Page 47 of Reaching Gavin

“You’re going to make me jealous,” he told me.

I held it out to him. “You can try some if you want.”

“I’m not jealous that you have a milkshake. I’m jealous that it makes you moan.”

“Some girls know what they like.” I bit down on the tip of the straw trying to stop myself from jumping him on the spot.

Gavin swallowed hard as though he was doing the same. His eyes lingered on my mouth and he cleared his throat. “Do you want to see the family house?”

“Lead the way.” I hadn’t been sure exactly where we would be staying. After seeing him walk around downtown, I wasn’t surprised to hear that he had a family home here.

We barely made it half a block before the door to a restaurant flew open and a man came running out with his apron still on. “Gavin!”

“Thomas, it’s good to see you.” The men shook hands before Thomas pulled him into a hug. The other man had to be at least 20 years older than Gavin. I’d noticed a slight limp in his step as he’d come out to us. Gavin stepped away and smiled broadly at me. “Allow me to introduce my girlfriend, Cassie.”

I was temporarily struck dumb. I fumbled, taking Thomas’s outstretched hand, and tried to come up with words. I got as far as “Hi.”

The two of them didn’t seem to notice that I couldn’t speak and began to chat.

So I was on holiday with Gavin. We’d messed around a few times. My entire weekend plans focused on having sex with him as many times as possible. But I hadn’t been sure until this moment that I was his girlfriend. I liked the way the title sounded.

“He’s a good man,” Thomas informed me, taking my hand in his as if to impress this upon me. “You two must come to dinner tonight. On me. It’s the least that I can do.”

We reassured him that we would. I was only mildly disappointed that there would have to be a break in tonight’s sexual Olympics to go out to eat. Then, I remembered how much I loved food. I surveyed the restaurant’s handprinted sign which read The Weekend Café with interest. With any luck, I’d be really hungry this evening.

“He really likes you,” I told Gavin as we started up the hill and away from downtown. It had been charming, but I finally had him to myself.

“I’ve known him my whole life. We’ve been going to his restaurant since my parents bought the house here.”

“Why does he owe you?” I couldn’t help asking, curiosity getting the better of me. It had been clear that the two were old friends, despite their age difference, but there must have been more to it. Thomas had seemed grateful to Gavin and I wanted to know why.

“A bad storm hit here last year. The restaurant was damaged and I helped him out.” Gavin spoke as if this was no big deal. That made me suspect there was more to the story, but I didn’t press him on it. He had said he wanted to make his mark and it was becoming pretty clear that he would leave the world a better place.

Friday Harbor was hillier than I’d expected and I’d almost begun to regret not taking the motorcycle when Gavin finally paused and said, “Home sweet home.”

The house was nothing like I had expected. The Sound family was full of surprises. Just like when we had taken the Cessna instead of a private jet. This looked like a family home, not the vacation house of one of the world’s most successful business men. True, it sat on the side of a hill overlooking the glorious waters of Friday Harbor. I could only imagine what it was valued at. As we got closer, I began to notice that it wasn’t a simple house either.

“Is this one house?” I asked trying to figure it out as I followed him up the cobblestone path.

“It was one house,” he explained, stopping to take a key from under a rock. This really was a whole, other world if they just left their house keys under a rock. Although, if the rest of Gavin’s family was as loved as he was by the town’s residents, the house was probably in safekeeping while they were absent. “My parents bought this part of it 20 years ago when Sound Coffee first really took off. Over the years they’ve added on. I think one wing came about when we were preteens and the other came about when we were teenagers. At first, they just needed to get away from us. Then, they needed to keep us apart. Imogen and I were always fighting.”

“You don’t say,” I said dryly. I had been witness to their good-natured sibling disagreements myself. I found it endearing, but I could imagine why his parents wanted a break from it when they were on vacation.

He unlocked the door with a grin and it swung open, creaking on its hinges. This was no lavish vacation home. It was the heart and soul of a family who worked hard, but had found a quiet spot to escape. We entered into a large living room that joined with a huge, country style kitchen. An island surrounded by barstools was the centerpiece. I could see Gavin and Imogen sitting here while his mom cooked. The floor was a warm oak that matched the wood trim and beams overhead, and the walls were painted a deep green. There was no fancy artwork on the walls. Instead, dozens of family photos had been hung.

A lump formed in my throat. He’d brought me here. He’d chosen to share this with me.

“This place is perfect,” I breathed.

Gavin looked pleased, but he didn’t move from the doorway. He was still carrying both our bags and now he looked torn.

“I usually stay over there.” He nodded toward one of the adjoining buildings. “But I can show you over to Imogen’s place. Or the guest room in here.”

“Show me your room,” I said, putting an end to the gentlemanly charade. It was adorable that he wanted to pretend we’d come here for any other reason than to bone.

We exited through a series of French doors onto a bridge that connected Gavin’s part of the property to the main house. It was lined on either side by lush Douglas firs. It was a bit like walking into the forest. It must have been tricky to add on to the property, given its hillside location, but the effect had an almost magical feeling. It was like finding a Woodland Castle or a fantastic treehouse.

Gavin showed me to his quarters, setting our bags inside the door. He stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. “This is it. Is there anything I can get you?”