between his lips, he breathes heavily through his nose and rubs his hand across the back of his neck.

Feeling like I should leave him alone, I pick my coffee up, ready to go.

He takes the cigarette from his mouth. "A good friend of mine … he had an  injury a while back. Got hooked on painkillers. I saw what he went  through. It wasn't pretty. That's why I won't take them." He leans  forward and flicks the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray by his  lounger.

"Shit. I'm sorry. Is your friend okay now?" I lean over, pick up the ashtray, and place it on the lounger in front of him.

He gives me a grateful smile.

"Yeah, he's fine. But it was hard going there for a while."

"Well, he's lucky that he has you as a friend. But, Gabe, just because  your friend got addicted doesn't mean you would though. Millions of  people take pain medication every day without getting addicted."

"I know." He sighs. "And I have taken pain medication in the past-for headaches, you know." He glances at me.

There's a strange sort of vulnerability in his eyes that I haven't seen before. It makes me want to hold him.

"But I just don't want to risk it. People in my line of business are well-known for their addictions." He gives a sardonic look.

"Sure. I understand. And I'm sorry for pushing the subject."

"It's fine, Speedy."

He gives me a soft smile, and our eyes lock.

My skin starts to tingle under the weight of his stare. The breeze  blows, kicking up my hair. And I see as his eyes change from dark brown  to almost black. An ache starts to form between my legs. My breasts  suddenly feel heavy.

And I somehow seem to be closer to Gabe. Like my body moved without informing my brain.

"Gabriel," I softly say his name.

And those dark eyes rage like fire.

"Gabe! I'm here! Where the fuck are you?"

I jerk back from Gabe at the sound of the male voice.

"On the terrace," Gabe calls to him, seeming unfazed.

Tate appears through the door, wearing a white T-shirt, dark blue  shorts, sneakers, and Ray-Bans over his eyes. He looks really different  from the last time I saw him when he was wearing his white doctor coat  and scrubs.

"Hey, Ava. Good to see you again." He smiles at me. "How's the patient?" He jerks his head at Gabe.

"Frustrating. Annoying. Bitchy. Aside from that, he's fine." I give a  light, teasing smile even though, inside, I feel anything but light. I  feel like I'm about to climb out of my skin.

"Funny. Speedy's a comedian nowadays," Gabe says dryly.

"Are you joining us for breakfast?" Tate asks me, holding up a brown bag  with the name of some deli on it. "I brought pastries and muffins."

"Sounds delicious. Sure, I'll join you, if you don't mind?"

"Course I don't. I'll just grab us some plates."

"I'll get them," I say, getting up. "Would you like a coffee?" I ask Tate as I move past him.

"Coffee would be great."

"Gabe? Refill?"

"Sure." He drains his coffee and hands me the cup.

"Scottish?" I ask him.         

     



 

He smiles. I feel that smile everywhere.

"American's fine."

I grab the bottle of scotch from the floor and take it back inside with me.

I rinse my and Gabe's cups out and get a fresh one for Tate. I pour out  three coffees and put them on a tray with creamer and sugar, as I'm not  sure how Tate takes his coffee. I get three small plates, some cutlery,  and napkins and put them on the tray as well.

When I go back outside, they are sitting at the seating area. Gucci is  sitting on Tate's lap. Well, she's laid out on him, and he's rubbing her  belly.

"You've met Gucci." I smile. "I think she likes you."

My little hussy is rubbing herself all over the doctor.

Seems us Simms women have a thing for the Evans men.

"Yeah, it's just me she hates," Gabe mutters.

"She does not hate you," I tell Gabe as I take the seat next to him.

"I'm just really fucking loveable." Tate smirks.

"That's why you haven't gotten laid in two months."

Tate's eyes briefly flick to me. I avert my eyes and make Gabe's coffee.

"It's called being busy with work, brother. And it's not like you're getting any at the moment, so don't be giving me shit."

They're talking about sex. I start to get hot again. And it's not just because of this fucking sweater.

I hand Gabe his coffee.

"The only reason I'm not getting some is because of this fucking thing on my leg," Gabe says to him.

And, now, I'm thinking about sex. With Gabe.

Good God.

"Tate, do you take creamer and sugar?" My voice is high-pitched. I clear my throat.

Gabe chuckles lightly next to me.

"Just creamer," Tate tells me.

I make Tate's coffee and hand it over.

I pick my black coffee up and take a sip when Gabe says, "Talking of sex, Speedy showed me her nipples this morning."

I almost choke, and coffee sprays from my mouth.

I slap a hand over my mouth, and my head whips around to Gabe. My eyes are as wide as saucers.

The bastard is grinning.

I grab a napkin and start to dry my mouth, hand, and then the table. "God, I'm so sorry, Tate."

"You didn't get the food. It's fine." He smiles, but I can tell he's dying to laugh.

Gucci hasn't moved an inch from her spot on Tate's lap.

I turn back to Gabe, who's still wearing a winning smile that I want to wipe from his gorgeous face.

"I can't believe you just said that."

"Me? What did I say?"

I open my mouth to say it, but then I realize, that's exactly what the  big jerk wants. He wants me to say nipple in front of Tate.

The perverse asshole.

"There's something seriously wrong with you." I shake my head and turn back to Tate. "Was he dropped on his head as a baby?"