Page 21 of View With Your Heart

“Can’t? Or won’t?” There isn’t much difference, but Gavin seems to think there is.

Suddenly, the bell over the door jingles, and another customer enters.

“Hello, beautiful.”

I bristle at the greeting, and Jenna groans next to me.

“Good morning Gabe,” I mutter, wondering what’s worse—Gavin finding me here or Gabe Carpenter entering. The answer comes quickly. Gabe. He doesn’t live in the area but visits his parents often enough, and upon discovering my tea shop and remembering me from summers long ago, he makes it his mission to enter my shop whenever he’s in town and ask me out.

“Gabe?” Gavin questions, looking from Gabe to me and back again. There isn’t a lot of contrast between the men in their appearance. Both have dark hair and eyes. Both wear a dress shirt and expensive shoes, but it’s the aura of the two that separates them. Gavin is all arm porn, sexy jeans commercial in his apparel while Gabe is just what he is, a stuffy lawyer from Detroit. “Gabe Carpenter?”

Gavin’s jaw drops a second, and Gabe turns to him, taking in the man before him. He’s waiting on an introduction or recognition, and Gavin finally offers.

“Gavin Scott.” A knowing smile crosses Gavin’s face. Gabe hit on me once that summer when we were teens. Gavin and I were outside the ice cream shop, and Gabe tried to ask me out, insulting me actually by saying that when I wanted to upgrade from the local player, he’d be willing and waiting for me. I’d been so upset at the implication that I would pass myself around the local boys, I dropped my ice cream on his foot. Gavin thought it was epic, and I’d done it on purpose. I hadn’t, but I didn’t regret it. I also hadn’t forgotten about that moment, although Gabe apparently did.

“No shit,” Gabe states, holding out a hand to shake Gavin’s. The irony in their greeting is they were never friends, at least not that I remember of that summer. “Good to see you.”

Gavin nods without offering the same compliment.

“What brings you home?” Gabe asks, holding his position by the counter.

“He’s a filmmaker,” Jenna offers, proudly speaking before Gavin can. With his mouth open, Gavin quickly shuts it upon Jenna’s explanation.

“Ah, right. The big shot baseball player turned movie star.” Gabe seems to know a thing or two about Gavin, which doesn’t surprise me. “Sorry about your arm.”

“I’m not a movie star,” Gavin mutters, growing a bit defensive. His brows pinch in irritation at Gabe’s presence. “And it was my wrist.” It’s almost as if I can see Gavin thinking, wrestling to piece the puzzle together.

“Well, good to see you can still use it.” Gabe’s eyes lower for Gavin’s hand, holding the cup of tea, and Henry snorts. I’m missing something, but Gabe turns back to me.

“So, about that date?”

“What date?” Gavin questions, his eyes narrowing on me again. If I thought Gavin could send me telepathy, his thoughts would be, you’ve got to be shitting me. Instantly, I read what he’s thinking. Gabe Carpenter is the man I said I had. I could play this to my advantage, but I just couldn’t find anything about Gabe attractive. I’m not the one who’s an actress, so I can’t fake this.

“I’m sorry, Gabe. I can’t tonight.” I’ve been running slim on rejection reasons as Gabe never takes the hint. Then a new excuse strikes before I can stop myself. “I’m going to see Gavin’s film tonight.”

Gavin’s eyes widen before a slow smile curls his lips, exposing that singular dimple that used to get me every time. It’s still doing funny things to me as he beams at me from beside Gabe.

“A movie?” Gabe adds. “I’d love to see a movie.”

“I’m sorry, Gabe. It’s a private showing,” Gavin says, and I lift a brow. Is it?

Henry decides to speak. “But I thought—”

“Shush,” Jenna hisses to Henry about to explain that no showing is exclusive.

“It’s private,” Gavin and I say in unison, and then we both laugh. We’d done that a time or two when we were young. We also did it that weekend as if time had never passed between us.

“Where should I take you next?” he’d asked.

“The desk,” we’d said together.

God, I’d been so reckless that weekend, and my face heats instantaneously with the flash of memory. Gavin’s still watching me, and his smile grows bigger.

“I’ll leave a ticket in your name at the door,” he says to me.

“Oh, you don’t need to—” I begin but abruptly stop when Gavin tips his head at Gabe. The implication is clear. It’s either him or Gabe for the evening. I’m not certain which is the lesser of two evils.

Once Gabe leaves without a date and a tea I’m certain he never drinks, Gavin lingers, giving me the details of where and when the film will play.